Always The Where.

I know everyone has probably already seen this, but I honestly never get tired of watching this. A blast from the past. Our pre 9-11 past. It's a trifle long, but it's the weekend so enjoy.

How Am I Captive

The Captivate Network provides downtown's elevator riding public with all manner of news (generally outdated in lieu of the internet), sounbites, blurbs, surveys and the like. This morning the Captivate Network informed me the women that consume 2 or more alcoholic beverages increase their odds of contracting breast cancer by 10%. Yes... Researchers say this. Which researchers you might ask? Well, American researchers naturally. Who else. Which American researchers? Well... Those American researchers that did this study. How many people did they study? Well, you know, the number that they used in the study.

It's all too Orwellian for me to even fathom. Sometimes I think that if the Captivate Network told us to kill the person standing next to us half the nitwits in the elevator actually would. It is a post 9-11 world after all, and common sense is a luxury we all lost on that fateful September morn. Good luck...

There She Will Stay.

Well here it is Friday, or at least that is what I think, and even though I have to work through the weekend I still can't help but feel that I've made it through some type of marathon. I have worked 12 hours every day for the last 9 days, and I only have two more to go. Then I can ease back into my normal 10 hour days. Much nicer. I still have a bone to pick with some of the people that tend to occasionally occupy the same office space as me. I was riding in the elevator with one of these people and I couldn't help but notice that he was completely unshaven and unkempt. Almost as if a rigorous work schedule is an excuse to leave oneself thoroughly unkempt. You would think that the look I gave him would have made all that extraneous facial hair just melt away, but even I'm shocked at my own limitations sometimes.

The work is hardly even that rigorous. Even I have time throughout the day to take a moment for myself. Take yesterday for example. I think I finally discovered the mystery behind the phenomenon I like to call the McBoutique. I'm sure you've seen them. Seemingly high-end, thoroughly of the moment clothing boutiques that sell a homogeneous assortment of clothes with ever so clever labels. Each McBoutique may give a wave and a nod to some special designer, but aside from that they all sell the same assortment of the same metrosexual uniforms. The culprit I fear may in fact be the trade show. Take this one for example. It's called capsule, and one look at the participating brands and I think you will agree the that impetus and motive behind the McBoutique is laid bare. The board of advisors is actually made up of owners, buyers, and hangers on of various McBoutique's, fasion blog "writers", and even some reps from Details, and the altogether detestable magazine GQ. A group of people totally invested in and entrenched in the mainstream fashion industry getting together peddling their wares and coordinating it so everyone else is peddling similar variations of the same wares. Huckstery is what I call it. And I'm not amused. The truly amusing thing about it is how they toss it off as though it were some type of independent fashion movement.

Certainly not the most compelling issue of the day, and I doubt Hillary is going to be raked over the coals about it any time soon, but when countless moderately upwardly mobile neo-yuppies are maxing out their credit cards for the next it brand $300 jean then the implications for the economy seem clear. You can buy Acne jeans on Amazon.com. Did you know?

Once Again Marvelous, And You Know How.

I got a little teary eyed last night as the Yankees clinched (I think clinched is the word) the American League wild card. It was all hugs and champagne and I think it was fitting that Derek hit his 12th homo of the season. They probably could have got the job done without wasting so many runs, but what the fig. I would seriously like to say to all the nay sayers, and especially that writer for that contemptible magazine GQ who predicted last year that the Yankees would be also-rans this season, neener neener. And I honestly mean that. You've wasted your life, but more importantly the 3 seconds of my time I spent reading those lines.

Here are some AP photos of the celebrating Yankees. Enjoy.


Open wider.

You wouldn't have guessed it, but Michael's hair looks just as amazing covered in champagne. Alright so you might have guessed it.

Well Georgie certainly has had an amazing year. We'd love to stick around, but sadly we have work to do, and I want to devote a small amount of time today to teasing proponents of intelligent design. Silly little twits that they are. It can't all be about baseball and litigation deadlines.

No In Before Six.

I wasn't joking. Last week I mentioned that Compadre's and my trip to Malibu was delayed by a house that had fallen on the 101 Freeway. Well it turns out that it is still there. Moved slightly to the shoulder and no longer blocking lanes of traffic, but still there nonetheless. The owner of the house has let the deadline for moving the house lapse, and now it is in the hands of CalTrans. CalTrans will probably do what they are best at and turn the house into some hideous piece of pigeon shit encrusted public art. Compadre called way way too late last night amused by the story. He also wanted to register his concern since there is an ever so slight chance that I could drop dead at any moment. Or so it would appear someone told him.

The Yankees lost their second straight game last night to the Devil Rays despite RoRos grand slam. The thing was the other team scored a grand slam as well. The game went into the 10th inning which I didn't watch. It's my new policy. If they can't get it done in 9 innings then they're going to have to get it done with out me. I personally feel that if the game is tied in the 9th inning then the more attractive team should win, or in the alternative the most expensive team wins. In either case the Yankees would win all of their tie games. Do it for the children. Oh! This will not go unmentioned. Some ogre of an announcer had the nerve to say that Derek's swing is not a thing of beauty. I waited and waited and waited and I did not here the sound of someone hitting this announcer over his head with with his own microphone. Pissers!

This morning I was quite overwhelmed with my selection of graphic tee shirts so just to be different I went for a solid color tee. Some greenish Rag & Bone thing with the tag still attached. It's alright. I kinda thought the color was hideous, but it's growing on me. I also like the way the shirt has held it's shape so well after sitting on a hanger for 6 months.

I was reading Perez Hilton and I think I may understand why there are no homosexuals in Iran. The same reason there are no homosexuals in WalMart.

There Are Always Fewer Options.

Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said in a recent speech at Columbia University that there are no homosexuals in Iran. Iran is devoid of such a "phenomenon". Well. I can certainly scratch Tehran off my list of potential world travel destinations. It's quite considerate of them to tell us from the get go. It would have been terribly awkward if I just showed up in flip flops and madras asking directions to the nearest Basic Plumbing.

How Do The French Stay So Thin?

I bought this card yesterday. It was a mistake. The card I mean, not the purchasing of it. Someone did it as a joke or a jibe or perhaps a lark if you like. You can see Dubya in the crowd and Joe DiMaggio in the dugout. It was replaced with an official card which I also purchased from the same dude. I think I got a good deal on it, but in a sense it really doesn't matter. Ultimately what it gets me is no more excuses to go to Target. How I loathe that place! But it is, nevertheless, the only place I know of to buy baseball cards. But I couldn't just go to buy baseball cards because that would be weird. So I had to get other things just to make it seem credible. And now I have things. Things like a casserole dish. And a mixing bowl. And a DVD player that doesn't really work all that well. More importantly I have a stack of baseball cards I couldn't possibly want. You know when you buy baseball cards they don't just come with Yankees. There are other players from other teams. Some of them rather unfortunate. Well I seem to have eliminated that mess altogether. Oh yeah, Anonymous D, this card will be coming in the mail for me so do please keep an eye out for it.

I'm slightly depressed, despondent or maybe just pissed off. I work with crooks. It's really so obvious I'm not even afraid to say it. Well I work with one crook in particular. He's about 5 feet tall and presumably feels his vertical challenges entitle him to cheat people. What's more he seems to be under the impression that I don't know what he's doing. Even worse still he always says hello to me when he walks past my office thinking in quite the most delusional way that I would be seen conversing with a crook. No thank you. Now I'm beginning to think that his salutations are nothing more than an act of petty defiance. He can seriously go fuck himself though. Watching Korean television all day while I have to slog through this boring ass shit. Bollocks!

Ooh ooh! Compadre came over last night, and we listened to music, and gossiped, and drank some beers, and he made grilled cheese triangles, and then I put in a historical documentary, and he was so out of there. That was kinda nice.

I read this and I thought it was amusing. Apparently fakes are the new status symbol. Fake Louis, fake Fendi, fake Chloe, fake all of it. Some companies are bringing lawsuits in a vain attempt to cling to their relevance via exclusivity. I'm not sure though. I don't remember anything in law school about you being able to sue yourself back into being cool. But I suppose they know better.

I'll Take That One. In Spray-On Stucco If You Please.

Yes I'm here at work on a Saturday at some unholy hour. The bewitching hour it may not be, but it sure as hell feels like it. The Yankees came back from a four run deficit to tie the game in the 9th last night. The game went to the 14th inning before the Yankees lost. I was quite ready for bed at that point. There were rain storms throughout the southland and they woke me up in the middle of the night. For a second I thought I might be back in Seattle. It was cold outside and I had a drop down wrassling match with my hypo-allergenic comforter which I think I ultimately won. You know, me being sentient and all.

I was speaking to Compadre last night and he had a funny story that I just have to share before I tear into these tiffs and giffs and xlses. I guess Queer Eye For The Straight Guy alum Carson Kressley came into Compadre's coffee shop yesterday. Many many famous and semi-famous people live in the neighborhood and frequent the joint so this isn't too unusual. But I guess he just stood there with his hands out expecting something. Compadre was quite confused why he would come into a coffee shop and not order coffee or at least a Pane Chocolat. Compadre asked him if he could get something for him. Carson stormed off, grabbed his Mercedes and parked it right in front of the cafe and came in again, and pulled the same diva bullshit. So at this point Compadre just put down his towel and kinda yelled "WHAT?!?!" No panini for Carson.

I mean Jesus. Apparently Heath Ledger didn't even expect to have his ass kissed, and he's like someone who is, what's the word, oh yes, talented. Sorry. I got a kick out of that story. Props to Compadre for not putting up with any celebutard bullshit in his cafe.

I saw someone famous at the car rental place the other day, but for the life of me I have no idea who they were. Had on wretched Chrome Hearts sunglasses though.

If I Were Actually Lonely I Might Have The Time.

The girls had a day of rest from baseball, and in a strange way so did I. I tried to watch a movie instead. A movie with dragons and dragon slayers and whatnot. I put on a good show, but then came a rapping on my chamber door. Someone who was looking for the previous tennant. My book of Spanglish niceties was nowhere within sight so I did as best I could to convince this person that I was in no way her former friend. The intrusion took a lot out of me and quite distracted me from my movie so I just surrendered to the sleepiness. As usual I woke up at 4:20, which of course is 4:10 in barbarian time. Or so I've read.

I'm going to be a little embarrassed once people start to arrive at work. It's college football Friday at my work. Every Friday is college football Friday and the boys wear their college football shirts. Since my Universities did not have football teams I have a special dispensation to wear Yankees gear. I had all the best of intentions of wearing one of my Derek Jeter jerseys, but in the delirium of the moment I just threw on a Prada button up. Quite embarrassing. Above that it doesn't even breathe well. I may be off the hook since I have an idea that the boys are on a plane hurtling towards Germany to Oktoberfest. Sounds fun, but ultimately quite German.

I was over the moon yesterday when I discovered that revolve clothing is now carrying selections from Los Angeles based label Cassette. I've been into these clothes for quite a while, but all the same disappointed with unavailability issues. Compadre was the recent beneficiary of a Cassette tee shirt I found at Archival. It was really more him than me. Some suicide girl lady showing off her panties. Honestly.


This cardigan has a lot of nice detailing, and is probably a little more understated than the hoodie of yesterday. The good news is that I think this cardie would look wonderful with a certain tee shirt that resembles chipped toille china. Picture perfect.

First things first though. A good friend of mine is expecting a baby in a couple of weeks. A miniature version of himself is about to grace us. And of course that means that my attentions will temporarily be diverted towards miniature versions of the aforementioned cardigan. Wee ones have enough to contend with without being bothered with unfortunate clothes.

Well, back to work and old school Depeche Mode on my head phones.

You Could Just Tell It Was Going To Fall Down.

*ESA Hubble

Well the girls in pinstripes certainly had to sweat Tuesday's blatant and vulgar display of run wastage. Scoring only 2 last night and squeaking through a 2-1 bases loaded 2 out ninth inning. Mo eventually did what Mo does best, but not without a little worry or two. I did a little bit of a dance. I bet you'd like to see my Yankee dance. Oh yeah I bet you would. It kinda did me in, and I collapsed shortly afterward knowing that the Yankees are but a hairs breath away from the division lead. I slept soundly last night. I don't think sleep is meant to be that sound, however, I've recently been put on a new torturous work schedule that has me working 12 hours a day every day of the week save Sunday where an 8 hour day prevents me from earning any actual double time.

All of my co-workers attended a work function at Elevate Lounge last night. They all waited until I went home before departing out of decency. You would be right in assuming that I did not attend. The way my employer just assumes that I would mix in such circles always leaves me shaking my head in agony.

But I can always find something to brighten my day if I look hard enough. The good folks over at Welcome Hunters have begun to receive their fall/winter pieces, and what they are offering is as unique and out of left field as you can imagine. The Swedish label A Bug Collection is a dizzying assortment of tees and hoodies. Staples in my wardrobe really, and certainly not as dour, serious and muted as the Surface to Air I blogged about yesterday. These two tees are obvious stand outs. Colorful, playful, and downright fun. And any tee shirt that comes equipped with self-bloussing buttons makes me shout (internally) Fame!

Makes me think of the tattered Pink Floyd tee shirt my college roommate used to wear and rarely washed.

Brings to mind the Battle of Hastings or Agincourt or something you might find on a precious piece of chipped China.

Perhaps a little too loud for me, but fashion is meant to be adventurous. I may have to give it a try. It is a little spendy, costing a bit more than the Free City Hoodie I picked up last weekend. You can check out Welcome Hunters on the right or you can click here if you're lazy. Hopefully I'll have time to head down to Chinatown and check it out. The lady that owns the shop is quite delightful, and given that the horrendous Los Angeles Summer Season is coming to a close the shops conspicuous lack of air conditioning shouldn't get in my way this time.

Well with an extended work day comes increased demands on my somewhat copious talents so I'm afraid we'll just have to leave it there for now. Tomorrow is Friday for most people, but not me. I'm not bitter. Just a little sleepy.

Overexposure Brings The Masses To Your Senses.

Ouch! Michael certainly was back in form last night as the Yankees routed the Orioles 12-0. I'm wondering who in the Yankees organization thinks it's a good idea to waste so many runs at such a critical juncture. I suppose they know better. The girls are now 2 and a half games away from the division which they must seriously consider winning if I'm to have any choice of attending any of the ALCS games. Oh, yeah, they would also have to win the ALDS, but I suppose we can cross that bridge later.

My sleep patterns have been all out of whack since learning of the e coli scare. This has enabled me to avoid my usual brand of co-commuting carbon based tweakers. However, I was approached this morning by an individual with a marginal grasp on the English language. He claimed to be schizophrenic and that he was just released from the hospital for cutting himself. He showed me some scars on his arm that were several years old. He's a cutter. Where's Donna when you need her? He then said he needed help filling his prescription and he showed me a prescription from 1996. I declined his offer, and now I'm looking for an SUV. LA Metro can suck it.

Burgeoning and yet somehow bordering on passe Parisian fashion label Surface to Air has opened an online shop. It's the cross-bones really. How many times in how many colors? Honestly. The other day I said that Free City is the only label I've come back to. That was actually a wee bit of a lie. I actually have two S2A hoddies, and some tee shirts I picked up at the Goodwill. I wouldn't mess with the online store, however, and the resulting exchange rates, customs, etc. So far the best prices for S2A can be found at active endeavors. Free shipping and 25% off with promotional code "better". And naturally some of the back catalogue can be found at yoox. Happy shopping.

I Can Sense The Temporary.

There are rats in the Los Angeles subway! The one I saw this morning was more afraid of me than I was of him. He was barely even a rat. Just a little baby. Scampering all over the place looking for a place of safety. He was more of a mouse, or you could even go so far as to call him a shrew. Luckily there was no one else around since it's my understanding that humans are by and large incredibly cruel creatures.

The game last night was largely uneventful save for the fact that the Orioles pitcher plunked the Yankees batters left and right. The Yankees were victorious pulling out a hard fought 8-5 victory, but did not seek retribution for the downed batters as is the prevailing custom. The Orioles pitcher Daniel Cabrera was absolutely divine so I'm sure he wasn't doing it on purpose. Seriously, he single handedly redefines what it means to look hot. And on that note, Michael is pitching tonight so that's not to be missed.

And I quite accidentally read the front page of the New York Times (which I can never recommend) this morning and got a dose of current events. It seems that the Iraqi government has banned American Hired Goon company Blackwater USA after a fatal shooting involving Iraqi civilians and the jarhead no-necks for hire LLC. The problem, however, is that Iraq has absolutely no sovereignty. As a fully owned subsidiary of Bechtel the nation that once was lacks the legal authority to make such decisions with respect to it's citizens. Sucks to be a conquered nation I guess.

There's a lot going on with Britney Spears, but I certainly won't demean myself or you by mentioning it. Instead, if you do get a chance get a load of this movie. I really enjoyed it.

Driving A Car Is Serious Business

First things first. The Yankees eeked out a series win against Boston. A series I largely missed because of Mlb.tv's ridiculous blackout restrictions, but I nevertheless was able to listen, read, and divine as much as I needed to including Derek's miraculous 3 run homer, his 10th of the season, that secured the second win against Boston. The girls are leading the wild card by two and half games which is still a little too close for comfort, but I'll try to make myself comfortable simply because there is little else to be done.

As for me, I had a lovely weekend that included a treacherous drive to Malibu. Naturally there would have to be a house on the 101 freeway that fell off it's transport disabling 2 lanes of traffic which made getting out of town quite laborious. Compadre thought it would be all kinds of clever to take me up twisty Topanga Canyon roads which in the end saved us a lot of time, but ultimately scared the living frak out of me. The beach was sublime as the Condors hovered and watched us with disinterest. Compadre dove into the ocean while I would only wade up to my knees.

A visit to the Free City Supershop that I mentioned earlier was entirely underwhelming. No one in the tiny little shop would even acknowledge me let alone stoop to help me so this left me fumbling through their meticulously and dare I say preciously displayed tees and hoodies. As I destroyed their displays in search of the perfect hoodie they just stared at me coldly from behind their imposing counter. I'm over it. Later on, margaritas, vodka and our fealty to the Ultimate Fighting Championship would cap off our evening.

Yesterday I made my way to Amoeba where I picked up the new Go Team as well as Deepchord Presents Echospace. The Go Team is a satisfyingly consistent follow-up to their debut with few surprises, but enjoyable in the extreme. Chuck D makes an appearance and although he doesn't say "Fuck The PoPo" we still like. Echospace is a lovely ambient recording which is quite reminiscent of Icelandic super-gooey composer Yagya. Love it. I also managed to find Blitzen Trapper on my ipod which I have also been enjoying. Clumsy fumbling fake classic rock that gets your head a bobbin'.

I also understand that the Emmy's were on last night. However, since Maria Doyle Kennedy was not nominated for her astounding work in The Tudors we certainly could care less about the Grammy's, Emmy's, Tony's whatever the frak it is we officially don't give a fig. Maria is one of our myspace friends. Did you know? She honestly rocks our world like few others do.

This week kind of crept up on us unexpectedly and we are going to proceed with caution.

Oops they did it again.

Beat the Red Sox that is. Narrowly and by one run, and of course I fell asleep before the ninth inning, but the first thing I did when I woke up was check the score. Off to the beach today. Everyone needs a break from baseball sometime.

Jackets In The Sky.

President Bush apparently addressed the nation last night and I'm quite sure I couldn't care less. I'm pretty sure I know what manner of drivel fell from his lips, and the Yankees were tied with their Canadian rivals all the way til the bottom of the ninth. I was getting ready to settle in for some extra innings when the Blue Jays decided to score a winning run. The way they celebrated and hooted and hollered you would think they hadn't lost the last two games. No matter. The girls will need their rest for their upcoming series against the Red Sox.

I was somewhat dismayed to learn that Hermes will be opening a shop in Seattle in 2009. But it won't really be in Seattle it will be in Bellevue. The O.C. of Seattle across the lake and it will be part of a horrid planned community called The Bravern of all things. Neiman Marcus is going to be the anchor store. Oh dear. The article discusses a great deal of market analysis and takes note of the net worth of people in the area, and of course it's such that Hermes thinks it a good idea to open a boutique in a place I've lived next to for years, but have only frequented twice. The president of Hermes says he doesn't think he has to worry about over saturation. I think he might be mistaken on that point. But who knows. I always say it's a matter of taste, not income. I'm kinda into Asprey now anyway.

Life In The Fake Empire.

"If this is what Scotland has to offer, then I think I will try the haggis." --Internal Monologue 9/12/07

I have no idea how The National got onto my ipod, but it did and I have been enjoying it immensely. I hear something like the Tindersticks but less laborious, something like The Divine Comedy but not as melancholy, drums like Interpol without the hideous words and singing. You should check it out if you haven't already. Check your ipod you may already have it.

And I guess The Go Team have a new album that dropped on Tuesday making a trip to Amoeba almost inevitable. Generally I've only heard snotty and snide carping about it, but I think I can decide for myself.

I received an evite for some work related party at some downtown skybar. I managed to wait 4 minutes before responding "No". I was tapping my fingers the whole time, but one doesn't want to be rude.

And the Yankees were victorious against the Canadian team they were playing last night. Some ruffian hit Derek with a pitch, and some can't catch me base running prevented a double play and landed him on second. RoRo stranded him on second, and I really wish he wouldn't do that. Not after being hit by a pitch.

I'm absolutely besotted by something called the Vegas Cardigan from Henrik Vibskov. I'd like to post a picture, but blogger is being lame and it took me all morning to load up my Scottish hottie which of course I'd rather wear than any mother fucking cardigan. The cardigan is more of a consolation prize really. Check it out.

I Almost Forgot The Lie.

My alarm scared me half to death. It was quite unexpected really, but I did my best to manage. Later on as I was sitting on the front porch waiting to walk to the train station I saw this man walking down my street with a rifle in his hand. Rifle with scope. At this time I thought it best to go back inside and reconsider my plans of going into the office. Bed was after all treating me quite well before that hideous alarm decided to go off. I waited for a couple of minutes before I decided that this was completely ridiculous and I headed off again. They were just unloading a bunch of firearms from the boot of a late model black Jaguar. Quite harmless really.

The Yankees were victorious last night and someone in my office could have made some money if they only had faith in my Yankees coupled with the uncommonly loose morals necessary to engage in online wagering. I'll make a point of teasing that person today. Yes, Derek was back in the game having recovered from his knee tenderness, and the entire game was really quite close until Jason Giambi split the game wide open with a 5th inning grand slam. Good night girls.

And for a shameless plug I just have to say how enamored I am with the Free City clothing line. A few months ago a friend of mine who seems to get out more for good old fashioned real world brick and mortar shopping introduced me to the clothes. I was intrigued. So at my earliest opportunity I headed down to Ron Herman only to discover that the entire front room was a kind of Free City show room. I tried on many many hoodies none of which resembled the others. Each one was a kind of distinctive item and all the pieces had a yummy smell of clean laundry soap that almost makes it a shame to wash. Well here were are several months later, and I'm still quite enamored. Planning a trip up to Malibu to peak inside their boutique and hopefully pick up another gem or two. They actually sell geodes there. Besides the poorly cut and ill fitting yet remarkably sumptuous jerseys from B*Son, it's the only line of clothing that I've come back to. I especially like how none of the shamelessly cross promoting fashion blogs have even whispered the name (threadless doesn't count) even though it accounts for a good deal of the square footage at Ron Herman. So I guess I'll just have to mention them here on my baseball blog. I'm quite through with the endless stream of "independent" labels out there, but for some reason Free City has a warmer place in my heart. You can find some of their items at their online shop located on the right or right here. Yeah man, drop the zero and forget the decimal.

You Will Always Be Too Late.

Absent baseball I did what seemed to be the only sensible thing. I watched Danny Boyle's Sunshine and I absolutely loved it. Actually the best sci-fi movie I've seen in a long time. It surpasses Solaris with ease even with the conspicuous absence of George Clooney's ass. It really is the kind of movie that I take a liking to. Apocalyptic, futuristic, atmospheric, and amazing music. Not for everybody I understand which is why I saw it by myself. I think I'll be going to the Battlestar Galactica convention by myself as well. Again.

I'm still the only one in the office which is nice, but my morning was replete with all the usual trials. Speed walking tweaker pushed me aside so he could sprint up the stairs unimpeded. I swear one day I'm going to smack that dude over the head with a book and wag my finger at him which I know is something only monkeys do, but he is really pushing my buttons. Someone else in the subway was shouting and hollering presumably because he is poor, disadvantaged, slightly mentally ill, and quite disconcerted by the fact that no one cares. And once at Starbuck's I had the misfortune of standing behind a woman who was sporting her best gypsy drag. For a woman like this, T.J Maxx is her very best friend. Actually they get along so famously she refers to it as Tee Jay's. Offensive. And of course she had to order drinks for her whole office whilst demonstrating her command of the English language.

"First I get a Venti Light Mocha, then I get..."

I simply wouldn't tolerate a grown woman ordering coffee in baby lingo so I left. There's more...

Fifth Avenue Shoe Repair

This label is all over my mind. I can't stop thinking about it so I suppose I'm going to have to march myself into the belly of the beast (West Los Angeles) and check it out. I have high hopes that it may keep me out of tweed for the time being, but even I have my doubts. It's a force of nature really.

I Know You Tried, But You Wasted Your Time.

He said he just went down and picked one up at Penny's? That's what someone said in the elevator on Friday, and I have to confess that it was at this point that I looked for the nearest window to eject myself. The fact that elevators are rarely equipped with windows only crossed my mind later. For the best really because this weekend was really good for me, but even better for the Yankees who swept the ball clutching Royals this weekend. And RoRo? Well RoRo continues to homo his fool little head off. But I'm not gonna say anything. Derek was benched yesterday due to some fluid in his knee. Not sure what fluid in the knee means, but a little rest will hopefully do the trick.

Compadre and I watched Ultimate Fighting Champion on Saturday and God bless Ultimate Fighting Champions. I was rapt, utterly transfixed to the television screen hoping against homo-erotic hope that one of the boys would just pull down the pants of the other boy and get to it, and they came so close on several occasions, but alas, nothing. It's still quite good. You do have to learn the lingo though. I was confused when they called something the North South position when it was obvious to everyone even the daschund sitting next to me that the boys were 69ing. Semantics you know.

I got into work this morning, and everything was mercifully quiet. I did all my usual Monday morning office chores and settled down to get the 411. And this was just precious. It seems that designer Zac Posen would like people to stop ripping off his designs. Does Zac Posen really have a problem with people aping his costumes? Really? Obviously not, but the designer would nonetheless like to see a three year moratorium on copy cats. Why three years? Well I think it has something to do with the fickle nature of fashion generally (it kinda warns you with its name) and the fact that all his shit was done by YvesSaintLaurent 30 years ago.

And in other fashion news, I've decided that Band of Outsiders and Tim Hamilton are the new J. Crew, and in Tim Hamilton's case quite literally. Rag and Bone, dickies with less color. A.P.C, well you know very well what I think of Banana Republic. And I never thought I would say this but Ralph Lauren seems to be the only one that knows which way is up. Call me crazy, but the days when you don't see me strutting down the street in tweed shorts and cashmere overcoat are quickly coming to an end.

They Will Forget The Kindness Before All Else.

My desire to blog has crashed into the pavement as readily as my face did last Sunday. I think part of the reason is because I have been unable to watch baseball since the villainous mlb.tv blocked my subscription for the Seattle series, and baseball is seriously my motherfucking muse. I'm sure I'll get back in the saddle soon enough. It's weird though. I'm not even interested in drab disposable fake fashion the likes of which you might find here. Just not feeling it anymore. Maybe it was a wake up call. I'm even looking for a new job. I could also go for a new brooch.

Gravity Is A Comparatively Weak Force.

That's All.