Gone to the Darker Side

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Flock the Art Walk

The second Thursday of every month, Downtown Los Angeles goes artsy. An array of mysterious food trucks, eye-opening art galleries, diverse faces, lowkey non-Hollywood-esk bars and a different feel of the outskirts of Figueroa Street may overwhelm many, but what else would you do on a Thursday night? Go to an over rated HW club, see a movie, circle jerk? No thanks, I'd rather explore and engage in an intelligent conversation over an EXTRA dirty martini about which piece I would buy if I had an endless amount of cash on me. I'm not talking about your usual canvas painting, some sculptures cost over ten G's, you would be astonished. Every time I go it's different, however last week was interesting, not sure if it's because of summer but something was in the air and I'm not referring to the distinctive smell of bums (tip: shower AFTER). 

hobby: tabasco chugging

xoxo

Walking On a Grave

Walking on a Grave....literally. A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to watch Wizard of Oz at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Buried people, the Wicked Witch, Dorothy's sequined red slippers, tombstones and odd balls...I might as well should have been asked by the scarecrow himself to follow the grave brick road. However, being the curious and sick minded Cancer I am, I was thrilled.  An order of take out from Bottega Louie and five bottles of wine later, I was sitting on a hippie blanket the size of a Cali King and watching Dorothy get sucked out of Kansas. Despite the  hectic swarm of people, the experience was well worthy.  I presume it's lights out for the vamps during the summer because this season is the only time the cemetery screenings take place. Then again, I wouldn't mind  an all year round schedule, getting my blood sucked in a cemetery is exactly the kind of night I would look forward to.

^UK Designer Natacha Marro's Mary-Jane "Dorothy" Heels, only ten made...

vamp love

Women are like crème brulée, initially impenetrable then tap, tap ahhh you're in

90210 said it best^---I may have bent the words to my own version but the idea is still there. This proverb may directly sound like breaking through a woman's shell, exterior or excuse my vulgarity; virginity. It appears simple, you know, digging your spoon into a  crème brulée and lifting it to your mouth for an excitement of a crispy yet warming embrace of heaven. Yet again, once you have devoured a couple of mouthfuls, are you satisfied? Are you yearning for more or are you ready to switch flavors? Perhaps even put the spoon down? What if we just want you to have a taste, who allows you to refuel your sugar high? We are that dish you oh so craved for when you picked up that spoon in the first place, right? So yes, we are often impenetrable, hard at the exterior, tough shelled but after  a few tries you may be in for a creamy surprise, depending on boundaries.... but it is us who are the treats you picked off the menu and whether you decide to take big spoonfuls at a time or slowly enjoy it, it is us at the end of the day who let you enter our delicate, caramelized surface.

xoxo

Mysterious clouds slash eff Yous

I was driving down the street the other day and I came across this, no it's not a picture I found on a college humor website, I'm a proud witness.

(use your imagination)

This recent fascination derived from my Geography course, we're learning about clouds...

This would be called a CUMulus cloud:

Enough with nature, middle fingers. They're vulgar and sexy... unless you don't have a pretty finger.

^rip heath, even he knew how to throw up an eff you

good looks brit

in conclusion, why curse when you have a middle finger?

xo

Sexy Docs&Obfuscating Stairs

This European dude inspired my doctor, doctor fix, do me a favor, listen to the lyrics:

Everyone loves Grey's Anatomy Dr. McDreamy

 

Upside Down Stairs, never heard? (location: Greystone Mansion Wonderland, Beverly Hills)

^Skip Runyon Canyon children, and try climbing up those twice a week^

brb

Street Companion

Street Art (or companions), wave hello to them if you're in New York. If only LA had subways...

I love street art:

P.S. Happy St Yaddys.

Fast Break

German photographer Oliver Schwarzwald is the kind of artist that captures your eye and doesn't let you leave his work for minutes as you try to analyze it. He's one of my personal favorites and has a collection of typical breakfasts around the world photographed youneekly.                                                 

In order of pictures: Uh-merica, Petit-Dejeuner (France), Great Britain, Frukost (Sweden)

BISB

Apologies for the pause, I've been tres busy. This graphic describes the blog pause and oddly enough reminds me of this monkey looking co-worker I used to have who ALWAYS used the word "hiatus"...

Turn off the media YouTube player, and indulge into a cleverly incorporated half hour mix created by Fan Fiction,  not to mention I love the title.

Blogging is Serious Business Mix (mp3)


Recent Ke$ha obsession spreads like a wild fire. It all began when two of my girlfriends would blast it in their cars like pre-teenagers. It grew on me...

Ode to V♥Day

Specified for Valentine Gift and Plan Procrastinator's, don't worry they'll still love you:

♥Picnic at the Hollywood Bowl (with wine, of course)

♥Paradise Cove in Malibu for their classic drinks and shrimp cocktail♥Bake Valentine Themed Goods "Made with Love"

♥Pink Perfection:

For those of you who have planned accordingly and ahead of time, congratulations, I'm excited for Sunday too (wink).

♥

Eau D'Bedroom Dancing

Le Tigre put words together to form a song that depicts the way I feel about this subject. Who likes to dance in their bedroom? I do.

I'm in the sky when I'm on the floor
The world's a mess and you're my only cure
There's no time for me to act mature
The only words I know are "more, more" and "more"

No one to criticize me then
No one to criticize
No one to criticize me then
No one to criticize

There's no fear when I'm in my room
It's so clear and I know just what I want to do
All day bedroom dancing
To you I wanna say
You're my thing.