Hola Dear Readers!
DirtyHippie Here! This message is being beamed to you through the good ol’ series of tubes allllllll the way from the wild wild West (Hollywood, that is). That’s right, DBIH-ers, since you last heard from me I made the move, via cross-country road trip through the Confederacy, to the godless City of Angels.
More specifically, I moved to West Hollywood, also known as Gay Man Mecca (all the lesbians are in Silver Lake).
The above is the crosswalk on the corner of San Vicente and Santa Monica Blvd. Our city council voted to approve funds to paint the sidewalk into a rainbow (which also just so happens to be our city flag). It’s fantastic here. I mean yes, it is far more difficult to find straight male suitors in my immediate vicinity, but that aside, the lawns are manicured, the dogs are be-sweatered, and every time one of my fabulous neighbors gives me a compliment on my outfit I feel like I have won the cosmic lottery.
Aside from extolling the virtues of my city, here are some snapshots of what else I have been up to:
-Attending graduate school to get a very real degree. No really, an MFA is totally legit…
-Knowing far too well how real this blog is.
-Collecting various sculptures and ceramic statues of birds, specifically chickens.
-Memorizing the rap from No Scrubs. (If you can’t spatially expand my horizons, then that leaves you in a class with scrubs, never rising.)
-Occasionally seeing Jane Lynch in the coffee shop next to my apartment.
-Refusing to stop spamming Jappy’s facebook wall with New Girl quotes, and always attempting to play True American.
-Counting down the days until Coachella 2013, with Special Guest: Tall. (50 days from today, by the way)
That’s pretty much it. Please do show some comment love down below, while myself and my good friend/giant bouncing chicken sculpture Rodney go back to watching The Walking Dead.
Yes, you heard right. We’re back, bitches!
Are you TINGLING with antici…….pation? Are you *dying* for details on what the hell we’ve been doing for the last three years?
Well… here’s a quick rundown of my last few years:
- Writing. A whole hell of a lot. But not about gnats.
- Trying to Convince Africa to write an update on her chef d’ouvre “Amanda Bynes: You’re killing me.“
- Taking care of my childdog Phoebe.
That’s it for me. Now, please shower us with love in the comments so the rest of the the DBIH team will make their triumphal return as well.
Tall and Hooles have apparently gotten on the banjo train. I’m just going to say it now: I started that shit, yo. I fucking love a good banjo and fiddle song. Obviously, small Jewish girls from the WASPy suburbs of Pittsburgh feel a deep affinity to the roots music of Appalachia (are you Nell, from the movie Nell?).
Moral of the story, this is a really great song. I listen to this song many times a day. It has banjos AND fiddles, so take that Hooles/Tall roommates.
Oh you know how at DBIH our hobbies include white wine, ice cream cake, crack whores and Taylor Swift. Chef Hooles and I have taken the last one to a whole new level with our obsession with The Band Perry (actually it’s just the one song, we’re a little slow). Or, to be clear, curly blonde country singers who sing about young love. And banjos. Motherfuckin’ banjos and a “Lady of Shallot” reference. So eat your heart out and enjoy this beautiful masterpiece. BTW Hooles and I are relocating to the bayou. This plus True Blood? Yes plz.
So Afrika and I both have Kindles, and while discussing how glad we’ll be when DSK burns in fiery torment eventually and the general state of victims of sexual violence necessarily being virginal, because otherwise it doesn’t count (COME ON), we talked about our most recent acquisitions. Turns out:
DOES NOT EQUAL
The more you know!
Courtesy of Fuck I’m In My 20s : a visual representation of my life.
– Now that ChefHooles and I no longer live approximately 10 paces from Booey’s, life is much harder. And by life I mean hangovers.
– Gilmore Girls marathons are the best way to start your day.
-RE: Gilmore Girls – I hate Dean. He sucks in almost every way. He’s just one bit old wet blanket who got married too soon and then cheated on his wife and is still not treating Rory well. What a shit.
– ChefHooles is Team Jess. “He’s hot, he’s smart, he loves Rory and he’s a rebellious bad boy. He’s not Lurch, he’s not creepy, and he’s so fucking hot. And he wears a leather jacket. Well, they both wear leather jackets, but Dean’s is more of a Columbine, go-shoot-up-my-high school type jacket.”
– I (Tall) love the Jess, but I think Rory made a big fat mistake in not locking down hot-hot-hot Logan Huntsberger. What a stud! He was so rich too, and adventurous and he would always fight for his lady. I mean, really Rory? You left that to go be a blogger on Obama’s campaign? Really? Idjit.
– Hydration is key, but it is optimal when taken from a swirly straw cup.
– Seriously, why is there not a Booey’s sandwich in and around my mouth right now?