I'm On Cocaine, Like It Was 1980

DUDEZ. In the course of about a week, my life took a full 180 turn. No, more like the illegal solid line crossing U-Turn you make at 1 am when no one else is on the road. That fast. Por serio. I quit my job, got MAD sick, got flight plans made to see my mom back in Atlanta in two weeks, I broke up with my boyfriend and then got back together, I FINALLY got my goddamn cable money, and I had a motherfucking epiphany.

And I met a boy. But more on that later.

I realized, ugh, finally, that I am in control of my own life. My boyfriend was sorta upset that I never seemed to hear him when he told me that, but I'm pretty sure it was a lesson I had to learn on my own. I was bogged down, drowning in the deep end of the pool because I'd chosen to do a cannonball into it instead of climbing down the little ladder, unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel, too possessed by depression and frustration to want to do anything except stumble through the day as effort and pain-lessly as possible.

But then I went to Sunset, like always, on Friday, (and it turns out I've been to Amoeba so much that random employees are starting to recognize me as I scramble between the sale VHS and the sale LP sections), and I went to 7-11. Then I got some hot dogs and sat in front of the CNN building watching Larry King on the big TV with the homeless people.

I felt calm. I felt like things could work out. I felt happy. (Granted, I was unaware that a 50.00 parking ticket was waiting for me three blocks away) I felt unstoppable and empowered and that's how I feel now.

When people are assholes to me (which they usually are), I repeat the words Don't Take It Personally over and over in my head. I feel like I can finally make decisions with my needs more so than others' in mind. I feel like it is possible to seperate yourself from your environment, and not allow it to bring you down or turn you into the bottomfeeders that dwell in it. I know what I want in a friend, and I'm committing myself to finding some. I feel like life can throw a shit ton at me and I can handle it. I'm ready. Come on 2oo9. You're my year.

And I've finally decided on a tattoo: never stop the hustle. And it's going on my forearm so whenever I get tired, or weary, or weak, I can look down at it and remember that this shit is for me. The things I do may benefit others, they may hurt others, they may change the whole goddamn world, but at the end of the day, the things I do are for me.

Ohai, and did I say something about a boy?

So I got suuuuuper sick on Tuesday (election) night. Shakes, body aches, light-headedness, nausea, the works. I went to the fancy schmancy hipster-ish Earth Bar that sits adjacent to the dry cleaners and got something called a Wellness Shot, which is basically a shot of lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and various oils. It tastes like hot shit. And not in the cool way. The dude serving it up talked to me for a bit about how I was feeling and said he hoped the shot worked. We even joked around a little bit. It was sort of freaky though, since that is exactly how I met my boyfriend. He was working in a hipster-ish juice place and I happened to meet him the day I quit/got fired from my job. So apparently bad events are opportunities to meet great people I guess.

Anyway, he happened to stop by tonight when I was at work to ask how things went down. Grossly but shamelessly (as is me), I told him how I basically threw up everything that was in me on Tuesday. He said, "Bummer." And then smiled. He's so sweetcute. Huh. I just realized I don't know his name. Oh but he doesn't know mine either. Ah well. Serendipity. So he said goodbye and then I watched him climb onto his motorcycle and drive off. That's when I knew:

HE SHOULD BE MY FRIEND.

Although I do instinctively want to fuck scruffy haired boys that have cute smiles, I really just want them to be my friends, to teach me how to skateboard and laugh when I burp when we're drinking 40 oz in a treehouse (note: build a treehouse), or assist in my judgment of other chicks at the mall, or stick up for me when someone says something mean. In all honesty, I seek a brother in a male friend (probably since I did have a half-brother, but never ever saw him, so basically didn't have one at all), but oh well. Dysfunction!

Um, plus he has a motorcycle. I die, I die, I die. The chance to ride on that thing would be bitching, espesh if we were going back to his place to play video games.

Now that would be the bomb.com.

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

What Is Los Angeles Spanish For Again? The Angles?

I'm here, I'm fierce, and I'm not going anywhere! Well, except downstairs to get some El Pollo Loco. Yum...chicken and lemonade...

So things are pretty cool here. Last night I hung around Hollywood for awhile. I pretty much plan to befriend all Hollywood inhabitants because they have access to the good drugs and a lot of money. That's something I could really get behind.

My apartment isn't anything special...just two bedrooms, a living room. kitchen, balcony (for when midterm exams come and I really need to end it all fast), the usual. Weird that my roommate isn't here yet. Actually, I've been the only person here since 9 am. It's kinda cool/eerie. I still have to buy a TV so I don't become a complete hermit. But yeah, everything's pretty chillza here.

School is a different story. There is a mad frenzy at the bookstore because not only can you register to vote there today, the cast of Greek is filming...and I guess talking to devoted, slobbering girl fans as well. I don't know. I haven't gone. I don't even watch Greek, and if I did, I doubt I'd want to meet the cast. Unless I could run down there and jump in a scene or something...maybe flash some deuces and shout a "holla!" really quick? Or throw on my "I Want To Be Sarah Morrison When I Grow Up Shirt"? Either options.

That's pretty much it, I guess. Hey V, will you go ahead and email me when you read this? Grazie. And pictures will be up soon...when I have time to take a deep breath, and I don't feel so lethargic. Can anyone else believe I just drove four fucking days to be here?! Straight up ridic.

Oh yeah, and the post picture is the note I left for my roomie. I had to go drop my mom off and I wasn't sure whether or not she would be in when I came back, so I courteously left a note. I mean, I'm so sweet, right?

Deuces,
Erika

The Protest Issue

Okay, I pretty much luh magzines. I mean I have three current subscriptions and I still manage to buy Missbehave every quarter, Nylon every month, and Cosmo every once in awhile. But really, how many variations on the cowgirl position can they attempt to show me? (Someone bring back Jane before I get postal on mainstream women's mags, kthx)

So a few days ago I opened up my mailbox and found my new issue of Under The Radar Magazine, aptly titled The Protest Issue.

Open it up and you'll find page after page of discussions about current events, the state of music, and politics from indie artists around the world. Each artist is asked to make a personal sign of protest, and the results range from wittily clever, like Peter Moren's Down With Whistling, British Sea Power's Help: Let's Keep Polar Bears, Jamie Lidell's Free Cliche Guevara, and Akron/Family's I Want To Live In Woodrow Guthrie's America! to the more serious and more provocative, like Issac Brock (of Modest Mouse)'s Protests Only Work If The People You Are Protesting Give A Shit What You Think, Foals' Go Back To Bed America, Your Government Has Figured It All Out, and Michael Franti's George Bush Hates People.
The issue then goes on to talk about the correlations between politics and comic books, the documentary Body of War, and the Top 10 Protest Songs of the 21st Century!

All of this awesomeness is going on between interviews of Spiritualized, Portishead, Conor Oberst, and My Brightest Diamond, among others. And, as it turns out, every protest sign in the issue will be auctioned off on eBay and the proceeds will be donated to the War Child Organization. Add this to the plentitude of album, comic book, and DVD reviews and reissues and this issue goes from great to eggpants awesome.

Like, people, if you really want to hear about how the world is today from people who are living it, who saw it, who were there for it, you have to get this issue. It's amazing, and enlightening, and fucking fantastic.

Under The Radar is 4.99 at Barnes and Noble. So go get it!

Deuces,
Erika

Guest Blogger Punch Punch! Results! Punch Punch!

Is it obvi I like saying punch punch!? Anyway, after my open call for some new meat on this blog was posted, I actually got some emails! Yeah, I know, crazy! I never thought that people would actually like this blog so much that they wanted to guest on it! I got some offers to do some guest blogging too, before, but I sort of let them go.

Hmmm...wasted opportunities. But that won't happen for anyone else! Punch punch! So with that, I would like to announce DIAtD's new guest blogger...Valentina!

...And Lolita Hazed!

That's right...I went Tyra on this ish, only instead of voting two models out at once, I picked two as the winners.

I mean honestly, I couldn't be so mean as to pick one person above the other! And I don't need a flood of death threats in my inbox for my decision. So yeah, I took the lame way out and picked them both!

You get to read all about the inner trappings of Valentina starting this Monday through Sunday and then you'll be able to explore the eggpants awesomeness of why it's better in Oklahoma from Lolita Hazed the week after that!

Yay! Winners! You guys are Do It At The Disco's Next Guest Bloggers! Pop champagne corks! Wipe your tears! Throw streamers! Do stupid poses for the camera! Smile! Be happy! Punch punch!

Deuces,
Erika