MUSIC: Fall!

So I haven't posted in quite some time due to some extenuating circumstances, namely the asshole who screwed me over and made me almost homeless. But that's all over, and my ladies and I have great plans of making him pay...

Anyway, the weather is getting cooler and Summer is so over...womp womp, that sucks. The end of the summer is always (in the past couple of years) marked by the last party at McCarren Pool. Incidentally, that was my first blog post last year. This year was not nearly as magical: it rained, the headliners weren't exactly awesome. But I went mainly for Kid Sister, a.k.a. my music girl crush. She laid down her hits and shook her booty in some shorty short overalls. It was all I wanted to see and a little bit more. Those who were there might know what I mean...Santo Gold did an awesome turn, which revved me up for her performance earlier this week. Spank Rock also made a brief appearance, with Amanda Blank backing him up on the classic? nostalgic? Bump.

I finally made it backstage, which was a leaky tent propped up between some Port o' Potties and trailers. The best part was the free potato chips and getting out of the rain...

In between then and now some stuff happened, stuff I should have blogged about if I wasn't all down in the dumps. Can I remember it all? No. Will I try? No. It's old news. But the Pussy Party is pretty notable, only because it happens every month now and occasionally brings in some great DJs I want to see. My girls and I all attended the first Pussy Party, hosted by Roxy Cottontail and featuring Scottie B and Nick Catchdubs of Fool's Gold. And there were some others, but that's who I came to see. That was a long ass time ago but what I do remember was the usual suspects and good music marred by elbows in my back, tiny glasses of mixed drinks and a smoke machine.

Otherwise, the parties this summer were pretty unmemorable. It's time for an awesome Fall, time for some good shows. And it's time for people to stop playing like leggings and ribbed tights are pants. I am so tired of seeing everyone's crotches all over Williamsburg. So it's getting colder, everyone put your jeans on and we can all party together without all your vag hanging out. Brooklyn is not an American Apparel ad. Smell ya' later!

MEDIA: Degradation of Women in the Media or...The Search for New Pussy

Despite the broad strides women have made in the past decades, in terms of occupation, education, and just plain darn respect, ladies are still pigeonholed. Women are either Virgins or Whores; Mary, Mother of Jesus or Mary Magdalene, Prostitute; Hillary or Monica.

If I were to buy in to this conundrum, I'd have to say that the Pussycat Dolls are whores...Fabulous dancing ones at that! I cannot stop watching "The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll" in the way that people naturally slow down to watch a car crash. Within a few episodes, Pussycat Dolls founder Robin Antin helped the contestants build their confidence by having them dance in lingerie in a glass box. There are two stripper poles on either side of the cage in all performances. The girls outfits almost always consist of a "dress" that I am convinced is really a long top with matching panties. One of the girls, who admittedly cannot sing at all, was kept of the show for weeks because she can kick her leg over her head effortlessly, presenting portions of the female body that I have never even seen on myself! (Might I add, this high kick is perfectly illustrated to the right...)

"where the sun don't shine" High Kick

by Miss Sarah Hoy

Why is it that a reality show in which women (girls of 18-19 really) repeatedly make fools of themselves so entertaining? Watching girls cry, fight and sing off-key is not only hilarious, but engaging enough to waste one hour of my week on. And while I love America's Next Top Model, it is also another prime example of what happens when 9 or so girls are stuffed together in a house. There is always a bitch, a peacemaker, a naive girl from the country, sassy black girl...There is such a thing as creative editing in all reality shows, but why is it so easy for women to fall into the roles pre-determined for us, not just on TV but in life?
I don't think there are any easy answers to these questions, and as a self-professed "sassy black girl" myself, maybe the clue is that we do this to ourselves. And who can we blame when it inevitably makes for great TV? Some of my obviously more mature friends tell me that they switch the channel immediately after Top Model and I wish I could do the same. From the moment I saw glitter, high kicks and feather boas married with such phrases as "She's got that Las Vegas white trash appeal I love" I was hooked. Thank goodness there's only going to be one season...

By the way, let me introduce my brand-spankin new featured illustrator, Miss Sarah Hoy. Her quirky little drawings capture a childlike spirit, maybe because she spends all day working on children's books as a graphic designer. Sarah's preferred medium is hilighters and ballpoint pens on Post-It Notes.