love is a seven letter word (s-p-l-o-o-s-h)

AHHHHH, YOU GUYS! AHHH TILL THE END OF TIME! archer's season finale was what, like, a whole week ago? and i still haven't said anything about this show? WHAT UP WITH THAT? and it's especially crazy that i haven't broken my silence re: archer because i love it so much. like, seriously? ever since the untimely demise of 70/30 productions, and, subsequently, its creations frisky dingo and sealab: 2021 (RIP, pour one out for the annihilatrix and grizzlebee's onion bursts, respectively), i have had a hole in my heart that seemingly no adult cartoon could fill. i resorted to empty sex, as is my way, but no amount of monotonous boning via worthless TV programming was enough. I HAD A HUNGER. A DESIRE. A FIRE. ALL THE MAKINGS OF A HIT 80s ROCK BALLAD.

then archer came along. and i was like, what is this? what will this be? i found it comforting that the animation style was so much like frisky dingo's, and like a soft blanket you jacked from your gram's place because it smelled like childhood (cheap beer and plastic furniture covers in the summer), i wrapped myself up in it and settled in.

and oh my god. archer blew my mind. to be fair though, my mind is pretty easy. you don't know how many times i've had to stop my brain and be like, "dude, come on. he doesn't actually drive a benz. and his condo is a crack den. just because he dances well and bought you a drink doesn't mean you should go home with him tonight. brain! brain! don't get in that car! i'm calling you a cab. YOU'RE DRUNK." even still, i thought archer was great. i slowly felt that hole in my heart start to fill up until there wasn't one anymore. it was nice and smooth, like the part of the road near my house that got re-paved.

anyway, i could go on all day about how great the sharp writing and the casting (oh my god, JESSICA WALTERS WAS PUT ON THIS EARTH FOR TWO ROLES: LUCILLE BLUTH AND MALORY ARCHER. I'M SERIOUS. WE'RE DONE HERE. and fuckkkkkk meeeee with a chaaaiiinnsaaaw i am so glad to see h. jon benjamin back on a cartoon. i missed him so hard post-home movies. you know that scene where coach mcguirk is trying to become a bartender but keeps failing and ends up drunk on all the ridiculously bad cocktails he's mixed at home for himself? you know that's basically a metaphor for my life? oh, thought you knew.) are and how perfect ALL of it is, because it ALL is, but mostly i want to talk about how meaningful the season finale ("dial m for mother") was to me. it like, took all these warm, fuzzy feelings i had, bought them a pretty little princess dress and a corsage, and escorted them to the senior prom of MY HEART. it was, in a nutshell, EVERYTHING i missed about frisky dingo. everything i watched archer for. everything i love about adult cartoons. and more. ANDDDD MORRRREEEE.

without giving away any of the storyline, because it's pretty interesting, i just want to point out a few things that got me in *here* (by 'here' i definitely mean heart. not mouth, you jerk! IT'S NOT ALWAYS FOODFOODFOOD with me, you know!):

• the constant use of the word "sploosh." x-tacles, anybody? "boosh"? classic catchphrase. sploosh took me there. took me back to the days of saying BOOSH! after everything.
  
• how much pam reminds me of valerie, killface's former assistant. like, JESUS. she's hell-bent on getting someone to sleep with her and she possesses that same bitter, cynical, annoyed view of the world. seriously, the parallels between the two of them light up my world.
  
• the running steuben bar glass set joke! AHHHH, YOU GUYS! flashbacks to simon and the bowls! "THAT'S OUR LAST BOWL!" tears in my eyes. glow in my heart.
  

from the c-storyline involving the russian agents with the fake baby to the machine built just to erotically asphyxiate cheryl to the KGB agent that keeps running around holding a pink silk nightie, this episode was the most perfect departure from all the (relative) normalcy that archer possesses. this is where it just dove face first into absurdity, but it was lovely and hilarious and everything was beautiful and nothing hurt and i mean, i can't even begin to tell you how it felt to finally connect with a show as much as i connected with frisky dingo. it was just fan-fucking-tastic.

and yes, archer does have its moments of ableism and sexism, but i can appreciate that they're acknowledged as character flaws vs the family guy method of shrugging, muttering, "welp!" and accepting that a baby is just going to be racist. BECAUSE WHAT'RE YOU GONNA DO, RIGHT? it also bothers me somewhat how lana's body is illustrated: big tits, tiny waist, skimpy clothes, does a lot of gun shooting in lingerie. it's a little too lara croft for me but WHATEVER, GUYS! NOTHING'S PERFECT!

so basically i just want infinite seasons of archer forever and ever until i die. or until the jokes get stale and make me lose the will to live. i'm looking at you, the office.

she is exactly right, you guys.

as even more proof that she is as lovely as she appears, miss frl. zucker caught wind of my (borderline creepy? i'm bad at the internet, i think) post in which i basically confessed my complete and utter adoration of her and used it not to toot her own horn (although it is a horn which deserves as much honking as the one on her supercute bike gwenog jones), but to bouy the self-esteems of her fellow ladies, writing this:

anything i can do you can do too. i neither have a secret talent nor am i gifted. i'm not trying to be modest, this is truly my honest opinion. reading this also made me think of how i am constantly comparing myself to others aswell, how i always think others are so much greater than me, draw better than me, do much cooler things than me, are happier and prettier than me, etc. i don't believe this is a healthy habit. you and i aren't any better or worse than the people around us, i am slowly learning this. everyone can make something from nothing everyday in their own way. you don't have to watch people doing cool things, you can be the one doing those things! you've got the power! seriously.

and you know what, folks? she's right! while i don't think there's anything wrong with admiring someone or a quality of theirs, what do we gain from comparing ourselves to anyone else? nothing, but a one-way ticket to FROWNTOWN (population: you and those annoying hyenas from lion king that really got on my nerves). we have enough shit thrown at us on the daily to waste what's left of our energy on feeling bad about ourselves or what we have to offer! we should be focusing on what we're good at and what makes our boats float. then we should try to get rich and buy me a pizza oven. or not, that's really your call.

but don't get bogged down with what you can't do and look at what you can! pretty please? with sugar and a maraschino (like the cherry?) on top? yes, THANK YOU! i can't even believe this is a lesson we have to keep learning over and over again, but it is and we do. ah well. sisters are doing it for themsellllvessss!

ALSO: sarah and i are working on something super rad and totally bitchin'! so far we're just fleshing out the idea skeletons but if we cna put it on the internet, i think it'll be a big hit. you're gonna love it, pinky promise.

E

this is better than a marathon of degrassi with pink buttercream icing!

let's just get this out in the open: i get way way way jealous of ladies on the internet nowadays. they are so enviably twee. and let me also say this: i fucking love twee. camera obscura, los campesinos! winterkids, the postmarks, the positions, etc etc etc. but eventually you start growing up and there's less and less time for vintage pillbox hats and floral tights. that's when you turn to the internet to twee-out vicariously through the adorable fashions and mannerisms of those much cuter and happier than i.

now that we've gotten that out of the way, i can freely admit that i have been majorly internet stalking this lady named frl. zucker for the LONGEST. she's so cute, my bones ache whenever i go to her blog, DEAR DIARY;. but it's a good hurt, like in that episode of weeds when shane gets shot and doesn't want to take any painkillers. this making sense? GOOD GREAT WONDERFUL. anyway, she's totally the business and a side of rice and beans because she's a lovely little feminist with a whimsical sense of style and illustrations that make me cry so hard out of happiness that blood pools in the corners of my eyes. (MEDICAL CONDITION THANKS LEAVE IT ALONE). plus she loves bikini kill and harry potter. AND she makes little zines you can color in (shown above)! and they're only eight dollars if you live in the US. way cheaper than the indie rock coloring book that someone should really purchase for me for christmas. she's basically the person i want to be but never was because i don't have the balls and none of my friends dress like that and it'd just be like WAY TO STICK OUT like the sorest fucking thumb in the city, erika!!!

but anyway look at me just prattling on. here are some of her precious drawings! PHOTO EVIDENCE that compels you to want to make snow angels in pink chalk dust and spun sugar!


how seriously fucking cute is this?! HOW CUTE?! i want to know this drawing in real life and get strawberry milkshakes with it at the soda fountain! i don't even like milkshakes!!!

she has a bike name gwenog jones! and it has a bell and a basket and a mirror. SWOON I DIE THE END.

LE MOTHERFUCKING SIGH.

is it weird to dream of being frl. zucker? is it okay to wear yellow tights in the US? is there some kind of shelf life and/or domestic dis/approval for yellow tights? will i even live past 2012? all things to consider here! but in the meantime, feel free to head to this lovely lady's blog, put your cheek in your palm, and sigh till your lungs fall out. because that's what i'll be doing? yeah, because that's what i'll be doing.

E

ugly betty is tearing up my heart, n'sync style, you guys!

jiminy christmas, did anyone in the blogosphere watch last night's premiere of ugly betty season 4?! wait, what? people had lives and were actually out of their houses and hanging with friends and not trying to delay cold death on the living room sofa just a few moments longer and find something to occupy their dusty old mindprunes after degrassi went off and basically just shouting non-sequiturs to their wall, like "THAT IS FUCKED UP!" and "THIS OVEN COOKED PIZZA IS SO GOOD! IT REALLY ISN'T DELIVERY!" no? really? oh, well, then i may be in this ugly betty tizzy by myself. "um, good sir, may i have a TV-induced tizzy for one, please?" "yes, why yes you may. have fun dying alone." "thank you, sir!"

BASICALLY betty got a new job working as the associate features editor and she's over the fucking moon about it (who wouldn't be?! besides someone who got demoted but we don't even have TIME for demotions in the fashion industry! too busy trying to force body images on young girls and make sure those yards of crinoline come in! spring/summer '10 is gonna be SO BIG on crinoline, you guys. maybe.) and she's dealing with the new scenario of working for her ex-boyfriend matt who made a total cunt move and took the job to be her boss once she punched him in the heart with a bulldozer glove (not a real thing, but i am actively seeking a backer to make it HAPPEN!), not to mention we've got this new thing with justin, everyone's favorite teenager, just entering high school. plus christina's gone, daniel's grieving over dead wife ashes, wilhelmina is sheltering her murderous daughter nico (ps omg YAYA from TOP MODEL?! pinch me until i die please!!), trying to find connor for some good, old fashioned extortion (american values, left and right, y'all) and STILL trying to take over mode. WHOO! busy bees up in this hive this season! and that's just the tip of the fucking honey pot!

instead of going further into the episode, which you can watch in full HERE, can i just say how much i supremely love and identify with this season? the whole feeling of being super excited about something you've been trying to do forever and finally achieved and then feeling like you don't even fit in with that crowd which simultaneously crushes your dream bubble and makes you work harder so you can justify singing "survivor" by destiny's child at karaoke, and having to come in daily contact with a person you cared for and accidentally screwed up with that is repeatedly ignoring you and immaturely fucking you over constantly? and being bullied in high school because you're different and no one likes change and you really ARE that kid with the bright pink gucci shirt eating alone in the lunch room because the bathroom stalls are rank and you can't have food in the library and then feeling like you can only talk about it to someone who isn't your parent and your parent is pissy mcangrypants that you didn't come to them? and you feel stuck in the middle while also trying to navigate your own fucked up adolescent issues? and missing someone that was taken from your life way too soon and lashing out by alternating between anger and tears? can i just say i identify with all of that and so this season excites me just a tad bit more than the prospect of getting laid? JUST A TAD?

whatevs. i'm stoked. if you didn't catch it last night, i suggest you watch it! tears won't cry themselves and hearts don't warm automatically! well, maybe if they were robot hearts, but i would need some proof of you being a robot. THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT!

E

bodily organs should not be used as tissues, but i get the feeling that is what you want me to do!

above you is the trailer for the new-ish (in america, at least) movie, paris, which i saw last friday and nearly died from. you know how the english thought of love, actually and then america was like, "man, i gotta get all up in that action!" and made something sort of resembling love, actually and i forget the title of it and NO I WON'T look it up because you didn't come here for the acute accuracy of or hard-hitting facts. i know you came here because i promised you candy, and you will get it, don't worry, but for now just hear me out over here.

so anyway america wanted a love, actually but little did they know france was so far ahead of them, they couldn't even see them. because paris is basically france's love, actually (which i am going to stop saying now because my quota has been filled, i can collect my check, and go spend it on a few slices of pizza and a large rootbeer to cry into), only it's a little less cheesy (as if france's version of "cheesy" would be at all like the velveeta tinted nonsense we've come to know in america. velveeta tinted, i tell you!) and way more sad.

should i set up the plot for you? now, don't look so wary, i'll be gentle. take your hands off your eyes. stop being a baby.

so basically you have this guy, pierre, who was a great dancer a few years back, in the chorus lines and stuff, whatever france's broadway is. then he gets sick and the doctors diagnose with him a fatal heart condition and that is very *sobsob* sad because it means his body will weaken and then no more dancing! send in the clowns! cake's out in the rain! etc etc! muy depressing.

he tells his sister elise, played by juliette binoche (who is basically like a golden calf to whose feet i fall and whisper "i'm not worthy, i'm not worthy" in a totally wayne and garth-esque tone) is like, "dude, i'm gonna help you." he's like, "girrrrrrl please don't"and she's like, "nuh uh, mon frere. deeds is DONE." so she moves in and stays with him and she's working her job and being the mother of three kids (she's divorced from her husband) and having a little crushy-crush on the guy that works at the market (because who wouldn't love a guy who could hook you up with free lychees and say the lettuce heads looked ugly like you when you turned down their offer for a date?! WHO WOULDN'T?!)

pierre lives across the street from laetitia, who's in school studying french art and history and who's also BANGIN' (if i may be so crass, because f'reals, homegirl has it going on) and he develops a crush on her but she's basically a lemon tart and has a boyfriend while she's leading on her professor roland, who is looking so crazy in love, beyonce style and is verily crushed when he finds out miss cheater is, well, cheating on him. even after he dances to little richard in front of her. she clearly doesn't understand the balls it takes to do that, but whatever! she can go run off with the annoying good looking guy with the polo sweater! that is what you do!

there are also a ton of other players in this that have their own intertwining stories and basically the whole thing is so, so, so, so good and no dramatic musical numbers occur, which is great for me because musicals make me break out in a rash like i just got drunk and slept with poison ivy. plus the soundtrack is beautiful. lots of soft, classical jams that make you tear up and weep into your hot popcorn, which adds a ton of small hissing, popping noises to the wonderful music. you're like giving it a backup track. YOU'RE WELCOME, MUSIC.

and the whole thing is so lovely and this tale of a sick, kind man in love with life and the world and love is so heartfelt and touching that by the end of it, i was basically soaking in my own salty tears and sadness and hope. it was a weird combination and i had to wash all my clothes when it was over. fucking french movies! it basically ripped out my heart and used it for its paint by numbers kit. you know what movie? i hope the purplish blue looks good on the paper. because it looked great in my heart!

E

home is where the booze is

holy balls dudes and dudettes! i've been slacking hardcore over here. and for that i apologize. the internet is serious business and deserves to be treated with respect. the internet's a regular aretha franklin. MOVING ON, it turns out this past monday, august 22nd marks my one year anniversary of the day i rolled into this glittery, smog filled bat cave called LA. and it's pretty exciting, because it means i'm not dead and have survived this screwed up snowglobe-like city. which is a yay! moment. small accomplishments, people. i won't even get into the myriad of too-cool-por-school things i've gotten to do since moving here because why bother and i'm lazy.

so that's about it. it's quite exciting, and i will probably hang around this place for three or four more years and get into shit loads of stupid trouble, wear shitty clothes, and remain steadfast in my mission to convince everyone in los angeles that the cosby show is one of the best shows ever. CONSTANT VIGILANCE you guys. but who knows what kind of wacky things i'll end up doing around here? this place is like a carnival with lots of roads but no places to get a proper funnel cake (the world's most elusive outdoor event dessert).

so, hey, let's put some TI on and grab a few slices of pie, because it's about time we start having fun! (oh man i hope no one notices that i had no idea how to end this)

E

why am i not dead yet?!

so. another year. one more step on the staircase of death. one more floor in the elevator of my own demise. just kidding! i'm actually excited to be one year older! it means i'm doing something right because i'm still alive! in your face everybody who wishes i was dead. (probably no one, but maybe everyone, and you've got to put it in someone's face, right? correct.) but you guys aren't here for the self-reflection and the navel gazing, you're here for the CAKE!

well you can't have any! because this is the internet. and you can't eat anything off it. YET.

until the future becomes a reality, let's take a look back on all that's happened to me last year. LOAD UP THE SLIDESHOW MICKEY. settle in.

since my last birthday, i've moved to LA, worked at a dry cleaner's, been to fashion parties, met internet famous LA'ers, met a cool gal named V, gotten blackout drunk in front of adults and children (and then somehow managed to vomit on my bangs? how does that happen?), started blogging for missbehave, watched the inevitable and sadly unstoppable undoing of missbehave, became friends/lived with sarah morrison and olivia allin (whom i love), met my awesome new best friend jasmine, gotten to see tim and eric live and it's always sunny in philadelphia presents: the nightman cometh, eaten truckloads of tacos, gotten to see amazing indie movies, gone to the coolest shows (seriously i never thought i would ever get to see animal collective, white rabbits, asobi seksu, and camera obscura live. never ever ever), started writing for buzzine, and pretty much gotten to live it up. i honestly never thought my life would be this amazing and that it would all come so fast, but that's LA for you, i guess.

(sidenote: shoutout to everyone that's held out their hand to me and help me cross the proverbial street this year: sarah, meghan, lillian, sam, and sydney jane. if it wasn't for all of you i maybe would be dead. if not dead on the outside i'd be dead on the inside. wahhh, the emo! not really, but you guys have all helped me way more than you know. THEY DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE I LOVE YOU.)

LA is pretty cool and while i probably can't see myself living here for the rest of my life, i do see myself settling down here for quite a while. maybe i'll get a coldwater flat in that cool little space between echo park and downtown. maybe probably! i could be maybe dead by then!

SO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! i'm not dead and that's cool! i hopefully won't be dead for a bit so good morning, and in case i don't see you, good afternoon, and goodnight.

E

(ps: the above is a picture of my mom's dog wearing my glasses. i'm a photographer. it's deep. hire me.)