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fun-times urban cookie collective

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(no subject) [Oct. 22nd, 2012|02:59 pm]
fun-times urban cookie collective
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[Current Location |US, Louisiana, New Orleans, Orleans, Camp St, 357]

I am in a marble-sheathed hotel room in New Orleans. I am not sure exactly what étouffée is, but I'm pretty sure I just made it in the commode.

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(no subject) [Oct. 25th, 2006|09:35 pm]
fun-times urban cookie collective



These things are good:
lacquered foie gras torchons, Possum and Sebastian,
Martin Margiela calf boots,
listening to bisexual progressive house music on full volume in an Audi,
and the sun shining on my face.

These things are a drag:
getting poked with needles by sadistic nurses,
treadmills, bad champagne,
people who suck and need to be lit on fire,
and the sun, shining on my face.



Site Meter


T_T
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(no subject) [May. 26th, 2006|02:43 pm]
fun-times urban cookie collective


Ciao.
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(no subject) [May. 17th, 2006|06:05 pm]
fun-times urban cookie collective
Kill me now. Because I have been languishing alone in my office at work for the last 2 hours with nothing to do and have limited contact with the outside world and have Madonna blasting on my iPod, I just did an image search of my first name and was pleased with the resultsCollapse ).

I guess a lot of people with my first name are dead. I'll be in New York again this weekend. Are you ready to jump ?

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(no subject) [May. 11th, 2006|11:49 am]
fun-times urban cookie collective
I just ate a massive chicken/egg salad from the cafeteria here at work. And when I say massive, I mean massive.
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(no subject) [Feb. 28th, 2006|09:16 pm]
fun-times urban cookie collective
I'm so glad that Sandra Lee is in my life. Thanks to her, the pressure is now off me to look and behave my best when entertaining, leaving it to my tablescapes to dazzle and intrigue partigoers.


My deskscape this evening features two CD's: The White Room by the KLF and FabricLive.09 by Jacques Lu Cont. Also pictured are a purple Sharpie pen, a pair of vintage Matsuda frames, Franz Kafka's Sämtliche Erzählungen, and a little plastic doggie gifted to me by mikeymoz. Tattered scraps of unfiled hotel and package store receipts and aborted thank you, dear john, and suicide notes provide background interest and volume. Not pictured are several individually wrapped Chinese prune-flavoured laxacandies and a dried splat of sour cream from two days ago.
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