Last night was the Superheroes party at F-WORD @ SPLASH Bar, which was kickass.
I rocked some hair-metal extension action, a hipster headband, and a purple-r version of the Catcall makeup — tried out glitter lips and I think I’m ready to incorporate them into my everyday look.
Oh yeah, and I also sewed a stuffed ginger kitty onto the crotch of a onesie. Whaaaat? Hello!
Yes, it’s SuperPussy — leaping tall boners in a single bound. Faster than a speeding vibrator!!
I opened for the Kiki Twins, who premiered their new video “Boobies” — omg this is amazing. “Put mah BOObies in yahh mhhoouuuuhhhth!”
i was sick and coughing up what looked like the ancient remnants of a forgotten breed of dinosaur. my fever was still raging, and my “AC-is-bad-for-singers” commitment to an open-window car was making me sweat bullets.
my face was oily and covered in pimples. my unflattering outfit was thrown together haphazardly, and it showed.
my hormones were absolutely out of control. not too far from this:
i braved NYC traffic to get to my genius hairstylist. when the roots touch-up timer rang, we both realized that she had accidentally used my original color mix, which resulted in a yucky two-tone surprise. she hurriedly painted toner on the rest of my hair before getting to her 3 other waiting clients, but two-toneage is definitely still visible.
on my way out of the salon, i almost tripped down a full flight of stairs. luckily, my dancer’s balance saved me, but i was left with a painful scratch on my arm to match the oozing (but band-aided) gash on my foot (from trekking in brand-new doc martens in the heat a few days before). i felt like a hot steaming mess (which i totally was).
the whining-girlymag voice in my head–left over from 2001–whispered “go ahead. eat something crusty and fried. you’ll feel SO much better, la la la!”
so, for my only meal of the day, i ate a colossal bag of sweet potato fries with tahini sauce, plus an iced coffee with wayyy too much syrup. i didn’t feel better; just nauseated and guilty (genetics have blessed me with cholesterol over 250, so fries are a HUGE no-no).
came home to find my mom outside with the dogs. i had told her about my horrible day in the car…but unfortunately, “oh yeah…it does look two-tone,” only made it worse. i grumpily dragged myself upstairs to my room, leaving my mom super pissed because i’d sent a bitchy eyeroll her way. ”u r so mean,” she texted from downstairs. great.
just when i thought it couldn’t get worse, it got worse. my facebook newsfeed passive-aggressively pointed me in the direction of some heartbreaking photos of an ex-almost-boyfriend getting cozy (read: moving into a house) with one of his other almost-exes. i’m happy for them, but of course in my state of bustedness all i could be was confused and sad.
i sent an email. (you: “CHEVONNE. that is hardcore STUPIDface.” me: “i know.”) i regretted it instantly. the outcome was, of course, not favorable.
nobody’s fault but my own.
(you: “what is the point of this rambling, complainy post? your day wasn’t even really THAT bad. have you turned on the news lately?”)
i know, i know. but here’s the thing: when you have a horrid, hormonal, emo, laughably awful day, there is literally nothing that will make it better, nor is there anything that can convince you it isn’t that bad while it’s happening. even laughing with friends can’t fix it; when your friend leaves, you’re left with your Sad Playlist and a photographic memory for replaying the Greatest Hits Of Your Long Lost Happiness.
so here’s what i did: i LIVED that sad day. i wallowed in it. i cried and let the mascara make tear-marks on purpose. i raged it out on my man-sized body pillow. i wrote lame angry songs.
once, during a similar bad day months ago, i wrote a rambling, ranty blog post (most of which has been removed, leaving only a few vague sentences).
i don’t “get over it”…i get in it, under it, on top of it, covering myself with its icky goopy lameness.
and then the next morning, i wake up and i laugh it off. i felt the feelings. i sat in the dark and choked on its sour vein-purple taste. and now all of it’s gone and in the past, and i can go about my business.
which is what i did: ran errands, related the previous day’s misadventures to my best homegirls, made music, made plans, went out and tossed back a few. i felt great!
so, i’m recommending this strategy to you. sometimes a good, old-fashioned sulkfest is just what the doctor ordered.
i performed at Fire Island Pines on 5/30, the tail end of memorial day weekend!!!
my friend christina came with and took some delicious photos. (in fact, we made an entire weekend of it and got into all kinds of shenanigans…but you only get to see the polished version!)
first off, this was my promo flyer. NOICE
here’s the look, before i beat myself with it
here it is on me:
DJ Vito Fun hangin (haaa) — his pool set was spot. on.
spyin on my audience before coming outside
christina and i loved the boys in the swan.
i made my way down, lubed up w some sunblock, (maybe had some baybreeze sips) and got ready to go in!
pre-performance kiki
a little pose for Vito before i tossed off the shoes and went to work
i brought it HARD, premiering my track “She Crazy (She Craycray),” produced by Larry Tee of electroclash fame.
i know the silver foxes liked it. and so did the rest of the pool!
naturally, we celebrated by walking down to the beeeeautiful beach and vamping some more.
until next time, you saucy little minx of an island! *spank*
my camera was buried way too far at the bottom of my travel bag for me to take any photos, but i did get some sweet shots of gorgeous moscow architecture at night!
my partner in background-singing called this the “candy house.” we could not believe it was real…clearly we were de-sensitized by certain sugary board games as children…
apologies for the blur; my hands were shaking from the hardcore freezing wind!! you know i’m a sucker for track lights…
gorg
haha, wow these really are blurry…sorry, my b.
what i didn’t (and should have) capture was my hotel room, which was beautiful and featured a bidet. believe it or not, i had never used a bidet before, and of course i turned the water knob with a leetle too much elbow grease, and water spilled all over the floor. i also may or may not have burned myself with scalding hot water. sexay!
ironically, we did not drink any vodka; in fact, our show was the headline event for a party called Bacardi Mojito Night. estelle asked the crowd if they were drunk, and one burly russian bellowed “we’re trying to, but we’re not!” hahaha! i didn’t drink any, so i can’t comment!
bathbloopers aside, i had a baller time, and i can’t wait until we go back! peep the souvenirs:
(seriously?!?! a babushka’d guitar goddess?!? pinch me.)
i love this beautiful thing called “radio 1 live lounge.” sick artists do sick covers, straight-up live with a band.
here’s marina and the diamonds turning 3oh!3’s brodown groupie-loving anthem “starstrukk” into a drahma-filled lament dripping with quarterlife ennui.
and i have been seriously addicted to this cover of “beggin” (orig. by frankie valli and the four seasons) by the saturdays. i LOVE vanessa white’s glinty, rose-gold vocal tone (yes, hi, i have synaesthesia).
oh, and THIS gem is a stunner: david guetta/ms kelly’s “when love takes over” covered by pixie lott.
July 24th, 2010
