xxxmas

This year I made friends with all the rotating mall-Santa's at work during my smoke breaks.

My favorite one wears Harley Davidson tees and suspenders under his Santa coat. He makes lame dad-jokes and told me to stop smoking. He makes me wish he was the real Santa because he's so cute and badass. I would also hand him a list with all this stuff on it.

You can click through for details or to shop for yourself, but if you're trying to buy sushi on the internet- good luck with that. What I meant is that I want a cute sushi date, but I don't need to explain that to mall-Santa. 

Mainly because I am scared he will ask me out.

just girly thingz

Here are some things that I’m into this month:

•  Destroyed Muscle Tee by Free People. Hands down, the best basic ever. Throw it on with a lacy bra, jeans, a buttload of necklaces and, boom, instant grunge babe looks. As one of my favorite customers said, “We pay extra for the holes.”

•  Rider Tarot Deck. For no apparent reason, I have been especially into the supernatural lately- obsessing over everything from my monthly horoscope to collecting crystals like Wheelchair Hank Schrader. Inspired by my naturally gifted coworker, Maya, and the sketchy Tarot reader who lives behind my house, I decided to finally buy my own deck.

• Roses. Yellow roses mean friendship, warmth, and optimism. Given to me by a babe.

•  Library Card. I don’t know why everyone doesn’t have one, honestly. You can check out 50 fucking books at a time and you can renew from home. So basically the library is like your best friend whose sweater you borrowed and keep avoiding because you don’t want to give it back.

• Soak n Float Shampoo Bar by LUSH. Smells like shit, works like a miracle, lasts for months.

• Citrine and Lepidolite. Citrine increases self-esteem and protects from negative energy. Lepidolite helps with transitions and helps with emotional balance. All stuff I desperately need right now. This is going to sound over the top, but I totes cleansed all my crystals under the new moon that happened the other day. I may need to not admit these things about myself to avoid persecution from my friends.

•  Lists. Once upon a time, people wrote reminders on paper instead of on their phones. Nothing is more therapeutic than physically crossing something off a list. If only you could do the same with people.

• Fuck You Necklace. Because Fuck You, that’s why.

•  Picture of some lady on her wedding day. I bought this at a flea market for no reason. I have no idea who this lady is, but I look at this picture a lot and wish her the best and hope that she’s still with whoever she got married to that day. Is that weird? Yes? Okay.

• Leopard Shoes. Because I secretly wish I were Prince and I literally spent an hour last night crying and laughing hysterically reading the @PrinceTweets2u Twitter feed. Btw, you should add me on Twitter.

• Elliott Smith. Late night sad jams. 

 K byeeeee.

Dig.

Yesterday, my close friend Kelli introduced me to Jet Rag's weekly Sunday Dollar Sale. I have never really seen a thrift-type of setup quite like this. People on their knees shoveling through musty, used clothing, aggressively staking out piles of clothes, eyes darting over clothes, back and forth, faster than a junkie's. It took about 20 minutes to get into the same scavenger headspace, but once I picked up my first find, a denim dress in perfect condition, there was no stopping me. However, every once in a while I picked up a something that made me wish I was wearing a HAZMAT suit. A bit terrifying, but I for sure accidentally picked up a pair of boxers. I'm going to have to wash everything at least 5 times to get the gross off, but it's safe to say I will ever pay more than a dollar for a flannel ever again.

The denim dress.

Huge polka dot muumuu, probably gonna cut this one up.

Super metal-looking Santa crewneck that I will obviously wear year round.

Biggest steal. Sequined vintage 90's dress. ONE DOLLAR.

Jet Rag is located at 825 North La Brea Avenue, Los Angeles. The Dollar Sale is every Sunday morning.

It's my party, I'll cry if I want to.

Nothing soothes the pain of realizing you are getting old and decrepit like a good birthday wish list. It combines all the things I like: wishes, making lists, making collages, thinking about myself, etc. I mean, when I think about it, wish listing might be one of my most favorite things to do. Only until I then also realize that I will definitely not get all of the things or even maybe anything on this list except for maybe that Sourdough Jack up there on the right. Anyway, my birthday is in a month and in the hopes that maybe a bored philanthropist thousandaire reads my blog… I present to you my birthday wish list. I highly recommend making one if you have a birthday coming up (or if you need another reason to be upset at your financial situation- either one will do). Once people get over how materialistic a wish list is, they end up being pretty grateful that they don't have to ask you 17 times what you want while you pretend to not want anything.

So in theory, I pretty much did you a favor by making this wish list. You're welcome.