Colette

Cracks me up every time.

Every.

Damn.

Time.

I've had him for a little while, but I'm trying to get into the swing of Voxing again and I figured many of you haven't seen him. His name is Ender and his birthday is May 11th (day after mine!) I haven't had an animal of my own for a long time, and it seemed like good timing. The first few weeks he was pretty much insane (did you know cats can actually hover in the air for extended periods of time?), but he's calmed down a bit since. The best part? He sleeps on me. As I type he is curled next to me with his face sticking up in the air and eyes closed.  He also has a squeaky meow that he only uses when I leave the house and then come back later. I think it's the I'm Lonely meow. It's pretty great, really.

I've been waiting to see Rufus perform live for quite some time. Of course, when I heard he was performing a tribute show to Judy Garland, I thought: Here is an excellent opportunity to see one of music's gayest icons somehow manage to gay it up even further. Those of you who know me well know that I'm about 86.5% gay man on the inside, so the idea of seeing Rufus strut all around the stage appealed to me. Off went my roommate Reid and I to the Hollywood Bowl, one of the few things in LA I actually love.

Rufus did not disappoint. He danced, swayed and sang his way through a solid selection of Judy's hits, some of them which his voice didn't quite seem to be 100 percent up to. Some boys on the shuttle on the way home were gossiping about how he didn't hit the high notes, which led me to thinking about the gay man's equivalent of a crucifixion -- performing the songs of a gay icon to a massive crowd of bitchy men who would waste no time heavily criticizing your every flaw. The bravery of it all made me love him even more. You show em, honey.

Anyway, after a crappy Sunday it was definitely a lovely way to spend the evening. As always I remembered how much I love singing and the little flame of wanting to perform on stage ignited a tiny bit. I admire artists who take the norm and somehow twist it into their own, even if it's not exactly perfect. Thank you Rufus, for having character, talent, balls and best of all, the courage to put it all out there.

I came home to packages, which is always fun. I love mail. This was a particularly fun one because I forgot it was coming. The package contained a random 5 pack of shirts from Natalie Dee, Toothpaste for Dinner and Married to the Sea , three of my favorite internet comics. Here's are three of five...funny enough the cactus is one of my favorites, so it's awesome that I got him at random. I wish I could wear Chester, but yellow makes me look like I have cancer.

There you have it. Now, there was another important acquisition today, which was completely unexpected, but even more a pleasure because of it:

I got a sheep. The face was beyond my ability to resist. Also, I paid three dollars for him. As I said to Niero this morning,"Who can resist a three dollar sheep?"

Ever since purchasing my first Tokidoki bag during GDC a few months ago, I've found my ultimate geek mecca:  kawaii cuteness and style all rolled up into one. I've worn the fuck out of my old bag, and it's been in desperate need of a visit to the cleaners for some time now. I've been hot after getting a second bag, but specifically this yummy pink pattern called Citta Rosa (now out of print, so I knew I needed to get one quickity quick quick). As you can see, the mission has been accomplished. I know it's girly, I know it's materialistic, and I don't give a fuck. Purses are serious business.

The zoo ruled, The weather ruled, the animals ruled, and Zach and I ruled most of all.

This morning I was reading a friend's blog on MySpace. She is an amazing fashionista and is always posting cool shit, but these take the motherfucking cake. They are made in the UK by hand by this amazing woman, Hetty Rose. In case you can't tell, each pair is made with vintage kimono fabric by hand.

WTF

Seriously, if this was any more up my alley my name would be written on these shoes. Jesus! Talk about art. Anyway, you have to actually email them for a price quote. I can't even begin to imagine how much they cost, but I like knowing they exist, at any rate.

I had a kooky dream that I was in another city with Josh Hallmark and a bunch of friends and I was with Niero, except Niero was Garon and Garon and I were dating. Awesome huh (Garon please don't retch). We ended up at some french hotel Garon was staying in sitting in the window seat talking to other guests. Also, Garon spoke perfect french. I woke up laughing.

So when I was in Miami I fell in love with some sexy shoes that the Steve Madden store did not have in stock in my size. They graciously offered to ship them, but when they arrived at my doorstep in LA they were the wrong size. Therefore to acquire the right size I had to find a store near me that had the shoe in stock. The only one in the LA area was the Beverly Center location, which you will see pictures above.

The whole experience from beginning to end was just UGH. Firstly the mall itself is a behemoth; malls should not be that big ever. The whole thing just feels like a giant cattle call, from the parking lot to the shops themselves. I know it was trying hard to be hip and all I could think of was getting in and out and quickly as possible. Which is what I did. The whole thing took about 20 minutes and I got the mission accomplished and got the fuck out of there.

Conclusions:
*I will never return to the Beverly Center
*Large crowds make me mildly nauseous
*DO NOT WANT

Holy motherfucking GOOD.