Sassy Senoritas Eating Juevos And Gorditas

So some of you guys (V, Sarah, and Alex) might have noticed something pop up in your inbox this morning. That's because I made a new blog! It's called Brooklyn Prom Queen and it's super special because it's just for you guys! By you guys, once again I mean V, Sarah, and Alex. On it we can discuss awesomesauce music, kickass books, movies, and other badass magazines and publications that we like as well as White Rice!

It's basically the blawg Messiah. Oh yeah, so back to your inboxes (what a fucked up plural!), I sent you guys emails so the four of us can all write whatever we want whenever we want!

Brooklyn Prom Queens unite!

E

"And There Isn't A Single Clock In Los Angeles?" And Other Reasons Why Everybody's Life Recaps Sound Like Sarah Morrison's Best Week Ever

Recently, my phone has started acting up. By acting up, I mean just literally cutting the fuck off right in the middle of texting, conversations, and in general. For some reason, this defectiveness has affected my phone's clock, which is somehow behind an hour or 15 minutes. Confused, I called my mom and asked her the time. She told me she was busy, talked to me, then asked me why I called. I told her it was to see what time it was. I explained my phone's brokenness. She said, "Are you telling me there isn't a single clock in Los Angeles?"

I was at the Simi Valley Town Center in gross boring Simi Valley, looking for Urban. I texted my mom, "This place is boring and quiet. You would like it. Except I think I'm the only black person here."

My mom called me and told me that there wouldn't be heat or hot water in the townhouse I'm moving into until Monday. She then asked if I wanted to stay in the apt I currently live in for another week. I told her, "I will heat my bath water in the microwave before I stay in this apt!"

After math class, some kids and I were talking while having some American Spirits. Somehow the topic of porn came up. They shared their respective favorite porn sites and laughed when they realized they were the same. One kid looked at me and said, "Erika, do you watch porn?" I shrugged and said, "Yeah, when I have nothing better to do."

My mom called me and told me about how she had to take my dog Frizzy to the vet for some bumps on her back. Apparently, the vet said it was due to Frizzy being allergic to her own environment. I said, "That's ridiculous! The next thing you know, they'll diagnose her with Fibromyalgia!"

My roommate had a large group of friends over. This girl came to the door telling us about some break-from-study party she and some people were throwing involving food, drinks, and free hand massages. I went to tell my roommate and company. At the end I said, "I guess she'll see ya'll there." Upon leaving, I heard one girl say, "Ya'll?" and another say, "That's Atlanta." Then they laughed. I texted my bf, saying, "Why do they have to make fun of me for saying ya'll? I don't make fun of them for saying hella!" He replied, "That's because you say that too."

E

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

Erika Explains It All

I'm starting a journal you guys. It's gonna be e-mazing! Get that joke? Awwwesooommme! I've decided to write an entry every day until I'm 21 and then I'm going to look back on it and sigh and be embarrassed and think less of my younger self, probably.

That's it. Yep. Sorry, this hasn't been one of my best posts but um, yep. I don't really have an explanation. Blogger FAIL.

Deuces,
Erika

This Just In:

I am blogging for Missbehave now. I am on the website. Did you see the sidebar? With me in it? Good, good. Everything should be in full effect by next week. I am very tired and very sad right now. I have to go to class tomorrow and should get some sleep. Will report back after work. That is all. Love ya, mean it.

Deuces,
Erika

My Name's Paul, and This Is Between Ya'll

Back when I was still in high school and dreaming of going to LA, my mom told me I had to have a thick skin, because not everyone was nice, or accommodating, or considerate. She told me some personal stories and I realized I would have to get a lot tougher and a lot stronger if I wanted to last out there. See, people are very nice in Atlanta. If you were carrying groceries home and like, an orange fell out of the bag but you didn't notice and kept on walking, someone would pick it up and run up to you saying breathlessly, "Here's. Your. Orange." And then you all would smile and life would continue. I certainly was not prepared.

But you know what? The last place I thought would give me any grief was the internet. Maybe I didn't know what I was getting into. Maybe the greats really didn't have it easy. Life on top is rough...the air is thin and you have to follow the special baking directions on the Betty Crocker boxes to account, but I love it up here and I'm not coming down.

Which means all you anonymous commenters and people who generally just have something mean to say can pretty much do so. I won't trip for even a second. Someone telling me I'm "obsessed" with Sarah Morrison doesn't make me upset. Espesh because it's not true. Or if someone says I'm trying to hard to be funny. Bitch please, I know I'm funny. I don't need validation for that shit. Or anyone else telling me any other shit that's just plain nasty. It doesn't make me cry, or sad, or hurt, or anything. It makes me laugh that someone would take this much time out of their meaningless life to say something rude to a complete stranger. So go ahead! This blog is an open forum, and although that meant it was for ideas and thoughts to be exchanged respectively from person to person, you random ass people can turn it into a place for mudslinging. This blog isn't my entire life so it's pretty sad if it's yours.

Now if you'll excuse I'm going to continue knocking bitches out the box.

Deuces,
Erika

Oh, and in case no one got it, the title of this post is a line from Pulp Fiction, which I watched last weekend because I don't have cable.

Fashion Is For The Skinny

I know I have touched on this subject before...but here I am again! Recently, what with not having cable, I've been practically living on the internet. I have also been stumbling upon a lot of good fashion blogs lately. Personally, I can't really stand fashion blogs because they irk me. For some reason, everything always seems so contrived. The poses, the perfection of the details, the looks on their faces...Whatev. It's sort of hard for me to put my irritation into words. Conversely, I also really like looking at them because I like to see how other people put clothing together.

But yet again, I see one common denominator. These chicks are skinnier than most. Not model skinny, of course, but that kind of thin that makes them look good in anything. Like, I know fashion blogs are not for replication, but it's like...of course these girls look good in ripped tights and a home-sewn minidress...when you're slim, it's hard to look bad in a lot of things that are fashionable. I mean, I don't know. I guess on the one hand I just want there to be average looking girls doing these fashion blogs. Can't a size 6 start documenting what she wears everyday? And on the other hand, it's not my job to solely regulate body size for fashion blogs. I mean, really.

Oh well. I am a study in contradictions. I would start documenting what I wore, but that would just be cliche and yet another heel-print in the worn down path of self-promotion. Life is confusing, and annoying, and fattening. Fashion is too.

What is the real message here? I need cable.

Deuces,
Erika

I Owe Everything I Have To Sarah Morrison

I started this blog a long time ago. I had the comments up for about two weeks, realized no one was commenting, then decided to take them out. So I chugged along, just posting things I wanted to read and look at, since I had no real way of figuring out what other people wanted to read or see. One day I posted a notice about Missbehave's Miss Rap Supreme Rap Wrap Party. Then I went to Missbehave and was shocked.

I had a shoutout! From Sarah Morrison herself! She was blog-stalking me! And admitted it! I couldn't believe it. I told her I took out the comments and she said it made me look like I was too cool for comments. Which I definitely wasn't.

Then she called me an enigma, and singlehandedly gave me an infinite amount of readers with the click of her mouse on the Submit Comment button.

Fast forward a little more and she even acknowledged my birthday! Truly, this blog is possible because Sarah Morrison gave me so much unintentional free press. So thx girl.Really!

Now in her honor, everyone take this post to profess your undying and mad fandom for her! (I'm mostly talking to you Alex!) Team Morrison!

Deuces,
Erika

Guest Blogger Punch Punch!

So I've maintained this blog pretty much Hans Solo since it's conception. I don't even know why I made it, actually. Fun trivia factoid: I used to run a blog on the (RIP) 99x AVRoom, and I got it just so I could enter this contest to be Dekker's intern! (Ed. Note: only people who have lived in ATL for at least three years will have found that amusing)

Anyway, this place needs some fresh meat. And by fresh meat, I mean fresh ideas. And by fresh ideas, I mean something other than the weird, random ish I write. So I figured, how better to do that than to get someone to guest blog over here!

It's nothing as cool as Missbehave's Next Top Blogger (which I won, btw), but it will get you some mild infamy, a few new readers, and a chance to spice up your life! Vaya! If you're guest blogging, it'll only prolly be for about a week, but you have to put up at least one new post a day, and you can put the link to your own blog at the bottom of each post if you wanna, which I encourage, 'cos it's free press and I LOVES me some free press. Keep in mind that the posts can't be as retarded or random as what I write, i.e. they should be semi-deep or just talk about your day..etc. I put enough strange bullshit on this thing as it is, girl. Oh, and you should also be really profesh about this, since I will be giving you my password and username to login to my blog. So you can't just be looking through my personal ish and/or giving my password away to random homies.

I am thinking this will go down Lesley Arfin style...hopefully? LA X Missbehave was/is pretty successful. I hope this is too. Anyone (by anyone, I mean whoever reads this blog avidly) who's like, maybe interested should take two secs out of their day and email me at emp62790@yahoo.com with GUEST BLOGGER in the subject line. Please! Thank you! I'm taking emails all of today, until 12:01 am, and then I'll just email the new blogger back after that!

Ohmahgawd, this'll be like, so much fun! Slumber party! Mani/pedis! Pillow fights! Light as a feather stiff as a board! Ouiji! Dishing about boys! Other girly things! Can't wait!

Deuces,
Erika

Punch punch!

Knowing People

I used to be naive and kind of stupid and believe that regardless of how many people get everything in life because they know people who know people, I would win out because I was getting everything on merit and hard work. But this isn't 1862. Hard work alone doesn't get you shit. You have to have connections.

There are girls who get to go to amazing parties, meet incredible people, do ace things...for no reason but who their parents are. Yeah, maybe if my aunt was Anna Sui I would be singing a different tune. But as it stands, I tried to get a really good job based on what I knew.

Currently, I am unemployed. All my friends are working two jobs. Because of who they know. One friend got a high paying job at a Japanese daycare center because her mom used to teach there. My other friend does audits for an insurance company because his friend hooked him up.

Hell, I got an awesome internship at the now (sadly) defunct 99X radio station because I knew a guy working there. I didn't have to apply for the position or anything, and I got free run of the station. It was amazing.

But there are like a ton of chicks out there who are amazing, rad, ace women with incredible things to say and do. But life is not about what know, it's about who you know.

And these ladies don't know a goddamn person.

Deuces,
Erika