gumnut

From Craigslist:

I have a three year old Koala Bear named GumNut, that I'm desperately trying to find a new home for. I bought him back in January figuring it would be an awesome pet that would enjoy living in my greenhouse, sadly I was wrong. I paid $3200 for him back in January and I'am not sure what the used Koala Bear market is like in a good economy or the one we have now; so I'am open to offers. Please use some common sense before contacting me, don't be an idiot, I'am not interested in trading my Koala Bear for your busted up 1980's Camero, pictures of your naked wife, or an offer to paint my garage door.

GumNut's Stats:

The Good

*He is somewhat housebroken, uses a cat box most of the time.
*For the most part he is very quite; this also falls into the bad category which we will touch on in a moment.
*He eats spiders, (not kidding) we haven't had a spider in our house since we got him.
*Hates watching Desperate Housewives, used to be my wifes favorite show until GumNut bit her for changing the channel from Jeopardy, to Desperate Housewives.
*Gets along well with one of my two dogs.
*Loves to go for car rides.



Now for the Bad:

*He eats a lot of eucalyptus, which is not as cheap as I expected.
*Apparently eucalyptus is like a drug for Koala Bears, when GumNut is coming down from his high he becomes very violent and aggressive.
*He raped and killed my wife's cat "Miss. Kitty'" (Honestly, I wanted to put this in the good section because I've been trying to find a way to get that worthless cat out of our house for two years, thanks GumNut.)
*He does not like Asian's, I have no idea where this Koala was raised but someone of Asian Decent must have really mistreated him.
*Loves Vin Diesel movies, not sure why, he just does.
*Has extremely sharp claws and teeth which he uses often.
*Loves shiny objects, steals and hides them frequently in my dog's ass.
*He is quite, and as a result has snuck in on my wife and I during intimate moments. I mind him watching; maybe it won't bother you as much.
* GumNut smells terrible and is not easy to wash. I had to hold a gas soaked rag over his mouth till he blacked out to get him in this tub for a bath.


*Once he is in the water he is fine, getting him into the water is a challenge, he will scratch you, he will bite you, and you will bleed.

• Location: Aurora
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1398158266

If this is real, my faith in humanity is restored.

Hey Freshmen

Now begins my posts on my beloved, soon-to-be Alma Mater. Now that I'm a senior at Columbia, I've gone through all phases of jaded Columbia Student and want to offer wisdom and anecdotes until I'm an alum and no longer relevant.

The 2013s galavanting on campus with none of the big folks around brings back so many old memories... It was like yesterday that just because I lived in Furnald people wouldn't talk to me, and that there was actually rivalry between two floors of Carman (9?)

But seriously, people will find it very difficult to accept you if you live in Furnald. In John Jay, you get the true nerds mixing in with the occasional really hot, probably rich and possibly European kids walking half nekkid to the men's bathroom and equally as occasional slut who brings back a different douchebag every night of orientation. There's plenty of camraderie and always an awkward conversation going on in the doorway.

Possibly one of the shittiest experiences I've had at Columbia involved me as a freshman venturing into Carman or John Jay parties and being given the stink eye for not living in either building. The only friendly encounter I had was with one drunk specimen, shirtless and strumming guitar in the hallway in Carman. That guy was definitely dtf, f standing for fornicate. Not that I had that kind of encounter my freshman year.

Oh the good old days...

Nostalgia Series Part deux

How can one forget the tamagotchi? Japanese faux animals were really à la mode in this era, and each trend had a wonderfully synergistic effect on the next (Don't get me started on pokémon)

I forgot how demonic the little hatchling tamagotchi was - I mean doesn't that black face scream baby lord voldy in Harry's kings cross station limbo heaven meta Dumbledore? I mean.. what?! I have no knowledge whatsoever of my livelihood growing up that reprehensible children's fantasy novel series.

Back to tamagotchi. I was the king. .. Of compulsively pressing buttons.. But seriously folks, I'm going to base all of my mothering skills on this little widget - I didn't get the special alien stage for nothing. How my children will enjoy producing hersey kisses instead of normal shit like other kids, I'm not sure.

Procrastination

On this day today, I wasted 1 whole hour looking at cute boys

In other news, I am in the news. Newsday to be exact.

Pink Enemy

Hi Pink Enemy,

You are awesome. Please remix my songs when they are recorded. Pink Enemy's remix of N.A.S.A.'s "Watcha Doin" is going to be my favorite dance song for a very long time.

Love,

Alice

the smoking diet

I really think its their secret. But you can't go the carcinogenic route without a good glass of red antioxidants a day.

The Nostalgia Series part 1

I was recently reminded of Homestarrunner (phonetically that's "homestawunnow") during a conversation about what was cool in middle school. Basically Homestarrunner was that funny as shit but under the radar website whose existence you didn't really acknowledge except amongst those who were awesome enough to know all the parts to Strong Bad's techno paradigm. I even wrote Strong Bad a couple e-mails. I suppose my feigned stupidity that he loves to mock was too contrived.

I have yet to encounter the same level of genius as is found in the Teen Girl Squad sketches. Mostly terribly morbid, partly witty reference and mostly rad. I remember boys in particular had a hard time admitting they liked homestarrunner - it was mostly the semi-androgynous Daria types like myself that often acted like dudes to combat the onset of boobs and underarm hair.

Let's have a boy/girl party!

delayed reaction

Is it just me, or (to borrow from Gollum) is the pollen being tricksie this year? Last spring in the last two weeks of May I got seasonal allergies for the first time ever, right in time for finals. The combination of Zyrtec and little sleep didn't really work in my favor. But things were alright immediately following those two weeks - it was like nothing ever happened despite my going back home to trees and flowers USA long island.

This summer however has been a mild day of allergy season. Everyday. The itchy eyes are especially annoying because I'm only 50% sure it's allergies and not another cornea infection (thanks, contact lenses). Dr. mom says it's the unusually high rain fall and their mold accomplices. But maybe I'll just go blind. I mean it's definitely the next trend. Fall 2009 no eyebrows; Spring 2010 no eyesight. At least it won't be as silly as harem pants. (and no, that is not me.. although there is a striking resemblance)

MOCA

Played a show at MOCA at its new location the other day with the lovely Cynthia Lin. Let's just say it was an older crowd with the exception of my Harvard friends. People were seated as if I were about to give them a lecture, but it was a nice opportunity to try out my new songs.

I made the unfortunate mistake of going to the Proenza Schouler sample sale earlier that day, and after figuring out a particularly complicated dress with the help of the salesgirl, I was flattered into buying it. I wrote it off as a 21st birthday present to myself, but I really do need to stop being so unrealistic with apparel.

1) I can't stop buying white and sure enough, this impeccible dress was black and white
2) I can't buy casual things and forget that most of the time I am a bleary-eyed Columbia student and not gallerina that can flit about in fabulous heels and dresses like an editorial spread all the time.

I went to topshop for the first time too. I think it's overpriced for the quality, but I have to admit I would like every single thing in the sequin category I saw...

narcolepsy then

I've become a full-fledged narcoleptic. I can't eat or sit down without falling asleep. Still hermit crabbing it at home. Being at home is like being in a hardwood floor cave.

Twitter Twatter

I remember the good old days when Columbia's Academic Advising center invited us sophomores to join this thing called "Twitter" to keep up with their updates. Nobody knew what that fuck twitter was or how it was supposed to be useful if we couldn't rebuild our facebook connections on it, but alas I joined and never looked at my account again until about a year later.

I always tend to miss out on this internet shit because well, I really hate the way that the internet is ruling my life. I signed up really early for twitter and a film makers/actors/producers etc. online community Massify and could have totally Tela Tequila'd the crap out of the sites and reached god like status if it weren't for my internal struggle with technology.

I constantly sign in and out of gmail, facebook and now my work e-mail, but I kick myself both when I leave things open and when I waste time signing in and out several times during a session on el Firefoxo. The open gmail tab almost guarantees that my eyes will flicker between it and what I'm actually trying to focus on, and you know my ass goes straight to my inbox as soon as I receive a new e-mail, which is usually from Ticketmaster or Urban Outfitters.

Let's go back to AIM. I want to find love at first a/s/l?

Now I'm going to be a hypocrite (a rather common occurrence) and provide my twitter link for you to follow.

Wilco the album

I love Wilco. To death. Ever since a certain ex boyfriend introduced me to them (as well as the whole genre of not-classical music), I will never tire of their stellar musicianship.

I was however not entirely pleased with their latest release. Jeff Tweedy explained in an interview that the self entitled album was everything that "sounded like Wilco", and doesn't have the same kind of defining characteristic like Yankee Hotel Foxtrot or Summerteeth. It was a mish mash of everything they've used in past albums.. but I suppose they already started moving in this direction with Sky Blue Sky. Doesn't mean I'm not going to buy it though.

I was disappointed with Fleet Foxes' follow up single "Mykonos" for similar reasons. I guess I don't like talented artists and bands to sound like "themselves". I can only hope to achieve the neverending inventiveness of Radiohead...

July makes you buy stuff

Every summer I spend at home, there's always one point at which my hormones get low, suddenly God turns up the humidity while my parents scowl at the idea of putting in the air conditioners and the shade of the trees loses its charm when I can no longer enjoy the evening temperature drop off as the mosquitoes stake their claim on my ankles and arms.

This, coinciding with my continued subscription to Vogue that I can't seem to run away from, without fail stirs up the materialistic creature purring in the depths of my well-stocked closet. First, too lazy to leave the house in search of satiation, I ransack my mother's wardrobe even though I already know what's there. Half of what I wear the most now is hers anyway. My search for the navy blue sweater with the perfect amount of box in the shoulders was futile. My house seems to eat up clothes.

Now I've suddenly developed the urge to update my makeup inventory, which I have to say is rather pitiable. Yesterday the kind people at abc.com provided my eyes with an attractive ad for the makeup artist collaborations with Target. Afterall, Target is where I first discovered the UK brand Boots. Jemma Kid, Napoleon Perdis and Petra Strand are all happy accomplices with the fancy mart called "tar-jé" with a variety of decent products but should I really be paying $20 for cheek tint? Yes I understand its aloe vera based but aren't these things supposed to be more affordable when you've got the red and white bullseye on your side?

Then again I know next to nothing about makeup. My entire inventory is borrowed save the one foundation that I live by - Almay's magical smart shade foundation. Lip and eyes add up to under $30. I have one shade of peach blush that I use from a pallette from lord knows how many christmases ago... I don't think expensive makeup makes a difference, but all the same a decent copper eyeshadow, some brown liner and mascara and an actual separate blush couldn't hurt right? Perhaps I'll do as the parisian girls do and leave my makeup subtle but tease my hair like mad. I will have to work on a sufficient cigarette replacement to achieve the limp hand.

Kollaboration New York 2009

[Photo courtesy of Paul Kim for Massive Photography. See the youtube video of my performance here!]

Kollaboration New York was one of the coolest things I've done in a long time, and for the first time I truly realized how supportive and cool the Asian American community is here. I have all sorts of mushy gushy feelings for you golden coloured ones, and I am proud to call you my brethren. Basically Kollaboration is an orgiastic showcase of up and coming asian american artists around the U.S. in which people dress up in gladiator costumes and fight to the death contestants compete for a cash monay prize.

'Twas the 27th of June on a pleasantly hot New York day. I arrived at 11 am for my soundcheck for the 8 pm show. fml. No it was cool. In my off time I made the mistake of trying Dunkin' Donut's egg white sandwich, hung out with Marie Choi's band boys, bought a bilingual version of Les Femmes Savantes by Molière at La Librarie de France in Rockefeller Center (which closes in September wahhh), discovered that Pedelson's closed, ate a subway sandwich and had me some times with Alex of our youtube video fame in Washington Square park.

Next we did a red carpet. It was all shipped in from Caleefornia (d'après Arnold) and in front of one of those white tarps with logos. The level of hardcorety made me real nervous in front of the cams and my smile was that convulsing smile you get when you smile while nervous and I couldn't move my arm from its stupid akimbo position but alas at least it wasn't outside in public. The abcnews.com/allkpop interview was amusing. Among the usual questions musicians are posed there was the "what's your favorite asian food" question. I believe I actually ended the interview with "SIGN ME", with every intention to address the record companies that I mean to whore myself out to later this year.

Although I didn't actually introduce myself, Yin Chang of bespectacled fame on Gossip Girl was a total sweetheart and brought her adorable siblings and mother along to watch. She also looked smokin' hot and definitely a lot prettier in person without the rediculous nerd glasses. I rather fancied telling her I once upon a time got a call back for her part during the Kati Farkas era of token asian girl on Gossip Girl, but then I found myself irrelevent and digressed. Besides it's Nan Zhang I should smite. Just kidding let's have tea sometime.

The show itself was incredible - NYU's Skirballs center was sold out and the 800 people made quite the energetic audience. The comic relief in the form of PK and Eliot Chang made me pee my Cheap Mondays several times over, which was bad because they're white. The jeans that is. Everyone sounded or danced fabulously from what we could tell from the rehearsal room screen. I had the good fortune of meeting Alfa, this seriously talented girl who sounds like Sarah Borellis and is terrifyingly like myself in life situation. Bollywood Axion and Project D were crazy free stylin' and sweating up a storm. If you want to know what Bhangra freestyling is like, you can't. It's indescribable happiness in dance form.

In the end we did a tribute to Michael Jackson, and COBU, a traditional Japanese dance group, took home the big ass check. The afterparty at newly opened Hells Kitchen was a bit of a bust since the free beer and soju didn't show up, so I dragged my new Korean posse to Beatrice only to discovered it had closed. We ended up at Pop burger - which houses delicious but rul expensive burgers, fries, shakes etc. Ok fine... the fries were worth it. There was also a club in da back.. which was odd for a burger joint.

All in all, awesomeness. Thanks Kollaboration! Who knows.. maybe I'll be the next BoA.

In other awesomeness, my myspace likes to be clicked.

"finger-lickin' good"

The coast at Casablanca.

And so begins Day 2 in Morocco

We had our complimentary breakfast overlooking the patio and breezy coastline. Within ear shot was an extremely french couple, the woman skinny, gazelle like and head to toe in linen. The man was wearing thin rectangular glasses that I have been pining after as of late - mine are I must admit gargantuan. They ate like birds of course and probably smoked des cigarettes après.

At first we were intimidated by the hordes of young Moroccans playing soccer on the beach, but the black and red sands, expansive sky and threat of rain moved us onward. We walked as close to the water as we dared - every so often the breaking wave would rush on so quickly and so uniformly across the beach that you actually had to run away from it. Aside from the teams of boys and men bright soccer shorts, there were a few groups of teenagers lounging in the sand.

As soon as we checked out and haggled for a reasonably priced cab fare, it was pouring rain and they had to shut down the mosque, a cool and vast place of marble nonetheless. Unable to find another cab to the train station for quite some time, we trekked through the rain with our cumbersome duffel bags but did see a good portion of the city. Much like the mosque there was a pervading marble color to the tiling, palm trees everywhere, carts heaping with tantalizing fruits, fresh bread or vegetables.

Suprisingly dry we kipped into a random café near the train station for lunch, again filled with Moroccan business men. The chicken tagine was to die for - by far the best tagine we had in Morocco. Our train ride to Marrakech was like a waking dream, transitioning from idyllic poppy fields and sheep flocks to what looked like Jurassic park. Whilst reading jihad, I unfortunately fell asleep and happened to be sitting next to a scholar of islam. I definitely missed out on what could have been a rousing discussion of Sayyid Qotb.

After dismissing a faux guide who had suspiciously perfect english, we once again walked to our destination. The wide avenue in the new city was strongly reminiscent of a grand boulevard in Paris and a stark contrast to the bustling medina in the old city, where the stalls boasted anywhere from fresh goat head to moutains of mint leaves. It was utterly hopeless trying to find the nook our hostel was in, so we paid a teen to show us the way.

Riad Massin was by far the best riad in Marrakech - unlimited mint tea, loving people that treated you like family, free internet use (a community laptop), organized excursions, beautiful, clean and really really cheap (I think it was like 11 euro a night).

We had dinner at "the stalls", basically glorified picnic tables at the main square called Place Jemaa el Fna. The stalls were lined up in succession - some had only locals, some had only tourists. Each stall was manned by a loud, multilingual dude that yelled stuff at tourists to attract them to their stall. Our favorite was the one who used "finger-lickin' good" on us KFC-loving americans. Everything was a bit flavorless and disappointing except for the fried eggplant, which was delicious. We were too intimidated by the stalls with all locals. This was compounded by the fact that the menu signs were in arabic and not french.

And so ends day 2. Many more pics on my flickr.

I'm BACK. For good.

(view from our hotel in Casablanca)

After a stint in candyland in which I lost my internet savvy, fear no more I am back in the U S of A and ready to go BLOGCORE.

I have my itunes on shuffle, Beck is serenading me and I am ready to climb the formerly insurmountable mountain of a task that is recounting my time in Morocco from April 15th - 22nd.

But first, there are a few things you should know about Morocco (from my interpretation at least) before delving into my memoir:

1. Morocco is a muslim country in North Africa. This means droning prayers throughout the cities several times a day. The women are liberally

2. Morocco was formally a french colony, thus many of its inhabitants, especially the younger generation, speak french. Even the smaller towns have chairs spilling out of the cafés onto tiling. The entire country is very clean... for this and its convenient location it is what I dub "the white man's" vacation in Africa

3. 11 dirhams to the euro. Pretty sweet exchange rate.

4. Every price is negotiable. There is not a single thing bought without bargaining.

5. Moroccans are some of the most hospitable people out there.

Day 1

My friend auspiciously chose one of the nicest hotels in Casablanca, which the cabbie informed us was located on the "Champs Elysées of Casablanca". Indeed it was on the nicest road with all the other hotels and nice restaurants along the coast, but even then there was gravel everywhere. Aside from the palm trees, the beautiful mosque and the beach, Casablanca was vaguely polluted, open and desolate. The night was chilly, windy and moist and salty from the sea air.

We shied away from a rather nice restaurant that french tourists decided on and went with another that was more of a hashisha bar. The waiter outside was very convincing. As we would soon find out later... there's always a welcoming borderline obnoxious man trying to flock you into his establishment. We descended the stairs to find live music (which is generally traditional arabic music + a dude singing it), moroccan business men sitting at white clothed tables and certainly no tourists. The effect was instant - we definitely looked odd amongst them.

About halfway through our meal of probably the best couscous we had our whole time Morocco, heavily made up women wearing tight clothing and stilettos, basically walking ads for baby phat morocco, strutted in accompanying older, portly moroccan men. My companions were convinced they were paid escorts, but I like to think that the generous wallets of their men guided them into the state of holy matrimony.

We ended with mint tea - about as omnipresent in Morocco as Speidi in fine media outlets. Since I was lame, tired and still feeling the heavy weight of my epic jihad paper, I read jihad by gilles kepel (excellent but damn near killed me) and my companions frolicked on the coast.

So ends day 1.

So how's the weather

Take the most beautiful spring day you can imagine in New York, slap on vibrantly blooming flowers, gardens everywhere, winding streets, cobblestones, actual warmth and sunlight, translate that day into everyday and you have Paris in April. And May I'd imagine as well. When it rains the streets breathe and scintillent

Leaving for Morocco tomorrow. Hitting up Casablanca, Marrakech, Fez and Ouarzazate. Oh yea and the Sahara desert at night. I'll be MIA for a week. Piccies when I return.

Once upon a Behati

Once upon a time I went to two gallery openings in New York one balmy winter's eve with my good friend Reni Lane, newly signed to Custard/Universal/gloriousness. If you're out there somewhere in Brooklyn, tu me manques à Paris.

The first one we went to featured sexual themes and willy wonka-esque colors. The artist was a middle-aged man who I guess overcame his crisis. I think he was a teacher beforehand. After gorging ourselves on mini cupcakes, we were getting bored and decided to venture into utilities closest from which many people were curiously flitting in and out.

We found ourselves amidst piles of Jeurgen Teller issues, gigantic rolls of bubble wrap and a bunch of new york art scenesters getting high on that cat nippy herb whose name I fail to remember. There was a nice girl there with a floppy rastafarian hat getting very cuddly on some boy. She introduced herself as Behati, which meant nothing to me until Reni informed me that she was some big model or something. Well this model person left her auburn calvin klein sweater behind in her spontaneity. We took it for safe keeping and it was passed onto me.

Dear Behati,

If you miss your sweater. I have it if you ever want it back.

This is not a fashion blog. Damnt I swear! But seriously I had a rough half month. Stay tuned for my various revelations on life.

youtube symphony orchestra

I would SOO go see this if I were in New York

Your greatest revelations will be in the park

So that's why I don't want to sit on a pyramid...