Be Nice To Each Other!

We are all the same on the inside.

Dead Tired!

Team Busy Bee. Team Llama.

I have been so busy! I haven't had time to keep this baby updated. And there has been so much! The following paragraph is my stream of conscience ramblings on what I would have blogged about if I had had time to blog:

I got asked to do a bit part in an upcoming movie, Shoplifting from American Apparel. I worked with this director before on the film The Human War and had a blast. I was also submitted for a JCPenny's commercial. I have been shopping there since I was an awkward teen in need of a business suit for DECA club and too chubby to find jackshit at the Limited Too. There is no reason why I shouldn't get cast. I consider it retribution for years of suffering in ugly ass clothes as a chubby young thing. Cudzoo is doing well. Can't wait to get in the studio. I got to visit with my forever friend Joe Pug. He's famous. You don't know him? You should. He will fix your soul. Fame's not making him an asshole, though. He was always an asshole. Dottie is doing better, she was a sick little kitten for a few days, but she still eats everything and gets tummy aches. She ate the straps off my tank top the other day. Brotherbear's band played at the Wildhorse Saloon in Nashville and killed it. He's kinda a big deal. I caught up with a great old college chumette. I discovered Sake. It fucks you up! I miss Quidditch because I'm always super busy on the weekends with weddings and rehearsals and life. I miss my broom and cape! Scream 4 was fun. As was Source Code and Insidious. It's warm enough to break out my vintage poncho. I figured out how to apply feather extensions. My kombucha is brewing steady. I need new sneakers. And tonight I am going to a Oh So Bad/Oh So Good Movie Screening Party of The Room. I can't wait!

Well, thats the jumbled update of my goings ons. Now to the gym. But not before I make your day/ruin your night with this sad, funny, not as sexy as a werewolf comparison pic:

Jessie J, I Love You!

Jessie J will be performing at the PCRichard theater in NYC.

I MUST BE THERE!!

You should be there, too! She's so pretty!

Tuppence.

Do you take sacagaweas?

The Real World: Winnie the Pooh

You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you.

You have to go to them sometimes.

~Winnie the Pooh

No. More. Winter!

A FUCK SNOW GLOBE.

Phallictastic

What are these?

This enlightening shift in perspective seems to once again prove that sex sells, even when we don't recognize it. From the artist's website:

Still Life (Cosmetic Bottles), by David Baskin

This ‘still life’, a selection of store bought cosmetic bottles, was cast in pigmented rubber. By stripping the products of their brand recognition, logos, or semiotic labeling, one begins to see the high aesthetic quality of these objects and a latent eroticism is revealed.

What do you think? Latent eroticism or deodorant bottles?

Doe. A deer. Here come the tears!

I found this art piece and the story that goes with it. I find it heartbreaking and peaceful. It makes me tear up, but I can't stop looking at their sweet little bodies all cuddled in together. And then I think about how there are a lot of Bambie commercials on right now, because of the blu-ray release. And I always start to cry during the Bambi commercials. Then I think of the shelter animal commercials, and how they send me into a code red mental breakdown. So then I cry more over these darling does. I hope that I am forever snuggled into someone I love. That leads me straight to Rabbit Hole, the movie about losing a child, that only upset me when the dog was involved. Then I feel bad for holding emotions for animals over humans, diagnose myself sociopath, and continue to sniffle for these twin creatures. So, anyway. Yeah. How do you react to this much cute sweetness and harsh reality of mortality? I struggle.

The Twin Fawns, by Peregrine Honig

I came upon Twin Fawns in the display case of a mom and pop toy and science store in Kansas City, Missouri. It took me two years to win the trust of the shop owner and save the money to buy them. A taxidermist spotted a dead deer by the side of the road. He stopped to properly dispose of the body and realized she was pregnant. He opened her and found near full-term twin fawns, he removed and preserved them.

Deer rarely have twins and the taxidermist retained the uterine gesture of their bodies. I built them a vitrine with a light blue base. Their prematurity exaggerates the delicacy of an incredibly sweet thing. The points of their hooves, the length of their lashes, the spots of their hides, nose to small nose in an un-cartoonish realism… Viewers’ eyes trick them into believing the fawns are breathing. The tragedy of beauty is its transience.

The twins live forever in their own demise. They are sleeping beauties. They have been muses since I first saw them.

We dress death in lilies and bronze the names of our dead sons on walls. We erect altars of toys and hold candlelight vigils to express hope. My twin fawns sleep endlessly on their baby blue block in my studio. The twins never opened their eyes yet their wondrous fatality evokes an acceptable alternative to death.

If You Like It Then You Shoulda Put Your Finger In It!

I am looking into finger adding surgery so I can have all of these and wear them all at once with proper spacing to allow the viewer to appreciate each ring. I mean, I don't want to look gaudy!

So I can always find my way around the city, the Gotham ring. I will wear with my Batman earrings. Because that's adorable.

The I Want To Shoot You Dead ring. Makes any finger the fuck you finger!

The Sharpener On-The-Go ring. It says, 'I'm an architect' or 'I'm a student' or 'I write in library books in a responsible way' or 'I'm prepared for anything' or, in my case, 'I appreciate a good sharp tip on my eyebrow pencil.'

The Gas Mask ring. Let people know YOUR FINGER will survive WWIII, the zombie apocalypse, otherworldly intelligent beings dominating our planet, nuclear winters, and nights when your partner's farts smell like warm cat food, boiled eggs, and French's fried onions mixed together and shit back out in the form of acidic gag air poofs.

And my favorite, the Heroin Really Is Chic SyRINGe. This and a naughty nurse outfit are enough to make me consider the Florence Nightingale path. Many people become doctors to help others, I want to be a doctor for the cheeky jewelry and funny death goofs.

Ring ding dong. Ring a ding ding ding dong. I want these.

I Seek Amy!

I have a friend. Her name is Amy. Not only does she always know what song is playing in my head, but, also, she is dark. Real dark! Sick and twisted scary dark. And I LOVE IT! She is one of the few people I know who are willing to go ahead and go there. It doesn't matter who's watching or who is in the way, she is confident that they will move or happily suffer the consequences. Basically, I'm glad she's on my side, cause she will wreck you.

How did she put it? Perversion with a touch of class.

Other than myself, she is also the only other person I can think of who would wear these pieces of jewelry and think they are hilarious. Maybe we should get matching ones! Like really fucked up friendship bracelets, proudly announcing our need for attention. Yeah, I saw The Craft (like a bazillion times), I know which direction is cry for help and which way means business.

Yay! Needy Friends Forever!

CUDZOO does Don Pedros!

Zombie Apocalypse Hat

Tonight, Sweetheart and I were rounding up our choice army in case of a zombie apocalypse. We were surprised at who did and did not make the cut. Did you? Well, we can't tell you until Z-day, but until then, you can start crocheting your official Team Super Survive headgear. Not only will it help prevent potential brain damage due to contusions (I'm fitting mine over my bicycle helmet), but it will also confuse zombies and remind your fellow team members that a zombie apocalypse is no time to lose your sense of humor!

Shoe Fly, that Shoe is FLY!

'Mama always says there's an awful lot you could tell about a person by their shoes. Where they're going. Where they've been.'

Well, Forrest, let's take a look:

Flipettos. The shoe biproduct of Cinderella and Ariel's adopted daughter who has an affinity for Barbie. My two Mommies practical lesbian wear never looked so stylish!

Shoes for deaf bitches.

The costume designer's solution to the ruby slippers at GDub's all male high school production of The Wiz of Oz. Bitch gotta be able to run, that shit is in the Heights! They shoot you there. There's no place like homo!

Actually, I want these. All of them.

Mogwai Muff

Mogwai's are cute furry little balls of curiosity, loving and kind. Furby before Furby. Think alien kittens. I wish, I wish I could wear one around my waist...

POOF!

The Mogwai skirt.

When wearing this skirt, there are rules to be followed. The outcome of breaking a rule is unclear, but I have included the most likely possibilities.

1. Stay out of sunlight or you will die. Or your skirt will spontaneously combust leaving you em-BARE-ASSED!

2. Do NOT get wet! If you do, you will develop huge boils on your bottom that will either produce more Mogwai skirts or more ass. I am unclear as to what sort of 'wet' this implies.

3. Do NOT eat after midnight. If you consume foods after midnight, your skirt will become a hideous green bridesmaidesque monstrosity that you can never take off or you will become a demon reptile creature with large ears and a mean-spirited disposition. As a child of the 80's, your id will become terrified of yourself, requiring you to never get out of bed again and eat lots of fried chicken. Then you will be a fat demon reptile creature with large ears and a mean-spirited disposition. No one will ever love you. Sorry.

Otherwise, enjoy being the belle of any ball in your Mogwai bottom half!

Big Mac

Cause, see, my name is McCarson. Big Mac. No? Ok.

I have been coveting this dress for weeks. I have the picture, among other things I covet, saved on my desktop. Today, my dear friend Mametastic posted it on my facebook and said we needed them. I take this as a sign from the Universe (and Mametastic) that I do indeed need this dress. Sans the sesame seeds (they would murder Mudder) and maybe the veggies and cheese switched, so I have an adorable lettuce/tomato/onion tutu. I want it my way. That's why they call me Big Mac! (No one calls me that.)

BABE-ushka!

My Mummy Dearest collects nesting dolls. I don't know if she meant to. She got one in Europe when we used to live there. I remember playing with it when I was younger and liking it a lot. So, one Christmas, I got her a nesting doll. And the next Christmas, another. So on and so forth... And she started buying nesting dolls that were unusual. And Brotherbear began giving them to her, too. Now she has lots of beautiful unique nesting dolls. Even one I made of our family. Daisy (dog) in Brotherbear in me in Mummy in Father. I read or heard somewhere or made up that 'people collect things so you know what to get them for gifts.' Good enough reason for me! I collect lots of weird things, and I do like getting presents. Cause and effect, good reader. Cause and effect!

I worry she may acquire too many. We are under 20 and well below hoarder red flags, but still. Or that she didn't mean to have this collection. She's just too nice to say anything. Maybe next year I will think outside of the box and give her something more practical... her very own babushka nesting dress!

Just a Bag of Bones.

I would like this very much. So the murderer in the woods can make the stabs quick and to the point. And so the handsome doctor who saves me knows what he is dealing with when he performs a lifesaving makeshift campfire surgery.

I do not want the Asian man in mine.

CUDZOO TONIGHT!!

Shit's about to get real! I'm on a dollar bill/penny real!

I don't know what that means, but you should come!

Arlene's Grocery @ 10:30

This Movie.