today we'd like to formally announce our departure for our sabbatical in decatur, illinios.
why not decatur. it's the cornfield capital of the world. we love corn. and fields.
from there, we plan on hopping on the media circuit through the quad cities, ending in in minnetonka, mn. naturally.
we'll be back.
we were never really gone.
f & j
happy Friday all you pyt’s.
if you are down in the dumpster,
listen to the song and let it make
you feel cool. cool like debbie
harry cool. cool like Sofia.
cool like wes’s brain and the
rodarte girls. if you are high
on life, remember a bird could
poop on your head. like it did
us. monday afternoon.
keep it real, keep it calm.
keep it strong and keep it cool.
Something about the structure of these Chloe heels reminds us of a toilet bowl or something bathroom-related. Yet, we would SO wear them. Think denim shorts, messy hair, white flowy shirt, or maybe just white shirtdress. Mmmmmm.....clothes crush daydream annnnd they're on sale!
Why do some songs pull on your heartstrings? Why do some songs resonate in the deepest part of your gut? They ignite flashes of memories in your brain. You remember the first time you fell off your bike. Hit your head (you were wearing a helmet) and scratched up both knees (two giant strawberries). The first time you cried over those sharp pains in your heart (you really loved him, how could you live without him??). Hugs at the visitation (why am I consoling other people? you thought). Blink of the eye lucid images appear. Your mom’s laugh. Your friends at the beach. Your visceral reaction toward tragedy: 9/11, shootings, Katrina, tsunamis, tornadoes, warfare…bursts of color. Red hues. Black smoke. Blue skies.
Maybe you can relate, maybe you can’t.
For us, music has always been profoundly personal, private, shared and deeply loved. It began with a summer of Kurt Cobain fascination (an entire summer of music video watching: Soundgarden, Blind Melon, even Snoop and Dre). Inspired crushes with each verse, notably “She Loves You” by the Beatles per a grade school chorus concert solo. Our heart soared and lept. We might have even wept a little.
We clung to DMB in high school, just like our friends. We wore only clothes from Express. Just like our friends. We secretly adored Ani, unlike most of our friends. We secretly wanted to go to art school, unlike our friends. We wore mostly black for a while, our math teacher (Algebra III, don’t ask) pegging us the “Princess of Darkness.” Rebel phase. We progressed and developed devotional crushes on classic rock. Van Morrison. The Stones. John Hiatt. The Doors. Bonded with Rick Springfield, Joan Jett, Bob Marley, Zeppelin, and Cougar Mellencamp at all our local college bars. Bonded with them more than a few of our college crushes? Definitely. Seeing as this relationship lasted longer than the inevitable 2 am last call.
Now? We breeze through hip-hop, jazz, sultry soul, and mellow indie rockers. Music ignites us, always excites us. And we love, love this song by Oren Lavie. It’s a LOT Badly Drawn Boy. A little Postal Service. A little Nick Drake. A little Hellogoodbye. A little John Mayer-ish with deeper, more poetic lyrics. It’s a resonator and definite stimulator. Lovestring-tugger and heartfelt melodic dreamweaver.
website love & lust
"I hate children, charity is boring, I hate to be touched"
oh, lord. what kind of person....what kind of robot....what kind of alien is mister lagerfeld? hahahahaha.
website love & lust
"they suggested the manic weariness in their promise, capturing the moment whent the sheen wears off and your newfound gift becomes something more closely resembling a burden."**
**we are obsessed with this quote, and the forever enjoyable d. sedaris. what a gem.
"let us be grateful to people who make us happy. they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."
*f & j
Solange - I Decided Music Video
*Could be our Summer Song.
*Is our favorite new video.
*Is our favorite song right now.
*Not overly catchy, just subtly and quietly catchy= we won't get sick of it.
*We predict a nice, long summer shelf life.
*And are currently trying to learn Solange's moves in the vid. Retrosexy, vintage vixen!
life is much too short to
sit and wonder
who's gonna make the next move
and will slowly pull you under
when you've always got something
to prove? i don't want to wait
a lifetime; yours or mine,
yours or mine.
*f & j
Get used to Duffy. She's gonna be here to stay, y'all. She's so Bridge Bardot. So old school Motown. And get this, "Mercy" is all about sexual liberty, which is such an excellent way to channel our ahem, current stage in life. Soul candy sex music. We dig.
"So in the end, was it worth it? Jesus Christ. How irreparably changed my life has become. It's always the last days of summer and I've been left out in the cold with no door to get back in. I'll grant you I've had more than my share of poignant moments. Life passes most people by when they're busy making grand plans for it. Throughout my lifetime I've left pieces of my heart here and there. And now, there's almost barely enough to stay alive. But I force a smile, knowing that my ambition far exceeded my talent. There are no more white horses or pretty ladies at my door."
A broken heart?
In high school, it meant girls-only dance parties. Reassurance from our best friend, in our bathroom. As we bawled on the floor. Tears and music. Music and tears. Quieter times. Heartachey times. But it was one month at most, and any traces of pain disappeared as quickly as we changed classes. It wasn't love. But it was vulnerable, it was risky, and it was very public. And we were very private, private as ever- about relationships.
In college, it meant girls-only sleepovers. Support, hugs, and promises that we would do better. Find better. Deserved better. Late nights of drinking, dancing, and silliness to boost spirits. Encouragement to flirt. Long talks. Long walks. Tears and beers. Beers and tears. Emotional roller coaster riding together. Our friends on board, one ex-boyfriend not. An abundance of support. One empty aching heart. It wasn't love. But it was the biggest cut yet. You grow up after that. You learn how to make sure you're watching out for yourself. And then you gain your vulnerability, and your heart back...slowly...and with one false step after the next, 'til you gain your head back too.
And then you lose it again. You realize there's something better out there, something closer to the real you. And you fall, and you fall, and you fall out of touch with reality. You let yourself get swept away. It's better than anything you've ever felt before. And when it starts breaking down, it's worse than anything you're ever felt before. We get older, and it ALL gets harder. It just does. You're intertwined. You're connected. You're close enough to predict thoughts and what that person will say next. And so add that all up and you're broken. Your heart burns and aches and feels so lonely with emptiness. You're done smiling for a while. You seem more serious, you are more serious. You're sad enough to cry once a day and your stomach feels like it's rejecting you, or anything that might come it's way. You're a walking, bleeding cut trying to keep up with appearances, by bandaging up the outsides. You wonder how this sort of heartbreak ends. And for the first time you don't know if it will. And you haven't the faintest idea how, or where to begin.
The first cut is not the deepest.
Stinkbomb in Seattle said:
I work a corp. job, and I sit in a quad of cubicles with only men. 3 against 1 is something I hear more as an adult then I did when I was 10 (and trust me that is a lot). Anyway, the question is regarding farts and lots of them! Some or all of them fart all day long and every single time I say “Eeewwwwweee who farted!” and every single time they all act like they:
1) can't smell it and
2) that it wasn't them ("I can smell it, but it wasn't me!")
What should I do? Please don't suggest that I start letting them rip because I won't do that!
-Stinkbomb in Seattle
My first instinct was to say 1) whoopee cushions 2) nose plugs or 3) bean burritos every day, for a week. But alas, I shall respect your reluctance to be the Pepe le Pew girl.
Instead, what I suggest doing is bringing in all the scents, room fresheners, candles, home fragrances, and perfumes you can find- and turn your cubicle into a veritable Bath & Body Works. It will a) ward them off for fear of becoming ensconced with a perma-Country Apple or Sun-Ripened Raspberry scent b) ward off the stinky c) embolden you to follow all your other pursuits; be it lunchtime wine chugging, beer bottle and whiskey guzzling or good ‘ol fashioned desktop dancin’ and shake your ass puzzling.
However: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
and we are ready for it. play this song and picture yourself in your summer dress, big floppy hat and sunglasses and nice tall glass of vodka lemonade. or whatever your dream summer vision of yourself may be!
We don’t wanna play by the rules.
We want a pet bear that duals
As a keyboardist, guitarist,
And non-judgemental friend.
He will sit and drink with us,
Tell tall tales and pretend.
We might smoke a joint together,
Or perhaps do a fun drug.
We will listen to music together
Knit mittens, cut a rug.
We will be the best of friends,
Us and the bear.
He will give us a five with his paw,
And the best bear hug anywhere.
Sometimes I feel like it's Funky Friday but then I realize it's Monday or even Wednesday mid-afternoon. What do I do about the fact that I don't like my job, miss my friends and eat shit like it's good for me and isn't actually accumulating on my hips?
Dear Anonymous Annie,
I thought it over really long and hard for a second and I think I’ve solved it. Samantha, I really think you should stop eating shit. I truly believe you will make more friends if you stop your repulsive behavior. Your breath must smell horrendous. Miranda, your shit does in fact stink. Because other than that, you sound really exciting!!! You have great enthusiasm (i.e. “Funky Friday”). Another question for you, Marlena. You signed off as “Anonymous” which led me to wonder something….do your friends even know that you miss them? You have to stop calling them and hanging up! That’s creepy and so 90’s “Scream” the movie. Furthermore stop calling them and being like “Hey Lulu, it’s Virginia, how are you?” just because you want to remain “Anonymous.” Lulu has no idea who the eff Virginia is, and I just really think it’s time for you to reveal yourself, Jessica. Also, quit the job. If you don’t like it, don’t let that be the one thing dictating your life. Or your overall happiness.
OBSESSED with this song right now.
Seriously. We could cry a little each time we hear it? Is that normal? What is normal??? We also cried yesterday because a) we were finishing our most recent book and b) one of the characters fucking died in it! Life and literary surprises are just not fair sometimes!
Q of D from Jennifer Weiner's latest:
"Everyone has sorrow. Everyone has obligations. Everyone keeps going. You lean on the people who love you. You do the best you can, and you keep going."
which definitely reminds us of a certain Disney fellow, but we love it nonetheless.
cry a little if you need to, but not too much,
This is a talk show, so play Oprah and show us the way.When we meet new people or encounter friends of yesteryear, we frequently freeze up, pause and blurt out non sequiturs that ensure all parties feel awkwardly ill at ease and cause unnecessary forehead sweat. Recently upon seeing an old friend with his newish gf, within the first five minutes of convo and while they were in the midst of rattling off a story we were clearly on the outside of, we near-shouted in a boozy voice, 'do you two live together?!' They didn't, looked at each other awkwardly then shifted their eyes uneasily away, and in the silence we hiccupped and dropped our purse. In the future, how can we avoid this behavior?
dear awkward alice,
i found it no stretch of the imagination or fair coincidence that your pen name abbreviates to "AA" and that you described yourself both as "boozy" and "hiccupping" during said conversation. alice, you are obviously a sex addict.
what you need to do from here, is take a step back and consult http://www.a-jokes.com/sex.htm. so that the next time you see the couple, instead of getting intoxicatingly flustered and muttering something strange and awkward- mutter something RIDICULOUSLY strange and awkward* and ensure that the thing you initially said seems so much more miniscule in proportion, that the couple forgets about how weird it was altogether. then, go home and get some ass.
*this i just one possible example: A man is in a hotel lobby. He wants to ask the clerk a question. As he turns to go to the front desk, he accidentally bumps into a woman beside him and as he does, his elbow goes into her breast. They are both startled and he says, "Ma'am, if your heart is as soft as your breast, I know you'll forgive me." She replies, "If your penis is as hard as your elbow, I'm in room 1221."
dear awkward alice,
i'm glad you asked. first, let me tell you a few things about myself. i am fran, queen of advice giving. yet i am neither futuristically gifted from above, nor presently gifted with making decisions below.
actually, quite the opposite.
i am queen of messy breakups that seemingly never end. queen of bumping cars and overindulging in bars. queen of nothing that is ever certain, in fact- i truly believe that the more you live, the less you know.
but with that being said let me tell you another thing. i make my decisions like the breeze hits the wind. she finds it, they float by, and they never rethink it again. because at the end of the day, you just gotta do what floats your boat and not give a rat, sheep, or goat's ass what frank, sally, larry, or jerry has to say about it.
so ultimately i say, go out drinking all night long. go to mexico for a week, with a guy named john. that you just met on a plane, coming back from atlanta. where you stayed with your boyfriend who sucks and drinks fanta. elope to vegas. go to jail once or twice. eat cupcakes after sex. try to find a pot of gold. when that doesn't work, come visit me and do what you're told.
insert a dollar here, i'll give you my two cents.
Bowler Hat art party. Chicago. We whiskied 'round the room, taking in the pretty pieces and the strange artists and the fabulosity DJ duo and even donned a bowler hat for the occasion.
We chatted up Mr. Bizarro in the top pic with our sista and marveled at the different sorts that perused the party rounds in this here town. Us in flip-flops and rained-on hair, them in sparkly gowns and black ties.
What a night, what a town. We think we'll always feel more comfortable with movie nights and good friends, but what the hey. It's good to test your comfort zone, eh, moonpies?
Why do we heart baking soda, you ask?
Or maybe you really thinking, how do I get my
grubby little hands on one of those delicious
looking cupcake cones? Well, for starters, you can't .
It's just a picture, numskull. But you could try to
make them. Using baking soda and other stuff.
But look what else baking soda can do before
you start making huge chocolatey confectionary
confections and gobbling them down like the greedy
little goblin hobbit you are.
BAKING SODA CAN! (do all these things):
*In your dishwasher it deodorizes and cleans inside.
*As a paste it cleans smudges on wall paper and shines porcelain, jewelry and coins.
*On bee stings it lessons the pain and it’s an emollient for softer, smoother skin.
*For pets use 2 tablespoons in bathwater as shampoo. In cold weather use in powder form as a dry shampoo. Either way it adds softness and luster to their coat. Sprinkle it on carpeting to remove pet odors too.
*Make a paste to clean silver, add lemon juice to clean copper pots.
*Put it in water to make an antacid for indigestion.
*Its deodorizing ability in powder form is also legendary for your car and in smelly sneakers.
*Got a clogged drain? Mix one cup of baking soda with a cup of salt and a cup of vinegar; pour it in your drain *followed by boiling water.
*Three-parts baking soda in one-part water foams away acid build up on battery terminals.
*Trouble getting on rubber gloves? Just sprinkle in some baking soda and they’ll slip right on.
we love it when you call us big papa.
throw your hands in the air
like you a straight deer (de-ahh).
get down and dance tonight.
it's friday night, alright alright.
something's bought to change.
everything is happenin'.
grap your crew and brew
and get things crackle acklin'.
This is a talk show, so play Oprah and show us the way.
When we meet new people or encounter friends of yesteryear, we frequently freeze up, pause and blurt out non sequiturs that ensure all parties feel awkwardly ill at ease and cause unnecessary forehead sweat. Recently upon seeing an old friend with his newish gf, within the first five minutes of convo and while they were in the midst of rattling off a story we were clearly on the outside of, we near-shouted in a boozy voice, 'do you two live together?!' They didn't, looked at each other awkwardly then shifted their eyes uneasily away, and in the silence we hiccupped and dropped our purse.
In the future, how can we avoid this behavior?
Kisses and Champy,
"Maybe that’s what they should be selling in the
fairytales. That we all have the capacity to fall
in love over and over again. That’s much more
a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down*
thanks jude for your charismatic wizardry.
*by sugar we mean whiskey and beer
life is not a dress rehearsal.
life is not a dress rehearsal.
LIFE IS NOT A DRESS REHEARSAL.
we just figured this out. it took us 24 years, but
this is fuckin' it, man. oh, and we realized this too,
recently. we realized that we don't know much, but
we know this much is true: all you need to be happy
is champagne flowers cupcakes dresses sex girl-
friends puppies and good hair.
champagne is the new black,
Get your panties bunched up over The Hard Lessons. They were recently written up, in an article entitled "Vampire Who?" Hehe. If you're mad happy sappy boring blank or fucked up this music will still sound like...fun dance goldness. Seeing them live was like seeing sight for the first time we viewed it. It was literally like hearing the taste of the scent of a sight for the very first time we felt it. We were definitely bunched. Detroit Rock City muthafucka!