Raveonettes! Raveonettes!

I’m interviewing the Danish band, The Raveonettes, tomorrow morning at 7 am. I’m stoked. Not about the waking up at the crack of dawn, but chatting with the male half of the group, Sune Rose Wagner.

Their new CD, In and Out of Control, was just released yesterday. Check out the Pitchfork review here.

Here’s the new video for “Last Dance”:

Stanky Legg

I have to be honest: Im not always up (or down for that matter) with the newest dance crazes in the ol’ nasty hip hop community. I totally missed the whole “Soldier Boy” phenomenon and I never learned the moves to Beyonce’s “Single Ladies”…I’ve seen babies on YouTube who can do better hip grinds than me. So it’s time for me to put a little soul in my step and learn the latest craze: The Stanky Legg.

Now I know ‘Stanky Legg’ sounds like a disease or possibly a Southern explanation for a farm animal’s peculiar behavior, but it’s actually a ’sexy’ new way to uh, dance, or hobble around. This crimple impression has got ladies and gents around Oakland, Detroit and Atlanta puttin’ down their guns and picking up their ill smellin’ limbs on the dance floor.

Try it out at the next wedding reception, but beware, they may cut off your connection to the open bar.

Or watch it here from the creators themselves: The GS BOYZ

GS BOYZ show you the “Stanky Legg”
by thatsfunny

Fruit snacks and a side of lint?

The girlfriend’s dad found a few of these under cushion of the leather chair…is it wrong that I ate them? They were cherry– and soft!

Does anyone else love these little treats as much as I do? I especially like the Care Bear kind: lots of the ‘creamy’ snacks in every pack.

I want! I want!: Badass, Fingerless Studded Gloves

These little fingerless, studded gloves are hott and the perfect combination of West Side Story, MJ and the homeless man down the street (oh, wait, that’s a hipster).

Here’s a pair available at TopShop:

Paris approves:

And my favorite Domestic Abuse victim, Rhiana:

Old men in soggy t-shirts, babes in bikinis and greyhounds

This video made me really wish I had a dragon, a fountain and thirty good looking friends. Can someone help me make this happen?…I didn’t think so.

PS. I used to play saxophone in the HS Marching Band and the Jazz Band….It was never quite that sexy.

I want! I want!: This shirt.

The hairy chest I never had.

…And a penis to match.

I want! I want!: A baby boy dog

Ann has been obsessively looking at the baby dog listings and yes, I want another little kid too.

BUT…we’re not allowed to have dogs in our apt.

IF…I could, I’d really like:

1. A pom complete with lion cut

2. A bratty Affenpinscher in a t-shirt

3. A lean blue Mr. Italian Greyhound

Another fun way to avoid productivity: Facial mix & match

I love Eric Myer’s “Stereotypes.”

You’ve got nine people: The Asian business man, goth college feminist, African tribal man, pretty Indian woman, homeless gang type, perky beauty queen, stern cop, blond Asian lesbian and an old Lenny Kravitz wannabe.

Now select a top half of the face from one character and a bottom half from another and tada! Instantly gender, race and ugly outfits collide into a whole new person. It’s hilarious and incredibly entertaining.

If you’re still not satisfied, try Stereotypes Edition II with 20 faces to rearrange.

Why I heart the big apple

New York hipsters have given the term, dumpster diving, a whole new definition. This summer on a secret Brooklyn rooftop, people were swimming in recycled garbage dumpsters.  Quite a beautiful idea: get a few trash containers at a good price, clean ‘em out, put in a fancy liner and dump in the Evian. Don’t forget to set up the lounge chairs, tiki torches and stock the fridge with plenty of cheap beer (cans of course). Keep it elite and you’ll have people flashing you at the corner store in order to get the VIP all-access pass to your Hipster Country Club.

Check out the full article on NewYorkTimes.Com

I think I may try out this idea here in Oakland. Yes, it may be mid-September, but the temperatures are still up and the sun is always shinin’ in the East Bay. Plus, garbage cans are everywhere, and who couldn’t stand to loose a few pounds to fit in the mini-pool?

sleep or swim?

Gettin’ paid to drink Brews on the Bay

The great sea rig herself: The" SS Jeremiah O'Brien"

Today was my first official shift as a working member of the SF Weekly Street Team, a.k.a. sweet promotions hook-up with the paper for which I’m vying for full-time employment. Another sweet lady and I were hired to hang out on a ship for an extended amount of time, take photos of people getting drunk, get them to sign up for the newsletters and mingle like it was our job…oh, wait, it was…

It was totally kick-ass.

The view alone was spectacular. I could see both the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridge. The fog was thick out past the sailboats and the mountains crested far back as the eye could see. The pale pinks, blues and yellows of the city’s hillside dwellings were the only color under a drab sky of clouds and teasing sprinkles.

Alcatraz island was so close I could nearly reach out and touch that sexy ghost of an inmate swimming to shore.

this may/may not be the brother of the seal I met

I also saw a friendly seal swimming in the midst of some lingering water fowl.

The sixth-annual Brews on the Bay was held on the SS Jeremiah O’Brien, a WWII ship that docks in the ol’ tourist trap of Fisherman’s Wharf at Pier 43 1/2. A bunch of local breweries offer up their goods for unlimited sampling, and you know how people love to indulge in the freebies. People were super friendly and willing to chit chat inbetween gulps and signing the photo release forms we handed out.

We also gave away little SF Weekly prizes: condoms, gum, lighters with bottle opener function and blunt wraps. Yes, blunt wraps and no, not ‘blood wraps’ as multiple people misunderstood due to the loudass U2 cover band blaring in our ears. This my friends, is why I moved to this city. In Minneapolis, the City Pages‘ swag included, but was not limited to, chapstick, Lund’s grocery bags and discount coupons to the race track. Uh, ew…they were so lame, I blushed every time I had to hand someone their ‘winning prize.’

I’m beginning to grasp the reality of San Francisco’s laid back, totally open-minded, somewhat crazy reputation. It’s incredible and I’ve only been here an official two weeks and counting. I’m pretty pumped to continue adventuring.

I tried the deliciously strange concotion on the left

While sampling a few brews myself, I happened upon a watermelon beer. Tangy with childhood memories of jolly-ranchers, this beer was cool for about one small glass and then I was on to something with a little more meat. Beef beer. Not really. Actually, I think I switched to water soon after, due to the fact that these free beers ending up being my breakfast, lunch and nearly dinner.

I did get in a couple personal photos during the day. A woman was completely fascinated by my mustard-yellow tights and pulled me into a photo with her and her friends. She was a bit on the beastly side, friendly and sporting a ‘wild cat‘ Tshirt of some sort. She somehow managed to convince me to kick up my leg and allow her to hold it. Apparently, this would be impressive in said photo. After the camera clicked, I had to jerk my limb away from the women’s tight grasp, as she gave me a little smirk.

Yellow tights are hot hot hot with marching bands and people with BACs .1 and higher

As the sampling continued, I started to notice multiple pairs of googly eyes following both me and my partner in crime. An Indian man and his friends took our photo shortly after the incident with the cat woman. It was fairly awkward and yet still flattering. He also liked my tights more than my face, tits or personality. They were quite a hit with the drunks.

A wonderful day indeed, cheers to my first day on the job as a marketing elite.