Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Sunday, November 7, 2010

speaking of pleather...

this is for anisa, so she will not be disappointed in me.

pleather makes everything better.

the street next to my apartment complex has free street parking. don't everyone rush over at once. there's no room.

it's here - in this side street - where i have found fascinating new subjects for observation. why does all the fun come my way you ask? well, maybe because it's a secluded area. maybe because it's poorly lit. maybe because i live in the pacific nw, and just maybe because my living room's giant street-facing-window provides the best seats. when life gives you lemons you should do something with them besides make boring lemonade. you should know my street dweller friends are borderline secret friend status. i am bemused. i am infatuated. i watch on with bated breath, disbelief, and at times both eyes closed. i have become a community blogger. a private investigator. an anthropologist. i am gladys kravitz.

note: if i knew what the hell i was doing on Twittface, this would be the moment i could enter a # (it's called a hashtag, for idiot twitter virgins such as myself). and it would be something like:  #creepystalker.

did i get it?? did i?


the hair academy is upon us.

there is a gene juarez academy on the other side of the free parking street right below my window. for those of you not familiar with the gene juarez students of northgate, i write this for you.

dressed all in black, they are not be confused with the ladies of the Mac counter. i have found these girls to be laced with far more dark bitchy gossip smoke breaks, less turquoise eye shadow and higher heels. each morning i giddily wake to an a symmetrical shangri-la of hair.  a sea of sophisticated street walker adorned with ed hardy lighters. i once witnessed two students on a break sitting curbside, smoking a pack of cowboy killers, as they traded asshole boyfriend stories and hair trims. these things brighten my day.

the gaggle of girls flock to school every morning, parking by 6:45am, as to begin their morning ritual.  each sits in their car prefunking to the latest and greatest. as my windows begin to vibrate, they start the application of the black smokey eyes. as i fist pump my way in and out of the shower, they bounce over to starbucks and return with a venti non-fat double shot and stand around to say hi. running to the bus in my orthepedic shoes, i am kissed by 15 pairs of 6 inch thigh high studded black pleather boots and large rolling duffel bags - each containing the mystery of my amusement. i must pass them quickly, or become enslaved by my seething jealousy.

jealous of what you may ask? well, jealous of having the balls for asymmetrical hair even when there are no cheekbones, jealous of the ability to function in stilettos without the onset of osteoarthritis and knee replacements, the jealousy of each individuals commitment to self grooming and presentation. and above all, i am jealous of their collective dedication to get a party started at 6:45am without the consideration for sleeping babies and the muslim morning prayer. for the love of the creator, i wore the same green sweatpants to class for 4 years in college, and didn't know until half way through high school the terms 'blow out' and 'blow job' mean very very very different things. do not judge me.

i have grown to see the academy girls as my north star. my compass. like geese flying in formation, returning from winter vacay  - or from the shoe pavilion - i welcome them to the neighborhood. maybe i should take them a basket of mini muffins.

Runway Hairstyling. Bumble & bumble. NY. <3

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