Never thought I'd see this day come, but..
stream = Chinese commentator = the things I go through..
Chelsea was so inferior with ball possession.
Petr Cech: sent off post-interval. Hilario conceded two afterwards.
next fixture: Liverpool at Stamford Bridge.
Kops battered Hull City 6-1. Fernando Torres? Effin' hat-trick.
Ashley Cole injury remains in question.
have I mentioned Hilario? With back-up Ross Turnbull?
OMG YOU GUYS THIS IS SERIOUSLY NOT FUNNY.
(did you notice the irony between this & the title post below?)
What wanders through the life..
love me some Jeffrey Campbell knock-offs, baby..
(real one is on sale for $80 at Urban Outfitters. I almost, ALMOST..)
extra shoe love! Zara shoe report. I love #1, #8 & #10.
juxtaposed news: Craig Owens got kicked outta Chiodos. Sssup!
Wildfox grrl Hailey Clauson is the shizz! LF Fall/Winter '09 lookbook.
side-mesh dress is here. I love it, sexy as fuck-- but belly-baring? Hmm..
article gig for the Danish fashion blog is out. I iz real shy!
I hate extricating $$$ for make-up. RM148 for a tub of foundation? WTF, man?
Milan Fashion Week en route. Meh.. I can't wait for Tisci, really.
this is beyond dope (it makes my day): Twitter @shitmydadsays. Follow!
One of the best female leads in one of the best movies. Ever.
Darth Vader and I wish you a good Eid. Apologies ahead and lots of luvin'!
Liberation!
Time drifts off; it's swift, halts for none, unapologetic. There are bits of me that are inertly clinging to the earlier months, sampling "stuck in transition" true to word. But I ain't no fan of melancholic jabs (it throws me off sync), hence.. lighter things ahead. Eid is on 20th. It once clasped festive faces, thrills and frills of traditional duds, hardcore rounds on the fireworks, but.. it has lost a bit of magic, no? What's on the plate for me: wagoning with sick-as brethrens down south, Premier League dedication, haphazard trips around Malacca and.. subconscious expansion of the arse. Yes. Amen to that. But I'll let it flow-- how I mutate into an interim beast come the morning of Eid remains an enigma. Some things are better off left natural, eh? Leftovers of the week: SPM trials liberation was on the 17th, afterwards a subsequent reunion with Pavilion and dinner course at TGI Friday's-- the next, perusal of the kicks for Eid at night (parking spot success: 9pm-- effin'..) with follow-up Burger King love affairs. French Chicken and I are platonic lovers. Next up on the list includes some arse draggin' (out-of-habitat practices): spring cleaning, cooking (ooh!), pre-planned packing and.. concealing imploding euphoria after gettin' me some bling. Must work on that neutral face, stat..
[MUSIC] Little Boots - Meddle
P/S: Selamat Hari Raya! (Short-lived hiatus to follow as I prance around soil in new shoes.)
The universe leaves me at loss for words.
Besides validating permanent residential at Fail Blog..
love me some Kanye, but I ain't down with this shit.
you didn't know I love Taylor Swift?! Fag stuff, but girl's tooth-decay material.
Alexander Wang SS10: varsity athletics, summer braids.. cute. And boring.
achtung PYTs! Grunged up Erro SS10 is anchoring some lovin'.
scored the most perfect cranberry red lipstick from Chanel. It's love.
attempts will be made to channel Charlotte Ronson SS10 outfit.
Erin Wasson never learns. Model/designer/plagiarist.
(and her RVCA line is just hobo shit, really.. but I love her face)
Jill Stuart dedicated her show to Tisci, Decarnin & Ghesquiere.. Boo copycat.
seriously, I can't wait for Proenza to kick some arse. (Please kick arse)
Chelsea vs. Porto, Bordeaux vs.. I don't care. Yoann Gourcuff, YES PLZ.
It's September..
4 o'clock in the morning; and I am on catch-up with breathing. Sick, ain't it? As of late, I am dissociated into minuscule parts of clipped pages, midnight hours lost amongst Post-its and sneaking New York fashion week pictorials. Yigal Azrouel made me cream with monochromes. Preen was part-confusing with lots of sex (lace, bustiers.. mmm)-- elsewhere Charlotte Ronson had a couple of hits (plaid, pastel pink blazer over acid skinnies-- potential PYT uniform) and Erro. Truth be told, the Parisian shows escalates me into salivation mode. It's far forward, there's Riccardo Tisci (with Panos Yiapanis, epic outcomes), metallics and drapes.. fresh silhouettes run imperial. For the night; the Bird turned legal on Sept 9th-- celebration calls for a table of five faux drunkards (whilst remaining absolute elegance) with sporadic rants and reckless abandonment of fad diets. What's that? We don't do such things. Real girls eat meat. The traditional round of perusals, failure, juice to cancel frowns and back home afterwards. Brothers appear suicidal after Arsenal's 4-2 defeat to the Mancs in pastel blue. Fag color. Besides the collective obnoxious aura, Ade was a first-grade cunt. Proof. Chelsea left it late (sigh, again) with 2-1 vs. Stoke, after 0-1 down. High hopes for Spurs (and Lennon) faltered. Back to the norm: anxious vibes for Alexander Wang (styled by Karl Templer), Proenza Schouler, Chelsea vs. Spurs next weekend (woohoo!), arrival of bad-ass duds, permissible Docs, exam liberation on Sept 17th and Paris FW. Nighttime!
[MUSIC] Nosaj Thing - Radiohead Reckoner
