Come And Get Me Outta This Town Oh Now, Come And Save Me

I have always been and will always be inspired by POGS.

I hate shopping malls.
I had to be in one today and it was terrible.
On top of that I'm still very sick.

I've created a new blog. It's not for people to read.
It is a place where I can save my research material that I have to gather for a class.
Feel free to look at it when I have some things on there but it really won't mean anything to you if you haven't seen or read The Pajama Game.

All Homework, All Weekend = Gross.

I am annoyed by all this talk of Fashion Week. Since when does EVERYBODY and their mom care about fashion and style?! I mean c'mon. It seems that everyone theses days wants to be a fashion designer or stylist. It's a lot harder than it looks by the way. I know shows like Project Runway make it all seem so easy but it's not American Idol people. You can't just sew a bunch of fabric together, put it on your anorexic friend, take a bunch of "avant garde" pictures, and call yourself a designer.

It would be the same thing as snapping a bunch of pictures with your digital camera and calling yourself a photographer.


wtf?! c'mon!

Anyway...on with my rant. Maybe I'm just really tired of reading people's reviews of Fashion Week and what designers sent down the runways. Maybe I'm annoyed because it's not even about the clothes anymore. It's about who's wearing them, and who's at the show, and who's at the after party, and who's the Dj. Some designers are celebrities, and rightfully so, but it has recently become trendy to want to work in the fashion industry.

I guess it's all these reality shows on TV that give people the impression they can just show up and give the camera some attitude and you'll be successful.

When did we all forget about hard work?

I just want to scream at those magazines and blogs, "Don't Tell Me What To Wear!!"



Here's another old photo of myself that I never published anywhere.
My hair is quite long and I'm wearing my old cat eye glasses and a mars volta t-shirt.
In the background you can see a poster that reads: Carol never wore her safety glasses. Now she doesn't need to. I'm going to estimate my age at 16 or 17 years old.

Future Husband:



Duckie fromt he movie Pretty In Pink
I wonder if this is how real teenagers dressed in the 80's or is this how they wanted us to remember the eighties?