Now Trending :Revenge of the “whatsherface” and Brass Instruments

When most people think of Ke$ha, many messed-up things come to mind: out of control parties, endless drinking, masses of glitter, some unicorns maybe…. But certainly nobody refers to her as that backup singer in Flo Rida’s old hit “Right Round” (which, yes, is a re-make of the similar song “You Spin Me Right Round (Like a Record)” by the 80s’ band Dead or Alive because there really are no original ideas anymore).  She took a phenomenal jump to “superstar” from “that random girl.” And, if it could work for someone like Ke$ha, it can work for anyone, right?

That’s why Dev is breaking into the music industry. While the name Dev may mean nothing to you, perhaps the phrase “Like a G6” rings a bell. Yeah, that’s right, she’s “that chic” in singing the refrain for Far East Movement’s first hit.  I guess that anybody can break into the industry now with a few lines in a song and a pretty (though unknown) face. Anyway, Dev’s new song  “In the Dark” brings me to my next music trend – including brass instruments in songs.

Surely you’ve already heard the saxophone gods play in Lady Gaga’s “Edge of Glory” and Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night”, but could you hear all the brass in the background of Beyoncé newest hit “Love on Top” that she played at the VMAs? Dev’ song follows suit with a type of “saxophone-like-substitute” that probably came from a synthesizer.

 What do you know? Maybe real music will catch on again!


Because Everyone Really Does Need Something to Put Their Credit Cards in……

……and it’s called a wallet. But everyone owns a wallet (really, do you know anyone who doesn’t?). And this establishment frowns upon what is commonplace and usual!

I was at the mall the other day, pouring myself over lots of fancy clothes that I can’t afford, when I spotted the cutest little credit card holder at Brighton.  Credit card holders are a fad that evolved from cigarette holders (think the 50s’ and 60s’ – anyone who watches the TV show Mad Men knows that people back then smoked to the extent that it’s a wonder everyone from that generation hasn’t died from lung cancer yet). But, when smoking suddenly became less popular due to health reasons, cigarette cases went on a diet and became credit card cases. And while the case is a bit of a throwback from 50 years ago, it manages to add some Victorian-era flair to the accessory with the elegant pattern on its cover.

Credit Card Case – $24 at Brighton

For $24.00, it’s not a steal, but it’s not a rip-off either. I guess that’s the price of being different!

Fun in a Flash Storm!

Okay, so this post has nothing to do with fashion or art, but rather the art of…making a fool of yourself. If you like posts about people doing stupid and embarrassing things, you are in the right place….

So I’m sitting upstairs, drafting a post, when all of a sudden, I can hear wicked loud rain coming down on the skylights. I know I have windows open in the kitchen, bathroom, bedroom AND upstairs, so I run to the closest window to start closing all of them. I find the first window upstairs, and as I start to close it I can’t help but notice that it is beyond raining cats and dogs. More like a end-of-the-world-God-is-coming torrential downpour.  The rain is also falling at this crazy slant meaning that all this water is coming in the house downstairs! Without  even bothering to lock the window, I scramble down the stairs and to the bathroom.

 The window in the bathroom in high on the wall, so I have to reach upwards to pull it down as rain falls directly in my face like I’m in some type of enormous shower.  I then sprint to the bedroom, where two windows are open and a puddle has already formed beneath them (after, like, only thirty seconds of rain). I don’t see the puddle, and I slip on it like an extreme version of slip-and-slide, and I crash into the window, landing in the puddle. Now that I am officially drenched, I crawl on my knees over to the other window, where the is a second puddle, and close it.

Without bothering to clean up the puddle, an adrenaline-pumped me makes a mad dash for the kitchen, closes those windows (no rain came in them, praise God), and rockets back upstairs to where the last window is. I’m flying towards the last window when I realize that there is this gigantic, ugly bug in between me and the window. I jump over it with an intense battle cry that could rival a barbarian and slam the last window shut.   

So to recap, the house is a watery mess, I probably have a few bruises, and my pants are drenched from that puddle.

Thanks, Hurricane Irene :-p

Lights…Camera…Fashion! The Re-creation of a Dream

My heart stuttered as I clumsily flew through hallways and practically soared down a flight of narrow, poorly lit stairs. Where is he? Where is he? My mind was frenetic. Finally, I throw myself though a swinging door to reach the bar. My eyes scan over the men behind the bar nervously – he wasn’t one of them. My heart fell and landed on my stomach with a thud, and it continued to shudder in panic at its new location. I knew that I had to leave that morning, and I hadn’t told him goodbye yet. I had to tell him goodbye, to see his face one last time.

How many times can you remember a dream that was so vivid that it was practically real? It’s awful, right? Because then you wake up furious or in despair because it wasn’t real life. But how many times can you remember what you were wearing in your dream? I going to try my best to find an outfit that matches exactly what I remember. But back to my dream….

“Do you know where (insert the love of my life’s name here) is?” I ask one of the bartenders.

“No, he hasn’t come to work yet.”

“I need to see him. I need to. Please!” I’m breathless and on the verge of hopeless as a practically beg the guy to help me find him.

“Hmm…he could be here…” he leads me through a dark hallway and I can see the sunlight at the end of the hallway (a light at the end of the tunnel – haha) and we come into what looks like a barn, and then outside. It’s overcast, and we’re walking around in a rather random fashion. All of a sudden, I realize that I had to meet my friends at a certain time before we left.

“What time is it?” I force out of my mouth with anxiety. Whatever time the guy said back, it was way beyond the time I was going to meet my friends and my brain has a conniption. I am so scared that I feel like I want to crawl out my skin. We wander up a set of stairs to another bar and….praise God, there he is. My heart flies off my stomach and into my throat, suffocating me with bittersweet joy. I float over to the bar and just stand there until he notices me.  He turns that perfect face over towards me and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh….I get a chance to say goodbye to you.” he says in that ridiculously charming voice. He pauses and adds “I was going to ask you…” he trails off like he can’t remember what he was going to say. I happily try to assist him.

“To marry me?” I nervously chirp.

“What?” he can’t hear because it’s too loud inside. He leans in towards me, extending his ear near me. He was so outrageously close that I couldn’t help myself. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my face against his cheek as I repeat  “To marry me?” When he hears me, he practically tosses me from him. I sit back down and he looks me in the eye.

“Love (he used to always call me that)…” he trails off for a while and then starts talking again. I can hear his voice, but he isn’t saying words. It’s as if he speaking in another language, and I can’t understand a word he’s saying….and yet I know the gist of it.  He’s telling me it’s a lie. That he never liked me. That he gave me those flowers and blew those kisses at me because he knew that I liked him. But it doesn’t mean anything. He keeps looking at me, trying to gauge what to say based on my reaction, but I bite my dark red lips and stare at my gray stiletto clad feet. I cross my legs in my matching gray short skirt and quiver. I look at him. I look down. I look at him. I look down. While I repeat this, I can hear weird noises in the background….the washing machine. Then I get it: it’s a dream. All of a sudden, I’d rather be heart-broken with an illusion of him in front of me than heart-broken and all alone. But it’s too late – I’m awake.

While I am still moping about over my dream, I also can’t get over the fact that I can remember my outfit distinctly.

It might look a little something like this:

5.5 Inch Louboutins.....

With a skirt from Diane Von Furstenberg. A cute, gray retro pencil skirt – but it was a little shorter than this one. And then this Herringbone blazer from Gucci. Put it all together and you have this chic-businesswoman look.

Sure, the outfit may be cool, but I’d rather my sweet bartender in my grasp. No pair of Louboutins can make you roses out of napkins, no blazer can blow you kisses, and skirts can’t dry tears. Yes, life can be misery, can’t it? He was no figment of my imagination – he was real. Those flowers and drink that you can see when you hover over my Gravatar? Those are from him, and I still have the flowers on display in my room. I miss him more than anything…..wherever you are, darling, volim te ❤

Congrats to my Good Friend…..

I send a virtual bottle of champagne and balloons to my good friend “ohsunshine2011” , who just reached her goal of 1,000 hits on her blog “Such is Life”! She has a lot of cool little stories about everyday life on her blog, from tips on how to save money to some paranormal experiences at her old house.

What are you waiting for? Go check it out at

Why are you still reading this? Click on the link – click on it!

Dear Tuesdays…..I Love You….

Everybody knows that Mondays are dreadful. Wednesday are aggravating because you realize you’re only half-way through the week. Thursdays are comforting because you know the week is almost over. You and I both know that Fridays and Saturdays are the best. Sundays are lousy because you know that Monday comes next. But Tuesdays…

Tuesdays are really no picnic. The only good thing about Tuesdays is that you know Monday is behind you…until next week. Maybe that’s why somebody decided to have Tuesday be the day that new music comes out. And may I say….GOD BLESS that person! 

Every Tuesday, I’m glued to iTunes, pouring over new music. My ears are sucked into the new singles, albums, and various selections of music on sale. And I can’t. Pull. Myself. Away.  How could I? There are way too many $0.69 songs for me to make sure I don’t need (or silently simmer over because I bought the same song for $1.29 last week).

What can I say? Tuesdays are like almost-mid-week-pick-me-up. They make the world continue to spin. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have $0.99 music videos that are calling to me.

Amy Winehouse was dating WHO before she died?

Everybody who even so much as glanced at the newspapers knew about Amy’s past relationship with her now ex-husband, Blake Fielder-Civil. Their toxic courtship may have encouraged her drug usage, and even lead to her downfall as she struggled through previous tours, claiming that she couldn’t give her performances her best because she missed her husband….who was in jail for most of their marriage.

In 2009, the couple divorced, and news about Amy seemed to disappear from the media until the cancellation of her European tour this summer, and tragically, her death. However, in the meantime, she had been dating the British director Reg Traviss, and rumors are circulating that she may have even been engaged to him. One of her good friends, Aisleyn Horgan-Wallace says how Amy loved Reg to the point that she wanted to start a family with him. “She loved Reg and hoped that she would spend the rest of her life with him. Reg was great for her, he was a positive in her life.”

Regardless of whether the couple was engaged or not, it seems safe to say that they had a very close relationship. Reg recently told tabloids “I can’t describe what I am going through and I want to thank so much all of the people who have paid their respects and who are mourning the loss of Amy, such a brilliant, beautiful person and my dear love” and “I have lost my darling who I loved very much.”

Sounds pretty love-struck to me, don’t you think?

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