I Have No Portfolio And I Only Show Where There's Free Alcohol

Awww, old CSS, miss U <3.

Anyways, since I'm pretty sure there's nothing in life I'm supremely good at, for comfort I've turned to one of my few loves in this world: collages. I love collaging, and have loved it since freshman year of high school when I made a collage to go on my binder. I did it every year of high school and people always took a completely unexpected interest in them. I never understood why, but um, whatevs.

Since then I've taken to collaging everything. I've collaged my tabletop, my wallet, and even had my old lighter collaged, but someone broke that when we were trying to open beer bottles on the night of my going-away party.

Old lighter, miss u <3.

And tonight I have proudly finished my biggest collage to date! I took an old bulletin board, went to work on it, and I have to say, it's pretty fucking amazing. It's totally an awesome mix of punk rock, feminism, tongue-in-cheek, retro, and bohemian chic. It's totally going to be someone special's Christmas present...

I think I might go into this, as like, a profession. Or maybe just a means of paying my way through school. Maybe I'll roll like Jewels and get paid for my art/hobbies so I never have to get a job! Actually, that sounds perfect. See you guys at The Smell!

E

All I Want For Christmas Is...This Giant List Of Stuff

So Lolita Hazed has brought up Christmas shopping. And it's scary because we only have 40 days to make our friends' and fam's holiday deepest desires into realities. Luckily for me, I have no friends and therefore have no problems getting gifts!

Just kidding, but really, luckily for me, I don't have too many special people in my life and so I only have four people on my shopping list. Also luckily, I know my homeslices like my nail polish collection: inside and out. So shopping isn't too hard for them.

But. I rarely ask for Christmas presents, and usually just suggest something simple if prodded, like perfume or something on vinyl. However, this year, I think I'm gonna cash in on all those years of being a complacent gift receiver. So here's my tentative list:

a pair of lace up boots with a 2 to 3 inch heel
pink hi-top chucks
money for my tattoo (final deicision: i am going to get the words in the hustle i trust in a banner on my forearm. it will be bitching)
catholic saint candles
the new earlimart cd
more black leggings
this record player so i can give mine to my mom (so she can listen to her english beat and stevie wonder albums in peace)
more eyeliner
these cups and these cups
this notebook
a vest. just one. i just need one.
a new pair of flats. my toes are poking out of all mine.
a haircut. please.
a new bottle of perfume. preferably this one.

Um, thanks. Merry Christmas.

E

Fame Is Wasted On The Infamous

I was just thinking to myself, while slowly twiddling my thumbs and idly my time away waiting for my boyfriend to send me my old White Rice drafts, that we are all so talented. And not in that, "Oh, everyone is special in their own way" kind of meaning, but that we are all actually, legitimately talented.

Alex has a byline in a national cheer mag, V should pretty much be writing music related columns in a hip music magazine based in the ungentrified part of Brooklyn, Sarah (of the Lolita relation) has a way with words like no other, and let's face it: I'm awesome.

Just kidding you guys.

But really, we are the youngest members of the Peach Pit (which I still think is cute), and we have so much talent that it's basically oozing out of us. Ewww...gross...But it's never going to go anywhere because we have no ways of getting it out there. Which is why I want to get back in White Rice so badly, because here we are, in the best time to be alive (really though, even with the economy, we're basically living in a time where culture is teetering on the precipice of becoming a serious free-for-all, an explosion of personal creativity and expression) and I want to take advantage of everything. Every time I pass an empty storeroom with a For Lease sign on it, I want to buy it up and make it White Rice HQ. I daydream about sending famous-ish people emails asking them to write short columns. I have a dream but no connections, a will without a way.

If I don't have to buy alcohol or rent a car, why shouldn't I be able to accomplish everything now? Where is this supposed "min age" that is written into people's minds? Maybe it is my "world is my oyster" naivete that is pushing me to believe that I can do it all, and do it all now. In any case, I think fame is wasted on those who choose to do nothing with it. There are so many people out there who just need that chance, to really change the world. Geniuses, masters, brilliant people, who can revolutionize everything, have dreams that are dying everyday because they are not going anywhere.

But the future is coming sooner than we think.

Deuces,
Erika

His And Her Blogs

Okay, so today I was innocently watching TV when I got a text from my bf, Sam, saying he revived his old blog. Now, you all remember how I said I never told any of my family or supremely close loved ones (boyfriend, best friends in the A) about my blog. In fact, when my bf told me he used to have one I went, "What? You had a blog?" all incredulously and whatever-ly, but with that chuckle and nervousness in my voice (you know, the kind you get when you're trying to cover something up).

So anyway, I got the text saying that his old blog was up and that he knew I probably didn't care about that sort of thing, but to check it out anyway. And being the closet blogger I am, I did. Cheese and rice, I knew he was super existential and introspective, y'know, from talking to him, but he gets super deep and intense and sometimes I have to break out a dictionary.

But yeah, the boyfriend's all over Wordpress like melted ice cream on the sidewalk. And I loves me some free press, so check him out. If you get lost, you're not alone. And let's just hope I manage to get mad famous and still keep this bastard lovechild a secret.

Deuces,
Erika

Mag Hag, Pt 2

I've talked about magazines before, duh. But damn, I really love them. So I'll talk about them again. Each magazine has always served a different purpose for me. When I was a virgin, I would scour the pages of Cosmo to find out enticing sex tips that were sure to make my first time amazing. (Alternatively, I lost my virginity to M83 in my boyfriend's dad's bed while on my period. Cosmo did nothing for me. It mostly just went out my head. Such a sordid past I have.) I flipped through Seventeen with a pink gel pen and circled everything that was $20 or under, and used it as a shopping list. I read up on the history of seminal 90s bands in Alternative Press and then pretended to be really well versed in music. From Entertainment Weekly I learned to be a sarcastic well spoken bitch that could make people laugh as well as report a story without bias. CosmoGirl taught me that virgins are sluttier than people think and from Missbehave...well...I basically got saved.

But since the invention of online indie magazines and the onslaught of startup productions it's started, raw creativity and vision has suddenly got the most amazing outlet, one that allows full interaction with the reader and full control of the writers. We're living in an age where there are no limits, no boundaries, no ceilings on potential, growth, and substance. No longer do you have to create a vapid, mindless mag catering to a pointless and empty headed demographic. No longer do celebrities, scandals, sex, or affairs have to be the paradigm of story fodder. We're in the most amazing age where we can literally transfer our thoughts, unyielding, uncompromising, and unstoppable, from person to person in their purest form.

That is the vision I have for White Rice. I've talked about WR before, obvi, but with a futuristic tone. At first I did see it as a venture meant for a later time in my life, where I would be graduated and settled. (And hopefully getting laid a lot more than I do now. Just had to toss that in. Gawd, I love sex. Sry.) But with how far I've come in my life, I don't believe I have anything stopping me. I'm here in the city of endless possibilities and I've got determination like no one else. When I go back to my mom's house for Thanksgiving I'm going to pack up my original copies of White Rice to bring back to LA.

And once I do, you better believe I'm going to seriously get started on some shit. I would love it if V, Lolita Hazed, and Alex could write things for me. That's what a community is about, sharing the wealth and helping others as you help yourself. This is gonna be big guys. This is a revolution. And it will not be televised.

Uhhhhh, actually it might be up on Youtube.

Deuces,
Erika

The Less Brown Side Of The Leaf

It would seem that everyone is in a bit of a funk these days. Well except Alex, who has no reason to be anything but ecstatic since she just got an article in a nationally published magazine. Which is awesome and completely snaps worthy. Oh, am I not conveying the enthusiasm? Sorry. !!!!! There we are then.

So a recent conversation with the dude in my life has opened my eyes completely. It led me to this realization.

My name is Erika and I am a bullshitter.
(Hi Erika.)

I have been half-assing my way through everything in my life. Just enough work in school to get me a passing grade, just enough effort in my work life to not get fired, just as much exercise to lose five pounds (only to gain it back), and just enough things I want to provide me with the minimal amount of happiness. I've never committed to a single thing in my life, only tried something for a little while and then complained that it wasn't working. But this is a terribly un-fulfilling way to live. It's gained me the reputation of never being serious about anything. Of being lazy. Of being noncommittal. And I'm all of that. But I'm none of that. But I'm tired of being like this. I'm in the height of my life, where the world is truly my oyster and I really can do anything. And goddammit, that's going to require me to commit to something. If I want the shit my heart desires I'm going to have to work and sacrifice for it. I can play later, right?

My boyfriend calls me and talks so happily about all the positive changes in his life and how good he feels. And I always feel bad, because fuck, I want that too. I want to be able to describe my life to people with such happiness in my voice and vivacity in my eyes, instead of the weary monotone and dull, glazed eyes I have now. No one can help me. They never could. It's all on me. And I'm going to do it.

I finally got a chance to write a completely new, fully badass, totally fuckmazing chapter in my book of life. I've got my gorgeously trannylicious leopard print, feather tipped fountain pen poised to draw the first line of that big letter at the beginning of fairy tales. And you better believe it's going to be an awesome letter. Like the scrolly, embellished kind with the little leaves and vintage emblems in the corners and whatnot.

You hear that world? Big changes are going down bitches! I'm going to work hard (at this slave labor job I have), I'm going to get a place of my own, I'm going to put effort into my relationships, I'm going to eat healthier, walk more, take opportunites, stop smoking (um, except those fantastic clove ciggies V has), I'm going to indulge in my hobbies, pursue my goals, sing more, laugh more, love more, and treat myself to a movie at the Sunset 5 once a month. I'm going to get amazing grades so my mom buys me a new laptop and I can stop using this hugenormous one from like 2002, with the broken N key, L key, and space bar. I will pay to have the internet put back on my Blackberry and talk to Smarah on BBM. I will paint my toenails and do my reading assignments when they are assigned. I will not let my surroundings get me down. I will not feel self-conscious when those LA brats stare me down. I will learn to live without my television shows and I will fight through the tears, the fatigue, the disappointments, and the anger so I can reach my potential. And maybe get a fucking haircut. Actually, I sort of like the shaggy mop that's taking shape on my head right now.

This is the promise I am making to myself.
(applause)

Deuces,
Erika

I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (With Flowers In My Hair)

Okay, someone out there had to get that Sandi Thom reference. No? Alright, alright, I'll stop. Because what this post is really about is my guitar! That I bought! Today! That's right!

And what you may not know about me (which is understandable, because even though I put most of my life out here on my baby of a blog, there are shitloads of things I've kept private, which probably doesn't make me the right kind of blog owner), is that I've forayed into the world of guitaristry before. Actually, I play a multitude of instruments: piano, flute, and the drums, my real musical passion. Instruments and music and writing are the only stress relievers I have. But back when my friends and I were in our seminal girl band, Russell Betty and the Corrigans (an obscure Great Gatsby reference and the fourth and final name we decided on), I was destined to learn all the instruments.

This was long before I ever saw or knew of the Coathangers or Grand Ole Party, and learned that the drummer and lead singer of a band could actually be one and the same, and at the time I thought the only way for me to sing the songs I wrote was to be a lead guitarist. So at it I went, borrowing my bandmate's acoustic and tab book, using a pink clothes button as a pick, and strumming away while holed up in my room for hours. From those weeks of musical encampment, I mastered only two chords: C and F and constructed sappy, whining folk songs from them.

And now, two years later, I am basically starting from scratch, having forgotten everything I ever learned. I held my guitar and it was almost like meeting an old friend with whom you used to do everything but whose name you seem to have misplaced, despite the many memories.

Hopefully these nine months I have left of school will provide me more than enough fodder to start creating some really good music and hopefully this guitar will bring me some much needed peace of mind.

I'm gonna be the next Beck! I'll be Becky!

Deuces,
Erika

I'm On Craigslist!

So everyone knows I have to move out of my current living situation ASAP! If you don't know that by now, you obvi haven't been purveying the Tumblr. Anyway, so I thought to myself, how can I move this along a little bit? You're thinking..."By getting a goddamn j-o-b already?!" And you're totally right! I'm trying! Today, I drove all the way over to Van Nuys just to look into a position that was already filled! So you see, I'm trying! Pinky promise...

And then I thought, "Why not go to Craigslist? I'm looking for somewhere to live, people are looking for tenants/roommates, etc."

Now you, good people, can find me, Erika, ALLZ over Craigslist like white on rice! Yay! If you're feeling inquisitive, just look into my fab ad!

I don't know about you, but I think it's pretty well written and awesome. I'll be out of here in no time!

Deuces,
Erika

Cribs: Erika Edition

So I believe I got a request from a Miss Alex about posting up pics of my new place, and I'm more than happy to oblige! Plus I don't have anything to talk about. Photos usually distract from that.And here, ladies and gents, is my bedroom. It's pretty awesome. The blue Grizzly Bear poster and the huge ass byoP poster I got free from Criminal Records. The Pipettes poster and the Nicole Atkins poster were both looted from the venue after said concert. The dark pink poster with the face on it is actually from the New Young Pony Club album. I got the MIA bandana free, too...but it's a long story...and I got that red poster from this awesome ATL concert for Stomp And Stammer Magazine...The Black Lips, Deerhunter, Snowden, and the Selmanaires...all for 15.oo, and I won tickets for it on the radio. Sometimes Atlanta's pretty cool. Usually not.
In case you can't tell, my calendar is by Donny Miller. In case you aren't familiar with his awesomeness, read up. You can also read the running dialogue between me and V. Those Feist pictures are actually postcards that my old boss from the radio station gave me. I had 4 but I gave two to my boyfriend since he likes B&W photos so much. It's an artist thing. The cool thing about that Matt & Kim poster is that my boyfriend actually got Kim to sign it for me as an early birthday present. We saw them when they came to the Whirlyball as a part of the Fuck Yeah Fest, and they were awesome. Matt even hugged me! Kim and I talked too, and she laughed at how excited I was. And as you can see, I've collected all the MIA for Marc Jacobs ads...mostly because I like MIA but I love Juergen Teller.
The pink Boris poster was free from an in-store at Criminal Records (they played ONE song and it lasted about 15 minutes!) and the Arctic Monkeys poster was from when they played at the Tabernacle about 2 years ago. It was fresh off the release of their latest album. And all the
8.5 x 11 glossies were pulled from Nylon or Missbehave.

Wow, that was cool. I sort of felt like I was featured on Todd Selby's site for a second. Huh. Oh yeah, and this is my bike. My boyfriend made me take a billion pictures of it. I always joke that he's only into bike porn.
I ride it to school about 3 times a week, which saves a good bit of gas, but takes twice as long. Oh well. Every time I get tired riding it, I think to myself, I'm gonna be so skinny by the end of this year! And then I press on. Motivation, kids. Motivation.

Deuces,
Erika

Summer Albums

I don't actually have an iPod, I have a Zune, but this picture will work anyway.

Well, it's definitely summer. Hot temps, rainy days, girls with bikinis as tops (just as long as they follow the fashion rule), babies left in cars...yep, all the telltale signs that summer is in full swing. And it seems like everyone is talking about good summer music these days.

This made me start thinking about my own summer music. I'm one of those people that compartmentalizes things for specific reasons. Like, I have a set group of CDs that are "Winter Music" (The Shins, Sea Wolf, Blonde Redhead, Camera Obscura, etc...), a group for Fall (Death Cab for Cutie, Arctic Monkeys, Malajube, Feist...etc). My "Spring Music" category is pretty ambiguous since there isn't really a Spring in ATL: just winter for like ever then BAM! it's really hot.

So I recently pulled out my good old summer standbys and will be putting them on rotation in my car very soon. My 10 classic summer albums are:

1. Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Show Your Bones
(From "Gold Lion" to "Turn Into"," this whole album is delicate and shimmery and light and perfect for summer. I used to play this album with all my windows down, just loving the music and the warm breeze)

2. Dr. Dog: We All Belong
(We All Belong is a straight up epic album and perfect for a nighttime BBQ. Put this record on, pour a pitcher of PBR, and just enjoy the night)

3. Cake: Comfort Eagle

4. The Grates: Gravity Won't Get You High

5. Black Lips: Good Bad Not Evil
(just classic summer garage rock, this album is my go-to summer album even though it was released in September. It's like crusty, sandy, beach rock.)

6. CSS: CSS

7. Love of Diagrams: Mosaic
(there is one line in The Valley Of The Dolls where Neely is in her room, "tossing and turning in a barbiturate haze." That line always stuck with me and I feel like this album captures that feeling, because it feels really hot and dark)

8. The Go! Team: Proof Of Youth
(the Go! Team always makes summer music, but it's classic, like summer on the stoop in 1978)

9. Wolfmother: Wolfmother

10. New Young Pony Club: Fantastic Playroom

Well, what are your favorite ten albums? They don't have to be from a particular year or anything, just the albums you always find yourself listening to in the summer. Post up your personal faves in the comments section so I can read them and heckle/praise your taste in music!

Deuces,
Erika

Friends...But Not The TV Show, The People

I really need friends. I'm not gonna front like before I moved to ATL, I had a shit ton of friends, 'cos I didn't. They were all flighty sort of friends that you hung out with and whose houses you slept over and walked to and from school with, but never really connected with. Those girls would ditch you for the popular kids and pretend not to know you if everyone else was doing it.

In fact, when I came to Atlanta, I made more friends than I'd ever had. But they all, in turn, spurned me and left me sad and lost. Somehow I kept fucking up my friendships. It had to have been me, right? That's how I used to see it. They were so much more perfect than me. I had to be the one who was saying and doing the wrong things.

Some girls stayed in my life longer than others, but eventually, they all got filtered out of it, either by some out of hand fight, moving, or just drifting apart.

High school was kind of different. Granted, I faced a lot of bitches, but I thought I had three real friends. Of course, like all girls, they were a lot to handle. One was a chronic liar, one had an eating disorder, and one lived in a perpetual state of childishness. I tried again. I got a spoiled brat, a chick that didn't even have a driver's license in senior year, and a dude that thought women couldn't be rappers. (But he was also the perfect candidate to be a domestic abuser, so we won't go into that.)

In other words, I've never been able to find good, strong friends. I've never had that "tell me anything, I won't judge you, I'll just listen and give you good advice" kind of relationship. I used to spend hours on end telling my mom my problems, but there's only so far you can go with parents, y'know?

I definitely don't have issues making friends. I make friends on the internet, at shows, at the grocery store, blah fucking blah. I have trouble making friends I can hang with outside said internet, shows, grocery stores. People who I can just call and say, "Hey, I'm getting pizza, you down?" and they will actually respond, "Fuck yeah! Meet you there in fifteen." I've never had that.

Well the BBQ yesterday just reminded me of how few real friends I have, since they were all my bf's friends, and not mine. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing things by myself. But there's a limit. I was trying to tell this to my bf last night, but he just said, "Dude, if I sat around all day like you, I would just drive anywhere and just walk around."

Sometimes it's not that easy. Sometimes it kinda hurts to walk somewhere by yourself and see people walking and laughing and having fun and NOT BEING HIT ON BY CREEPY DUDES THAT LIKE TO HIT ON CHICKS THAT ARE ALONE, cause that ish is starting to make me crazy. Still, sometimes you want someone to spill your soul to, besides your dog.

Deuces,
Erika

4th Of July Fun In The...Rain?

So today is my 4th of July/2nd birthday bash in Piedmont Park. The awesomeness was lined up last night: BBQ, beer, frisbee, and fun. Except it might storm today. And tonight, while we're watching the fireworks from the rooftops. Grrrrrrrreat.

The guest list was pretty final (me, my bf, his old roommate, my gay bff) until about 3 pm yesterday, when my gay bff called and said a sudden trip to his grammy's for the 4th came up. Boo. Hiss. Lame. I called my bf and let him know and he said he would ask if anyone else wanted to come. I told him I didn't care if I knew them or not. The more, the merrier, right? Right?

He called me back later that night and said his friend Andrew and his girlfriend would come. I don't know either of them, although I did speak to Andrew once vicariously over the phone when he was at my bf's apartment. But then I thought about his gf.

I was super tempted to ask if his gf was pretty, or tall, or fat...but I was afraid of being chastised for sounding irrationally superficial. But girls know what I am talking about right? Like when you see another dude's gf you kind of want to look better than her. I mean, you are a representative of your bf, just like he reps you. Maybe it's just me, but I think chicks can dig that sentiment.

Anyway, so hopefully today goes super. And we don't get rained out. 'Cos, uh, my hair and water do not mix unless it is in a shower and Herbal Essences is involved.

Oh and shoutout to Jtalk who hooked all us Missbehavers up with a way to watch Secret Diary Of A Call Girl. I'm hooked! Thanks girl!

Happy 4th bitches!

Deuces,
Erika

100th Post!!!

Actually, this picture was easier to find than you would think.

So this is it! My 100th blog post! I never ever thought I would get to 100, honestly. When I started this blog in May, my first post was about my mad contempt for that stupid rapper Tyga. And look how far I've come! I've made friends and gotten to know people, I've learned things and even made a few blog-enemies!

You might even say that I've arrived! Well, world, here I am! And I'm taking you by storm! I wanna say super sincere thank you's to Monique, Valentina, Storey Schifter, Jtalk, Lolita Hazed, ShannonElaine, Alex, Mz. Sullivan, and all the people on Missbehave who've ever said something nice about me, my blog, or what I write in it. Oh, and to anyone who ever took the time to email me when there were no comments. And I espesh wanna say jumbo popcorn sized thanks to Sarah Morrison for being so awesome and inadvertently giving me a million more readers! Hearts, girl, hearts!

Here's to another 100 posts! I'm winning out and I'm dropping bottles on you hoes! Don't stop believing!

Deuces,
Erika

Happy Birthday, Erika: The Aftermath

Today is my birthday! Did you read the post below? Okay, okay. Good deal, good deal. Well, the day went as follows: (in present tense, because it's funnier)

I wake up early enough to catch the first showing of Maury. Paternity tests till your eyes bleed. After that I fart around for awhile. Boring, boring, boring. I run to Criminal, pick up some concert tickets, harass some skater guys, then go get a manicure.

Dude, you should see my nails. They are so bright and neon orange they should be doing the Safety Dance. Afterwards, I return home, hang with my friends a bit. We act like idiots and spend our time laughing like stoners.

Then we all go bowling. I have some kind of super coupon that allows us to only pay 5 dollars for two games and free shoe rental. We bowl for a bit, all the while trying to avoid the Bratz doll 15 year olds that keep flitting around in little denim shorts and barely there tanktops. And even with all that, these are the things society is having an ish with??

So then it comes time to eat. My cake is at home, but I have carted two boxes of pizza to the alley with me because I have been given permission to by an anonymous Brunswick employee. I am stopped at the door with my pizzas, and told I am not allowed to eat it. Some scuffling later, my homies and I are forced to eat outside, while thunder threatens overhead. Some jokes are made and then we return to bowling.
One round late, we join the currently going trivia game. It is obvious that I know all the answers since I answered all the questions we were too late to answer...correct. My team is called Team AA HAKH, since it is the last letter of all our first names. My idea to name the team Team Bowling Hoes goes unheard.

I bowl a 109, but still lose, and then we manage to come in third in trivia. As a result, we win two free bowling passes none of us will use. I have answered the toughest queshes, like in what country did the futon originate (Japan) and what kind of animal was Rikki Tiki Tavi (mongoose). I am declared amazing. This I know.

In the car back to my place, my two friends and I play an epic and controversial game of Would You Rather? I become the WYR master. Some of my questions are:

Would you rather eat a spoonful of fire ants or lick a cow's ass?
Would you rather stand in a hailstorm naked or stand in a lightning storm wearing an aluminum bikini?
Would you rather be naked and roll around in gravel and rocks or roll around in a tub full of sperm?
Would you rather be high all your life or be drunk all your life?

Some of my friend's equally awesome queshes are:

Would you rather be pressure-washed naked or climb a telephone pole naked?
Would you rather have everything you see be so fuzzy that you can't make out what it is or just be blind?
Would you rather have someone shoot you in the eye or drink a mixture of glass and water?

After that quesh, I added, "and if you had the glass mixture, you had to drink a cup of orange juice." Because I am a sick bastard. And I think making people cringe is funny.

Finally, there is some cake cutting. I cannot properly wield a knife and so an entire cake slice is dropped on the floor. My bad.Some more WYR is played. Some photos are taken. People say goodbye and I watch them leave.

It is a good birthday. But the 4th of July ish still remains to be had.

Deuces,
Erika

Happy Birthday, Erika

Oh...shhhh...listen to that sound...it's me screaming in the distance. Why?

BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY BITCHESSSS!!!

If I said I was not waiting twelve months for this single moment in time to happen, I would be lying. I don't know what time it says this post went up, but in Atlanta, it's currently 12:18 am. My boyfriend and I are gonna take out the grill, the beer, da birfday cake, and the fun to the rooftop of these lofts in Downtown Atlanta for a combined 4th of July/Erika's birthday bash spectacular. Equation as follows:

Erika+birthday+fireworks+midnight madness=Sooo much fun!

If you live in the Atlanta area, are not SUPER creepy, are available all night on July 4th, like to hang out with black people and white people that wish they were black, and like free drinks, hit me up and come celebrate the madness with me!

Presents are mandatory. Those who are not in ATL can send them in the mail. I also accept direct faxes of your credit card info. Thx.

Bringing the bashes to the masses!

Deuces,
Erika

UPDATE: I found this rad video on Youtube. It's to a different Erika, obvi, but I'd like to pretend it was made for me.