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June 29, 2007
Immodest Modesty
All right. One more post before I kick myself offa the computer and go get my fun on, but check out this crazy crazy crazy stop-motion animation Modest Mouse video:
The Wooster Collective site has an explanation from the director that says:
"Myself and a couple have friends have entered the above into the Modest Mouse video competition. Using green screen footage provided by the band we cut a simple music video. We then degraded the images and printed out each frame sequentially. (all 4133 of them) We then nailed each "shot" of 50-100 posters to various structures and posts. Then using a digital SLR camera with a long exposure we frame by frame shot each poster. Oh, and theres a little video projection (again, frame by frame on the SLR) just to mix it up. There is no compositing, no shortcuts, just lots of blood, sweat and tears, and a huge Kinkos bill!".... Max
Posted by Bree at 06:51 PM | Comments (0)
Ew
Thank God my AC is working so flawlessly...oh...wait...
Posted by Bree at 05:08 PM | Comments (0)
Brooklyn Heights !
(ganked from Flickr...sssshhhh)
The new Catherine Zeta Jones movie, No Reservations (remake of Bella Martha), is set in my old stomps - B to the H. No word on if Laura Albert or the Goggle Boys or Daly or Steve - the boy I went on a date with once in 2003 and then awkwardly ran into, oh about 700 times over the course of my year there or Alex the boy I dated (in the plural) and then failed to RECOGNIZE when he approached me on the street or any of the number of other characters from the Heights (I'm lookin' at you, Captain.) make a cameo, but fingers crossed you at least see my old neighbor, Fishwife.
Oh Fishwife.
I owe you some apologies.
Sorry for all the late night parties. Sorry my BF always chained his bike out front even after you told him not to (he didn't listen to you on purpose! Sorry!). Sorry I sometimes rolled home at 7 a.m. all walk of shamey in front of your daughter (aka Fishegg). Sorry I never picked up the junk mail. Sorry I never gave you my phone number. Sorry I barbequed illegally on the back deck. Sorry I didn't give a shit about the building. Sorry, sorry, sorry, etc.
Posted by Bree at 03:03 PM | Comments (0)
Be Still My Beating Clyfford Still (Lecture)
ABSOLUTE MUST DO: Attend lecture on Clyfford Still, the Astract Expressionist painter, whose estate bid Denver WON in a major major triumph:
In August 2004, the City of Denver announced it had been chosen to receive the artworks contained within the Clyfford Still Estate, created in 1980 upon the death of one of the most important painters of the twentieth century. Still (1904-1980) was among the first generation of Abstract Expressionist artists who developed a new, powerful approach to painting in the years immediately following World War II. This highly sought-after body of work contains over 2,150 artworks representing all periods of the American artist's distinguished career and nearly 90% of the artist's total output.
Removed from public view for over twenty-five years, these works will finally be revealed at the Clyfford Still Museum in Denver, Colorado, planned to open to the public in 2009.
WHEN: 6p.m.; Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Denver Art Museum Sharp Auditorium (Frederic C. Hamilton Building)
MANDATE: Do! It! Support! This! Crazy! Awesomeness!
STILL MORE STUFF: Clyfford Still Unveiled: Selections from the Estate, July 14 - September 30, 2007
Hamilton Building, Denver Art Museum
The first and only preview of the artwork prior to the Clyfford Still Museum opening in 2010.
Opening: Saturday, July 14, 2007, 10 a.m. - Midnight
(Admission is free all weekend as part of DAM’s What in the World?)
Posted by Bree at 01:27 PM | Comments (0)
BEAUTEOUS
Check this loverly Moroso display from ICFF. If all goes according to plan, we might actually get to use these models at the Denver Modernism Show (August 24 - 26). I'll be the one suspended near the top. You be the one shooting bb's at my butt. Thanks!
Posted by Bree at 12:54 PM | Comments (0)
June 28, 2007
Why I Dig On Colorado, Reason #86A
The cutest boy EVER just came to talk over my upcoming interior paint job (living room, dining room, bedroom, upstairs hallway) and - in addition to bringing the funk, he also brought THIS lil beast:
Trust me, the Deuce and I were both quite smitten with young master Booger. Unfortunately, she's the only one who got to french him.
Posted by Bree at 01:25 PM | Comments (0)
Ahmagod! Dr. Love!
Reading ANP's blog this a.m., trying to suck down my suuuper-hot coffee before hitting the road, I came across this bit of insight from her apparently Ph.D'ed (? or something) friend who has the SKINNY when it comes to MEN(ny)...Ready? Brace.
I have two pieces of advice:
1. Make sure your love interest shares your interests and values. Opposites do not attract - after the novelty has worn off, they repel. There is real social psychological data to back this up… If he spends his free time smoking pot and going to parties while you are busy with school, work, and extracurriculars … it won’t work out. If he spends his free time playing football, joining secret societies, and fucking other girls … it won’t work out.
2. Make sure your love interest is totally smitten with you. Does he call or text you just to say hi? Does he ask you out on dates, or do you usually arrange that? Does he bring you cards, flowers, books, music, food? Does he make you dinner? If he’s not the romantic type, does he offer to fix your toaster, leaky faucet, or do your tax returns? If you can’t remember the last time (or anytime) he did something thoughtful for you outside the bedroom, you should dump him ASAP and move on. (PS - You should also do thoughtful things for him).
Sooo, if you guys share interests and values, and he is sweet and thoughtful towards you, you should just tell him that you’re really into him and you want to be exclusive. If he says that he is not ready for that, dump him and move on. Never waste your time waiting for a man to be ready.
I love this. It is EXACTLY the same point my brother made in a text message to me of recent that I've saved and look at often to give myself the briggs:
"Don't waste your tears on him. Dump his ass. Fuck his nonsense and do what's right for you which is to find a guy who wants a relationship more than soccer."
Beginning to see the light...and the appropriate song lyrics.
[cue: "If You Can't Rock Me, Somebody Will" by the Stones]
Is my brother the best or VHUT? I'm sooo glad my parents adopted him.
Posted by Bree at 10:13 AM | Comments (0)
June 27, 2007
Five Word Movie Review Wednesday
Touching and funny, yet lackluster.
Posted by Bree at 09:58 PM | Comments (0)
Work, Spend, Work, Spend
Things at work are exciting exciting exciting exciting. And not just because Pifuka told me I looked like I had lost weight. Or that she just gave me a roast beef sandwich to effectively put an end to that situation. Or that I'm buying THIS Jason Miller scotch-tape mirror from here TOO-DAY:
Me + mirror MERE MINUTES ago. I am suuuuper skinny, right? RIGHT? Like my new belt I got in Seattle?
This is one of SIX of these bitchez. Two in Tokyo, two at the Cooper Hewitt and two in D-town. Thass it. Seriously, yo. I'm CLEENING UP with regards to the home furnishings o'er to this joint. Next step? Paycheck.
Posted by Bree at 04:47 PM | Comments (0)
Plague of Baseball-Sized Hail
Posted by Bree at 11:05 AM | Comments (0)
Weddin' Bells
I just found out (well...I found out last week, but forgot about it until just now, so SUE me, tort-lovin' mofo's) that a dude who PROPOSED to me in college (in a "I'm kind of kidding. Kind of not. Dump your BF and get with this. You and me, kid! We'll knock their socks off!" way minus the weird Humphrey Bogart, old-man innuendo implied in the retell) has his wedding registry at PDG. Damn, cuz! I knew I should've broken off a piece of that when the getting was offered.* Cha-ching!
(*No offenze, Els. You're still my favorite boytoy of the mid- to late 90's. Serious. I'm SERIOUS.)
Posted by Bree at 10:24 AM | Comments (0)
June 26, 2007
Center Square
Well, well, well! Someone's gone and gotten mighty fancy all of a sudden.
And by someone, I mean Center Square...the fledgling design group I belong to.
As the only...er...design unprofessional in the bunch, I stand slouched as a representative of the common people, the non-designers, the huddled masses of un-art schooled autodidactic terradactyls yearning for a life spent in the paws of OXO Good Grips. My wants are few; my goals many. Among them, a working alternative for Dog Beano. Also, a glow-in-the-dark toilet lid, carbonated tap water and a birth control pill that doesn't make me feel like I want to rip my uterus out of my throat with a pair of tongs. As I said, wants few. Goals many.
Anys, if you're in Denver, you should come to the next meeting. I'll be the tall one on the dating diet. You be the hottie that convinces me to pig out. Likes: shaved heads, penchant for dickheadery, skateboarding past. Dislikes: PDA, reliability, John Mayer.
Posted by Bree at 10:03 PM | Comments (0)
Four Gifts I was Given This Week
- Cabinet of Natural Curosities by Albertus Seba, thanks be to Jacob J.S. and my mom and pops for giving me a back strong enough to haul that shit back to D-town
- FIVE bags of the *best* cereal ever, MorganGull, straight out of Reykjavik thanks be to Anittah to the NP!
- TURBO - my newest - and most fitting - nickname (and perhaps the only one that doesn't start with "br") thanks be to Jason of the Stonewall Family Jasons. You, Jason, get a giant mixing bowl of Quaker Totes for that one. And that's a LOT of fucking totes, as if I need to tell you that.
- A trim and tidy lawn care of the only lawn boy ever to be accepted to Sloane School of Business, Rick to the Rickalama. It's what I like to call his "grassroots" project.
I am delighted with each and every one of these offerings and will gather them 'round my welcoming breasts as I sing "Cherish" by Madonna, in a round, with Deuce accompanying on dulcimer.
That's right.
All of them.
Even the nickname.
And the grass clippings.
Posted by Bree at 05:38 PM | Comments (0)
New York Friends Make Impression, Money on Area Game Shows
As the title indicates, two of my NYC cronies will be gracing the small screen with their wit and exuberance.
Cash Cab (featuring the finest production work done by a N*ely in the history of production work done by a N*ely, not including Top Chef) will highlight the intellectual derring-don't of J. McPadden on August 6, 6:30 p.m. EST
Jeopardy! will pursue the trivial with bon vivant and man about town Wilson R*ckerson on July 2 at 7 p.m. (or whatever).
For those of you following at home, here is a picture of Wilson about to have his head eaten by Mike:
Company to the contrary, he's very smart.
As for McPadden, all of my pictures of are blurred with the haze of cheap memories, shame and whiskey shots so must remain in the vault. Suffice it, he'll be the Irish one.
Posted by Bree at 05:10 PM | Comments (0)
Ennuncement
Seattle was absolutely amazee. I spent time with the ones I love, I hiked, I giggled, I ate tons of fresh seafood, I got driven around in a Porsche, I bought fun stuff, I met cool people and I saw a part of the country that I had never seen before...but nonetheless felt like home. Riddle me that.
So, the ennucement is not - as you might expect, and as I've had to battle myself over the past few days - that I am packing up and moving north. No, even though the city is a combination of the best parts of San Francisco and New England - and is full of rich hottersons and coffee and good music and good design and water and trees and trees and water and hills and skiing...no. No. No. Here. Staying here.
Where was I?
Right.
Anys - the ennucement. The ennucement is as follows: I, Bree, am not going to date for two months. TWO. MONTHS.
All right...maybe one.
And this is not counting the date I already have lined up for Saturday night (but I already know him and have dated him in the past, so that doesn't count...right? Plus he was a professional SKIER. I mean, come on.) And this doesn't mean I'm not going to stop flashing my pearlies at every fella over the 6' mark I encounter. But I'm just not going to actively spend my time on this over the summer. I gost shit to do. I gost shit to figger out. I gost shit going on - and the boys? The boys drain me and distract me and make me forget my me. So, I'm taking a break.
Uh...after Saturday, I mean.
Actually, better make that Sunday.
Posted by Bree at 02:18 PM | Comments (0)
Back in the Mile High Saddle; Feeling the Chafe
Yup...I'm back babies! Air conditioning in my house is apparently *not* working, the Deuce is still in doggy day care and I have about 7,000 things to do in the next five minutes, so the major posting will have to wait 'til I slow down a bit. In its stead, check out the picturs (in order) o'er to Flickr.
Or just go sun your buns.
'tevs.
Posted by Bree at 08:33 AM | Comments (0)
June 21, 2007
Lord, I Was Born a Travelling Lady
I'm off to Seattle (heretofore: Breeattle) today for several days of adventure and bonhomie with the J-clowns (theretofore: Jake, Jason and JJ). Couldn't be more excited about it. Also plan to realize my 10th-grade dream of nailing Eddie Vedder, so there's that.
My taste in men? Impeccable.
And yes, Stephen, I will get his autograph for you.
After we're done, I mean.
You know...during "pillowtalk."
Posted by Bree at 10:02 AM | Comments (0)
June 20, 2007
Update: Sit Your Ass Down
Guess which chairs I just bought?
That's right.
The $$$ ones.
As if there was ever any doubt. Couldn't put cheap plastic next to expensive plastic. It was a very ne'er the twain conundrum. [INSERT SIGH.] Regardless, this whole $, $$, $$$ escapade reminds me of a game I used to play when I was a kid - cover up all the prices on a catalog page and see which thing on it you'd buy first. INVARIABLY, I wanted the most expensive thing. Seriously, I bat about a 99-percent on this. Some might call it taste; I call it annoying.
Posted by Bree at 04:07 PM | Comments (0)
Hangover Mail
Rick just e-mailed me that he's all hung like the doggy at work. In sympathy, and to hopefully find some cures I didn't cover in my 2004 "Helping the Hangover" freelance screed for the surprisingly now-defunct Damosi.com, I just searched my G-mail for the word "hangover." 69 results. Probably double that if I search for "hung like the dog," come to think of it.
Anys - in conducting this exhaustive research, I came across some FUNNY-ASS shit. Most of which is far too...uh...revelatory to post here. Suffice it, there have been some wild times in the past few years. And by "past few," I mean...20. Tomato, potahto. Anys, here's one, from last summer, that made me crack up on this hot afternoon:
Speaking of Manhattan, I woke up this morning with a brutalis hangover (thank you margarita-laden birthday sendoff to my new awesome friend who's leaving for ASIA on wednesday for THREE MONTHS. c'est so lame.) and there was a FUCKING CAT in my apartment. I shit no.
There was an orange cat in my apartment.
It was a little weird. I gave it some tuna and some water and opened the door to my porch and it left.
Um.
Yep. A cat. There was a cat...? in my apartment.
I then went downstairs to throw in some laundry and ran into a friendly aquaintance of mine who moved in here after coming to a party at my place a few months ago, and told him the story. Weirdly - this is kind of the second time this has happened to me in this place, and he knew that, so in talking about it I said, "I love pussy and apparently pussy loves me." and he shot me this weird look. So now I'm convinced he thinks I'm a lesbian.
Doesn't help I'm wearing a sweatshirt that says Northport Girls Lacrosse.
FUCK.
OMG - now I'm going to have to bring it up to him and it's going to be totally a "doth protest too dothing much" sitchy. FUCK FFUCJCKLCKDLS:JF.
(that's me hitting my keyboard in false-sapphic ire.)
Posted by Bree at 12:12 PM | Comments (0)
Torn like a Bride's Nightie
I'm torn betwixt and between when it comes to which chairs I want to get for my forthcoming Eero Saarinen white, 54-inch tulip table. Sticking cheap-o chairs with what will be the best looking thing in my house (minus le pooch, of kerrrsss) seems akin to wearing Payless shoes with a VerSAHTCH. No can do.
Add to that I want them orange (or something), vaguely (but not excessively) modern, at least slightly (or not at all) recto-linear, reasonable in price and extraordinary in quality. Therein lies the rub.
So here are the choices, rated from most expensive to least (aka what I want most to what I want least):
$$$ Clipt chair by Jeff Miller for Baleri Italia
$$ Leaf stacking chairs by Moroso
$ Oh Chair by Karim Rashid (probably get these in white and have orange cushions made)
Posted by Bree at 11:43 AM | Comments (0)
June 19, 2007
CO-DESIGN Show at PDG, July 14
In a stunning example of derring-do(nuts), I put together my first HTML press release today (with an able assist from Paul, master of Dreamweaver, natuuu). This latest PR shenanagism may only be exciting to me, sure, but the jist of the press release should be exciting to all.
Exciting.
To.
ALL.
You heard me.
Point being, there'll be a show of emerging and established Colorado designers at P from July 14 to August 25. The opening reception will be July 14 from 3 to 7, so mark your calendars as I suspect beer will be provided gratis by one of the local breweries. If not, I'm thinking we might just wring out our car mats and serve that up nice and frothy-like. Well how do you do, fance-a-do?
Posted by Bree at 09:48 PM | Comments (0)
June 18, 2007
A-Haps: June 2007
Here's the latest column to hit SweetNB - ganked straight out of just about every other blog on the WW Intercomputer. Welcome, A-Haps. And sure, you can call me Ishmael. Just don't call me late for dinner. Or brunch.
Eating: Zingers
Reading: Florence Broadhurst, Her Secret & Extraordinary Lives (on loan from INV/ALT)
Listening: Camera Obscura, Tears for Affairs
Buying: Snapping Deck Tiles, plane ticket to England, chairs for my yet-to-arrive Eero Saarinen tulip table/housewarming present from the folkers
Wanting: New White Stripes CD, new Spoon CD, frames for all my artwork
Killing: Miller moths (vom.)
Excited About: Major scores from Nordstrom Rack (incl: lavender slip-on Vans, burgundy etnies and Juicy Couture jeans), getting an official work e-mail address (!), going to Seattle on Thursday, reconnecting with a charming chap I have not seen in too long, realizing my hair may have finally grown out the butchery of November, taking one of the quilts off the bed, possibly renting a ski cabin with friends in the mountains for the *entire* winter (!!!)
Trying: To be more consistent about training the Deuce, to listen to voice mails and stop listening to the same songs over and over, to run more, to use time more efficiently in all regards, to eat less TUMS
Posted by Bree at 11:03 PM | Comments (0)
Forget Looking Like...Dude IS a Lady
Steven(ie) Tyler (pic curtsy Gawker Media's new site Jezebel)
Oh and while we're skirting the subject, this is pretty classic too. "Ellipses-laden glory"...awesome...
Posted by Bree at 01:34 PM | Comments (0)
Le Pooch
Le pooch has been worrying me a bit recently. She doesn't do so well in the heat, so has been pretty lethargic ('cept when it comes to following me from room to room and up and down the stairs and up and down the stairs and room to room and up and down the stairs) and even has been leaving some of her chow in the bowl. This is crazy-business from a dog who, quite literally, would pull one of those "I'm going to binge until I burst" goldfish things if given half the chance. And kind of has.
So, relying on my ever-expanding animal husbandry skills, I've been thinking that maybe her teeth are bugging her and making the dry food painful to choke down. She's got some seriously crazy underbite, and her gums are all swollen and nutso-looking from it (and also make her look like she's always sticking her tongue out...very dignified) so it wouldn't surprise me if they get tender. Plus, must get kind of boring to eat the same thing day in day out. Not that I'd know.
Pet problem? Enter vet tech friend. The lady told me last night to soak the food in water for a minute or so and then zap it in the microwave for 10 seconds to make it more aromatic. This morning? The Deuker GULPED it down and even ate the remnants off the floor she's been recently leaving as a special gift for my burgeoning ant colony.
Deuce! She's back! Ahhhhh! Collective sigh of relief from all and sundry. Pass the pot brownies.
Posted by Bree at 08:35 AM | Comments (0)
June 17, 2007
Picture = 1,000 Words. Video = 1,000 Words + 3 Chords.
Not sure if you can tell from the picture up there (and in the Flickr business to your right), but the Resource 2000 salvage yard up in Boulder in 100-degree heat owed quite a heavy bit of its visual and spiritual atmosphere to the Tom Petty "You Got Lucky" video:
Only thing missing was a slim blond alien in a fedora.
She's coming over later.
Ba du DUM!
Posted by Bree at 07:20 PM | Comments (0)
Lil Entry; Big Change
Ah! Much to my surprise and relief, I'm having an "I'm in love with the world" kind of week (hangover from last night's ridonkeydoo notwithstanding). In the past, matters of the heart have left me flat and sad and sick, regardless of the cause or the situation or the knowledge that I'm better off without [INSERT NAME] or whatever. But this time? This time I'm just...feeling pretty free of all of that. Sure, I've had my moments of despair but that's just it - they've been moments. Moments that I've been easily distracted from.
More and more, I'm turning my face to the sun and leaving the hurt and disappointment of the past few months behind me. I don't lie in bed feeling an emptiness in my heart anymore. My stomach isn't twisted in tight little knots of anxiety anymore. My migraines are gone.
Yes. Like a pupa I be.
So, before I head off for a day spent doing the things I want to do (aka hitting up a salvage yard in Boulder, taking the dog for a long walk, and then getting sushi and seeing a movie with a good friend), I wanted to write that down. But I am cautious. I need to be careful not to tread on anyone's feelings with these kinds of posts. The person I was with meant a great deal to me and I wish him only the best.
I guess I'm just glad that the person I am also means a great deal to me. And that I've begun to wish her only the best as well.
Posted by Bree at 01:13 PM | Comments (0)
Really Just Gotta Say...
There's just no way I could love my Dad any more than I do. My heart is plum bursting for that guy. Plum. Bursting.
I love you to bitty bits, Dad.
Thank you for everything you do, and everything you've taught us to be. Thank you for showing us that one must always live with pride and compassion and generosity of character. Thank you for giving us perspective and warmth and strength. Thank you for making us laugh and read and eat and learn and debate and and trust and hug and smile and greet every new experience - and every new day - with joy and curiosity.
I can't say it enough - you are the best Dad we've had since Mom threw out that other guy.
Posted by Bree at 09:42 AM | Comments (0)
June 16, 2007
Brass Box
Three years ago this Labor Day, Jason and JJ and I went rafting along the Delaware River in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. It was a ridiculous experience. The folks who ran the outfit were part of some sort of Appalachian/umbilical cord-strangled dipshit coterie who tried to repair a leak in the boat with...paper, among other hysterical occurrences. The highlight of the day, for me, however was when scrambling up a rocky embankment, pulling the raft out of the water behind me (which, after an apparent drought of African proportions, was only about 2 feet deep - turning what was supposed to be a four-hour leisurely float into a six-hour PADDLE for survival), the top of my bathing suit fell down and exposed BOTH boobies to the aforementioned braintrust.
That was awesome.
Anys. Stop thinking about my boobs. They are spectacular, granted, but let's get back to the point. Afterwards, we went to an antique shop in Lambertsville, New Jersey. I bought a burnished brass box (bbb) there, inlaid with mahogany...perfect for a guy's collection of collar stays and spare buttons and used condoms. The price wasn't marked, the clerk working there vastly underestimated its value and it was mine. Jason tried to get it off of me, but I held tight.
I knew I would give it to a man I loved.
And since then, I have waited to find him.
Someone who deserved it.
I decided last week, before this latest relationship even busted up, who I was going to give the box to.
The man who's been nothing but a wonderful friend, an unwavering support, a constant companion and someone I can trust to see the deepest parts of me - and still love me. This man is someone who's seen me break down probably more than anyone else in my adult life ('cept Heather, natch.), and still wants to be around me, and scrape me up off the floor when I'm convinced my life is in the shitter. This man has brightened my days since I met him; this man is one of those people that convinces you of the goodness of this world and reminds you of the blessings of your life. Plus he's funny as balls.
Yup. I'm giving it to Rick. I'm giving it to Rick in about 45 minutes when I go to help him put his party together. I'm giving it to Rick because he is my best friend. I'm giving it to Rick because I've never met anyone who deserves it more.
B: "You're my best friend."
R: "You're my only friend."
Posted by Bree at 11:06 AM | Comments (0)
June 15, 2007
Squotation Marks
So satisfying when your obsessive design web site/magazine/book reading actually translates into knowing about a product that would be perfect for a project. And by "your," I mean "my." And by "product," I mean "window stickers." And by "project," I mean "a sweet new house over on 7th" that we get to design window treatments and lighting fixtures for!
Calling! I found ye! Word up, Calling!
Uh...Calling?
Why you running away so fast?
*Oh and by "shittily written blog entry," I mean "this." 'tevs. Got my mind on other things. Like the ridonx weekend I've got in store. Ahhh.
Posted by Bree at 03:21 PM | Comments (0)
Burnt By the Amazing
Holy moles. Paul just got in three of these Moooi (Maarten Baas-designed) burned (burnt?) dining chairs and I am in LUST...
Whaa? Only, like, $1,400 a pop? Sounds perfunct. Wood's all ebonized and shaz...held together by epoxy...oh I just gotta say, "Dizzamn."
Posted by Bree at 12:04 PM | Comments (0)
Is It Just Me...
or is something going on in the Middle East?
I'll let you know if I hear anything.
Posted by Bree at 11:08 AM | Comments (0)
Inbox: Sluttsville Edition
from: anp
to: briggles
date: Jun 14, 2007 9:13 PM
subject: seattle
My good friend Finnian lives in Seattle. He's 6'5", recently divorced, Leo. SUPER funny. And super cute. He's on my MySpace if you're looking for kicks.
He's super fun to hang out with. And can toss 'em back like no one's business.
And is 6'5".
Posted by Bree at 09:12 AM | Comments (0)
June 14, 2007
Posted by Bree at 09:08 PM | Comments (0)
Dayliner Cruising By
Dayliner, Baby Dayliner - show at the Mercury Lounge, June 30. (Link curtsy ANP!)
Need I remind you again to watch me dance like a spazmatron in his video? Need I remind you again to download all his fatty tunes from e-music or just give 'em a spin o'er to MySpace? Seriously...need I? Get! On! It!
And for those of you in the 212 or the 718 or, hell, even the 646 or whatever the exchange is in Hohokus, Get! To! That! Show!
Posted by Bree at 07:59 PM | Comments (0)
Workin' for the Weekend...'cept it's Always Weekend 'round Here
There is nothing I like better than my job.
This morning, while sitting on my guest bed surrounded by DOGGIES, I busted out a tight little press release on CO-DESIGN, a show we're doing in conjunction with Jaime over at Designklub on established and emerging Colorado designers (opening July 14, more info TK). Then, I rolled into work, ate some ham, had an espresso and lounged on a $15,000 couch (above). Then, Paul and Pifu gave me this BEAUTEOUS gold pineapple Piet Houtenbos oil lamp I have lusted for for YEARS.
Now? We're meeting with local design luminary Angela Schwab for happy hour margs.
What? How did this happen? How did this work thing get so good all of a sudden? If life keeps on pumping out the jams, I might actually - someday - have something to post besides nearly identical pictures of myself taken on my MacBook. Perish the thought!
Posted by Bree at 04:10 PM | Comments (0)
June 13, 2007
Good.
"Buy a bottle of whiskey and listen to Ryan Adams tonight. Or Mick..."
- Jay-bird.
So long ago - back in 2003, I broke up with my boyfriend. The first one I'd had since Mike. The DEA Agent one. It was my choice to break it off - I wasn't ready for another relationship. Sometimes, I found myself crying when we were together because he wasn't who I wanted him to be. He would never make the jokes Mike would've made; would never call me the same nicknames or make fun of me the same way or put ski gloves on his feet and walk around like a monster or take my topiary and hide it in the closet or throw a fish out an 8th story window at friends walking below. I couldn't imagine that he would ever know me the same way that Mike did. Sometimes, I would leave him - walk away on the street or quickly run from a restaurant - and go home and throw up because my stomach was so knotted with the pain of trying to be with someone else that I could hardly breathe.
Regardless, he tried to make it work. He was kind and patient. When I told him, right in the beginning, "You don't want to be with me...I'm all messed up," he said, "I like a challenge." He would call me several times a day; bring me presents, e-mail me, tell me how much he cared for me...but he knew I wasn't there; he knew I wasn't falling in love with him. So he confronted me, and I admitted it.
When we broke up, we met at a park outside of St. John the Divine on 112th and Amsterdam. Near that Hungarian coffee house/pastry shop. A place I had never been, as I didn't want to go somewhere that would then be ruined to me. I had been with Jenny earlier that day, and was wearing a Jill Stuart jean skirt, an open black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a white tank top and flip-flops. It had been snowing when I met him. I sat on a bench carved out of stone and that was it. He told me, again, that I wasn't falling in love with him. I admitted that to be true but said we could still have a casual relationship...he didn't want that. When I went to walk away, he said, "Where are you going?" and I said, "Home." He then asked how I was getting there and I said, "A cab." But I remember thinking - this isn't your concern anymore.
The cab let me out at 77th and Broadway.
I walked up the street and Jason was standing outside our building, smoking a cigarette.
I started crying the second I saw him. He put his arms around me. That night, we ordered Chinese and watched TV on my couch. By the time I woke up the next morning, I was a little bit better. That was Jason.
When I think of what I am most proud of, what my greatest achievement has been, what has the most value of my life - it is so simply the friends I've made and the relationships I have. This week has been yet another testament to the value of these people. In every sense.
I am going to see Seattle next week. For the first time. And now I'll be going alone. But Jason and Jake will be there waiting for me. Confronted with my hesitation and uncertainty about the trip, Jake wrote me tonight: "Yo Briggles, We got nothing but luuuv for ya baby!! Come early, leave early, come late, stay all month...what 'evs. No need for a car. Can hardly contain the joy I feel just thinking about seeing you, Jacob."
And that is just one example of the amazing support and love I've had pouring in from all corners - this week, and every week. From people I have known forever, and people I, quite literally, met just a month ago. (Well, that was just one person. But she's the fucking best - and has an astroturf "lawn" so she counts for "people.") There is even one person, who's totally gone above and beyond as of late, whom I have never met. Now that...that's just astonishing.
So to let you all know, I am happy. Now, I am happy. My heart is content. Thank you. Thank you so much.
Posted by Bree at 10:47 PM | Comments (0)
Empathy
I've been thinking recently about empathy. About how important a quality it is to have; about how it is able to enrich life by making relationships with people meaningful and intense. Conversely, how focusing on someone else can also serve to distract one from thinking about or solving his or her own problems.
It is something that has been on my mind.
So, when my housekeeper showed up this morning - this small, vibrant woman whom I'd never met before - and told me, within a few minutes of meeting, that her boyfriend had broken her ribs a few months ago, thrown away all of her things and liked to call her a cunt, my heart filled up. I stood in my sunny hallway, with the dogs licking my hands, and my bag slung over my shoulder - thinking about getting a coffee, thinking about going to work, thinking about all the things that I get to do today, all the people I get to talk to, all the music I get to listen to, thinking about the e-mail my mom had just sent me telling me how much she loves me, and it was like getting slapped in the face.
Not to be too pedantic, but I think that's what the kids call perspective.
She said that her daughter was begging her to leave the guy, but that she couldn't leave him. I told her what I always tell my girls and what I always tell myself: "There's nothing worse than feeling alone when you're with someone...nothing." and then I asked if she felt alone. She said she did. She said she would think about me, and my nice house, and how I was living there by myself, and how happy I was, and it would maybe help give her strength to leave him. She said she was looking forward to spending time among my things.
Breaks me apart.
I really hope she doesn't find my vibrator collection.
Posted by Bree at 09:27 AM | Comments (0)
Inbox
Some treats from my inbox to keep you ultra-satisfied this Tuesday morn, care of the New York crew:
Russian Ninja
Cake Rental
The reason Matt is a Republican
from: Matty the horse
to: briggles, elliott, misspassalaqua
date: Jun 12, 2007 1:20 PM
subject: Jagger/Richards/N*ely
"Torn and Frayed" actual lyrics:
Joe's got a cough, sounds kind a rough,
Yeah, and the codeine to fix it.
Doctor prescribes, drug store supplies,
Who's gonna help him to kick it
What I thought they were for 10 years:
Joe's got a grudge, sounds kind of rough
Yeah, at the pony convention
Doctor prescribes, drug store supplies,
Who's gonna help in the kitchen
--
from: elliott
to: matty the horse, briggles, misspassalaqua
date: Jun 12, 2007 1:32 PM
subject: re: Jagger/Richards/N*ely
By the way. What I thought they were...
Joe’s got a couch, sounds kid of rough, and....
Can the codeine fix it.
My girlfriend’s eyes, look so surprised, who’s gonna help in the kitchen
Posted by Bree at 07:31 AM | Comments (0)
June 12, 2007
Version 2.0
Out of respeck for the parties involved in the drama of this life of the last week, I'll keep this one close to the vest. In a summation, some shit's gone down. Both on the east coast and in the center square. Suffice it, I'm good. People super-close to me? Not so good. But getting better by the moment. And in my thoughts by the second.
I am focused and I am ready. I am greeting dilemmas - in my life and in the lives of people I love as much as I've ever loved anything on this earth - with a clear mind and a pure heart. My intentions are true. So even though I should be sad, as I have been and I certainly will be again, I am not. Not right now. Not lying on the floor with a sweet boxer on both side (regardless if they're both ripping FOUL ASS). Not lying on the floor, thinking of all I have ahead of me...and all I've already left behind.
THE SUBWAY HOME
it gets worse before it gets better
that's what your best friend said in the letter
all the pictures are still on the shelf
& you're barely making rent by yourself
your mom is worried for your health
you said it right from the start
these sorts of things fall apart
you take the subway home after work
from your job as a retail clerk
you're spending all the money you've saved
records keep the quiet away
up all night and sleep all day
he said it right from the start
these sorts of things fall apart
Posted by Bree at 09:35 PM | Comments (0)
New Column: Love Advice From Andrea (LAFA)
"I need to be with a man...and if you can't be, you're, like, a pussy 'cause you have to call in a plumber - that's not OK. BUT - if you need to call in a mechanic, that's OK. But there are also stipulations, 'cause if you can't do an oil change or a brake change or a change of an alternator (italics mine - ed.), then there's something wrong there. Then basically, they're not worth it. That's the way I look at it."
"You know, when it comes down to me for me...I don't know about you (bold mine - ed.), but I wanna be with a guy who's not a pussy."
Posted by Bree at 08:25 PM | Comments (0)
McJobby Job !!
My awesome and excellent new friend, Angela over at Inv/Alt Design, just hired me to crank out her press packets and PR info. For money! This is super kickass.
Every cloudy day? Big fat platinum lining.
Posted by Bree at 02:13 PM | Comments (0)
Speaking of Animals...
Oh!!!! What??? My all-time favorite cat, Bear, is up for adoption. If Molly and Dave think he'd get along with the Deuce, I'm going to hit the road to Chicago and get the beast.
Paul just told me I was going to become "the animal lady."
'tevs. Talk to me when I get an otter.
He just also told me I needed to listen to "Casiotone for the Painfully Alone" and get super-depressed vis a vis my "current" "romantic" "situation." I am liveblogging this job, and the grief I take, and no one can stop me.
Posted by Bree at 10:39 AM | Comments (0)
June 11, 2007
Dear God...
I love this beast.
Seriously?
Seriously.
Nothing mends a bruised heart like an armful of boxer.
Posted by Bree at 11:02 PM | Comments (0)
Enguland
Se-att-uhl? I hardly knew ye.
Just sent this to my bestie, Sherri, o'er in the London town:
from: briggles@gmail.com>
to: Sherri
date : Jun 11, 2007 7:49 PM
subject :I'm coming!
hey girl.
i'm thinking of a trip. Serious.
when is good for you? give me some times/dates over the summer and/or early fall. Am off to Williamstown the weekend of Sept. 8 so could conceivably come after that..?
Let's do this.
Miss you too much to bear.
Etc.
xx
---
Come to think of it, I haven't been to England since '97, when I met my buddy Liz over there and got so drunk on whiskey that I got into the shower the next morning with my bra on...and thus had to go to Leeds Castle BRALESS. Oh the times.
Suffice it. Me and London need a reacquaint. And I need to spend some time with the girl I call "best work friend EEEEVER."
I mean, serious. How many e-mails of the "p.s. boyfriend has moved to london, we're getting our own lil place in a couple weeks...with a guest room that has a sign on the door with a unicorn on it and colourful letters that spell out b-r-e-e" messages do I have to get before I just buy the effing ticket?
Done and donezo. Pass the crumpets and the fags. Oh. Yeah.
UPDATE
from: Sherri
to: briggles
date: Jun 12, 2007 2:29 AM
subject: Re: I'm coming!
darlin, that is such a good way to start the day!
that timing is perf...my birthday is september 10 so that would be the best prezzie :-) wanna fit in another country or two? we could always go to barcelona...you would love jacob's friends there...fun and funner...i've also been wanting to go to copenhagen if you're interested...might spark some scandilicious design ideas?
how's the store development? you are my absolute inspiration. please don't ever go back to the corporate life or all my hopes and dreams will be crushed.
so yeah yeah yeah...book that ticket!!!
xoxooxoxoxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Posted by Bree at 07:50 PM | Comments (0)
All(s) I Said...
was that I didn't happen to think pumpernickel toast would taste good with grape jelly. And look where it got me...public mockery, flagellation and super-imposed brain matter. Why I ne'er.
Posted by Bree at 06:13 PM | Comments (0)
Bada Bing
Great piece in the Design Observer: Everything I Know About Design I Learned From the Sopranos.
On commitment:
"I came home one day, shot her four times. Twice in the head. Killed her aunt, too. I didn't know she was there. And the mailman. At that point, I had to fully commit."
I heard this back in design school, and I still forget it every now and then: if you're going to make something big, make it really big. If you're going to make it simple, make it really simple. Or really small, or really fancy. If you're going after a project, if you're trying to win a competition, if you're serious about getting the job done, don't bother unless you're willing to fully commit.
Posted by Bree at 03:16 PM | Comments (0)
Se-att-uhl
In just a few short days, like ten or something, Garth and I will be packing up the covered wagon, yoking the oxen and making our way to Seattle, Washington for a five-day, four-night hang-around with Jake and Jason and JJ in the city that grunge built. The city that grunge built that I insist on referring to with a cockney accent.
If anyone has any suggestions as to how to wile away our time, please lemme know o'er to Briggles at the gmail dot computer. Garth likes the "outdoors" and "physical activity." I like "spending money" and "eating." So advise away.
Oh and if anyone feels like taking a vaguely stinky, wholly snorty and occasionally vomitous boxer for a few days...that also can be arranged. She drools a *tiny* bit, cuts some pretty outrageous farts and likes to blow snots in your face as a sign of affection but trust me, the beast couldn't be sweeter.
Posted by Bree at 01:09 PM | Comments (0)
June 10, 2007
Scaredy Cat
A boyfriend asked me a few months ago if anything scared me. I don't remember exactly what I said; I just remember his incredulity that I was having a hard time thinking of anything.
Bugs do.
That's a given.
Also pretty much anything that makes me feel trapped. Traffic jams, escalators, airport security lines, certain social situations, work meetings at my old job...things like that.
A friend of mine told me this weekend that she'd recently had her first panic attack. After pulling off the highway, she'd sat in a gas station, feeling like she was dying, calling her boyfriend over and over again until he answered and came to pick her up. It reminded me - and I told her - of the ones I had in New York. Talking about the biggie - the first one - the one that started on the subway and ended in my office five hours later made me consider, for the first time in a long time, the aftermath of that day. 9/12/02.
What happened was uncomplicated: I had to face a nearly unbearable fear I had developed over and over and over again - every minute of every commute. The ways I dealt were personal, and they were necessary. I would keep my hand on my bottle of Xanax in my bag so I would have it if I needed it. I would never travel without my Ipod, something to read and water in case my mouth got so dry I couldn't take a pill. I used counting to calm my mind; counting the letters in an advertisement, the songs on a playlist, the beads on a necklace.
What happened was uncomplicated: I made a situation I couldn't change into one that I could manage.
When I moved to Brooklyn, which was the end of my time in New York, I doubled the length of my commute and added a good three to five minutes under water each way. By then, April of 2005, I had stopped taking the bottle of Xanax with me. I even sometimes forgot my headphones or my paper...the distractions I had used to get my mind off the torture of waiting.
Waiting to lose control.
Most of those feelings are behind me now. When I feel trapped, I tell myself - I'm never trapped. I can drive away. I can drive so far away. I can even drive home if I need it. I am never trapped; I will never be trapped again. My mind - once the genesis, has now become the solution.
So, tonight, as I sit here and find myself battling that Sunday anxiety that is a weekly occurrence for me - and for many - I am thoughtful about how far I've come from those months of continual distress. Now the things I'm afraid of - that I'm not worth much, that if I make mistakes, people won't love me; that the people I love will die no matter how much I love them - can't be fixed with music and medicine.
So yes, Stephen, I am afraid of things.
I am afraid of so many things tonight.
But I won't be tomorrow.
Posted by Bree at 09:28 PM | Comments (0)
Inbox: Picture Text Message Special Edition - Pittsfield, MA Restaurant Design Review
From: Christina aka Vintors in the 413
To: Bricks in the 303
Date: Saturday, June 9 estimated 10:30 p.m. EST
have you been to spice in pitty. talk about design ecclectic. i will bring a camera. peeing in an elevator
--
From: Christina aka Vintors in the 413
To: Bricks in the 303
Date: Saturday, June 9 estimated 11:30 p.m. EST
wood paneling, spindles and gumballs. thats design on a dime or...Teos.
Posted by Bree at 06:13 PM | Comments (0)
June 09, 2007
Thicky Thick Girl
Ergh. Two ocular migraines in two days (including one that put me to bed last night at 11)...and feel another coming on this morning. Sure, my heart's been shipped off to the east coast and my mind's been on a several-day sprint through a warren of disturbing and confusing information...but come on blood vessels. Let's get our act together, shall we?
Lamus.
'specially as I'm off to go have a fance-o brunch with a television star momentarily. And am definitely going to hit up The Art of Drinking tonight, followed by a soupçon of revelry and mirth with the D-town poss. Got! No! Time! For! Head! Trauma! Der.
Posted by Bree at 10:34 AM | Comments (0)
June 08, 2007
Five Word Movie Review Friday
Prostitute named Bree? Totally! Kickass!
Posted by Bree at 09:13 PM | Comments (0)
June 07, 2007
Five Word Movie Review Thursday
Peed THREE times; still enjoyable!
Posted by Bree at 08:56 PM | Comments (0)
June 06, 2007
Purchase Pants
My last bit of freedom (relative) before returning to the grind (relative) was less rad than one might have hoped for. Truth be typed: things are in a bit of a muddle. Not for me, not really, but yeah. Bit of a muddle. So, to celebrate the close of an important day - and the beginning of an important life - I bought myself this pitcher over at Coudal Partners Swap Meat:
(*link curtsy hoping for happy accidents)
Posted by Bree at 09:26 PM | Comments (0)
Realiza With a "Z"
There is absolutely nothing I hate more in this world than measuring. Which is totally the reason why I haven't ordered window treatments, I just realized.
30's = self-realization
40's = first convertible
50's = vaginal reconstruction surgery
60's = burgeoning interest in cryogenics
etc.
Posted by Bree at 06:47 PM | Comments (0)
June 05, 2007
Time Keeps on Slipping, Slipping, Slipping
That it do, Steve. That it fucking do.
All right. New plan in the life of this kid: starting Thursday, I'm going to be all sorts of FT at P Design streamlining and revitalizing their marketing "mats" as the werd nerds like to say. Ah, come on guys... It's so simple. Maybe you need a refresher course. Hey! It's all marketing mats nowadays...
In the meantime, Paul and Pifu will share with me the lessons learned, plans enacted, dreams stymied and so forth of a year in the retail design business in Denver. In financial parlance, this is what's known as a "win win." In sports, it's either a "trade" or a "Van Gundy lundy"...not sure.
So, in a month or two, the idea is I'll have a much better idea of if I indeed want to sink my fast-dwindling funds into a business of this sort. I'm hoping the answer is yes, as it's going to be mondo frustrato if it's not...but time and experience will tell. Or I'll be kidnapped by pirates and forced to live my life in sexual servitude upon the high seas, making - naturally - all this career prep totally unnecessary. Fingers crossed! In the means, if you're in D-town come stop and see me at 2590 Walnut St. starting Thurday. I'll be the one covered in press release.
Posted by Bree at 11:31 AM | Comments (0)