Gregory Crewdson
Matthew Barney
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
More Lauren Young
Every time I go check this blog, I see her image. Ugh So I'll bring you a video courtesy of Jacques
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
All These Gaps
I;ve been really bad about blogging. I've been so busy.
Will come back strong after the school year is over.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Sorry about That
I didn't intend to go this long without a post. It might be due to that fact that I haven't had anything to blog about, or I've been swamped. But seeing how I don't do much anyway, it's not the latter.
I wanted to blog about fast foods. So I might. This blog might be void of any pictures which sucks. There are two fast food joints around me. Wendy's and Burger King. Both are cheap as dirt, but both are very, very different.
Wendy's Crispy Chicken is GOOD. Burger King's, not so much. Burger King trumps Wendy's in the JR. burger game. Burger Kings charcoal flavoring will beat any JR. burger.
What Wendy's has on top of Burger King is the awesome Double Stack. If BK puts that out, it will be ace.
Now I know I didn't mention McDonald's. That's because there isn't one close to me. But when it comes to good ol' Mickey D's. They rule with their Chicken nuggets. They beat both Wendy's and BK. I don't know why, maybe it's what they fry it in, or maybe because it's made of "real" chicken. They're snack wraps are WAY better than Wendy's too. I'm a fan of the Mac Wrap myself.
Anyway. Maybe I'll edit this and add photos. Til then Have a Happy St. Patty's Day.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Buicks Are Gudda
Tiger Woods is (was) sponsored by Buick. Tiger Woods is a player (literally and figuratively), but owning a Buick you are one too. That's the thing about these majestic pieces of metal. They are awesome. Now I don't know much about cars, but I know what I like, and the Buick, any model before they started getting way too fancy, like Lexus fancy, is awesome.
Today, as I was walking back home from class, this old guy was backing up out of his driveway. He was in a Buick. As I got behind him, he stopped on a dime. I kind of wish he hadn't because it would have been an honor to be hit by his vehicle. Double the fact that the old man driving it had a fedora on, and I'm pretty sure he was dressed ill too, it would have just made it all the more awesome. Old men drive Buicks, and old men are awesome.
Every time I see a Buick I think that the guy driving it has his life in order. Not a lot of people drive Buicks. They don't think they are cool enough. But when I see a dude in one, I think "That guy doesn't mess around. He chose that stallion to ride and he's sticking with it. Get the fuck out of his way". Buick is regal. Bosses drive Buicks. Fuck Mercedes, Lexus, and BMW.
Bros drive bimmers, women drive Lexus, and Mercedes aint worth the trouble. If you have heavy nuts, or you're a bad ass chick, you hop in a Buick and people stop to let you cross the street.
See this Roadmaster. It's name says it all. Yeah undercovers might roll around in this whip, and that's sick. If I had this, I'd want every mother fucker to slow down and be careful that I'm not an undercover either. It scares people. This is the model that I almost got hit by.
Station wagons are sick regardless of the brand. This station wagon is a station wagon about all station wagons because it is a Buick. Fuck yeah it has wood side paneling. It's not anything to pussy foot around with though. It's a land yacht. It makes excuses for no one, and if a neighborhood knows this bad boy lives on the block it gives it extra space for parking. Shit it deserves to have a drive way. Not because it's big, but because it doesn't fuck around.
And the Buick Grand. Vin Diesel made this kitty purr in Fast and the Furious. It is sick. I don't know how else to fucking describe it.
Today, as I was walking back home from class, this old guy was backing up out of his driveway. He was in a Buick. As I got behind him, he stopped on a dime. I kind of wish he hadn't because it would have been an honor to be hit by his vehicle. Double the fact that the old man driving it had a fedora on, and I'm pretty sure he was dressed ill too, it would have just made it all the more awesome. Old men drive Buicks, and old men are awesome.
Every time I see a Buick I think that the guy driving it has his life in order. Not a lot of people drive Buicks. They don't think they are cool enough. But when I see a dude in one, I think "That guy doesn't mess around. He chose that stallion to ride and he's sticking with it. Get the fuck out of his way". Buick is regal. Bosses drive Buicks. Fuck Mercedes, Lexus, and BMW.
Bros drive bimmers, women drive Lexus, and Mercedes aint worth the trouble. If you have heavy nuts, or you're a bad ass chick, you hop in a Buick and people stop to let you cross the street.
See this Roadmaster. It's name says it all. Yeah undercovers might roll around in this whip, and that's sick. If I had this, I'd want every mother fucker to slow down and be careful that I'm not an undercover either. It scares people. This is the model that I almost got hit by.
Station wagons are sick regardless of the brand. This station wagon is a station wagon about all station wagons because it is a Buick. Fuck yeah it has wood side paneling. It's not anything to pussy foot around with though. It's a land yacht. It makes excuses for no one, and if a neighborhood knows this bad boy lives on the block it gives it extra space for parking. Shit it deserves to have a drive way. Not because it's big, but because it doesn't fuck around.
And the Buick Grand. Vin Diesel made this kitty purr in Fast and the Furious. It is sick. I don't know how else to fucking describe it.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
My Oldest Brother
I have to older brothers, both of which I can talk to about different things. I have Arnel, my 23 going on 24 year old brother, who I can talk about all things nerdy from comics, to toys, to video games, to porn and hell even to girls. And then I have my oldest brother Eric. He's 28 and I can talk to him about sports, popular cultures, women, relationship problems, food, movies, music and of course clothing. And because this is more of my personal fashion/style blog, I'm going to discuss the latter brother's impact on my style choices, as well as my personal relationship with him. It's an homage I suppose. This takes nothing away from Arnel though as I love and appreciate both of my brothers equally. Eric has affected both of our style choices throughout the years so this is a dedication to him.
Eric was born in late late 1981, I was born mid 1988, we're six and a half years apart, and I'm six and a half inches taller than him (depending on the shoes). Due to the age difference, when we were younger, he was going through his "I'm a teenager, I do what I want" phase, while I was going through my "toys, video games, scraping my knees" phase. Regardless of the age difference, a tell-tale sign of us being brothers was me wanting to do things like him. Mainly in regards to dress, and also in the womanizing area.
Eric moved in with my grandparents early into his high school life based on certain events, so that kind of killed a lot of brother relationship that we'd catch up on, but even when he lived an hour and a half away, we were connected by style. He was going through a ghetto phase. He wore big pants, timberland boots, bubble vests, and fitted hats. Basically looking like 50 cent or a member of Dipset. And because he did that, I did that too. He was popular, he was cool and had friends. I wanted to be those things too. It worked. Plus hip hop was really big then, and everyone did I guess.
As the years went on, he went to college and got more Abercrombied out. This is an area of my brother's style that seemed to not match mine. Granted I was getting his hand-me-downs still, I didn't quite really get into the bro/frat scene. My area of style that didn't match what my brother was doing was my "scene/emo" fashion, which in retrospect was pretty retarded. My last year of high school and first year of college style was pretty dumb actually. I blame girls, and music. Girls and music. But anyway.
Before the whole scene phase I had, Eric started working in high-end retail stores. Specifically Dolce&Gabbana. He started reading GQ, he started giving a damn how he looked pretty much. More now than ever. And this came towards the advent of the "metrosexual", I know he hates that word, but when that word came about, there was no way really to describe him other than "metrosexual". People try and use that word now, but it's stupid and doesn't have the same effect as it did in 2003. But yeah, that's when I stopped wearing jeans four sizes too big for me, and shirts three feet longer than than should be. I went more fitted, granted if I can pull pictures up from that time, I looked sort of stupid. I tried doing my hair like him too. If he wasn't rocking a shaved head like he does now, he did something. Faux-hawk.
I want to skip the whole scene phase I went through because it's pretty embarassing, but there was an area where Eric got really big into sneakers, so I did too. I spent a lot of money I didn't really have on sneakers. I mean he could afford it, he had a job. I had a silly after school job that pretty much went to retarded colored clothing and sneakers. But even when Eric was working at SCOOP NYC, and I was doing dumb emo things like wearing make up, I still saw what he wore and still thought it was cool, and wanted to wear stuff like he did, but I had a girlfriend. And you know. That flew out the window.
So Eric got a job working for Antenna Magazine. He got all this cool stuff, so he shared the wealth. He was rocking Crooks and Castles, and 10 Deep. So I did too. I mean maybe it was because of his job that he did, and maybe he liked it too. He got more shoes, and I got more shoes. He wore fitted hats. I wore fitted hats. It was like follow the leader, or Simon says. But thanks to Mad Men, and the boom boom boom in vintage clothing, and more awareness of fashion photo bloggers like the Sartorialist, Eric's style changed. Clean and cut, the new gentleman.
He has the money to dress as cool as he does. He wants me to dress cool too and will help me out on certain pieces, but because I don't have a full-time job, I can't be as cool. While he sits more on the new gentleman side, I am more on the Buschwick Neo-hipster side. Although, I'd rather just say fuck it and wear suits all the time. I'm still in school and am a hands on student, so I can't get my slacks too dirty. But anyway, I'm digressing.
I actually really don't know where this blog turned. In the end it's an appreciation for my brother's style choices, and how if I had the bankroll to do the same, I would. I mean I don't want to be his clone or anything, but if I lost 30 pounds, I could start wearing his clothes. Don't really know how that's possible considering our height difference, but still.
This is my brother in the white blazer. I don't know who the other schmucks are, but I guess they have reason to have their photo taken.
My brother works with a lot of streetwear dudes, and this is from Slate at the MH booth. He's dressed up, he means business. He could be wearing a t-shirt, fitted hat, and sneakers, but he's not trying to push a clothing line. He's hustling. People take you seriously when you don't look like an asshole.
This is Eric at Christmas. I wore a sports coat, jeans and wingtips, he decides to wear a suit. I ain't mad at that, but I was on point and he was just a point or two better.
I don't know who's wedding this is, I'm not sure if I was alive. But here is Eric in a tuxedo. maybe my dad picked it out. It has tails. It's cool. I don't know how often people would wear tails nowadays when getting a tux, but you can see the swagger being emitted, even at a young age.
Ok maybe style just runs in my family, but after my dad got all fat, and my mom got all slouchy, someone had to carry the torch, and Eric took it upon himself to do that. Sometimes we steal my dad's old clothes because he can't fit in them anymore.
Eric is my brother and best friend. He dresses cool, has a cool job and lives in a cool area in Jersey City. We both come from a working-class family, we're both hustlers. He's pretty much helped me to wear I am now. When I get rich and famous, I guess I can start carrying him on my back.
When I talk about my love for video games and stuff, Arnel's homage will be next.
Eric was born in late late 1981, I was born mid 1988, we're six and a half years apart, and I'm six and a half inches taller than him (depending on the shoes). Due to the age difference, when we were younger, he was going through his "I'm a teenager, I do what I want" phase, while I was going through my "toys, video games, scraping my knees" phase. Regardless of the age difference, a tell-tale sign of us being brothers was me wanting to do things like him. Mainly in regards to dress, and also in the womanizing area.
Eric moved in with my grandparents early into his high school life based on certain events, so that kind of killed a lot of brother relationship that we'd catch up on, but even when he lived an hour and a half away, we were connected by style. He was going through a ghetto phase. He wore big pants, timberland boots, bubble vests, and fitted hats. Basically looking like 50 cent or a member of Dipset. And because he did that, I did that too. He was popular, he was cool and had friends. I wanted to be those things too. It worked. Plus hip hop was really big then, and everyone did I guess.
As the years went on, he went to college and got more Abercrombied out. This is an area of my brother's style that seemed to not match mine. Granted I was getting his hand-me-downs still, I didn't quite really get into the bro/frat scene. My area of style that didn't match what my brother was doing was my "scene/emo" fashion, which in retrospect was pretty retarded. My last year of high school and first year of college style was pretty dumb actually. I blame girls, and music. Girls and music. But anyway.
Before the whole scene phase I had, Eric started working in high-end retail stores. Specifically Dolce&Gabbana. He started reading GQ, he started giving a damn how he looked pretty much. More now than ever. And this came towards the advent of the "metrosexual", I know he hates that word, but when that word came about, there was no way really to describe him other than "metrosexual". People try and use that word now, but it's stupid and doesn't have the same effect as it did in 2003. But yeah, that's when I stopped wearing jeans four sizes too big for me, and shirts three feet longer than than should be. I went more fitted, granted if I can pull pictures up from that time, I looked sort of stupid. I tried doing my hair like him too. If he wasn't rocking a shaved head like he does now, he did something. Faux-hawk.
I want to skip the whole scene phase I went through because it's pretty embarassing, but there was an area where Eric got really big into sneakers, so I did too. I spent a lot of money I didn't really have on sneakers. I mean he could afford it, he had a job. I had a silly after school job that pretty much went to retarded colored clothing and sneakers. But even when Eric was working at SCOOP NYC, and I was doing dumb emo things like wearing make up, I still saw what he wore and still thought it was cool, and wanted to wear stuff like he did, but I had a girlfriend. And you know. That flew out the window.
So Eric got a job working for Antenna Magazine. He got all this cool stuff, so he shared the wealth. He was rocking Crooks and Castles, and 10 Deep. So I did too. I mean maybe it was because of his job that he did, and maybe he liked it too. He got more shoes, and I got more shoes. He wore fitted hats. I wore fitted hats. It was like follow the leader, or Simon says. But thanks to Mad Men, and the boom boom boom in vintage clothing, and more awareness of fashion photo bloggers like the Sartorialist, Eric's style changed. Clean and cut, the new gentleman.
He has the money to dress as cool as he does. He wants me to dress cool too and will help me out on certain pieces, but because I don't have a full-time job, I can't be as cool. While he sits more on the new gentleman side, I am more on the Buschwick Neo-hipster side. Although, I'd rather just say fuck it and wear suits all the time. I'm still in school and am a hands on student, so I can't get my slacks too dirty. But anyway, I'm digressing.
I actually really don't know where this blog turned. In the end it's an appreciation for my brother's style choices, and how if I had the bankroll to do the same, I would. I mean I don't want to be his clone or anything, but if I lost 30 pounds, I could start wearing his clothes. Don't really know how that's possible considering our height difference, but still.
This is my brother in the white blazer. I don't know who the other schmucks are, but I guess they have reason to have their photo taken.
My brother works with a lot of streetwear dudes, and this is from Slate at the MH booth. He's dressed up, he means business. He could be wearing a t-shirt, fitted hat, and sneakers, but he's not trying to push a clothing line. He's hustling. People take you seriously when you don't look like an asshole.
This is Eric at Christmas. I wore a sports coat, jeans and wingtips, he decides to wear a suit. I ain't mad at that, but I was on point and he was just a point or two better.
I don't know who's wedding this is, I'm not sure if I was alive. But here is Eric in a tuxedo. maybe my dad picked it out. It has tails. It's cool. I don't know how often people would wear tails nowadays when getting a tux, but you can see the swagger being emitted, even at a young age.
Ok maybe style just runs in my family, but after my dad got all fat, and my mom got all slouchy, someone had to carry the torch, and Eric took it upon himself to do that. Sometimes we steal my dad's old clothes because he can't fit in them anymore.
Eric is my brother and best friend. He dresses cool, has a cool job and lives in a cool area in Jersey City. We both come from a working-class family, we're both hustlers. He's pretty much helped me to wear I am now. When I get rich and famous, I guess I can start carrying him on my back.
When I talk about my love for video games and stuff, Arnel's homage will be next.
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