Girls Aloud!

You wanna know something funny? I almost went to ATL's Girls Rock Camp back in July. But I was afraid I had too much experience on the drums.

When I go to Barnes and Noble, it's usually for just one of two things: to buy a new novel that'll help me forget how much I hate my life, or for a new issue of Missbehave or Preen. (BTW, if you've never read Preen, pick it up! It won't put you to sleep like i-D and the glossies are as cool as Visionaire. Yeah I'm cultured, what of it?)

Anyway, sometimes there are off days and I don't find anything that I'm looking for. But I have to buy something. It takes so much effort for me to walk to BnN that I never allow a trip to be in vain. So I made the mistake of picking up the new ish of Seventeen. First of all, it was hard enough for me to pay for it when Miley Cyrus was cheesing back at me on the cover. Secondly, it hurt me physically to read it.

Having been seventeen not too long ago, I can honestly say these kinds of "issues affecting teens today" were shit I was dealing with back when I was 14. "Perfect party ready makeup"? "Kissing 101"? "How to make him notice you in study hall"? What??? Maybe I would have really pored through these pages when I was in middle school, but they've become drastically irrelevant to today's young women.

Thank god for Missbehave, but I feel like there should be something more. MissB is for street savvy badass women who can hold down a 9 to 5, keep their boyfriend satisfied, cut a bitch at the bar, hit up the online sales at Karmaloop, and still have enough money to pay the rent on the 15th and buy their girls a round of drinks on Friday.

While that is (for the most part) me, there's like a void, a lost niche for a magazine that appeals to the broke-ass, socially awkward, incredibly smart, fashion forward, obsessive, compulsive 18-22 set. I'm thinking of starting a revolution. I'm thinking of starting a 'zine.

Who's with me?

Deuces,
Erika

The Disco: The WebMD Of Poor Sexy Girls

Well, it's about that time again. I'm getting personal. I'd like to think that because we're all strong, mature, independent, and intelligent women, we can all talk openly and freely about our thoughts and lives.

See? That makes what I'm about to talk about sound sophisticated and interesting. But it's not. Don't worry.

It would seem that I have a UTI. Hmmmm, I wonder where I got that. So I used to get like bladder infections or whatev when I was a lot younger because I didn't drink a lot of water and always held it when I had to go because I would rather play on the jungle gym than waste time in a bathroom. But those were like totez not serious. This time around, I haven't the time/money to schlep to the Gyno's and uh, I can't really let this sit.

Soooo since you ladies are, uh, ladies...does anyone have any good OTC/natural/cheap cures for a really unpleasant UTI? Ugh. This is bleh. Meh. Whatever else other word I can use to describe a crap feeling.

Deuces,
Erika

Guesting: Missbehave and Me

So I, like all of you fellow readers most likely, am an unabashed Missbehave addict. No, really, I mean it-- addict. Some people collect bugs or postcards or other weird stuff (okay, so I kinda collect postcards too, whatevz), but I collect Missbehave memorabilia. I have both of the shirts (but only one came free-- the Hellz Bellz shirt I bought off Karmaloop with some Xmas dough; they never sent me one for the nice gift I sent them, but forgive and forget, I say), and every issue... except for one. The pesky one that got away: Issue #3, the Bijou Phillips cover.
I remember seeing this issue on newsstands at Barnes & Noble. My sister and I were running errands early last year and I spotted it. I picked it up and read a little, kind of intimidated at first. I asked my sister, "Allie, should I get this?" She was all, "It sounds kinda slutty." I guess I didn't want to feel like a mag-slut or something, so, like an idiot, I put it down.
I would soon discover how wrong I was. I got my hands on Issue #4 with one of my favorite ladies, Mena Suvari, and I realized that this was the very, very first time I'd read every word of any magazine. Ever. I was hooked. A subscription was obtained, I kinda weedled #1 and #2 from Samantha over e-mail, and the rest was history.
But #3 eluded me. I was pretty sure Samantha didn't like me and I didn't want to ask for another free magazine. I told myself I would save it for college when I had a different address and make the request in a name that was different. I've been desperate, you see?
But a week ago, this changed. It was listed on eBay. I was praying there'd be a Buy It Now option, but alas, there was none. Today the auction ended. I was in an Internet fight with some guy (regardless of gender).
And we battled. This is how it felt.

It was an hour-long battle. But who came out strong?! That's right, ME!!

And I'm only... um... say... (don't judge, I was in it to win it) $50 broker?

Yes. I, "Sun Protection Factor" (initials, not comfortable with revealing my last name over a wireless connection, but just know that through my name, I'm pretty much human sunscreen), paid half a Benjamin for the final piece in my Missbehave collection. I kinda feel like a bad person. But at the same time... redeemed. With some guilt.

A late summer job is in store, that's for sure. So I'm forced to return to eBay with designer clothes I bought for $3 (flipping is the secret to everything), a little more broke, but gratified and happy that my collection is finally complete.

LIVE TO WIN!!

Y Sarah

BKB WTF?!

Alright, I love Boy Kill Boy. In fact, to say that I love them is an understatement. For a good deal of the crazy, memorable things that have happened in my life, Boy Kill Boy has been there. When I was driving to school on summer mornings, BKB was there. When I was crying my eyes out for no apparent reason, BKB was in my radio. We go way back, you see.

It's a miracle I didn't actually break Civilian from listening to it too much and constantly transporting it from my car to my bathroom radio to my bedroom radio to other people's car...etc. So naturally I was ecstatic when I heard they had a new album. I rushed to Criminal and had to special order it because it wasn't in-stock.

The man said it would be an import-only, but I just said pssh! How much could it be? I ordered the Pipettes' album from Tower Records when it was only an import and it was only 12 dollars. The Horror's EP was import-only and that was just 6 dollars. How much could this one be?

Well I got the call from Criminal saying that my album came into the store. I fucking hopped, skipped, and jumped over, bounding in all smiles and shitting rainbows. I went to the clerk, who looks just like Brian Posehn, and asked him for my CD. I had 20 dollars in my pocket, which seemed like enough.

That CD is 43 motherfucking dollars! And import-only! I barely pay that much money for the dresses at Urban! I couldn't even believe it when he told me. I just asked him to put it on hold a little longer.

Now I need some help. Should I just suck it up and buy the CD? I mean, there's no other way I'm going to be able to get it and I really, really, really want the album. Or should I just pass and tell Criminal to let it go. Sigh.

I'm more torn up than a prostitute's vadge on this one.

Deuces,
Erika