tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52896760147993809262024-03-13T19:43:46.474-07:00Sex, Droogs and Rock n RollEverything and Nothing,
all together under the sun.L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-29812115820423085822013-09-30T19:21:00.001-07:002013-09-30T20:23:28.406-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It's been a while. </span></h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hF4u4kB0RoU/Ukon0ZT0CtI/AAAAAAAAApM/87s_rvjXpXU/s1600/IMG_0179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hF4u4kB0RoU/Ukon0ZT0CtI/AAAAAAAAApM/87s_rvjXpXU/s1600/IMG_0179.jpg" height="316" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See, I'm the awkward bear and all of you guys are Josh, staring silent and surreptitiously hoping I won't smell your ponytails and high waisted trousers. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In a personal sense, the past few months have brought many changes.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eMcOe7zMVYM/UkotbuBYUvI/AAAAAAAAApc/cyo4aPtAApU/s1600/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eMcOe7zMVYM/UkotbuBYUvI/AAAAAAAAApc/cyo4aPtAApU/s1600/Capture.JPG" height="233" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like my new haircut and induction in the "no pants" society.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> Life catches up quickly, and I'm at the point where the fear is creeping slowly onto my plate: I'm hungry, but trepidation sure isn't appetizing. Adults and the media play up and idolize the idea of College, making it seem as if having that experience is a sort of hazing to flesh out the new generation of adults; though when you're reading between the lines they never mention that experience and a basic right for education is going to cost you tens of thousands of dollars. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Besides THAT LOAD OF SHIT, I've done a LOAD OF OTHER SHIT, most of which includes photography which I'm offering to you in the great creative collaboration and exchange of ideas. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j1h9E9YhVWo/Uko646Jdl_I/AAAAAAAAAp4/yGwbQdqQkGA/s1600/Untitled-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j1h9E9YhVWo/Uko646Jdl_I/AAAAAAAAAp4/yGwbQdqQkGA/s1600/Untitled-13.jpg" height="576" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woah Galveston and stuff</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L-9cgbnf-YY/Uko-nEVriZI/AAAAAAAAAqM/KHclM5vlGNI/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L-9cgbnf-YY/Uko-nEVriZI/AAAAAAAAAqM/KHclM5vlGNI/s1600/Untitled-1.jpg" height="460" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aren't boys in flower crowns so great?</td></tr>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YHFv_S3qen8/Uko_jfNaH6I/AAAAAAAAAqY/PUz7I8r0iek/s1600/IMG_0467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YHFv_S3qen8/Uko_jfNaH6I/AAAAAAAAAqY/PUz7I8r0iek/s1600/IMG_0467.jpg" height="221" width="400" /></a></div>
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You can see (majority) of the rest of the photos on my <a href="http://xqueenschultzx.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> , which is now a breeding ground for the arts and photography I like to do. (You, yourself could be a member of my 112 person army if you only believe in yourself and take this first step to glory) <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RCnX9Ylne28/Uko_4YD0SCI/AAAAAAAAAqg/CqOGAdVKi-4/s1600/IMG_0479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br /><br />Next on my list is a one-way ticket to spookyville. Halloween is absolutely glorious, and I'll dig through my skulls and spiders to bring you the best of the most terrifying! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MazLclD1Rn4/Uko9_nwFFaI/AAAAAAAAAqE/es2vL8nWHKk/s1600/tumblr_mjrma4Kn3j1qbbom3o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MazLclD1Rn4/Uko9_nwFFaI/AAAAAAAAAqE/es2vL8nWHKk/s1600/tumblr_mjrma4Kn3j1qbbom3o1_500.jpg" height="253" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hellboy, you're an absolute doll.</td></tr>
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-76410638236434119692013-01-25T10:54:00.004-08:002013-01-25T10:54:56.491-08:00Suzy Creamcheese, what's got into yah?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday I turned a whole 108 years old. It was spectacular and made my loins tingle with the gross satisfaction that only comes from copious amounts of attention, flirty waiters and free desserts. I got a whole bunch of cool shit, and I'm still trying to think of ways to thank my parents for thinking me worthy of wiping the bank account over. <br />
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Worthy Loot: <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XqjosqjYRiw/UQLN2U9b85I/AAAAAAAAAjs/OK8-oVvSBN8/s1600/IMG_8595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XqjosqjYRiw/UQLN2U9b85I/AAAAAAAAAjs/OK8-oVvSBN8/s320/IMG_8595.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you know homestuck then you'll get it. If not, my friend Deven's grandmother is one talented woman. :")</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUT7Edkvj3o/UQLN5BsnqnI/AAAAAAAAAj0/LaNdiZOt-Xc/s1600/IMG_8597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUT7Edkvj3o/UQLN5BsnqnI/AAAAAAAAAj0/LaNdiZOt-Xc/s320/IMG_8597.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside of my birthday card. Literally laughed until I (almost) pissed my pants. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kulgV_uLVJI/UQLNu_6DYTI/AAAAAAAAAjc/g_WiZhcviAA/s1600/IMG_8594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kulgV_uLVJI/UQLNu_6DYTI/AAAAAAAAAjc/g_WiZhcviAA/s320/IMG_8594.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Literally died</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a7V1S0TEjH4/UQLNUVjARSI/AAAAAAAAAis/fxCk_OMRn1s/s1600/IMG_8593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a7V1S0TEjH4/UQLNUVjARSI/AAAAAAAAAis/fxCk_OMRn1s/s320/IMG_8593.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't have a birthday without a breaking bad ref, right?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MURICA</td></tr>
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<h3>
On top of general groovtastic brilliance,</h3>
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I also had the pleasure of going to the most MIND BLOWING PERFORMANCE I've seen in a long motherfucking time. I got to see Dweezil Zappa (See: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_zappa">Frank Zappa</a> ) and I'm so glad I did. I love the way him and the musicians he played with organized the set list. They basically took musical pieces from various albums and set up a show with as much variety as possible so the people who haven't heard any of Frank's music could have a better chance of finding something they liked. Not to mention the rest of the musicians were fucking brilliant. The vocalists were so spot on and everything was so well rehearsed; the guitar solos were 2 arpeggios away from giving me an orgasm. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v8123fqrXL0/UQLTcwCR5vI/AAAAAAAAAks/Sx3g3BrVpSc/s1600/65264_534548336569147_920880505_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v8123fqrXL0/UQLTcwCR5vI/AAAAAAAAAks/Sx3g3BrVpSc/s200/65264_534548336569147_920880505_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeeeaah it was a pretty good night. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nwg6_4QwDA8/UQLNV9GnbKI/AAAAAAAAAi0/NdAM0sEuxls/s1600/IMG_8592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nwg6_4QwDA8/UQLNV9GnbKI/AAAAAAAAAi0/NdAM0sEuxls/s400/IMG_8592.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know, it was <i>okaaay </i></td></tr>
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I don't know what I did to deserve all this great karma. I was one boyfriend and one best friend away from being in pure bliss, but I did get to lay down that night and think of how much more handsome Dweezil was than the last time I saw him. This time I didn't nearly break my ankle on my way to meet him, and I came out with the most perfect example of memorabilia I could ask for. <br />
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Questions and comments welcome, if you guys have any similar stories I'd love to hear. :) <br /><br />xoxox<br />Strange<br />
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-28332088370982600332012-12-31T08:39:00.003-08:002012-12-31T08:40:13.956-08:00Survival of the Pastel People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jYwOq9pSHhY/UOG1YrcoKeI/AAAAAAAAAgw/jUiWzakPoN0/s1600/IMG_6937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jYwOq9pSHhY/UOG1YrcoKeI/AAAAAAAAAgw/jUiWzakPoN0/s320/IMG_6937.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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My friends, being the intelligent and creative little fuckers they are, usually manage to come up with some really groovy stuff.<br />
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My best friend, Tessa, had a really great idea a couple months ago. We were slightly bummed that we had missed the Homecoming dance, although we weren't actually bummed because we knew that if we went, we would have been bombarded with people we didn't like, music we didn't like, and clothing we didn't like. So she comes up to me like "Hey, why don't we have our own dance?" <br />
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I sat there and nodded, not really taking into consideration how flat out serious she was about the whole thing. Naturally coming from a girl like this you know it's gonna be interesting. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JVQy-LVgE_w/UOGwhMMne7I/AAAAAAAAAgM/YayoqJAPoJ4/s1600/IMG_6848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JVQy-LVgE_w/UOGwhMMne7I/AAAAAAAAAgM/YayoqJAPoJ4/s320/IMG_6848.jpg" width="195" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her sweater is ironic because she's allergic to cats.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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She set up a whole damn committee for this thing, which was slightly okay because only half of the actual committee showed up? We had some beef with one of our friends who thought we were being selfish bastards for wanting to see him (who I personally hadn't seen in a good 5 months), so he went up to Louisiana to be with his family. <br />
Her idea was pastel everything. Pastel foods, pastel decorations (That ended up more or less an explosion of gold and silver tinsel), and if she had her way, pastel people. We managed at least 1 of those 3 things and ended up with a grazing table that looked like this.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4E1OFNRi1n0/UOG1d75Ov0I/AAAAAAAAAg4/7cFtDTyAspA/s1600/IMG_6945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="309" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4E1OFNRi1n0/UOG1d75Ov0I/AAAAAAAAAg4/7cFtDTyAspA/s320/IMG_6945.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was afraid to eat the sandwiches because they were sprayed pink and I didn't want to get that shit on my teeth.</td></tr>
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I took lots of photographs (so did a good friend of mine, <a href="http://jordanlikens.tumblr.com/">Jordan Likens</a> ) and got some pretty nice shots out of it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I_godf3QDOc/UOG1qwvkSnI/AAAAAAAAAhU/WL4V1ZcwG_w/s1600/IMG_7012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I_godf3QDOc/UOG1qwvkSnI/AAAAAAAAAhU/WL4V1ZcwG_w/s400/IMG_7012.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was lucky enough to be assigned the PhotoBooth, where I took shots of unsuspecting partygoers as they handed me lavish natural poses to capture with my camera.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We get excited over this shit, y'know?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys. Who had decided the only way to make Trent look good was to make themselves ugly (er?) </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGKMqci8xdU/UOG1iOu1GqI/AAAAAAAAAhA/oHSydOkS0u8/s1600/IMG_6980.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGKMqci8xdU/UOG1iOu1GqI/AAAAAAAAAhA/oHSydOkS0u8/s320/IMG_6980.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alex was so sweet, but the bastard was so quiet you could barely tell if he was around! But once you got him talking there was a lot to be said and all in all he was a totally cool cat. </td></tr>
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It wasn't actually that stressful from my end of it. The worst thing I had to deal with was finding a dress. The one I ended up with was a nice blue dress that, even after I sewed the straps higher, was about 60% boobs. For once in my life I seriously took into consideration things I'd heard from Jenna Marbles. And those things included <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HErdtVkR3Nw">how to make your boobs look awesome.</a> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tKct1xOeasc/UOG12U3XvFI/AAAAAAAAAhk/OW311ZedWRc/s1600/IMG_7084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tKct1xOeasc/UOG12U3XvFI/AAAAAAAAAhk/OW311ZedWRc/s320/IMG_7084.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh damn look at this shit </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jC2n4FygbZ0/UOG1_ByUj_I/AAAAAAAAAh0/2doD_WnTTUU/s1600/IMG_7120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jC2n4FygbZ0/UOG1_ByUj_I/AAAAAAAAAh0/2doD_WnTTUU/s320/IMG_7120.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy dancing and face tattoos I didn't choose the thug life the thug life chose me</td></tr>
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All in all it was an actually pretty great party. Men took their shirts off and ran around while my girlfriends watched like hungry wolves.<br />
Hungry, single wolves. <br />
I've got the rest of the pictures up on my <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lmstrange/">Flikr</a> if you're interested.<br />
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<h3>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Speculation on the end of 2012</span></h3>
It's been another year. <br />
Another long, agonizing year that has ended with a great sigh of relief. You sit there wondering how all this bullshit and coolshit has just come and gone within a 365 day range. You've had heartbreaks and stomach aches, but you've also made friends and more blog posts than you can count on both of your hands. Personally, the end of the year and beginning of the next is always the most exciting for me (Christmas and my Birthday, duh). But I've had a pretty good later-half of this year. I'm almost 17 and I have a fucking fantastic group of friends, good clothes, and a boyfriend who really knocks my socks off.<br />
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Seriously you guys, I've got it made. <br />
So leave all the nasty shit behind and take the good shit with you. <br />
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L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-52807928744837815982012-12-24T18:17:00.001-08:002012-12-24T18:19:17.147-08:00Xmas <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V9BiM6hjfjM/UNiZxmzIrrI/AAAAAAAAAeo/0M3Ck6hRu5I/s1600/Big+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V9BiM6hjfjM/UNiZxmzIrrI/AAAAAAAAAeo/0M3Ck6hRu5I/s320/Big+Tree.jpg" width="146" /></a></div>
<br />
For normal families, today is the day when your Mother starts freaking out because she has to start cooking for a family you only see once a year. It's when your Father spends all day sleeping in his easy chair and watching TV. It's when ABC plays reruns of those old stop-motion Christmas specials about Jack Frost and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. It's the day your tiny siblings are stocking up on peppermint, worrying about what kind of cookies that Santa <i>really </i>likes, and running around faster than Whitney Houston on her 8th line of coke. Today is the day you stay inside on your computer, complaining about the holidays on tumblr and posting ironic Bowie lyrics on your Facebook because, quite frankly, nobody understands you. <br />
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Today is motherfucking Christmas Eve. <br />
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I don't really know what I expect out of Christmas this year, although up to this point has been pretty fucking brilliant. Like the top of our tree, might I add. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xVOS9SYUCKI/UNib6mID6jI/AAAAAAAAAfE/tlmhPIqfIVM/s1600/IMG_4368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xVOS9SYUCKI/UNib6mID6jI/AAAAAAAAAfE/tlmhPIqfIVM/s320/IMG_4368.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SpockJesus</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: left;">Christmas is a great time of the year to have excuses to have get-togethers with your friends. Like mine, who act like meth addicted cokeheads and buy things like condoms (Plot Twist: It was me) and candy bras for White Elephant Christmas gifts. Oh, youth. I think if we had booze then a part of the house might have actually caught fire. <br />
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I think aside some markers I've already got everything I could ask for. </td><td style="text-align: left;"></td><td style="text-align: left;"></td><td style="text-align: left;"></td><td style="text-align: left;"></td><td style="text-align: left;"></td><td style="text-align: left;"></td><td style="text-align: left;"></td><td style="text-align: left;"><br /></td><td style="text-align: left;"><br /></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wRHpxUmhbNo/UNkHOhWPPZI/AAAAAAAAAfw/HkfIm8ToFb0/s1600/TinyTree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wRHpxUmhbNo/UNkHOhWPPZI/AAAAAAAAAfw/HkfIm8ToFb0/s320/TinyTree.jpg" width="227" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Also like most other packs of teenagers, we have tiny white trees topped with homosexual singers and a peeky Norse gods. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-940449365019489532012-11-24T17:59:00.004-08:002012-11-24T17:59:47.745-08:00Oh dear I've acquired a style. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6-Ap3xDroiA/ULF0EitJS0I/AAAAAAAAAeA/st0oGyBPyBE/s1600/46242_503093129714668_2139142002_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6-Ap3xDroiA/ULF0EitJS0I/AAAAAAAAAeA/st0oGyBPyBE/s400/46242_503093129714668_2139142002_n.jpg" width="348" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan Matthews, eat your heart out.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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See that shirt? I bought that shirt at a store in Houston the other day. <br />It's a damn fine shirt. <br />
It's got a button loose but it's a damn fine shirt. <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--IzexyuoYQs/ULF0ib2TivI/AAAAAAAAAeI/oY-APwhcwTw/s1600/63841_503106566379991_1581947463_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--IzexyuoYQs/ULF0ib2TivI/AAAAAAAAAeI/oY-APwhcwTw/s320/63841_503106566379991_1581947463_n.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
Oh yeah also I have a few more pictures up on <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lmstrange/">My Flikr</a> if you wanna check them out.<br />
This has been a photography update. L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-38460008403843586382012-11-24T15:56:00.002-08:002012-11-24T15:56:23.368-08:00Stuff that Sucks #40<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hand Holding Rejection</span></span></b></div>
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<b> <span style="font-size: large;">Hand holding rejection is the worst. </span></b><br /><br />
Like, the worst of the worst. It murders your self esteem with a hatchet and leaves you with grievous wounds that you keep picking at despite protests to leave them alone. From personal experience, it really makes you question whether going for anything at all is worth it.<br />
To me, holding hands is such a groovy thing, especially if the
feelings you have for someone reach above and beyond the stars above
you. Holding hands is like linking the like (or love) you have for each
other. It could be cute, or fun, or sensual. It can be so many
different things. What you can't say with your mouth you can say with
your hands and fingers. <br /> I don't know how many of you have experienced this form of rejection, but it plants a seed in your mind of how pathetic and unattractive the person you'd like to touch finds you.<br />
It just totally sucks when someone doesn't reciprocate that. Like when you really care about them. <br />
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<i> Especially </i>when you really care about them. </div>
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-84441691351059410662012-10-28T07:01:00.001-07:002012-10-28T07:01:12.135-07:00Butts, Buts and a Questionable Sequence of "Although".<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3b0oxP2ukvA/UI06S2rt2YI/AAAAAAAAAco/mP0AKJk8_mY/s1600/IMG_3993+copy.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3b0oxP2ukvA/UI06S2rt2YI/AAAAAAAAAco/mP0AKJk8_mY/s320/IMG_3993+copy.jpg" width="219" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my loving boyfriend. </td></tr>
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Lately has been a mess of theatrical teenage bullshit. I just finished my School's production of "Cinderella" (In which I was the sexy stepsister.), and now I reside in that relaxing limbo in which I wait for the next round of auditions to start. It was a pretty great show and I was allowed to make some really questionable life choices, like chasing after men because of my deranged, gold-digging Step Mother and my narcissistic older Sister. But mostly Butts. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m69i3kz5951ryo3yso1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="90" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m69i3kz5951ryo3yso1_500.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tina understands my predicaments.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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This weekend was eventful to say the least. I went to a house show with some of my friends (A house show, for all you lame people out there is like a small gig for local musicians usually held at someone's house. In this case, it was at my friend Jordan's house which is equivalent to twelve small neighborhoods. I've had one at my house, although that was back when my friends actually had the desire to rehearse for hours until we gave birth to something that sounded like music.) <br />
My friend Jordan's band is just fucking brilliant. He's really into a lot of undergroundish type stuff, which, if looked at from a vantage point is probably going to be the equivalent of what early Punk rock was in the 1970s. Sadly I didn't get to stay late enough to see them, (Whales), because I had to take some friends home and then head back to my own house. My friend Molly was kind enough to pay for my gas money in quarters. <br />
ON A MORE FASHIONABLE NOTE. My good friend <a href="http://themadmod.blogspot.com/">Tessa</a> gave me some shorts a while back, of which I have been too lazy to fix. But today I fixed them and the whole world was right again. Birds were singing, my lawn was mowed, and most of all I felt pretty damn good about life, the universe and everything. <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RG3qcLZP6DY/UI037W5T9-I/AAAAAAAAAcQ/kvIb6fK3iyo/s1600/IMG_3945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RG3qcLZP6DY/UI037W5T9-I/AAAAAAAAAcQ/kvIb6fK3iyo/s320/IMG_3945.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1ZEyBZrkS-U/UI05eHIajjI/AAAAAAAAAcg/5SKuxa55THw/s1600/IMG_3961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1ZEyBZrkS-U/UI05eHIajjI/AAAAAAAAAcg/5SKuxa55THw/s320/IMG_3961.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow look at that I'm almost sexy.</td></tr>
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Those shorts are so damn cute. I'm tempted to dye them blue, though, in order to satisfy my need for Homestuck. I'd like to thank Hendrix and my Mother for the grace of finding those shirts buried beneath age old clothing from the *gasp* <i>90s. </i>(The top one is floral print, and they both include shoulder pads and ample opportunity to hint at cleavage.) I need some white lace tights, though, and I should be set for this Texas winter.<br />
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<i> </i><br />
<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-11757966916030757152012-10-10T09:05:00.000-07:002012-10-10T09:05:39.666-07:00The Ox<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>DAT BASS</i></td></tr>
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<h4>
So yesterday, as we all knew, was <span style="color: orange;">OCTOBER 9TH</span> </h4>
Also known as the BIRTHDAY<br />
of our beloved John Entwistle. <br />(Also John Lennon, but I'll leave it up to Tumblr to give tribute to the man.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't hate me coz I'm beautiful</td></tr>
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OH JOHN. We've had quite the history. <br />My best friend loves the Who, and at the tender age of 13 I was due to have a favorite (as most Thirteen-year-olds tend to have). And I picked you, John. Because of dem sexy hands, dat sexy hair cut, and most importantly DAT BASS. <br />
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They called him Thunder Fingers; or The Ox with good reason. Have you ever stopped to <i>listen </i>to the solo in "My Generation", or notice the sheer power of the bass in "Won't Get Fooled Again"? It's the dexterity and control he's got in his hands and fingers. It's like a fucking storm of pure energy that pushes the rest of the song forward, and i've always loved Entwistle for that reason. When I started playing bass I looked up to a lot of different players (like Geddy Lee, Les Claypool, Roger Waters, ect...) and I realized how fucking difficult it is to play using your fingers. Using a pick is one thing, and a lot of really good bassists can pull that off, (looking at you, Noel Redding), but there's just something raw about using your fingers to play so expertly that's appealing.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/9CP3Qzb9nf0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Here's a video that I personally love, which is the isolated bass track of John playing "Won't Get Fooled Again" at one of their shows in England. I would have linked just the audio, but being able to watch somebody play makes all the difference. For musicians, it's a chance to observe and learn. For everyone else, it's still a hell of a lot of fun. I always love seeing what different kinds of instruments they play, (for you gear nerds here's a list of gear that John used from <a href="http://www.thewho.net/whotabs/gear/bass/bass6066.html" target="_blank">1960-66</a>, <a href="http://www.thewho.net/whotabs/gear/bass/bass6768.html" target="_blank">1967-68,</a> <a href="http://www.thewho.net/whotabs/gear/bass/bass7174.html" target="_blank"> 1971-74</a> and <a href="http://www.thewho.net/whotabs/gear/bass/bass7485.html">1974-1985.</a> It's got some great pictures as well as descriptions.) <br />
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1. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvFuUaCe8eY">Boris the Spider</a><br /> 2. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yj2fLxzTRbQ">Substitute</a><br /> 3. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xZOrWK6d4g">My Generation</a> <br /> 4. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rp6-wG5LLqE">Won't get fooled again</a> </div>
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5.<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XrO4_nyamZs">The Seeker</a></div>
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6. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szVptOhUQLo">Talk Dirty</a> (solo, off of his "Too Late the Hero" album) </div>
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7. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJCXpFy0E5s">Young Man Blues</a> (Excellent performance from Keith Moon, also)</div>
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8.<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOtZ9Dr6CTE">Water</a> </div>
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9.<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iem5TUVxpQI">Summertime Blues</a></div>
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<i>Some of my favorites. </i><br />
I'm sure there are tons more, and if you have any to contribute I don't mind a damn bit.<br />
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The Who was a powerful band, especially through their live performances. There's a certain feeling to be had when you see footage like that (from what you can find these days), and you can hardly fathom what it must've felt like to see them live. Perhaps one day, when I'm teaching Rock n Roll history, the invention of the Time Machine will have been brought into existence, and I'll take my students on a field trip to see the Who at the Isle of Wight (and maybe even stick around to see Hendrix). <br /> So it is with this that the Electric Church of Rock n Roll gives it's thanks to Saint Entwistle. He's changed bass playing throughout time, and left a standard and many lessons to be learned by future bassists and musicians alike. <br /><br /><i>Amen</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(The day before yesterday was Johnny Ramone's birthday, but I was too busy dying with this
HORRIBLE COLD I have acquired to have written a decent post for the
man. I love you though, Johnny. You gave a kickass name to all
bar-chord guitarists with bowl cuts)</td></tr>
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-85943074030484778932012-10-07T11:54:00.003-07:002012-10-07T11:54:19.352-07:00Graphin' your stanky Youth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a2GJvqv-IzM/UHGSy1jKSLI/AAAAAAAAAYA/BP86m5hwMiw/s1600/IMG_3602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a2GJvqv-IzM/UHGSy1jKSLI/AAAAAAAAAYA/BP86m5hwMiw/s400/IMG_3602.JPG" width="327" /></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xFqLCKdHPKU/UHGUm6AvRJI/AAAAAAAAAYI/Q_Pv7NIArgg/s1600/IMG_3395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xFqLCKdHPKU/UHGUm6AvRJI/AAAAAAAAAYI/Q_Pv7NIArgg/s320/IMG_3395.JPG" width="213" /></a>So this weekend was a good one, because I got to <i>get shit done </i>as well as hang out with my good friend, <a href="http://themadmod.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Tessa</a> and take some photos. Most of them came out rather nicely, and I'm glad I had a set put together this time (in the spare room) consisting of my Grateful Dead tapestry and some old strips of fabric I had lying around. <br />
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Also some old girls, you know. <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hxhX9pBrXfo/UHGXYl6wbCI/AAAAAAAAAYY/ppUe0Ij_k18/s1600/IMG_3592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hxhX9pBrXfo/UHGXYl6wbCI/AAAAAAAAAYY/ppUe0Ij_k18/s400/IMG_3592.JPG" width="265" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qqm2nvIJyt4/UHGWWV00uZI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/LTZi5J7eeJI/s1600/IMG_3594.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
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I love all of Tessa's outfits. (Well, most of them at least. There used to be a poncho she'd wear and it made her slightly resemble a 60-something year old baglady. I couldn't tell if the Pancho swallowed her whole and simply allowed me to imagine the rest of her body somewhere beneath it's thick fabric folds. Sometimes I feared she was genuinely being eaten by a product of Old-Lady wear. The thought of Talbots creating clothing designed to consume it's customers frightens me, although is not shocking because I've seen the inside of my Grandmother's closet. I can only imagine the new methods of psychiatric evaluation they would have to develop in order to help the victims of these events. Tessa's was more or less finding a new coat to wear instead of that hideous old one.) <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golly!</td></tr>
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At the end of the day we were exhausted, but the rest of the shoot is up on my <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/lmstrange/" target="_blank">Flikr </a>if you guys wanted to see. <br />
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I've started really trying out my different apertures, and I think I'm starting to get the hang of it. (I need better use of a tripod, though, and using a self timer will be the death of me, yet.) I'm going to graduate to the use of 35mm film sometime soon, because recently I found out my Dad's Pentax K1000 is fucked up, although I haven't tried his Automatic Canon yet. I think I might just buy a cheap Holga and see if my Dad's flashes will work for it. <br /><br />UGH PHOTOGRAPHY. So rewarding when the images come out, but it's like pulling teeth getting things the way you want. <br /><br />But, like I always think, <i>I'm getting better. </i>So that, at least, is keeping me from going mad. <br />
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-66824676150019920842012-10-06T20:35:00.002-07:002012-10-06T20:35:50.105-07:00Comments!Oh my gosh! I think I just accidentally deleted all of the comments I got on my posts. <br />I'm <i>so </i>sorry you guys, I thought I was just clearing them out of my message box. <br /><br />I guess it's not such a good idea to have the "Remove Content" button right next to "Delete". <br />Clear that shit up, Blogspot! L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-36152132714680206892012-10-06T20:27:00.003-07:002012-10-06T20:27:54.976-07:00WHAT'S IN A PURSE?<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Oh my! There are simply too many things in this fringed bag!</h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i0BDBNyDVtE/UF-rwyMQ9wI/AAAAAAAAAVE/7PlWUKezKTc/s1600/The+Purse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i0BDBNyDVtE/UF-rwyMQ9wI/AAAAAAAAAVE/7PlWUKezKTc/s320/The+Purse.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her name is Eleanore.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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1. This girl needs her nail varnish</h3>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_z7MWmWDZdE/UF-t39ougbI/AAAAAAAAAVU/0xUi3txLRj0/s1600/NAIL+VARNISH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_z7MWmWDZdE/UF-t39ougbI/AAAAAAAAAVU/0xUi3txLRj0/s320/NAIL+VARNISH.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BMHl8a_1rVI/UF-r_0LyQ-I/AAAAAAAAAVM/WjgWlk8BnzE/s1600/Cute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BMHl8a_1rVI/UF-r_0LyQ-I/AAAAAAAAAVM/WjgWlk8BnzE/s320/Cute.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got this shit at Urban Outfitters for $.99</td></tr>
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I am genuinely surprised at the <i>sheer quantities </i>of nail polish I had in my purse. I'm not sure if it's because I just put shit in there and forget about it, or if it's a genuine addiction to adhesive nail glitter. Also, those two little twin bottles are SO CUTE and were on sale at the most expensive store in the world. They were marked down from a whopping 6$ to $ .99. I feel that, sometimes, Urban Outfitters can be your sale oasis in a desert of expensive. <br />
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2. MAKEUP FOR THE GIRL WHO DOES NOT WEAR ANY</h3>
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Okay so that is a straight up LIE. I do wear makeup, but minimally so if the mood strikes me. Usually it's like... mascara or something. But when I do wear it, I'll usually use 1 color, then the next day wonder where that color went (in my bag), shrug, and repeat. Eventually it all accumulates into this giant pile of powdered, color affliction. A constant that I do seem to have is my eyebrow shadow, a constant quest to ensure my expressions stay flawless. <br />
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3. Jesus Christ, if chapstick needed a Queen for their Empire of Moisture I would be a number-one candidate. </h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e0VVZ4dsvJA/UHDrQoBNj-I/AAAAAAAAAWM/A-j4PsZdhek/s1600/IMG_3000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e0VVZ4dsvJA/UHDrQoBNj-I/AAAAAAAAAWM/A-j4PsZdhek/s320/IMG_3000.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recently, and other than these pictured, I've found at least 3 different colors</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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How much chapstick do you need to get through the day? The answer may differ, but apparently one is <i>never enough. </i>I found (2) Blistex, (1) Spearmint Chapstick and <i>these two motherfuckers. </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ma7xnyuvbbg/UHDrTlGz0QI/AAAAAAAAAWU/-kbfzKeG8_Q/s1600/The+Chapstick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ma7xnyuvbbg/UHDrTlGz0QI/AAAAAAAAAWU/-kbfzKeG8_Q/s320/The+Chapstick.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ARGH SO CUTE<br />They came from Urban Outfitters along with my Nail Polish for .99cents each. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<i> </i>I may not know a whole lot, but one thing I do know is how fucking soft my lips are going to be for the rest of my life. I'll probably be on TLC's "Hoarders" for this, some day. Either that or in the Guinness Book of World Records for "World's Softest Lips". Someday, E of M, <i>someday soon. </i><br />
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<i> 4. For those BRAVE enough to fight me. </i></h3>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ii7QPfgCYgU/UHDtTChwr_I/AAAAAAAAAWc/NyesnjYx0rY/s1600/IMG_3001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ii7QPfgCYgU/UHDtTChwr_I/AAAAAAAAAWc/NyesnjYx0rY/s320/IMG_3001.JPG" width="320" /></a><i> </i><br />
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An especially cheap Swiss-army knife I got from Switzerland awaits you. <br />
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I'm disappointed because the writing is falling off. I really loved that thing when I got it from Europe. If I ever go back, I'll get another one that's actually worth 10 Euro. Also I'll have to find another Canadian, because the one I got was absolutely fabulous for as long as he lasted. I'll have to make sure he <i>doesn't </i>find a girlfriend afterwards, though. It was so fucking disappointing when that happened last time. <br />
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5. ASSORTED WANK </h3>
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A Woman's purse is like a black hole. It will surprise you with anything and everything (including a small army of garden gnomes). Look at those lovely erasers and Hendrix pin that <a href="http://themadmod.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Haka</a> gave me, emphasized by the broken ACDC keychain I bought from Wal Mart a few weeks ago. The bracelet came straight from my wrist, aged and worn by my young and taut skin. <br />
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I decided to leave out all the gum wrappers in fear that you might sample my teeth patterns and make a clone of me. <br />
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Funny story behind this patch, actually. <br /> I went to a store in Houston called Cactus Music, and saw the posters for the new Darkness album. I begged the lady that worked there for a poster, but was shot down because, since the poster was new, she couldn't give me one. I guess she felt sorry for me, because after my spiel of sobbing like a pubescent Beatles-fan and threatening to throw up on their vintage music magazines, she suddenly gave me this bad-ass-mother-fucking-kiss-ass patch. So along with the 30+$ I spent on a Queen shirt and some CDs, I got this lovely patch to show for my hard work. Now I just have to sew it onto the back of a vest and I will surely be the most excellent girl in the whole school. <br />
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6. It's the PENPOCALYPSE. </h3>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JkpClvfybb8/UHDxRLcAbOI/AAAAAAAAAW0/VV0ZnQkx6XY/s1600/the+pens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JkpClvfybb8/UHDxRLcAbOI/AAAAAAAAAW0/VV0ZnQkx6XY/s320/the+pens.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured here is some Pentel .3mm lead for my architect pencil that I don't actually use for architecture. <br />Also that is a refill for my ink-brush that actually works quite well. I'm sure that if used correctly, you could do some pretty sick Chinese calligraphy with that pen. </td></tr>
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Ho-ly shit. I had <i>so many </i>pens. This is pretty much a small fraction of the sheer velocity of pens I had in my purse. I'm pretty sure at some point you wanted to wonder whether it was the purse holding the pens, or the pens forming together an unbreakable steel bond to hold the purse together by it's sheer mass. <br />
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I guess it may be because I'm an artist or a Junior hoarder. (Also sometimes I'm afraid to use the pens I love most because I don't want them to run out of ink.) Pretty lame, huh? <br />
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<br />Ahhhhhhhh! Purse times. I've been meaning to do this for awhile now. I'll be sure to keep you folks updated with the wonders of what's inside a bag, because everyone is different. <i>Like for instance how I didn't have my MP3 player with me. </i>Maybe it's because I'm paranoid it would get stolen, ever since my phone got stolen last year I was quite <i>angry to the point of never bringing my electronics out in public again. </i>You guys should let me know if you do this! I wanna know what's in everyone else's purse!<br />
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-89558102112979331992012-09-09T01:25:00.001-07:002012-09-09T01:25:03.248-07:00A Bittersweet Teenagership<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember those days?</td></tr>
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This weekend I partied hard, more or less as I took photos for my theater at our "Fish Party". <br /> The concept is fantastic, which includes the idea that freshmen should come to a party where more or less most of the theater company will be attending as well, and that everyone gets to know everyone and visa-versa. Well mainly sophomore's showed up, but whatever it wasn't like I knew half of those tiny people.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">look at this crazy bitch with her leggings in the water</td></tr>
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<br />Parties have never really been my scene, unless they include a bunch of people I know. But it was all right, and I actually went swimming for like 3 seconds but spent most of 3 hours trying to keep my camera from getting wet. Also the best picture I feel like I took had nothing to do with anything.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I feel like I should write a story for this</td></tr>
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Also that and the fact I feel lonely. I had to take home a friend of mine, and I noticed how handsome he's become. I used to really dig him back in middle school, before my original group of friends fell apart faster than a 90s boy band. It had been the first time I really owned up to liking a dude because of his personality and the way we responded to each other and what I got rewarded with was a list of <i>Reasons I <b>don't</b> like you back. </i>All 30+ of them. I felt like I was in an episode of a shitty show they'd play on MTV, except he still doesn't like me back, and so I'll just admire from afar while he describes his interest in all things boobs, tush and tush accessories. (It's something I've noticed: that you can tell when a guy doesn't like you when he talks about how attractive other girls are to you! I like to think they do that because they are heartless, cruel boys who love to jade themselves on the breasts of girls who are, in fact, <i>not you.</i>) <br />
The recent heartbreaker is a bittersweet one. Sometimes I like him because he's strong minded and sure of himself, but sometimes I hate him because he makes me cry and says all the wrong things. As the good old Mick Jagger once said, "I can't get no Satisfaction." <br /> Well Mick, ain't that the truth? <br />
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I mean lets be honest here all you want is this:<br /><br />
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when all you get are offers from guys like <i>this </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nSlFGm_6R-c/UExKLA_HwiI/AAAAAAAAATo/xafh-YbYets/s1600/awkward_hunk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nSlFGm_6R-c/UExKLA_HwiI/AAAAAAAAATo/xafh-YbYets/s320/awkward_hunk.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"hey baby lets congregate and possibly have sexual intercourse"</td></tr>
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<i> </i><br />
That, and among other things is why I'm pretty fucking pissed. The Universe has skewed logic sometimes. Either that or it's just got a pretty fucking huge case of <i>Schadenfreude.</i><br />
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-52189713112801777342012-09-06T19:56:00.003-07:002012-09-06T19:56:43.905-07:00Highschool Hell<br /><br />
It's been a turbulent week for me!<br /><br />Only the second week of school and I was sent to the "Assistant" principals office for my shorts being too short. (My bad luck strikes again. The limit is 4" above the knee but mine were unluckily about 1/2" too short). But I <i>always </i>seem to get stuck with the bully, douche of an AP. He told me I could use the phone in his office and to go and wait for him, which would have turned out to take <i>an hour. </i><br />
<i> </i>I decided after about 15 minutes I wasn't going to miss any more Physics than I had to, so I used the Secretary's phone, which turns out wasn't <i>actually </i>the Secretary because the <i>actual </i>Secretary had gone on a 30 minute lunch break. So my Mom didn't answer, and after my Dad getting angry over the fact the Sub-Secretary couldn't connect him to the Front Office to get me a pass to go home and change, my Mom finally <i>did </i>answer and in about another 15 minutes I managed to get me a pair of pants. <br />
It was a pain in the ass and I got back to class with 15 minutes to go. <br />
Over this summer I was a lifeguard, in which I was subjected to spending an entire summer of telling kids what and what not to do. (But, unlike teachers, my job was to actually keep them <i>safe </i>and not subject then to humiliation and suicidal feelings). And I <i>know </i>how hard it is to enforce the rules, and I know that, despite what anyone says, favoritism <i>does </i>play a huge part in who gets away with what. Which is why you see a bunch of kids walking around with droopy drawers and cheerleaders with shorts up to their asses with their perky little buttcheeks hanging out. <br />
When something like getting sent to the office, going through an hour and a half of trying to please these assholes, and then going back to class to see some prep with a skirt shorter than anything I own you get filled with a feeling that could very well push someone to do something drastic. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It's messy but effective. </i></td></tr>
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So coming back to school was pretty fucked up, because (I don't know if it's just me, you guys<br />
will have to let me know) <i>teachers </i>don't seem to value <i>respect. </i>All I try to do when confronted with a teacher is show them respect and try to follow their rules, but it seems like most of them (Whether it be Assistant Principals, Councilors, Nurses, Front Office Ladies, ect..) go into school thinking <i>I'm going to treat you like a Juvinile Delinquent no matter how you act/what you might have done. And still manage to sit at my table for an hour and a half playing on my iPhone and letting mini-hookers get away with their tiny clothes. </i><br />
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<h3>
<i> </i>In other News</h3>
I managed to snag a part in my school's play. The British pantomime of <i>Cinderella. </i>And I am the lovely evil stepsister. Apparently I am extremely well off when playing conceited bitch faces with harrowing, shrill English accents! <br />
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My friend Henry got the role of Prince Charming, which highly amuses me seeing as he's got a tendency of being a morbid, dark humored guy with extremely opinionated views on...well...<i>everything. </i>Although It's been a while since we've hung out, it's whatever. He's good and I'm good so we're just going to kick ass and be good together. <br />
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<span style="color: magenta;"><i>SO YEAH</i></span></h3>
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L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-7818354945499159402012-08-30T18:40:00.002-07:002012-08-30T18:40:12.901-07:00The Girl Anachronism<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UJeJ6Ni4Upo/UD_zn13rmmI/AAAAAAAAAQM/FDbACEJFUXo/s1600/Listen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UJeJ6Ni4Upo/UD_zn13rmmI/AAAAAAAAAQM/FDbACEJFUXo/s320/Listen.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Struggles of a Nostalgic Teenager</span></span></h2>
Working towards vintage is harder than you guys would think.<br />
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Seriously, you're face with <i>so many </i>different problems when you're trying to be Vintage Fantastic or Retro or if you just straight up feel like you missed the one way train to the 60s and are trying to live all those fantasies through your current life.<br />
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<i> <b>FINDING CLOTHES. </b></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'm talking actually <i>finding. </i>If you order your vintage clothing online, you my friend, are </span><i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">cheating. </span></i><br />
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<i> </i> You really have to look for those top-quality vintage stores that don't try to charge you out of your home, family and drug habit. Either that or you can get straight to the nitty gritty and dig through charity shops (such as Goodwills, Family dollar, or just tucked away little old lady thrift stores run by women of an undetermined sex).<br />
Yeah, it takes awhile, but walking away with a piece of clothing you worked your ass off to find is worth more to you than gold. That, and it's guaranteed to be more unique than clothes most of the female-sheep that infest and poison the schoolgrounds wear.<br />
Granted, sometimes finding the perfect piece of clothing <i>will </i>just seem to...happen. Sometimes you just find the perfect pair of pants, or the perfect shirt, or the perfect skirt and it <i>will</i> be the perfect size and it <i>will</i> be dirt cheap. <br />
But then again, other times you will feel like you've lost your mind looking for the perfect shirt and will go home feeling like the whole of the world is about to collapse on you for the lack of perfect clothing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-crW-gf3M70I/UD_zUBGZs8I/AAAAAAAAAQE/EVDy1ZHxkcU/s1600/LM1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-crW-gf3M70I/UD_zUBGZs8I/AAAAAAAAAQE/EVDy1ZHxkcU/s400/LM1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my favorite peices, The Doc Martens are vintage and possibly from the early 90s.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<h3>
<i>EXPRESSING YOURSELF</i></h3>
But most of all, it's about <i>expression. </i>I know it can be fucking hard to dress the way you want, especially to <i>school </i>of all places. But you know, you get over the weird looks. I know my friend <a href="http://themadmod.blogspot.com/">Haka</a> has struggled with this, but now she's in a happy medium with herself and her wonderful fashion blog. Quite frankly I really look up to her for that, because it's hard to go out and just do your own thing. Especially with all those other assholes that just <i>love </i>to judge you and try to make you feel shit about yourself because you don't conform to mainstream fashion.<br />
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Most of it though, isn't just about dressing your way because it's 'in style'. It's because it makes you feel <i>good </i>and because it allows you that connection to the period you feel so damn connected to, and it's like when you wear those clothes you're wearing something from the <i>past. </i>Something with the energy of that time period, something that could've been worn by someone from that period. Those clothes could've been to a <i>Hendrix </i>concert, or front row at a <i>Zeppelin </i>show. Or anything you could possibly imagine.<br />
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The important thing is, though, that<b><span style="color: red;"> no matter what you wear</span></b> or <b><span style="color: red;">how you wear it</span></b>, </div>
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you gotta <i><span style="color: red;"><b>work that shit with all you've got</b></span> </i>because<br />
<b>there is nobody that expresses</b></div>
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<b> YOU better than YOU.</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7bSQ8elfEfU/UEAPd1XaK3I/AAAAAAAAARA/HmV1adwr-GQ/s1600/Dress11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7bSQ8elfEfU/UEAPd1XaK3I/AAAAAAAAARA/HmV1adwr-GQ/s400/Dress11.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x5MSx01TgYw/UEASPHPCoKI/AAAAAAAAARg/tCeNFfAfbkA/s1600/IMG_2135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x5MSx01TgYw/UEASPHPCoKI/AAAAAAAAARg/tCeNFfAfbkA/s320/IMG_2135.JPG" width="213" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N0SnUhEmNb4/UEAR7IvbKZI/AAAAAAAAARY/xpYmP9ikZHA/s1600/lm3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N0SnUhEmNb4/UEAR7IvbKZI/AAAAAAAAARY/xpYmP9ikZHA/s320/lm3.jpg" width="213" /></a>See look how expressive I am by posting pictures of me in my vintage clothing in high contrast, self timed photos.<br />
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MODELING MODELING<br />
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Okay guys that's about it for my self love rant. But you guys really shouldn't be afraid to wear what you want just because you feel weird wearing it around other people, or if you feel like people think <i>you're </i>weird for wearing it around <i>them. </i><br />
<i> </i>Fuck the majority and make your own image. <br />
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-22863614493454121972012-08-27T20:34:00.001-07:002012-08-27T20:36:41.936-07:00School as a modern concept<h2>
Sheeple, failure and unattainable ass. </h2>
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You know, usually every time I go into a new school year I am full of depression and anxiety that I get no sleep because I worry about how the year is going to go. But this year, surprisingly enough none of that happened, because when I walked into school, or as most of you know it: <br />
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I'm a junior and I didn't give a shit as I walked into school. All I saw were conformists and swaggawags, and when I sat through as all my classes reviewed the same policies and rules I knew nothing had changed. All the teachers told me to put away my coffee and pull up my shirt, when all I wanted to do was scream in their faces and Rock n Roll.<br />
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I'm sick of adults and I'm sick of other people's rules<br />
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<i>Watch what you say<br />Watch what you wear</i><br />
<i>Watch what you do</i><br />
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All I try to do is earn respect, and after two years I would think I could have a little bit, at least. I went into school thinking "<i>Dude, I'm gonna try my best.</i>" Because I thought doing my best would make <i>Me </i>feel good. But now I'm thinking "<i>Dude, I'm gonna try my best so when I succeed I can rub it in all those asshole's faces and congratulate myself on a job well done." </i>I know it's selfish. <br />
It's not like I do things with the intention of offending other people, but maybe other people should just nut up or shut up. Go complain to someone who cares, or at least someone who will put a little band-aid on whatever boo-boo I have inflicted upon your well being and emotional stability! <br />
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And the <i>boys </i>man. <br />
All those boys I want, and the one I'm so close to having is such a tease, but the one I love is so far away my heart is breaking with every step away from him, the sweet echo of our kiss long since passed.<br />
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I mean that's all Highschool ever boils down to, is <i>raging sex hormones. </i>And maybe a little bit of heartbreak. But mainly like 20% grades and then 80% raging sex hormones. <br />
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But welcome to Junior Year, Jess, hope you make it out alive. <br />
<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-50575550937553485172012-08-22T21:40:00.002-07:002012-08-22T21:40:31.347-07:00Excercise Logic for Men and Women/ The Breast Dilemma <h2>
The Boob Dilemma</h2>
When Men and Women exercise,(I'm talking about in actual parts of the world that value things like this, because America sure ain't one of them! That is, unless you have millions of extra dollars to waste on such a trivial thing like <i>personal fitness.</i>)<br />
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When they exercise it's along the lines of Women losing their boobs and Men <i>getting </i>boobs. (But the sexy kind that are taut and fun to touch...) I wish I could exercise and not have to worry about loosing my boobies. <br />
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Becuase, like, <br />Boobies are <i>precious</i> to a woman. <br />And I <i>like </i>my boobies I don't want them going anywhere! <br />Screw you, exercise for putting my boobies in jeopardy! L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-9948234797822910902012-08-21T19:41:00.001-07:002012-10-10T12:08:19.903-07:00Sweet, Sweet Ladyboners Part 1<b><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: x-large;">So ladyboners right</span></b><br />
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An exploration into the subject of men that L.M. finds sexually appealing for more reasons than a sweet ass body</h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Yeah. Motherfucking ladyboners.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">or better yet- the guys who give us ladyboners. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I'm gonna list the top ten guys that to me make angels weep tears of frustration because </span></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YOtsfVYzwGc/UDMAlF1tSbI/AAAAAAAAANI/8L_HBPnWPWE/s1600/Russell+Brand+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">how the <b>fuck </b>could God create something that beautiful </i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">without knowing how the sheer fore of exploding ovaries was going to effect the stability of Heaven's architecture. </span> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">10. Mark Ruffalo </span></span></span></h3>
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<i>Help me. <br />I'm drowning.<br />Drowning in a sea of Ruffalust.</i><br />
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A lot of people know him as his impeccable performance as "Bruce Banner" In the newest avengers movie, although what a lot of people <i>don't </i>know (Or maybe you do, although I didn't realize it until I was scanning the depths of IMDB for a desperate search for films with his face in them), is that he was in that movie entitled "<i>Zodiac". </i>He played a detective named "Dave Toschi", who gave me a case of the Deja Vu's when I thought about the US Marshall he portrayed in "<i>Shutter Island". </i><br />
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But for those who have seen "<i>Zodiac" </i>This is all I have to say about his performance. <br />
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<a href="http://pzrservices.typepad.com/.a/6a00d83451ccbc69e20133ecb42dce970b-400wi" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="http://pzrservices.typepad.com/.a/6a00d83451ccbc69e20133ecb42dce970b-400wi" width="200" /></a><i> </i><br />
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A/N :<br />
<i>And fuck no Tom Hiddleston is not on this list because I'm so fucking sick of his fandom. They make me want to tear off my fingernails and put them in food and them serve that food to those fangirls. Tom used to be attractive to me but thanks to tumblr that ladyboner was killed violently a while ago because nobody can decide if they want to fuck his brains out in starbucks surrounded by coffee beans and instagram photos or if they want to fucking shake his hand and wait for him to fall in love with the constant stream of mary sue they are shitting. </i><br />
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9. Vincent Kartheiser</h3>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZM0Ls-FLNn4/T_paO-34xhI/AAAAAAAAAEc/N2x1YEvcrZw/s1600/exnwnp6ga969nxn6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZM0Ls-FLNn4/T_paO-34xhI/AAAAAAAAAEc/N2x1YEvcrZw/s320/exnwnp6ga969nxn6.jpg" width="320" /></a><i> </i><br />
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<i>Not enough winky faces could ever amount to the sheer amount of flirt I would expell towards this man. </i><br />
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Yeah you guys know him. <br />
He plays Peter Campbell in the critically acclaimed AMC <i>Mad Men </i>TV series. Seriously, this show is more chalk-full of drama and unprotected sex than a co-ed PE class. <i> </i><br />
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Personally I think <i>Madmen </i>should respectfully be renamed <i>Awkward Scenes in an Elevator. </i><i></i><br />
I started watching it on Netflix, because luckily they have the first 4 seasons. I'm knee deep in polyester, alcohol, cigarettes, sexism and more polyester. <br />
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<i>Peter Campbell may be a little shit. But he's a sexy little shit. </i><br />
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8. Andrew VanWyngarden</h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The man, the god. </td></tr>
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Andrew VanWyngarden, a certainly diabolical slice of Heaven. He's the singer/guitarist for electrifying Pop/Psychedelic revival band, MGMT. Honestly a little piece of my heart is always going to be hanging onto him, (and Ben Goldwasser, for that matter) because once you fall in love with this band, it's hard to let go. (<i>Almost as hard as my hypothetical ladyboner). </i><br />
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MGMT has a great discography of two full length studio albums, "Oracular Spectacular" and "Congratulations", along with a number of EPs that I have bent over backwards to find. Both of their Studio albums are like electronic dreams come to life by acidic artists painting with the sounds of your subconcious. It's a real trip to listen to their stuff, and to have their particular influences inspire them and thousands of other kids is a small reminder of their place in Pop Culture now and for years in the future.<br />
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Part of Andrew's sex appeal comes from his insightful interviews and partially because of his, uh, <i>electric feel. </i>He's got a style that any Dandy would be jealous of, and boy does he pull it off. On my checklist of "Things that can make a man sexy" he's captured most of them.<br />
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<i>Does he have long hair? </i>Oh my Hendrix, yes.<br />
<i>Fashion sense? </i>Adlaksfjalskfj (Legitimate answer as of 2012)<br />
<i>Does he play an instrument? </i>Several, actually.<br />
<i>Does his music suck? </i>No! Why is this list so musician-centric? <br />
<i>Because musicians are sexy, duh! </i>Oh yes!!!<br />
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Be sure to look forward for their 3rd album, self entitled as <i>MGMT </i>coming out hopefully soon. And you know what a new album means....<br />
That's right. <br />
<i>TOUR. </i>Hopefully one that involves Texas!<br />
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7. Russel Brand</h3>
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The English Funnyman who can manipulate words and warp your sense of humor! <br />
Russell Brand is quite possibly one of the most interesting men I've ever had the pleasure to learn about. He's had quite the turbulent, Rock Star-esque life. From trouble with drugs to women, and how he overcame it all is inspiring and gives a lot of strength to the young people who aspire to be successful one day, but without all the drugs and women. (Maybe the women but definitely not the drugs). <br />
I have no ass now because I laughed it all off listening to his Stand Up. I'm serious, he's got some of the most creative jokes I've ever heard, presented in a manner that is aesthetically pleasing. From his hair to his clothes he reeks of sex, and from his body language it's an ambiguous nod towards homosexuality. I've got a lot of respect (and I'm pretty sure what would be be construed as a mild addiction) towards English comedy. I just fucking love it because it's intelligent humor that you have to have a fully functioning brain to understand! Whether it's me watching That Mitchell and Webb look, or Snuff Box, The Mighty Boosh, Saxondale, A bit of Fry and Laurie, or even the classic Monty Python's Flying Circus, all of that fucking humor is so brilliant and clever that I walked out feeling smarter than before I watched anything. <br />
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Reader ==> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjFMFXXTW0M">Watch Russell's Stand up</a><br />
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Oh yeah and on top of all that I have to mention someone I can never think of Russell without thinking of:<br />
Noel Fielding.<br />
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Noel Fielding is also another hilarious English comedian who's friendship with Russel I love to see unfold on the show "<i>Nevermind the Buzzcocks" </i>- but better yet with Russell the two combine to make the <br />
<i> GOTH DETECTIVES. </i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CAN YOU SAY OTP BECAUSE I CAN</td></tr>
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6. You can't spell "Sexual Frustration" without "Iggy Pop"</h3>
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Okay so Iggy Pop is the Godfather of punk, we've all realized this. He broke the frontiers of what was acceptable on stage and what he just stone cold did not give a fuck about. When people wanted a fucking show Iggy would fucking <i>deliver. </i>Whether his solo shit or when he was with The Stooges seeing Iggy pop on stage was a gift from fucking God. Or Satan depending on whether or not Led Zeppelin was on tour.<br />
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These particular photos were taken by a man named "Neil Preston", who along with the likes of Mick Rock, was one of the greatest Rock photographers of his day. He took so many iconic photos of musicians like Iggy, Led Zeppelin, Pete Townshend and Pink Floyd, but this particular shoot was featured in an article of Creem Magazine in April of 1974.<br />
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Another iconic photograph of Iggy Pop was taken by Mick Rock, but most of you Rock n Rollers probably know it being the cover of his 1973 album <i>Raw Power. </i><br />
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Anyhow, Iggy has an amazing body and the voice of a thousand screaming angels. Honestly, I'm not a big fan of The Stooges first album, <i>1969, </i>but if you're into repetitive early punk rock than I highly suggest it. I think from then on out his albums get really amazing, except for <i>The Idiot</i> which surprisingly enough was produced by David Bowie.<br />
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Even though the quality of his albums differentiate there is one thing that stays the same- and that is the fact he is one <i>hot fox </i>of a man with a body that <i>searches and destroys. </i><br />
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-86053733845161383852012-08-19T20:33:00.000-07:002012-08-19T20:37:33.152-07:00<h2 style="color: red;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Supplies</span></h2>
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I really like to draw, because it's very relaxing on top of other things. <br />
You know, drawing is like a really good way to just <i>get things out of your head. </i>It's like you can make emotion into pictures, and then use those pictures to inspire other people to make their own pictures.<br />
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I don't care how "Bad" someone says they are at drawing. I like to see what people can create, because I think the ability to create things is one of the greatest gifts us as humans are graced with.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The supplies I use</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Okay so I'll start with those weird looking things at the top! Ironically most of the stuff I use is Pentel brand. <br />
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(From the top)<br />
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<a href="http://www.utrechtart.com/Pentel-Aquash-Water-Brush-Pen--Medium-Point-MP44040-i1016558.utrecht?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cse&utm_term=44040&gclid=CL2dpJ-U9bECFUdgTAodwmsAQg">Watercolor brushes/Various sizes</a><br />
Okay these are reallly nice because you can just fill them up with water and not have to worry about a water source for your watercolors. The only thing you would even remotely have to worry about with them is making sure they don't leak- which isn't particularly difficult provided you don't have anything squeezing the water out of them. They're kind of like a vagina in a sense that they clean themselves, because the more water you squeeze out of them the cleaner they get. Also you can control the amount of water that comes out of the brush which is really nice.<br />
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<a href="http://www.shoplet.com/Pentel-Graphgear-500-Pencil/PENPG523E/spdv?ci_src=17588969&ci_sku=PENPG523E">.3 mm Mechanical Pencil</a><br />
I just really fucking love detail, and I know a lot of artists who do as well. I think the thing about these pencils is partially detail, and also partially because it challenges you to draw lighter. (I'm so used to just jamming my pencil so hard into the paper you could see what nasty porn I was drawing on the paper underneath it. Just kidding.)<br />
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Also you're going to need refills for that shit ==> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pentel-Hi-Polymer-Refill-Pieces-300-HB/dp/B0008GM8XI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1345430689&sr=8-1&keywords=.3mm+lead">Fill it Fill it Fill it up </a><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sakura-30064-6-Piece-Micron-Assorted/dp/B00161NK54/ref=sr_1_1?s=office-products&ie=UTF8&qid=1345430761&sr=1-1&keywords=micron+pens+black+ink">And oh shit here comes the inking pens</a><br />
Okay usually I use Micron pens, but honestly as far as inking goes as long as it's waterproof I have no complaints. Unless, of course, it's <i>not </i>waterproof and I didn't fucking <i>know </i>it wasn't waterproof so I end up with a smudged to hell picture I slaved hours over that looks like Courtney Love's makeup after she found out Kurt Cobain died. Also size is a big thing with the microns so I linked to a set that is reasonably priced that has a variety of sizes. <br />
Okay that pen underneath my microns is another Pentel product, which I haven't actually used yet. It's supposed to be similar to those Pentel watercolor brushes except instead of water it's ink that comes out. I'll write more on it later if I think it's decent.<br />
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And also my .75 cent prismacolor <i>Magic Rub </i>eraser. It's the best, most sexual eraser I have ever used in my <i>hole </i>life. I've italicized "hole" in a pun towards the holes that scatter through the rubber rectangle. <br />
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And as far as paper goes- I haven't actually found any Watercolor paper that's blown my mind yet. So usually I settle for some thick ass, slightly textured paper that seems to take my Grumbacher set fairly well. (I use cakes, for the record, instead of the tubed watercolors. I honestly don't see a difference in the two unless you want to mix colors, but when the tubes dry they are basically cakes anyhow. I suggest black and white tubed watercolors since the cakes rarely have decent versions of either two colors).<br />
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I almost forgot you guys! When working on backgrounds don't be afraid to go ape on the TAPE! Painters tape is the shit when taping stuff off and I fucking love using it for patterns and stuff, too. If any of you douchebags are huge Eddie Van Halen fans then you could even use tape to do shit like the patterns on his guitar! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shit is <i>begging </i>for tape. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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So yeah I really hope this was helpful to some people, at least, who are looking for decent brands to do watercolor and also drawing accessories. Go nuts and party hard (at the Art Museum!). <br />
<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-43173362281970147802012-08-19T19:07:00.000-07:002012-08-19T19:07:49.550-07:00<h2>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Art Fart Poopyland!</span></span></h2>
Hey guys it's been a while! (A whole day long). <br />
I went to my cousins venue, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/superhappyfunland">Super Happy Fun Land!</a> And that place is totally fucking awesome, it's a really great venue for local bands if you're in the Houston, Tx area. It's a very surreal experience for young people like me who have yet to see what other venues Houston has to offer. The walls are painted and various decor litters basically everywhere, there's an energy there that a lot of other venues don't have.<br />
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Also, my cousin who goes by the stage name of Poopy Lungstuffing, is a very unique and talented Ukulele songwriter. She's got a voice very reminiscent of early Vaudeville acts, and a fashion style that is very Dandy. It's really hip for people who are looking for something unique that is equally entertaining to enjoy, and not to mention a selection of vintage clothing and handmade silk screened shirts! <a href="http://www.facebook.com/groups/151296610889/">Poopy's Army</a><br />
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There was this little girl there, Pixie, the daughter of one of the owners and she was <i>so precious. </i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was a Leo Party, by the way.</td></tr>
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L.M. Fights the giant Kat whilst showing off her glorious Doctor Martens given to her by Poopy!<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o1Gmbg53hcE/UDGX_DA3pmI/AAAAAAAAAKk/EF3dYLP0tQc/s1600/Docs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o1Gmbg53hcE/UDGX_DA3pmI/AAAAAAAAAKk/EF3dYLP0tQc/s200/Docs.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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Just look at them.<br />
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It was a good night, but I won't post all my pictures. I'll let my friend Haka post the ones of herself on her blog since I know that's what she's dying to do! <br />
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Party on!L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-90442401713499173772012-08-18T15:35:00.002-07:002012-08-18T15:35:58.223-07:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>PARTY!!!</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">ROCK N ROLL FANTASY VACATION</span></h2>
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Hey guys! L.M.Strange here and I just got back from Arkansas. <br />
And although pretty, it was quite unpractical for those of us partiers who are used to the city. (Or suburbs. But one thing is still for sure and that is that my town is still more interesting than the middle of "Not-shit-USA"<br />
Maybe the reason older people like to take things slow (and therefore take boring ass vacations) is similar to the way life is like toilet paper- "The closer you get to the end the faster it goes".<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're sick, Jessy, sick sick sick!</td></tr>
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But whatever. I don't like to go slow,<br />
I like to go <i>really fucking fast</i>. (But not more than 10MPH over the speed limit because I could get a ticket!)<br />
And of course since I like to go fast I get to do shit people in the fast lane do-<br />
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THRIFT SHOPPING. <br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vG42byt5z4U/UC-xGAMR_XI/AAAAAAAAAGg/6WDWI000TME/s1600/IMG_1668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vG42byt5z4U/UC-xGAMR_XI/AAAAAAAAAGg/6WDWI000TME/s320/IMG_1668.JPG" width="180" /></a></div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWaEmrBt6mk/UC-xxwNeV-I/AAAAAAAAAGo/Ul_CjR_NpA4/s1600/Dress+Makeup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AWaEmrBt6mk/UC-xxwNeV-I/AAAAAAAAAGo/Ul_CjR_NpA4/s200/Dress+Makeup.jpg" width="138" /></a><br />
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I got this cute dress from a place in Jefferson, Tx, and I'm pretty
sure it's from the mid to late 50s. It's an A-Line style and
makes my boobs look huge and my waist tiny!!! Yay!!!<br />
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Some makeup that I may do in the future to go along with it...<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VpUmIWK4VxA/UC-z-cPfaYI/AAAAAAAAAGw/D8j-6zCrrZQ/s1600/Haka1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VpUmIWK4VxA/UC-z-cPfaYI/AAAAAAAAAGw/D8j-6zCrrZQ/s320/Haka1.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GavyP0oViJk/UC-0GANPaFI/AAAAAAAAAG4/BVqXXjUyIAQ/s1600/Haka2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GavyP0oViJk/UC-0GANPaFI/AAAAAAAAAG4/BVqXXjUyIAQ/s320/Haka2.jpg" width="142" /></a> Thrift shopping is so much fun and my good friend <a href="http://themadmod.blogspot.com/">Haka</a> got tons of cute clothes that I'm sure she'll put on her blog. Her outfits are always so adorably vintage and since the weather was slightly warm she wore lots of high waisted shorts. (The ones on the left I know she bought at a Good-Will but they were mom jeans that she cut into shorts.) Here's what I wore with them when she let me borrow them:<br />
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(Tessa has a better waist for them than I do!)<br />
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We did a lot of "fun" things like stay in a cabin half the size of my kitchen near a dried up river! Also I found out there are no hot guys in Arkansas but there are very far out filmmakers that like to talk to protesters in Eureka Springs. <br />
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We also found a really groovy 70s shop and I got myself a blacklight Zappa poster. (For 6 dollars, holy shit). And on top of everything there were still <i>no hot guys in Arkansas. </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-alZYlkQk2jc/UC-11GIjJGI/AAAAAAAAAHI/DW-VFi6hQT4/s1600/Shitehead1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-alZYlkQk2jc/UC-11GIjJGI/AAAAAAAAAHI/DW-VFi6hQT4/s320/Shitehead1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We found this cat and I lovingly named it "Shithead"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me? Get into Trouble?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I also watched that movie "THIS IS SPINAL TAP" for the first time and thought it was <i>so fucking amazing I wanted to puke. </i>So I did. Multiple times. So I'm gonna totally make a badass film just like that one someday, because it expresses my love of it's two themes:<br />
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1) Documentaries<br />2) Rock n Roll<br />
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Watch out motherfuckers we got a filmmaker on the loose. <br />But also one who goes on boring vacations with her stylish friend and out of the whole trips finds a sexy shirt, an Oscar Wilde card, and Frank Zappa poster.<br />
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<i>boom goes the dynamite. </i><br />
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-18479768856555409572012-07-20T22:18:00.001-07:002012-08-18T15:36:44.588-07:00<h2>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Barenaked Ladies- Houston, Tx 2012</span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Wow they were fantastic. </span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I didn't think I would enjoy them that much but I did. It was like a wave of Canadian energy just splashed right over me and into my heart through the entrance of my windpipe. Seriously they were so not into the whole "Texas Heat" thing so they went to Academy before the show and bought tennis outfits. </span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Fuck you Canada for producing such wonderful Rock n Roll bands. </span></span></h2>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">hahah fuck you we're Rush</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></i> <i>shit is real man </i></div>
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<a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSqg6ESs5dZyfjT915EmHDYNUikd1kVuD6AKQyjJCEOwYNTwsrYRKZ5OTz5-A" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSqg6ESs5dZyfjT915EmHDYNUikd1kVuD6AKQyjJCEOwYNTwsrYRKZ5OTz5-A" /></a></div>
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<i> also canadian</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">yeah so after I was done laughing so hard I was crying because their songs were so earnest and you could tell their sincerity through lyrics. One thing I love about Live Music and that I respect about musicians is their ability to rip open their hearts and spill out their feelings and inner selves through lyrics. It takes a lot of guts to play a personal song in front of 1 person, and especially in front of an audience of 1000 +. <br /><br /><br />So thanks for that, BNL. You guys fucking rule and I hope I get to see you again some day. </span><br />
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L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5289676014799380926.post-56668442113306962012012-07-08T20:54:00.000-07:002012-07-08T20:54:01.687-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">Hey I'm LM.</span><br />
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And today I experienced yet another example of why my <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">social skills</span> are deteriorating inexplicably faster than I thought possible. <br />
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It seems like 8th grade was a highlight for me, out of my 16 years of existence.<br /> I had it all: A tight knit group of friends, good grades, lunch that could kick that piece of shit bag of food you deemed necessary to bring to school right out of your adolescent hands, a best friend to end all other best friends, and best of all I had in possession one of the rarest creatures you could ever hope to have. I had a <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">boyfriend. </span> <br />
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Kind of like this but more ginger.<br />
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I'm kidding! Hot guys don't exist in 8th grade. <br /><br />But yes. That's right. I said a real, live boyfriend who I could make out with! And hold hands with! <br />And hug and whatever else people do with those. But not sex, though, because <i>come on </i>I was in like, 8th grade. <br />
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Yeah, 8th grade was nice. I never knew how much of a deeply pitted teenage wasteland that High School was going to be, though. I didn't know that I would spend the next two years drawing <i>Homestuck </i>fanart during my Math class and picking my nose, getting on tumblr instead of studying, turning the fuzz on my amp up all the way and pretending to be Marc Bolan, and digging a hole of dispair and angst also instead of studying. I didn't see it coming when my <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">boyfriend</span> broke up with me. <br />
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He was someone I'd been with on and off that whole year, and someone I didn't want to lose because as I started gaining insight to how I was beginning to mold myself and how I was changing I guess I was too lost in my own swirling cloud of maturation to notice his disinterest. And just as quickly as it started it ended- and I lost him. <br />
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And someone else picked him up. <br />
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But it's been about three or four years, and I'm over it. I mean the chick that he dated after me he's still with, and I'm kind of over that, too. Although through my high school adventure so far I've had nothing that really constitutes a relationship. (It's because I spend all my time pretending to exercise and watch <i>Avatar </i>instead I mean what.) I've felt out of touch with my friends, and worse- out of touch with myself. But it hasn't stopped me from watching other people grow and change around me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm still going to come out of school with the same dream I went into it with.<br />
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Tonight I tried to Skype with a couple friends and it just didn't work out. It's funny how something you say inside your head sounds completely different when you say it out loud. <br /><br />Sometimes this is what I think to myself.<br /><br /><i> SOCIAL SKILLS</i><br />
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<i> I don't need it</i><br />
<i> I don't need it</i><br />
<i> I don't need it</i><br />
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<i></i><br />
But of course you need them. <br />
Everyone needs them! <br />But I feel like I'm losing mine! <br />
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<br /><i><br /></i>But whatever. Fuck you, Social Skills, I'll dominate my own life and not worry about you! <br />I'll be a goddamn pimp if I want to, <br />or a Rock Star. <br /><br />Or better yet a rockstar pimp. <br />
<br />Which I would really like to be a Rock Star and have all those people that fucked me up to just sit in front of their TVs screaming like little girls. <br />
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<i>I will make little boys weep. </i><br />
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<i> </i>And you know play super sick instruments and have a whole trunk full of Ukuleles (looking at you, George Harrison). <i> </i>But no dead bodies because <i>fuck them they stink up the whole backside of my sweet ass ride. </i>Also because I spend more time thinking of how to kill a zombie with my Iphone than a person, but zombies are people too? <br />
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Zombies were people, too, okay. <br /><br />The moral of this post is that my social skills are almost extinct! Also High School sucks the emotional drive out of you so <br /><i>Don't do Drugs<br />Stay in School</i><br />
<i> </i>But if you get approached with a recording contract you TAKE THAT SHIT AND RUN AWAY. <i> </i><br />
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Thanks guys. <br />
LM. <br />
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<br />L.M.Strangehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00314605347159648370noreply@blogger.com0