我識聽廣東話，請你冇在我面前講呢個野好唔好？

So I have come to a predicament with college. Why do I bother journal anymore? My life is actually pretty boring.

The thing is that I feel like if I stop I’ll miss something. I have been journaling everyday since February 2007.

Right now, most of my journal entries for the last two months have been written on my computer. I feel like all I write about is how my day was. I have to wonder why I’m really journaling then.

I’ve been journaling all my life practically. Well ever since I was in kindergarten at least. I guess I’m a natural born writer. Good thing I’m going into English.

A Sunday school teacher I had (and kinda still have) got us girls started with journaling in February 2007. Ok, so she got me journaling. The other girls weren’t really into it, but I was. We are writing our stories. Someday I hope to share my story with the world, or maybe with my future family. With my husband and kids. It’s something for them to look at and see how I lived my life when I was my future kids’ age. It’s something for me to look back on and see how far I’ve come.

That’s why I journal. That and it’s a good exercise for writing. And I can get out my true feelings. I wrote many papers in college writing this past semester about all this journaling.

Let this blog be a reminder to me for why I journal in the first place. Even when I feel like quitting, I need to continue writing down my story. But you know, you’re not really writing your own story because God already has it planned out. You’re just writing it down to keep it as history and to be able to remember it. That’s how I like to think of it.

You know how there’s always the special sale prices for Christmas stuff after Christmas is over? Well I’ve got a different one for you.

Take this. After Christmas snow special. That’s what it seems to be anyways. Tonight (as in Saturday night) I was in Kalamazoo, which is an hour away from my town. We were visiting my dad’s side of the family. It didn’t start snowing until we got there. Then it snowed the rest of the night, which meant by eight o’clock that we should probably start heading home.

The roads were nasty. I’m thankful that I don’t live where there is lake effect snow. Instead, we just had to drive through it to our house. I saw a lot of cops on the road with lights on tonight. I’m guessing there were probably a lot of accidents tonight due to the roads and careless driving. I hate driving in snow. Good thing my dad was driving.

Needless to say, we got home safely. But I’m sitting here wondering why we’re getting the snow now. The song goes, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” but Christmas is over. Darn you Michigan. You have screwed up the weather once again. We had a somewhat white Christmas, but it didn’t really snow. It rained instead.

I think I’ll move somewhere warm when I graduate college.

True statement? I think so. Unless of course you have really crappy friends to begin with, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about.

I like to play the piano. I don’t like when people tell me how to play the piano. I don’t like when people tell me to play the piano quieter. Do you know why I don’t always play the piano quietly? Could it have something to do with the fact that I want to tune out my brother’s music? Hm, maybe. When I’m at home, I have to live with my brother’s guitar playing and singing. Oh Bradley, play some Christmas music with Uncle Mike for grandma. Of course, why don’t you play some music for her since she thinks so fondly of your music?

The thing I hate about the piano is that anyone can go up and bang on it while you’re playing it. Whereas with a guitar, you can’t do that. You could take some scissors up to it. Some days I just want to do that. Just to shut him up.

So of course on Christmas Eve, I was playing, trying to tune out my brother in the other room, and all these people are everywhere around me because the appetizers are next to the piano. I hear one uncle say that he can’t hear, so my dad comes up and asks if I can play any more quieter. I told him not with the song I was playing, and then he asks if I can go get my keyboard then. So I stopped playing, and went upstairs. I locked myself in the room, and refused to come out not that anyone noticed. Then I turned on my music as loud as I could get it to tune the outside sounds out, and tried to hold back the tears.

Someone must have noticed that I wasn’t downstairs though because I heard a knock at my door. It was my best friend Becky. I turned down the music and let her in. She understood how upset I was particularly when we could hear one of my uncles playing just as loudly if not louder downstairs on the piano with my brother playing and everyone singing.

She made me feel a lot better about myself. At least I’m not the screw up or something like that she said. Bradley is only popular because this is what his talent is now. At least you’ve had the talent all throughout high school.

You know when it comes to my family, I find that I have a lot of repressed anger. I know I’m going to regret saying this, but sometimes I feel like they don’t care about me. They all want to hear Bradley play. Even my grandma feels that way. She says she’s proud of me for what I do academically, but what about musically? Is it just because I’ve shown academic talent all throughout my schooling? Don’t they realize that music is just as important to me? That playing piano is one of the things I wish people would listen to me play more of? But no, at every family gathering, it’s always Brad, Brad, and more Brad.

Even tonight at my dad’s family, they had him playing guitar. I walked into the other room. One of my cousins said she knew how I felt having to listen to her brother play guitar all the time too. It’s really annoying. Then hearing my dad say that I should have brought my keyboard. Don’t throw that crap at me. As if anyone wants to hear me play honestly. Isn’t it obvious that I suck? Isn’t that why no one ever wants me to play at family gatherings?

Is this what nine years of piano lessons has got me? Is this where 10 years of playing has led me? No! Because I’m a great pianist. I know it. I hear it from plenty of people who are not my family obviously. I hear it at school. I hear it at church. I know I’m a great pianist. I just wish my family could see that and appreciate it.

This blog is going out of hand from where it was supposed to go. I mean this is a random rant, but it’s not supposed to go this far into my anger and stuff. Becky made me feel so much better about myself. She even made me open my present. Take it from me, friends like Becky really help you cut through the crap. And sometimes friends make up for your family. Well, I probably shouldn’t say it that way. I think friends are there for you when your family can’t be.

Thanks Becky for being such a great friend all these years!

The last couple of years have not really been so traditional in my family. We started the new tradition of having Christmas at my house. Then they got rid of the name exchange gift thing that we used to do. If it matters, I’m glad they got rid of it now, so that out of high school I don’t have to deal with getting one of my relatives something. I’m so bad with buying gifts. Here have my psychology textbook. Haha.

This year was the least traditional. I went to church like I did last year, and I didn’t think the house would be so bare when I got home, but it was. It was really weird. A lot of my older, older cousins didn’t really show up, which was a bummer. And of course, my cousin who had a baby in February didn’t show up. Where’s the baby? We were hoping we would get to see her at Christmas time. That didn’t happen.

When I got home, presents (or more like cards for us older people) were kinda spread out and passed out already. I had to eat dinner. I forgot that now that I’m an old person out of high school that I don’t get presents anymore. That’s really depressing. There are only four kids in the family that actually get real presents now. That would be my 16 year old brother and my under 10 year old cousins. My cousins got a Wii from my Aunt Theresa, and they nearly flipped out. They weren’t expecting that. That is for sure. Other than that Christmas Eve was kinda boring.

My parents said we were going to sleep in on Christmas Day until noon, and we did for the most part considering my parents had to get us up, but they got us up at like eleven. That’s not noon. Christmas Day was kinda boring too. My brother and I got some clothes, an Ipod touch, and Wii Resort (the “family’s gift”). The rest of the day as it always is was spent doing nothing, but hanging out around the house all day. I did play Wii Resort with my dad. We went biking, which was fun to play against each other. We did go and watch the sixth Harry Potter at a friend’s house, but other than that the day was pretty chill.

And I’m sorry I didn’t say this yesterday or on Christmas Eve. My mind was a bit frazzled or has been. I even forgot my friend’s birthday on Thursday. That made me feel really bad. But I’m saying it now. And I figure, it’s the 12 days of Christmas going on now anyways right? So here I go. Merry Christmas!!!

Well, I did it again. I spilled wax on myself. How come it didn’t happen last weekend at my aunt’s Christmas thing at her church? How is it that it only happens at my church? What’s wrong with me?

I spilled wax on me at my second Christmas Eve service at my church. It’s not their second, but it is mine because I used to go to the midnight mass (ugh) at the Catholic church (double ugh).

Our Christmas Eve service is a candlelight service, but we don’t light the candles until the end of the service, and somehow I have managed two years in a row to spill wax and burn myself. I just don’t get it.

The wax does dry really fast, but it really stings and burns when it first hits your skin. It happened this time and when I moved my hand, it was like the wax had already dried, and was really crumbly. It’s so weird.

And that’s just another random rant.

Last weekend, I got invited to go a movie night the teens were having. The thing is that I’m not in youth group anymore. The invite was to any teen though, so in church that day I asked if even college students could come. Their reply? Well you’re still a teen, so you’re invited.

Around this time next year though I will no longer be a teen because I will be 20 years old. Wow, I don’t like how that sounds. It feels weird being 19 in the first place. I still feel like I’m only 18. Last Sunday I looked at my friend sitting next to me up on stage (I was getting ready to play offertory after announcements) and she knew exactly what I was thinking and knew why I had asked the question to begin with. She said, “Oh that’s right, you’re 19!” Yeah it does suck.

Nevertheless, I did go to that party. I miss being in youth group and going to those parties, but even if I was still in youth group, none of my friends that I graduated with would be there, so I’d be kinda old and who wants to be the oldest in youth group out of high school anyways? I was the oldest person in youth group last year by a month and 12 days. That was pretty cool, but still, I wouldn’t want to be the oldest one in youth group and being in college at the same time. It’s better this way I know.

We didn’t watch a movie. Instead we played Apples to Apples for an hour and a half. That was really fun. Like I said I miss those kinds of parties. I wish that the teens in the group could see what I see. I wish they could realize that they may be teens today, but maybe not tomorrow. That’s how it is for me. I’m still a teen today, but tomorrow or more like November 12, 2010, I will no longer be a teen. My RA feels the pain I’m sure. Her Birthday was a few weeks ago and she was freaking out that she wasn’t going to be a teen much longer.

Change is indeed inevitable. It happens whether we like it or not. As much as it hurts to say, it’s better that change does happen because if it didn’t, we would be the same people everyday and that would get really boring.

(Morning)

Mindy’s parents and sister were visiting Longbeach, WA during the holidays so Mindy and I decided to make a little Christmas Eve trip over.  Mindy got off a little later than expected from work so we made the three hour trip and finally arrived at 8:45.  Eric, who cares……why are you telling us…this is a cooking blog!!!   Calm down voice in my head, I wasn’t about to show up on Christmas Eve without a little food. While Mindy was at work I was busy prepping a few things to make the trip over.

Pesto Vinaigrette Roma Tomato Salad

Hummus

Cucina Fresca Gluten Free Penne with Puttanesca Sauce…..that one was easy!

New England Purple Potato Clam Chowdahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

20 lb. Smoked Ham….can you say leftovers!

Eggnog Brulee…Cannot stop making creme brulee!

The other day I went to Cash and Carry and purchased a few quart containers and I have to say that those things are the best food related items I have purchased in a long time.  It made getting all this stuff ready at home and moving it over so much easier.

The hummus was made a couple days earlier so that was just a bonus. I had a bunch of tomatoes hanging around so I threw those in the box to take over with the purpose of making a salad out of them. I knew Mindy’s dad loved clam chowder so I wanted to make that to see what kind of reaction I would get from him.  Cucina Fresca sent me the sauce and pasta to try out so I wanted to make it and see what the family thought.  The ham is part of a Christmas bonus that Mindy gets every year from her boss…..best….gift……ever!!!  The eggnog brulee is something is an idea I have been tossing around for a while but I haven’t had the chance to cook it for anyone.

(Night)

At the house I cranked up the stove and did the base for the eggnog brulee then cooled it down once it was finished. While that was going on I was building the clam chowder.  I finished it about 85% of the way placing all the ingredients together with the exception of the clams and cream. There is nothing worse than overcooked clams…..rubbery…..bleh.  So two separate containers……..clam chowder sans clams and cream.

I packed up the cooler and was just about ready to go when Mindy got home so like I said we made the drive over.  I walked through the door of Mindy’s parent’s timeshare and in about 40 minutes we were eating.  The funniest thing is that when I walked in the door I said hi then went directly to dumping out containers into pots and glass bowls and just completely dominating that tiny kitchen….it was awesome.   Mindy’s dad walked up to me and said, “is this for tomorrow?”.  I laughed and said, “no, this is for tonight….I hope you’re hungry!”.

(Sunrise)

I know, at this point you’re probably thinking……..Eric, you’re crazy….that’s insane……what?!?!?!?!  My answer, food is ready….go eat.   That seems to take care of all the comments, critiques, and wondering if I ever stop cooking (the answer is no).

Like I said, this was in a timeshare and I wasn’t sure what pots, presentation pieces, or what exactly was there for me to use.  I brought a few things with me but I was short a bowl and a few serving spoons.   You know what, nobody cares except for me…..it was family.  I’m pretty sure if I would have brought frozen pizza they would have been happy but that’s not how I roll.  As much as I can or nothing at all……..I haven’t showed up with nothing yet!

It’s not pretty and it’s totally buffet style, which I hate, but it worked just fine.  Put it on a plate and it all makes sense!

Comforting, warm, and simple.  None of that other crazy garbage applies. It’s just a family meal and it all makes sense when the plating, pictures, posting, and recipes go away………they smile……they like it……it’s the best feeling out there.

But wait, there’s more!!!

I think I will always have a special place in my heart for creme brulee.  I don’t know what it is exactly but I can honestly say that in the past 6 weeks I have spent more time making creme brulee’s than I have hanging out with my wife.  I think about her a lot when I cook and I always want her to try the things that I make because it’s my way of letting her experience all the stuff I’m working on.  I know that’s cheesy but I don’t think there is a picture, email, letter, or present that can express the way I feel better than making her some food.  When I get a chance to cook for people and she’s around I really feel like it’s the only time I get to shine.

(golden color…..brown is good…..black is burned!!)

At work, I follow…..at school, I follow….around family and friends I get to show them what I’m working on and where I have been since the last time we spent time together.  My writing sucks, my photos are ok, my plating needs some serious work, but the flavors I bring to the table are serious, intense, and exciting….they tell a story.  Not perfect, but going somewhere.   All I want to do is tell you a story through my food. It’s crazy, exciting, intense, plain, simple, extravagant, luxurious, weird, and just about anything else you want to through words at but one thing I promise to bring to it all is energy.

This is what I’m good at…I’m trying to make it great. There is a long way to go.

(End of Doogie Howser M.D. diary)

Eric

(Let’s go home)

Recipes coming soon!

Let me be clear about something. I am a Singaporean. I was born here and so were my parents. I’m blessed to be in a country where I see people of different color and culture everyday. It has taught me to be tolerant of others in this diverse society. Most of my friends have been people of other races. Chinese, Malays, Eurasians and proud to say I had no problems befriending a Burmese and a Ghanaian. But I am not proud to be a Singaporean.

These days I’m wondering where did we go wrong. Why does racism still exist in a country that prides itself on multiculturalism? Why are we so stereotypical of each other? Why can we not accept our guests with open arms? Do people even know that racism exists in modern Singapore? (If you do, do you have the guts to admit and confront it?)

These days people don’t look up dictionaries for definitions. What is racism to me may not be to you. It’s a complex subject that cannot be traced to one cause. Reasons for racist behavior are plenty. So I’m not going to act like I’ve come to a conclusion at the end but I will write whatever comes to mind in the hopes of raising awareness of a very real situation that’s plagued me since childhood. No holds barred.

Racism by my definition is any action, verbal or non-verbal, that ultimately discriminates against people based on their race or culture.

Ethnocentrism

That’s one of the many things about Singaporean culture that bug me. When you see it happening more than once, it sickens you enough to believe that such a problem exists. And why wouldn’t such a problem exist? If you’re part of the majority, are you honestly gonna believe that any minority is better than you?

Ethnocentrism is just one aspect of racism. Not everyone is guilty of it, I know. I have made many friends who are part of the majority and didn’t once think of me or my ‘kind’ as an inferior group. But I have been observing this aspect of racism with a certain ‘friend’ who finds it all too easy to spew such naive nonsense.

Racial Stereotypes

This is the most common type of racism in Singapore. The confusing part is it’s almost a part of our daily lives here. It’s casual in its use. It can be used to form a joke or to reason with others.

Stereotyping in Singapore isn’t a crime. If you’re Singaporean you’re sure to have done it once in your life. Heck, even famous comedians have built their reputation based on such material. But where is the line drawn? What happens when stereotypes are used to judge people? Your daughter can’t marry a Malay because they’re uneducated and poor. Your sister can’t date an Indian because he’ll come home drunk and beat her up.

I’m guilty as any other Singaporean of stereotyping, I even start the stereotyping many times. But I do it for humor, to break the ice, to show someone else that I am not as serious I look. And I still do it. Why not? If it breaks tension and helps bring people closer together there’s nothing wrong with it. But I get uneasy when someone tells me they won’t date people of a different race. And I know there are many Singaporeans who are afraid of dating someone from a particular race thanks to racial stereotypes.

The day racial stereotypes ran your life, your IQ went down the toilet. “I prefer white guys cause Asians are too shy and boring”. Really? You’re dating to find the perfect race or to find the perfect companion? And that is one line I’m getting sick of. Here’s my own stereotype, “I won’t date a Singaporean girl cause they’re stupid and boring”.

Ask yourself this, if you had kids… would you drill them from young to trust a snake over an Indian? Or to stay away from Malay boys because they’ll get your daughter pregnant early? If I had kids do I teach them to hate the Chinese after all the bad experiences I have faced?

In my opinion, many Singaporeans are led to believe that we live in a society that is united and equal. Led to believe. Truth is we are only tolerant of each other. We’re drilled from young to believe that our society is a unique mix of cultures that we are privileged to experience. Years of living with the “three main races” has left us content with this experience. We know others exist so we don’t have to find out more than what we already know. Then when someone new comes along…

Xenophobia

This is my favorite word at the moment. This is the current trend in Singaporean culture. If you aren’t ‘Singaporean’, you deserve verbal abuse (The Chinese and Indians came here in boats so who exactly is a Singaporean?). Chinese, Indians, Filipinos and any Caucasian are victims of the ugly nature of Singaporeans.

Singaporeans cannot stand that these foreigners are “stealing their jobs”… and “stealing their women”. These foreigners… The same foreigners who were the butt of jokes because they lacked an education but took the risk to make a living in a foreign land by taking up jobs WE thought was too low for us.

These foreigners have been here for a long time. There’s just more now than before. But the media is reporting many stories on Singaporeans’ discomfort at being surrounded by so many new faces and races. When at one time Singaporeans would openly ridicule the construction workers and bully maids, now Singaporeans are going to the papers to complain about the newer foreign population.

The media reports on this every other day so I don’t want to bother too much on this. I hope that this xenophobia issue will pass in time but Singaporeans need to be more accepting of their guests. If they aren’t comfortable with the actions and behavior of the guests then teach them to adapt to OUR way of life.

Unfortunately, racism on a whole is an issue that has existed and will continue to exist in Singapore. It will exist so long as today’s society doesn’t change it’s mentality. If the “three main races” can co-exist without unnecessary and mindless stereotyping, perhaps issues of xenophobia need not exist.

But something tells me there’s no use being hopeful. Racism here, in Singapore, is a problem that goes far deeper than what I’ve mentioned in this post. Racism is a complex problem. I fear Singaporeans may have created an ugly and nasty culture that may be hard to get rid of. This is just one of the many reasons I’m not proud to be associated with Singaporeans.

yup. just like the airens. (:

Hello world!

Christmas is over D:

isnt that sad.. now we have nothing to look forward to except the new year, and with that, a new birthday, and with that, a plus one to our age, and with that, comes the question ‘OMG WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST 54625625481 YEARS OF MY LIFE?’ to which there will be no logical or reasonable answer.

again, happy boxing day, people!

Before I leave you here are some pics a friend send me….(don’t I club the unlikeliest things?)
Aren’t they simply the ugliest cakes you have ever seen…I wonder who ate them!!!

My camera is awesome…..left the shutter open for 15 seconds and boom…..Longbeach, Washington comes to life at night.

Lots of recipes and stories coming as well as a bit of new things for the new year!

Must sleep, I work tomorrow!

Eric

241209 Thursday, Rainy day.

Andthismorningialmostcaughthim.Justalittlebitmore,ifiwanted.
Butnope,ichoosetowalkaway.Iguessifhewasinmyshoes,heprobablydothesame
tometoo.Isupposeimjustlivingtoocomfortablewiththepain.

***

I was (suppose to be) dateless for Christmas eve. its was a (really) last-minute thing, to go to Kelvin’s house with Alex. We cooked dinner together, drink and had our fill chatting. It was a good session, because Kelvin understands that im aware of his office game, and i can (and have been) play along with him.

We ended everything at 3am from Kelvin’s place before Alex decided to walk to Orchard from Tiong Bahru. ZZZ~ And so, the both of us has a super long Christmas night walk. Only to reached home this morning at 7am. Faints.

Thats me with my half swollen eyes. *laughs*

251209 i spent my day, sleeping, tearing. The wind told me that his heart reminds him of me (us).

Look towards the top of the tree…..I made that with macaroni and gold spray paint.  Awesome! I seriously was the cutest kid ever…so hard to wake up in the morning and realize how cute I was.  hahaha.

Hope you’re having a great Christmas! I know I am!!!

Eric

2 hours till midnight … which means its still christmas (: I believe christmas is special to everyone, and it is amazing how a day like this has different and significant meaning to everybody.

My fondest memory of Xmas would be when I was 7. It was at my aunt’s place, and the extended family was gathered there for dinner and of course a gift exchange. I received a humongous stationary set which was so pretty (: I guess for children, christmas is always a fun time to enjoy.

Today, xmas is spent just being cozy in bed, and reading a novel. It’s simple beyond what words can express, and though at times I yearn a more happening way to celebrate christmas, I am still thankful. I admit I do feel quite the anti-social person because I’ve turned down invites to parties, one with my sec school friends, and the other with my cg, but I guess that’s just so me.

Merry christmas again! (:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

thanks for rockin’ with us!

– thecreolecorner

OKAY! So apparently I bitch alot. Well this is my show and to quote Gaga as she once said in a recent concert, “If you don’ t like my show, YOU CAN FUCKING LEAVE!” Better?

So it’s the holiday season,  and that means tourists with bad sweaters, loathing covered over by ‘festive cheer’, an innundation of baked treats (with a subsequent increases in waistlines and diabetes), and of course,  HOLIDAY SALES. And with those holiday sales means one thing: shoppers.

Now, since I was  16, retail has been my jam. The Smucker’s to my Wonderbread, if you will. I’ve worked retail all over this fair country, in various areas of fine shopping: the Las Vegas Strip, Boston’s Newbury St, and most recently 5th Avenue NYC. And one thing has remained the same: 99% of people cannot shop.

Now, I’m not in the slightest racist (mostly, lol), but we  all know that Asians are  the bane of a sales associates existence, much like older Jewish women drive servers crazy.  This is not because they’re a bad culture, just because they’re terrible shoppers. And they’ll even admit it. A lot of my Asian friends are ashamed of their own kind’s shopping habits. But whatever. It happens,  and they have  been very good to me over the years. As Whitney once said, “it’s not right, but it’s okay.” Or was that about the crack…

But where I’m really distressed is when things go on sale, all of a sudden that garment that you would never look at becomes appealing and you have to subsequently pick it up, fondle it, see if the small will fit your XXL sized belly and then throw it back in an amorphous ball completely unlike the neat fold it once was. Word to the wise:  just because it’s on sale, does not make it cute.

But say, oh hey you  found something you’re interested in. Heck, you’re even excited about this prospective purchase. So excited that you  flag me down, the lowly sales associate who slings this merchandise for a pittance of profit. Eager, I come over to greet you with warm festive tidings, filled with mirth and great joy. I help you gather more  swag that looks appetizing due to the reduction in prices at this joyous time of year and proceed to help you to a fitting room, where we exchange much witty banter and maybe even a back slap or two. You’re trying things on, gettin all excited; I’m  running around thinkin of how great it is that I get to help you. You come out of the fitting room looking swell or dare I say it,  dashing, in your clothes and you feel just pink as punch you’re so excited. Compliments practically fly out of my mouth and you’re just, well gettin all rosy cheeked. This is great. You keep trying on and everything  is coming up a winner;  somebody get this guy a lotto ticket, he’s unSTOPPABLE! You’ve  made it all the way through your little runway show, and have everything gathered into your little arms and hand this over to me. I’m like “great, I’ll walk you over  to the register.” But you look at me and pause.  “Nay,” you  say. What? I’m confused,  concerned, bewildered. I  thought everything was perfect. Here’s when you break my heart. “I’mma run and grab my ‘friend’/other/spouse and get their opinion.” I hesitate but you’re gone before I can answer and when you return with  them they negate all the positive energy we just formed.  Naturally, they hate everything t hat you loved (possibly because they are bitter shells of people)  and you subsequently follow suit and instead of getting the glorious ensembles we just created,  suffice for a fucking t-shirt. All that time and energy…for nothing.

Um, excuse me sir, did your genitals fall off in that try on session you just had? Or are you just incapable of making your own decision?  Last I checked, you’re the one wearing the clothes you just tried on, not your overweight friend or your hooker looking mistress.  And if I hear them talk about the style or fashion ability of anything I pick out again…well read the rant below and you’ll know exactly what I’m going to say. How about you be a fucking man and make a decision for once in your fucking life. Happy Holiday’s, jerk.

I really dislike getting fashion advice from people that cannot even dress themselves. Moreover, I get more irritated when those same people insist on telling others what is and is not fashionable. I mean really? Really? You are going to tell me and others how we should dress or what looks good? You, in your madras cargo shorts and pithy graphic Tee, with your John Varvatos Converse sneaker and blond highlights? Uh-huh…right.

I’m not trying to hate on anyone’s  personal style. We all have our own flavor, and I realize not everyone can go walking through life like it’s Couture Fashion Week in Paris…but kudos to those of you who do. I’m just peeved when I hear someone tell me what I’m doing is not working. Cause really? Well that pit stain you’re rocking is not working. Neither is that team t-shirt with those carpenter jeans, slick. And if you talk to me again, Imma holler you out and embarrass your ass.

Listen, it’s not my fault that your first time hearing the name Alexander McQueen was in reference to the ‘claw’ shoes Gaga wears,  or  that your first time hearing Maison Martin Margiela was from a  Jay Z song, or that you stutter when spelling “Gabbana”. But please, keep your unwanted opinion to yourself. When you can tell me who Gareth Pugh or Nicolas Ghesquiere are, maybe then I’ll listen. Until then, a rave in Ohio called:  they want their pink t-shirt and corduroy cargo pants back.