ginger gums.

i haven’t posted in a while.  been busy you know… trying to remember where i live and what my password to log into this fucking blog is.  if i could only read those stupid catchpa-catcha-coocha things where they distort the letters just enough so that even a pirate could still pass the robot-human screening process.  i would have just reset my password. then again, i always forget the password to my email where the new password gets emailed to.

whoever said ginko b  improves your memory…lied. not that i take ginko b but im sure if i did, it wouldn’t work. save myself the money and discredit it now.

you know what else has gone to shit besides my memory. my teeth. i went from 0 cavities, only 2 years ago, to 8. Yes, 8 cavities. I always assumed that because i don’t eat, why the fuck would i have to brush my teeth?  If  I don’t consume solids, why the fuck would i have to floss?  If i am constantly throwing up stomach acid and gargling that versus the much less appetizing alternative, “Listerine” why would i need to …. oh wait, yeah, fuck…i fucked up.

So, $900 USD later. I’m all grilled up. Now the only person with worse teeth than me is this guy.

2010 and i dont have a hoverboard. wtf.

Let me preface the amount of shameful things i’m about to admit with , i never take a vacation. The last vacation i had was spent going to the New York DMV every single day and trying to challenge myself to stay in a 7 hour line for something other than Boys II Men tickets.  The New York City DMV is so bad that one of the days i winced and waited,  the fire alarms were going off in the building and NO ONE LEFT THE LINE.   The entire staff of the DMV could have evacuated and still no one would have budged. First in line the next day with 3rd degree burns. i win.

Back to the holidays.  my blood alcohol content gave charlie sheen’s wife a run for her money. i began the holiday with an attempt to be responsible and use my christmas bonus to pay off my credit card.  before that lump sum could even get out of  ”pending” status … it was back up baby … only bigger , better , and boozier.  moments to be proud of.

since there’s no day like a holiday other than chinese new year, i continued to receive work related urgent emails throughout my christmas bender. while all of y’all were drunk texting your loves to be and wannabe, i was drunk texting apple and cherry and all the other fruit flavored names of my workers in china.  considering they can barely understand my somewhat perfect english emails , they must have really be fucked up over my drunk ones.

“apple chg the hem tlo be like a really pertty 1/8″ or no wait 1/4″ hem line thaats seredged to self. eyahaaaaaaai love that”

Oops. Sorry , bloomingdales your  spring/ summer shit might be slightly fucked up.  what’s that horrible jamie foxx song? oh yeah, blame it on the alc-alc-alc-o-hol—-alcccccccccohoooool .

sophie came to visit post boxing day. amaze balls. we spent most our time talking shit, making jokes about eating disorders, and drinking. that’s friendship baby. the bond that binds foreva- eva.

and the $$$$ balance just keeps building.

i wake up this morning and wonder what the fuck happened to my skin. im a 13 year old boy that just woke up to puberty knocking its heavy fist on my face. then i remember i haven’t exactly washed it for the past week, i just reapplied makeup on top of it. jessica simpson where you at ? pass the proactive.

Fast forward to now. the day pre return to work.  tomorrow, i will enter my office with welcoming arms from my Fall 2010 samples. im both nervous and anxious. the chunky cable knits may have us making chunks of money or blowing chunks. in a perfect world they  may have us doing both. theres always an element of surprise when it comes to opening boxes of samples from china.

“we know you want black but factory make mistake and make vomit green but we think so much better. wrong but better. please push to accept since look so much nice.”

all kidding aside. 2010 , im going to wipe the past decade under the bed and really start over. refocus on health and wiser decisions. like going to see a dentist about the fact i probably have gum disease and maybe even a missing molar, haha. oops. wait 28 hours in line at DMV if i have to. go to the bank and get that hello kitty credit card i’ve always wanted and a return to my maiden name, once and for all , or until foreign husband #2. invest money. quit letting people mooch off you. no point in paying the entire tab if its never going to get you laid.  finally get those tubes tied.  give your dog that bath she’s been needing for the past year.

shit, im practically a saint in 2010.

and for a reminder that im still a materialistic, superficial little brat with some level of sophistication and style . not just a mentally disturbed loner living in a bat cave.  pictures of things i want in 2010.

bad santa.

im feeling surprisingly emotional this christmas. not only because of the season’s tendency to bring out my devout love and faith in jesus our lord and savior, but because i’m fucking alone and miserable and not at my christmas goal weight of 72 lbs. hardy har har . i kid , i kid . i don’t give a fuck about jesus and let’s get real, my goal weight was 65.

i started my  xmas eve day by finding my old engagement ring and wedding band, putting them on, and going christmas shopping for myself .  i pranced around stores using my pre divorce wedding bling as a means to convey to the world  someone loves me other than my parents and i love someone else other than myself enough to buy them a fucking present ( that just happens to be in my size).  i bought my dog a bone. i decided the guy sitting across from me on the C train was probably a rapist.  i dropped off my laundry.  I bought some champagne. i made my bed.  i did some yoga. i texted all 5 people i know.  i even considered taking a bath , but  i didn’t want to overdose on fun. i lost my tweezers. i told the man who stands on the corner trying to gather women to go get their eyebrows threaded at a nearby salon to go fuck himself yesterday. karma has retaliated by stealing my tweezers and making me wish, i had, in fact taken up his $5 offer to thread these strays.

i look at my dog, she’s drunk on bone. belly up, legs spread, wasted.

now it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas.

and we’ll wash your mouth out with soap, young lady!

it’s astonishing even to myself,  how little i managed to accomplish this weekend. i should really start compiling to do lists that sound more like, ” get out of bed, watch 8 hours of movies, brush your teeth” versus the extra exuberant  ”change the world, do 97 loads of laundry, cure cancer, lose 45 lbs.” and thats just saturday. don’t even get me started on my usual sunday list.

in my defense, it snow stormed in NYC , thus making the outside world highly unappealing. i managed to go to the gym, a little… hang with a pal, a little… brush my teeth, not at all. for whatever reason, my body decided to sleep from saturday at 8 pm until monday morning. this shocked me , because i had not been attending a 4 day rave before hand – the only other circumstance in my life that has ever deemed 36 hours of sleep, necessary.

my assistant was ill today. if no one is there to make me coffee and keep me company, well, i can’t be there.  so i spent the day “working from home.”  in other words, answered 3 emails, googled brittany murphy dies + drugs about 800 times, and went out to meet my friend for japanese food. even managed to walk my dog in between all this chaos.  god, i’m responsible.

and another one bites the dust.

i have a cluster of alabaster ( i hope that’s the right word and not a type of fish) deer heads above my bed. while i was in china, the largest of the deer heads fell off the wall and nearly killed andres. that’s what he gets for sleeping in. stabbed to death by an antler.

…when you do that voodoo that you do so well…

instead of conducting reconstructive surgery on mrs. doe , i’m now telling myself that it isn’t a deer head, it’s a reindeer… rudolph to be exact.  oh you know, just in the spirit of christmas. for whatever sick and twisted reason (note to self: call therapist , file under topics for discussion) i find it quite amusing to pretend im living in a fucked up christmas movie where im holding rudolph and his amputated antler hostage so that red nose won’t make the sleigh’s departure time of imaginary o’clock and kids everywhere won’t get shit for christmas.  muaaahaha.

if i was a picture

i would be these things.

is it january yet.

In the final weeks of the year, something in my brain tells me to be a complete train wreck.  A guilt-free train wreck.  I don’t give a fuck about anything – especially personal health,hygiene, relationships, and work obligations… in that order.  If the past 28 years have taught me anything, it’s that i’ve most likely wasted the entire year , fucked up so much and accomplished so little that there’s no point in trying to salvage the past 350 days now.  So, i guess i should clarify my previous statement. My brain always tells me to be a complete train wreck. Last 3 weeks of the year – emphasis is placed on “guilt-free.”

2009 was supposed to be the year i successfully relapsed back into anorexia. that didn’t happen for the 9th year in a row. all i can do is hope that in 2010 it makes a comeback .  a 10 year high school reunion for  all my past eating disorders. 2009 was supposed to be the year i went to the dentist. that didn’t happen, i still have to protect my cavities from the pain of a cold winter wind. 2009 was supposed to be the year i changed all my personal information back to my maiden name. that didn’t happen, i’m still a white girl with the last name of a mexican gang banger.

you get the point. I fucked shit up 2009. put it on a t-shirt, call it a year.

this week was no exception.  proto’s came in for development that im supposed to fit, comment on, redesign, and send back to china immediately. instead, ive been using those proto’s to cushion my office chair and  blow my nose when no kleenex is in sight.  i hit rock bottom, when just to avoid dealing with work, i opt to see a 3 year olds school christmas concert. christmas AND kids. all at once. singing. suburban parents. snack time and crayons. normally, i’d rather be forced to read the bible  than be within 30 ft of anything christmas and anything under the age of 11. but the year’s end is in sight and i don’t even know myself anymore.

i thought about using my leg’s shade of eggplant as a color standard for submitting lab dips. i look at my dog and i know i should take her outside but its cold and in the final days of the year , i fuck up at motherhood. im still trying to work on these fit comments but i left my mouse at the office and using illustrator without a mouse is completely inefficient. i find it hard to believe i dont have an extra mouse lying around so i tear apart my apartment in search of one. i dont find one. i do find a kriss van assche shirt i thought i lost in china. fuck i missed you, shirt. i’ll wear you tomorrow. i open my fridge and see all the old smelly food my friend just left in there to rot and stain my apartment with the stench of carcus. he didnt throw it out once i returned from china and he vacated the premise. i get angry seeing and smelling the food personification of his laziness. im too stubborn to throw it out myself and i enjoy having a reason to avoid my fridge. he’ll have to do it himself ( i hope you’re reading this —- , ha ha ha). im trying to design on illustrator just using the mousepad. it  feels like electric currents are going to zap all the sensory transmittors off the tips of my fingers. my fingers feel weird. i can’t do this. i need a mouse. i need mice. multiple mice for moments when i lose one mouse. in 2010, i’ll have mice.

2010. watch out.

and to you , my holiday words of wisdom

you, yes you, you , with your lucky magazine , fresh blow out and devout allegiance to j.crew – just because you like to shop, doesn’t mean you should be a designer.

air supply.

i had 45 things planned to do this weekend. 3 of them got done.

sunday evening landed me in the ER of St. Vincent’s on 7th and 12 th due to an extreme anxiety / panic attack. it should actually be labelled a pathetic attack. im mean, im a fucking fashion designer.  i should have walked in there clutching my heart panicking over the end of the drop crotch pant , but i didn’t.  they slapped with me a hefty bill and not even a script for xanax.  i at least found opportunity to make one low brow pregnancy joke to the male nurse. he tried not to laugh.

during the intermission of my psycho obsessive internet web MD symptom checking sessions , i managed to do 1 noteworthy thing. knowing her appreciation for all things beautiful , magical, and whimsy – i met up with francesca for a gallery opening rendez-vous. audrey kawasaki’s nyc debut at the jonathon levine gallery in chelsea.  my older brother first introduced me to her work when he came to visit me in LA several years ago, where they were doing a show together.  i suddenly revert to that confused 12 year old with an eating disorder unsure of whether or not i want to be kerry russell circa the mickey mouse club or want to be WITH kerry russell and her 70 lb mousersizing gams of steel.  these paintings are the ellen degeneres’ of art. getting us straight girls all messed up.

anyways, any word of praise i write isn’t suffice  …  her work is insanely  beautiful. all done on wood . likely to cause wood amongst men aged 10-70.

http://www.audrey-kawasaki.com/

i then scurried home back to my cave of pending doom . sat back in front of the internet to google all the heart attack symptoms i was so sure to be experiencing. i realize that no matter what symptoms you are having, the internet will pretty much diagnose you dead and / or suffering from an std. ear pain –  you’ve got chlamydia. stubbed your toe –  obviously, you have syphilis.

and for when you feel like you’re running out of air , remember you’re not, “all out of love.”

time to make a comeback.

weekend. finally. time to get my home in order.  my apt  is still suffering the aftershock of my ” been in china for 2 months” monstrous sized suitcase throwing up made in china products all over the place.  i did some push ups last night . i havent eaten meat for 12 years or something iron deprived like that. i think i pulled a chest / breast / armpit muscle. i hope.  heart attack scare #57 . how do you know when everything someone can possibly do to instigate a heart attack you’ve been doing periodically and some cases consistently for what seems to be your entire life. start eating tums like they’re candy. calcium + fruit flavoring + a reason to not let acid reflux stop you  = genius. to hell with skittles.  i wanted to go the gym or  do yoga today but i’d rather die at home in a pretty outfit i designed myself. my face gets really red and sweaty and i wear hello kitty sweats for 10 year olds to the new york sports club.  that would just be a tragedy on top of another tragedy.

dear babe(s) , in my eyes, you are anything but tragic: