If I'm too good for him, then how come I'm not with him?

I love Kanye and Spike like Spike loves monsters and Kanye loves himself. And booty.

As long as his you-know-what isn't crooked

LA Wrecked. Sorry, Angelina. I didn't mean to laugh at you.

Rollin' with the homies...

Note the champagne. This wasn't taken at no Grove. And I know I'm not in a CT. Sue me.

You're a virgin who can't drive.

Sometimes it makes me sad to think what a fuck up I am. I challenged my own self to a Cropathon and I can't even be bothered to keep this shit updated? It's pathetic to be too lazy to blog.



This was Friday. It went weird.

I hope not sporadically

Merry merry.

Remember that time when we were at the bar and it was weird and afterhoursy and full of quasicelebs and there was that perfect Todd Oldham/Spike Jonze guy and he asked if it was okay if he put his hands in your panties for a second?

Two things:

1. I updated my flickr and it has some photos from my recentish trip to NY.
Check it out.

2. I just spent 11 precious moments of Homework Time looking at this nonsense. I'm in love.