untitled as i am fatigued.

we all have our top five to seven staple pieces in our wardrobe. i decided it's time to change mine. i looked through my shit the other day and hate everything i have. not necessarily "hate" (such a strong word) but i'm just sick of everything. SO LAAAAAYDEEEZE, if you wanna swap/buy/give me things you no longer wear, holller atta baller!

you know those things you wear till they have holes in the arm pits, or till the heel on your shoe can talk? i am queen bee of that. i threw out boots the other day and it felt so wrong. granted, i couldn't wear them ever again. they literally cracked in the middle from trecking around the city and rain would always get in them(no feeling is worse than wet feet). i just felt like i should give them to the lady that sits at union square and says she's a single mother with 18 kids and even dunkin' donuts won't hire her. i don't believe that shit but i bet she'd like my boots. regardless of the monstorous holes.

i've gone through, get this..5 pairs of flats since i've moved here. i don't know if i just walk funny, or tilted, or pigeon-toed or like what. i just demolish shoes.

in other news, topshop.com will be the death of me. there is not ONE THING in that store i don't want. it's so tack-alcious and overpriced in there but lord love a duck, everything's beautiful.

minus kate moss's shit. beyoooond overpriced and not even awesome. i know she's like kinda washed up now but c'mon kate, lets make your garments atleast slightly accessible to those who can barely afford their metro cards each month.

speaking of moss, i was google-ing old pictures of her. from her old vogue spread sheet years and she's bangin! i wanna do a shoot so baaaadly like that. who cares if she does/did yayo, she was fierce in her prime.

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I DESERVE A PUNCH IN THE FACE FOR NOT BLOGGING THIS YET.

HOW FUCKING WICKED IS MY COUNTRY? JUST LITERALLY KNOCKING THE PANTS OFF OLYMPIC HISTORY. JUST ABSOLUTELY DOMINATING. HARD. STICK THAT IN YOUR HASH PIPE AND SMOKE IT. not to mention, our hockey team is a bunch of beautiful long-haired, sweaty, i'll pound the shit out of you if you look at me the wrong way, men.

yum.

besides the fact that he's pure canadian meat and rip roaring hot, he's also stupppid good at hockey. all that shooting pucks at his mom's dryer when he was a youngin' really payed off. i bet that dryer is worth billions and i bet this kid's getting more poon these days than he can handle.

CRAWZBAYYYYYYY now being referred to as the " the next one" is also being compared to the likes of 'arry potter. i wouldn't go that far being as sid probably has no real magical training, hasn't ever come face to face with "he who can't be named", and most probably has never chanted out "EXPECTOOOO PATROONUUSS" in order to save his fellow magical amigos. i guess he's kiinda a close second though.

thank heavens he doesnt have that lightning bolt on his forehead either. it'd be such a shame to tamper with that flawless face.

i wonder sometimes if people reading this thing think i'm cracked. like if you haven't ever met me you'd read this and think i replace the sweetener in my coffee with speed every morning.

au contraire polar bear! i just come from a excentric, weird-ass family. i recommend everyone meet them one day though. my dad will ask you if you want a cup of tea the second you walk in the door. i promise.

i am le tiiiiiiiiiiired. taking the train blows. i wish i had a portkey like harry and could just apparate back to brooklyn. i bet sid can't do that either.