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(02/22/07 5:00am)
As drum machines replace drum sets, keyboards replace voices and my new laptop replaces my old Tascam 4-track, electronic music is in full swing. Whether it's an '80s revival or a Web 2.0 reflex, WIUX DJs have come to embrace the vocoder and love the robots. \nMore and more electronic music has been filling 100.3 FM recently. Promoters have been sending us new electronic bands and our DJs have been finding many themselves. What is the new fascination with electronic music? I'm not entirely sure, but I've jumped on the bandwagon and have been enjoying the ride.\nWho Needs a Band?\nFollowing the success of electro-duos like Daft Punk, solo artists like Mylo and many others, new electronic indie bands have been shrinking. Not in numbers, but in size.\nI remember when I first saw The Blow in Bloomington at the-now defunct-Church on Adams Street. There were just two people performing. Khaela Maricich and Jona Bechtolt (now known as YACHT) danced around on a dimly lit stage while their Mac iBook, sitting cautiously at their feet, pumped out 8-bit jams while they added their vocal soundtrack. \nAt first I didn't get it. Coming from a pretty rock n roll only background, I wanted to see multiple band members on their knees, screaming at each other, wailing on their instruments. I didn't get it then, but after seeing local performer, Totally Michael, I began to find out.\nTotally Michael is a local performer and musician who plays simple, fun songs off his computer accompanied by his voice and occasional guitar playing. His shows aren't just about watching his lanky short-short-clad body bounce around the stage; rather, it's more about crowd participation. Like a DJ, Totally Michael wants his audience to dance and have fun. The days of the mopey, depressed hipster are over. \nDance Parties\nShows are less about standing nowadays and more about dancing. Though I learned all my moves from the seventh-grade bar-mitzvah circuit, I enjoy getting down. It's a less embarrassing work out, after all, and dancing hard while watching the newest indie craze is like killing two birds with one stone. \nIn New York, they have MisShapes; in Chicago, Flosstradamus keeps it real, but in the Bee-Hive we have Electrocute. Hosted by DJ Flufftronix and held at The Hospital on South Walnut Street, Electrocute brings a combination of live electro-acts and DJs. \nThere's no pressure at these shows. It's not like my (or anyone I know for that matter) dance moves can impress. Rather, Electrocute is about having fun and dancing hard. With acts like Matt and Kim, Scream Club, Southside Will and, most recently Yip Yip (although that show was canceled because of snow), Electrocute brings all the electro goods home for your dancing pleasure. \nThe Laptop DJ\nIt's a trend that I can happily say I fell into. Also known as DJ DumpTruck, I use a program called Ableton Live to simulate DJing on my computer. Using a computer allows Laptoppers to loop, sample and alter songs at the click of a button-light speeds faster than their traditional counterparts. \nLaptoppers can beat match. In other words, songs flow seamlessly without fade outs, awkward transitions and often with the DJ's own flair. Like all music trends, Laptop DJing started in major cities internationally and spread its way through the country. Bloomington is, surprisingly, home to a few Laptoppers: DJ PumpkinPatch, my mentor, another friend of mine Paul, Flufftronix, and others. \nOn March 3, Bloomington folk will be graced with the presence of one of the world's most famous Laptop DJs. Girl Talk (aka Greg Gillis) is a biomedical engineer in Pittsburgh, Penn., who leads a double life. Pop-music aficionado and science freak combine on his album "Night Ripper," revealing a very untraditional sound. Without creating music in the traditional sense, Gillis uses hundreds of samples of pop songs to create his own barrage of dance music. \nGillis capitalizes on songs that we're all embarrassed to like, strips them of their irony and does so all very musically. Plus, audiophiles get a kick out of all the name-dropping (I can almost hear the hipsters pat themselves on the back every time Gillis lays out a new sample): Bow Wow, Dire Straits, Annie, Young Jeezy, Weezer, Three-Six Mafia, Kanye West, and The Cure are only a few of the many, many artists sampled on "Night Ripper."\nExpect all of those artists and more March 3 when Gillis spins the hard drives at the Buskirk-Chumley. The event is a concert, fashion show and most importantly a benefit for the World Health Organization. So check it out, WIUX 100.3 FM will be there.
(02/19/07 5:00am)
Thanks to NASA robotics specialist Lisa Nowak, diapers and attempted murder have suddenly become en vogue. Shortly after Nowak was arrested from her 900-mile journey, where she used diapers instead of pulling over, Britney Spears was caught shaving her head in a lavender Stella McCartney diaper.\nWe should have seen it coming when Prada paired up with Huggies for its spring 2007 line. The emaciated, diaper-clad models waddled onto the runway to Madonna’s new club single “Get Me Wet” and presented a range of versatile looks – diapers over leggings, diapers underneath mod mini dresses, even mini diaper handbags for ultimate protection. Overactive bladders are on the rise.\nAnd we owe it all to NASA. I’m glad to see where the future of space exploration is headed in this country. (It’s headed cross-country to the Orlando International Airport and it is not stopping for any pansy bathroom breaks.)\nActually, NASA is shooting off rockets on the runway – not with diaper rockets (gross), but with futurism – the latest and greatest trend that’s happening right now.\nFuturism is a new, space-age twist on fashion. Categorized mainly by flashy metallic colors and aerodynamic structures, futurism is how fashion magnates view the future of style. (Shocking!) It is, quite literally, ahead of its time. And, just like watching Tyra Banks smack her “fat ass” on my DVR, I can’t get enough of it.\nFuturism is like “The Jetsons” meets Reynolds Wrap. The color palette mainly lingers around metallic silver and gold, with occasional interruptions of black and white patent leather or small bursts of neon shades. The structure of the pieces varies, but sleek lines and geometric shapes are key. Apparently, the future looks a hell of a lot like the ’80s.\nMany designers have already jumped on the future bandwagon (or, hovercraft, if you will). Spring and summer collections from Burberry to Balenciaga, Lanvin to Lagerfeld, all showcase a certain perception of the future. Balenciaga’s future, designed by Nicolas Ghesquiere, includes bronze metallic robot leggings that look like armor and cost about $100,000, for leggings.\nRobotic undergarments aside, there is one major flaw in futurism’s design – the clothes are part of a fantasy that, when worn outside the context of a runway, will more than likely get you publicly ridiculed. Or egged, at the very least. But this is not uncommon when it comes to runway trends, so I am here to translate runway to reality.\nFirst, you’ll need three rolls of heavy-duty aluminum foil, masking tape and a toaster oven. Make it work!\nJust kidding, this isn’t “Project Runway” season 95. (Although, the prospect of a cute Tim Gunn robot does get me off a little bit.) \nUnlike haute couture, ready-to-wear places an emphasis on the individual pieces of an outfit. Therefore, you simply need to place one or two futuristic piece into an outfit and voila! Fantasy meets reality. For example, layer a sparkly tank over a hot-green T-shirt or pair a space age-y mini dress with black or white leggings. Don’t overdo it on the glitz – for every futuristic piece, make sure you add a little something from BoreTown, USA to keep it neutral.\nShoes are also a vital part of this look. Platform heels, in particular, were stepping all over the runway looking just as futuristic as their clothing counterparts. These shoes are high and mighty, patent leather masterpieces that could literally take out an extraterrestrial eye or two (or three). \nBut, of course, those killer heels won’t really work on campus, unless you’re an advocate for swollen appendages or being really, really tall. Metallic flats are the best way to go in this situation. They’re low-key and comfortable, but sparkly enough to temporarily blind strangers and warrant compliments. Your feet can be in Studio 54 while the rest of you is sleeping through A110: Introduction to Computers and Computing.\nSo, folks, the future is here and it’s riding a segue. Jump on or you’ll get left behind!
(02/12/07 3:11am)
In the immortal words of The Offspring: "Na-na, why don't you get a job?"\nGood advice from the boys who brought you the backup tunes for your favorite cinematic masterpieces such as "American Pie 2," "How to Eat Fried Worms" and "Bubble Boy." But, really, why don't you get a job? \nIs it because you've gone shirtless in overalls and boobie tassels to your last three job interviews? Given the recent research conducted on 5,689 randomly selected college students (all white, heterosexual males, of course), there is a 67 percent chance that you were sporting those tassels. Shame.\nThe disclaimer here is that I am not trying to be any type of authority on job searching. I am currently pursuing a part-time job search the size of Dolly Parton's left nipple, and in January alone I was proven underqualified for a $5.15-an-hour library job, a position as a flower delivery person and being a member of a hot-air balloon chase team. Seriously. But none of those even made it to the interview stage; I'm sure if one had, however, that I would have knocked his or her professional socks off with my appropriate attire and sparkling personality. So despite my inability to function as a financial independent, here is my advice to you for picking the perfect job interview outfit.\nFirst of all, it is important to note what not to wear. As I'm sure Stacy and Clinton would tell you, these items have been officially listed as Don'ts: jeans, hoodies, T-shirts promoting "4/20" or George Bush, flip-flops, NASCAR jackets or anything Tara Reid might have in her closet. Also, in a press release issued by someone really important last week, corporate America has officially banned Ugg boots and black stretch pants from its employment qualifications. Keep 'em at home, ladies, then burn them. \nThat being said, dressing for an interview is not cardiothoracic surgery. Have you ever had to go out to dinner with a boyfriend's or girlfriend's grandparents? It's basically that.\nNow, depending on the type of job you may be applying for, the outfit can be modified. Since it is now February and the more ambitious students are starting to apply for summer internships or jobs if they are graduating, I'll mainly be referring to this type of job search. (McDonald's may be more of a "No shoes, no shirt? You're hired!" type of establishment.)\nFor my ladies out there, your best bet would be a pantsuit or a conservative dress and jacket. Although many people heed the warning against certain colors, I'm a firm believer that no color is bad when worn tastefully. You don't have to dress like a Republican librarian trapped in a sexless marriage to get a job. For example, if you want to wear pink, go ahead -- but make sure it's just one piece of your color puzzle. If when you arrive, the interviewer comments that your blazer is just like one of Samantha's on "Sex and the City," just run away. Fast. \nAlso, Jane Harvey, a wardrobe consultant for CareerBuilder.com, comically notes that "fingernails should be trimmed to a length that doesn't leave an observer wondering how you keep from stabbing yourself." Also, you run the risk of stabbing your potential employer. Then you might as well be Britney Spears applying for a job at a panty store. \nFor all my boys, CareerBuilder.com recommends you "wear a suit or sport jacket with color coordinated trousers." Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy. By color coordinated, they're probably assuming you know this does not mean light blue polyester on light blue polyester. Nor does it mean one of those tuxedo T-shirts. But dark dress shoes are a must.\nMy last tip is to give the interviewer something to remember you by. Not literally -- don't give him or her a fruit basket or a strip of Magnums -- but wear something small and memorable. For example, a printed scarf or tie just might make the interviewer say, "Oh, that boy in the green paisley tie? I love paisley. Let's hire him and pay him oodles." \nIt's possible.\nAnd hey, if that doesn't work out, at least you know you can always go on Ricki Lake.
(02/05/07 1:19am)
Last week, I seriously began wondering what kind of social detriment I would incur if I brought ski masks back to the campus.\nWhile crying and slicing off my three frostbitten toes Wednesday, I realized that, yes, the time for ski masks has arrived. And I have come to tell you of their glory.\nJust think of all the ski mask possibilities -- such as a skin-colored mask with custom-made fabric ears and hair sewn on. No one would even know you were wearing winter headgear and you could impress them with your Antarctic ability to withstand the cold. \nOr, how about celebrity ski masks? If you're feeling a little chubby one morning, slap on your Tyra Banks mask and head to class. Wake up still drunk? I think that calls for a Lindsay Lohan.\nOK, so this entire column is not about ski masks. (Let's face it: No one has manufactured a Flavor Flav mask yet, and I'm not sure I want to be a proponent for the ski mask industry without it.)\nBut even without masks, there are still a plethora of ways to stay snug and warm in the wicked cold. Snowsuits, for one, are highly underrated.\nActually, gloves are on my must-have list right now. But not those 3-for-$5'ers from CVS. No way. Gloves are like coats -- you wear them everyday, so don't buy them from a bin. Leather gloves work best for both guys and gals; they're uber-warm, stylish, and can double for bondage play in the bedroom. Can your CVS gloves offer that much? Oh, gross, I hope not.\nAnd how about "winter's necklace," the scarf? You don't even have to have a scarf to wear one, just cut stuff up and people will think you are being innovative. I cut up my bed sheets once, high on adrenaline and, for no reason at all, desperately seeking something long with bright yellow jersey knit. And it still looked slammin'.\nAnother great thing about scarves, which is highly underutilized, is the manner in which you wear it. There's the sleek look, with the scarf just hanging off the shoulders like a limp Stretch Armstrong doll, as opposed to the wrap around, with the scarf wrapped around the neck tighter than those African neck-stretching rings. There are, of course, many other modes of attack when it comes to scarves, but describing them here would be like typing out origami instructions -- not fun for either of us. But, I do encourage you to get to know your scarf, intimately.\nA third key to staying lukewarm this winter is the ever-popular beanie. Now, heed my warning: Not everybody is a beanie-body. Ladies with a "gym teacher haircut", or something equally as short, beware. This is not the look for you. Also, guys with longer hair have nothing to worry about, unless it's an afro -- you can only fit so much stuff in one suitcase. But for dudes with shorter hair, it all depends on the beanie. Just don't mess it up with one of those early-'90s Grateful Dead tie-dyed ones. \nIf hats don't tickle your freezing fancy, then white, fluffy ear muffs would be an adventurous turn to take. At the very least, they couldn't be any worse than those white, furry Mukluk boots I've been spotting on campus. (Um, ma'am, there's a baby albino leopard ferociously eating your boots. You might want to feed it your Uggs.)\nHopefully, this advice will keep everyone warm and toasty in this brutal, angry stepdad of a winter. And if not, vodka tonics help.
(01/29/07 3:45am)
As an avid fashionista, I find inspiration in everything from Flavor Flav to Andy Warhol. But over the years, music has been the foundation for my style, the cheese for my macaroni, the pedophilia for my MySpace. \nWhen I was in the sixth grade, I went through my "Bush phase." (The band, obviously.) Consequently, I started sporting baggy cargo pants and unflatteringly tiny shirts at school.\nWhen I was in my sophomore year of high school, I rocked out to Green Day (pre- "Boulevard of Broken Dreams," the musical equivalent to hemorrhoids). Of course, I bought a barrage of studded belts and started demolishing my jeans with scissors and a cheese grater.\nWhen I was in my senior year of high school, I had a boyfriend who introduced me to Radiohead. (Coincidently, my relationship with Thom Yorke -- Radiohead's lead vocalist -- has always been much more sexually satisfying than the relationship with said boyfriend ever was.) I started wearing more hemp and less Abercrombie. I also realized I was a Democrat. \nRight now, I'm really into Wu-Tang (yes, Wu-Tang), an amazing Russian vocalist named Regina Spektor, who sings a whole song devoted to a jar of pickles, and Sufjan Stevens, an acoustic Christian singer/songwriter who I wouldn't mind creating non-Christian, brooding offspring with. \nI have a point, and it is this: the links between music and fashion are undeniable, and therefore I deem it necessary to let your style prove that. \nFor example, I don't wear Hollister t-shirts because I don't listen to Simple Plan or the All-American Rejects. (Also, because I pay car insurance and I'm no longer 12.) And I don't wear glittery halter-tops with sequined butterflies because I don't know all the words to "Buttons" by the Pussycat Dolls. It just makes sense. \nSo, if you're getting sick of wearing sweatpants every day, try to pick a fashion/music genre (hip-hop, grunge, indie, emo, etc.) and fly with it each day -- just coordinate with your iPod. And it's so easy now: each music genre already is a style. It's practically spelled out for you. \nFor example, say you wake up in the morning and the first thing you want in your ears is Daft Punk's "Harder Better Faster Stronger." Obviously you're feeling edgy, so slap on a pair of tight jeans and rip a few holes in your shirt. And maybe take some Ecstasy. \nThis formula works both ways, too. Say you've got the fashion thing down, but the only CDs in your collection are Nickelback and Phil Collins. Think about what music really matches your style (and it sure as hell better not still be Phil Collins.) If you're into the Gap and J. Crew, more than likely you'll want to download the new Keane CD. If you shop at Hot Topic, pick up a Marilyn Manson album. \nThe idea of pairing music and fashion together is veritably foolproof -- their relationship is like Whitney and Bobby's. Individually, they look like cracked-out homeless people who might or might not have Tourette's syndrome. Together, however, their eccentricities negate each other, forming a half-hour of hysterical, drug-induced bliss. \nAnd the lines between the two are constantly getting blurrier (just like Paula Abdul's eyesight and motor skills). \nWhen was the last time you went into Abercrombie and didn't leave with hearing damage? Never. Obnoxious, awful techno jams are part of the brand's shopping experience -- it distracts you just enough to pick up that shredded denim skirt that's cut for an infant. If they were blasting Celine Dion, you'd know better, though you might start shopping for elderly French music producers. \nIf you're not up for broadening your music/fashion horizons, that's fine by me. I hear K-Fed is releasing a follow-up to "Popozao," along with a line of illiteracy-inspired wifebeaters. How could you resist?
(01/22/07 3:42am)
This semester, the OneStart gods have graced me with 9:30 a.m. classes four days a week, and it is seriously starting to affect my fashion sense. \nEveryone knows that my earliest wake-up time is 10 a.m. -- if that's when Ellen DeGeneres starts shaking her ass, that's when I do, too (one exception: early-morning sex). Without Ellen, I am left stumbling around my room, in the dark, throwing stylistic caution to the wind. (It's true: one morning I left wearing those flower-shaped pasties Lil' Kim once wore to an awards show. Ouch.)\nOne day this week, I decided on a minidress and knee socks. Adorable. But unfortunately, I made a faux pas in shoe selection-- green flats, with that outfit?! I knew it the second I grabbed my ham-and-cheese Lean Pocket and flew out the door. I might as well have been wearing a dashiki and SpongeBob slippers; it was awful. \nI spent the whole class desperate to run home and feed my green flats to any nearby wolf or hungry baby. Finally, class ended and I made it home without any public uproar.\nMuch later, when I left for class number two wearing leather boots sent from heaven, my disposition went from Janice Dickinson to that fat, jolly nun from Sister Act. And that's when it hit me: What you wear has a direct effect on how you feel.\nHave you ever had one of those "Oh God, I hope I don't see my ex today" days? More than likely, that day sucked. You will never win a Pulitzer, or even a Teen Choice Award, on a day like that. \nAnd then there are those other days when you just know you look good, like when you can't prevent staring at yourself in the chemistry building's windows (I would never…). But those are the days when you accomplish things! Not to sound like a motivational speaker, but when you feel confident, you act confident. And when you act confident, you kick ass. Maybe you'll get that job you've always wanted at Staples or maybe you'll literally kick somebody's ass. Regardless, you'll bring it.\nBecause the truth is that people have the power, at least to some degree, to affect their moods before the day really begins. And why would you want your day to begin with dirty sweatpants? \nMaybe the world would be a better place if everyone dressed every day like they were meeting their exes for coffee -- sweatpants don't exactly scream, "Look what you're missing!"\nAnd, if you think about it, it's a totally plausible suggestion. It takes no longer to put on a hot pair of jeans than it does to don those raggedy, overpriced Abercrombie cotton catastrophes -- two legs, one through each hole. Hell, a skirt (or kilt, depending on your gender) only has one hole. Skirts and kilts for everyone! \nMood rings had it right in the '90s -- their sole purpose was to reflect the mood of the wearer. And according to an article from the April 2006 issue of National Geographic, our clothes are headed that way as well. New fibers "may one day be used to make clothing that suits the wearer's mood or to allow a person to blend in with the environment." \nThe fibers operate as light-sensitive eyeglasses, which darken and lighten based on the amount of sunlight they are exposed to. These fibers, however, operate on electric current running throughout the body.\nThank you, technology: Whenever we get too lazy to do something (like dressing ourselves), you step in and do it for us.\nThese scientists are on to something, but for now we'll all just have to rely on our own devices to get dressed in the morning, like big boys and girls. \nBut don't forget: Your future spouse (or your ex) could be lurking around any corner. And the only message sweatpants send is "I'm too lazy to love you"
(01/08/07 3:04am)
Lately, big-time designers have been whoring themselves out to the mass consumer market. But I mean "whoring" in a respectable way -- think less of the stiletto boot-sporting streetwalker type and more of the Chanel-sporting "lady of the night" type.\nBut everyone knows a ho ain't complete without her pimp. In this case H&M and Target are the backers behind this slutty endeavor. And now they're rolling on 20-inch rims (big pimpin', spending G's).\nWith almost every changing season, retail chain giants like H&M and Target bring in a serious fashion heavy hitter to design a line for their stores. The line is highly publicized, and after it is sold and done, the two part ways. (This is why Isaac Mizrahi, who has unfortunately sold his soul to the red-and-white bull's-eye in a more permanent way, only has a talk show on the Style Network. What's the Style Network? I don't know either.)\nBack to the real designers. When I said "serious" fashion heavy hitters, I meant it. On the runway, these designer duds cost more apiece than the state of Rhode Island. Not that Rhode Island is up for auction on eBay or anything, but if it were, no one would buy it because (a) he or she would rather have a Stella McCartney pencil skirt and (b) it's Rhode Island. What has it done for you lately?\nLots of designers have already jumped on the mass-market bandwagon, including Karl Lagerfeld and Victor & Rolf (both for H&M). And this month, Proenza Schouler will reveal its new line for Target -- a collaboration that has caused me to pee my pants daily in anticipation. For those of you who now look constipated after a few moments of analyzing the pronunciation and greater significance of "Proenza Schouler," just trust me. It's orgasmic.\nBut here's the glory of it all: These new designer pieces usually never top $75. They may be slightly higher in price than their nearby non-designer threads, but not excessively so. \nMaybe you're wondering why these fabulously successful designers would want to take a dip in the fashion kiddie pool that's been peed in by corporate killers when they could just keep swimming in the deep end. Well, just like the pimp and the ho, it's totally symbiotic. The pimp gets cash for his Fubu gear and the ho gets the abusive and controlling father figure she always wanted.\nSimilarly, H&M and Target are raking in crazy profits while the designers are getting great publicity and a link to average America. \nOne major downfall of this enterprise is that only 5 percent of Americans have heard of Proenza Schouler, and that particular 5 percent would not even buy toilet paper at Target, let alone a wardrobe. As for the other 95 percent, it may just seem crazy that Target would actually charge more money for a blouse designed by someone they have never heard, especially since the store is so notoriously inexpensive.\nSo my advice is this: Take advantage of these exclusive lines. They may not be the highest of quality, but they've been designed by well-established fashion geniuses. It's beyond worth it.\nOr, you could just wait for a new line of Coach bags to start rolling in at Wal-Mart, since that's the only designer name girls at IU seem to be concerned with, but I wouldn't hold my breath.
(12/11/06 4:06am)
I arrived "fashionably early" to a party Thursday night. The apartment was vacuumed, decorated and blasting "Fergalicious" so loud that I could barely contain myself. I watched as the party's host put a padlock on his closet and questioned if he should wear the grey V-neck or the white one. Oh, this was no ordinary party.\nThis was a gay party.\nGay parties are parties that mainly consist of gay men and their female hags. Other guests often include the token straight guy, a posse of well-groomed squirrels and Kenneth Cole.\nBut gay parties are really just like "normal" parties --\nonly not at all. \nThe most obvious difference between gay and straight parties, is that the gays actually put an effort into how they dress. Throughout the night, I never saw a stain or a rip. In fact, after one partygoer accidentally spilled beer on the collar of his button-up, a nearby gang of boys attacked him with a pocket-sized spray bottle of stain remover and a washcloth before the stain could set. \nBeing a heterosexual lady and all, this got me wondering: Why can't straight guys make this much effort? Is it that much harder to have a top that buttons or jeans that fit? \nGuys were complimenting other guys, guys were complimenting ladies and 18 Jell-O shots into the evening I was just complimenting myself. It was like the after-party for a self-esteem workshop. (If you ever become the victim of second-degree facial burns, just head to a gay party. "Oh, honey, your burnt flesh looks fierce next to those brown eyes!")\nWhile I remained mostly in a particularly catty corner of the kitchen, I got the down low on everybody-- Who's dating whom, who's sleeping with whom and where did they get those fabulous shoes.\nThus, I have traveled to queer country and back to sprinkle homosexual fashion onto the straight men. \nFirst things first: blazers. Worn casually with jeans and a T-shirt underneath, this is a surefire way to get noticed by the ladies. Try one in a darker shade (like navy or black), and avoid anything too bright or you'll end up looking like a member of New Kids on the Block.\nI also noticed gay guys are big on layering -- an art most straight men are unfamiliar with (like foreplay and doing the dishes). Perhaps my favorite combination of the evening was a vertically striped button-up with a diagonally striped tie, all covered by a solid V-neck sweater. This guy got more play than the one walking around with trays of condoms and baby quiches.\nThe key to layering is to keep the patterns and colors to a minimum. Make sure at least one of the items you're layering is a solid, neutral color. Also, don't clash more than two patterns together or you'll just look drunk.\nNot only did these boys dress well, but they had the feet to prove it. There was not a Croc or Air Force One in sight. Instead, I was drooling over their leather loafers all night. If only gay men were into women.\nSuffice it to say I learned a lot at this party. I learned how many Jell-O shots is too many Jell-O shots, why not to write the word "PENIS" on your arm with a Sharpie (it's still there) and, most importantly, that gay guys dress a hell of a lot better than everyone else.
(12/04/06 3:53am)
Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la. 'Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la. Don we now our gay apparel ...\nYes, don we now our pleather pants and black mesh thongs this holiday season. Just kidding! But the song, believed by some to have originated in Wales in the 16th century, did have the right idea. In fact, a loose translation interprets the actual lyrics to be "Don we now our bubble-hem mini dresses." The Welsh were very fashion-forward people. \nThere are lots of reasons why this is the season to be jolly, but the top two reasons are: getting drunk in fancy clothes and still getting Barbie dolls as gifts from your extended family, despite the fact that you're old enough to get drunk in fancy clothes. \nLet's focus on the fancy clothes. Now, I know some of my fellow Hoosiers are not so fond of them. But unless Marc Jacobs starts manufacturing metallic sweatpants and light-up Ugg boots, I suggest you start shaving your legs and cave to the power that is the dress. \nDresses are all the rage this season. I hear that someone actually got shot in Connecticut over a metallic belted dress. Or was it a PS3? No, that can't be right; that would just be silly. \nBut really, dresses are almost trendier than those up skirt photos of Britney Spears this month. The first of these sexy party dresses is the bubble-hem dress. I'm not talking about those ugly cotton bubble-hem skirts that landed on the clearance rack at Charlotte Russe this summer, but an actual party dress -- silk, satin, taffeta. \nThere are two rules for pulling off the bubble-hems, says Meg Hemphill in this month's In Style. The first is to "avoid an exaggerated poufy skirt." This will add the look of unnecessary pounds, so unless you're striving to be the token fat girl at your party, I would pass up the extra pouf. Second, "show some skin on your upper half" to complement the extra fabric at the bottom. \nAnother great style this season is the metallic mini-dress. It's provocatively short, but the dress is usually softened up by adding sleeves or a higher neckline. It's a great way to show off your stems without looking like a sparkly trainwreck. And, even better, Mischa Barton loves 'em. She goes out to not eat dinner in one almost every night. \nLace is also a hot option for any party dress. It's racy enough to say "show me your candy cane" but ladylike enough to keep the wrapper on. These dresses come in various colors and lengths, but get them a little longer to keep the Frederick's of Hollywood look to a minimum. \nDepending on the event you're headed to, these outfits might require a little dressing up or dressing down. If you're on your way to a Kwanzaa kegger, dress down with a pair of leggings and a bright cardigan. But if you're on your way to a restaurant where the roasted asparagus costs more than the black market value of my pancreas, spice things up with some exaggerated jewelry. As always, flats are a better choice for any party where the cups are red and plastic. Choose suede pumps if, by chance, our friends "Beer Pong" and "Keg Stand" were not invited to the gathering. \nHope you all look fabulous while trolling the ancient Yuletide carol this year, whatever that means.
(11/27/06 3:48am)
Everyone has a time of year that's special to them. For some, it's Restless Leg Syndrome Education & Awareness Week; for others, it's Return Shopping Carts to the Supermarket Month. Well, this weekend was my special time. \nI ate broccoli cheese casserole with my long lost extended family. I listened to my aunt talk relentlessly about her new kitchen cabinets with unwavering interest and concentration. And, most importantly, I shopped. A lot. \nMy first shopping excursion took place at midnight on Thanksgiving night; the second was Friday afternoon, and the third was Saturday evening. Here are the tales I have to tell:\nThursday night was probably the most hazardous to my health. Two friends and I trekked to the Lighthouse Place Premium Outlets in Michigan City, Ind., for the midnight madness sale around, well, midnight. I distinctly recall my friend Jay asking if we were going to be the only ones there, considering it was past America's bedtime and -- gasp! -- Michigan City doesn't even have a Hollister.\nHow wrong we were. Not only were we not the only ones there, but I think my unborn children and Kevin Federline were the only people who didn't show up to the party. The place was madness. \nMy goal for Thursday wasn't so much shopping for myself as it was staying alive. Our SUV got cut off at least six times while we hunted for parking, probably by some fat family trying to catch a deal at the Hickory Farms sausage outlet. The Coach store had a line of ladies so long you'd think they were giving away free Smirnoff Ice and an autographed picture of Vin Diesel with every purchase. My boys bought some ties and sweaters at the Ralph Lauren store while I hid in fear from the mutinous crowd in a tiny dressing room, and then we got the hell out of there.\nFriday wasn't a real shopping trip either. It was more like foreplay for Saturday's excursion. I did, however, pick up a great pair of metallic flats (a hit this season) at DSW, everyone's favorite shoe warehouse. And, after avoiding countless fleece faux pas at Old Navy, I managed to pick up an extra-long gray zip-up sweater and some knee-high argyle socks -- my No. 3 weakness after jalapeno poppers and babies wearing FUBU.\nNow, if Friday was fondling, then Saturday was hot, hot sex. My charitable mother and I drove all the way out to Schaumburg, Ill., to go to Woodfield Mall -- or The Mecca, if you prefer. It's an homage to the ancient god of Nordstrom's.\nMy first attack occurred at Forever21, of course, where I tried on enough empire waist dresses to clothe a small village. Everything is longer this season; dresses now double as tops, and even standard cardigans have become longer, four-button "grandpa" sweaters.\nAnd when Madonna sang "Gonna dress you up in my love," she was probably talking about the 2006-07 holiday season because heart details are still all over the place. Buttons, bags, tunics -- they're all feeling the love, which, I must admit, is more appealing than that dumb skull trend.\nH&M was all about skinny pants and the military look, except for Madonna's collection, which was all about 1985 and tracksuits. Thankfully, there were lots of sweaters and coats to warm up to, a nice contrast to my skanky Forever21 selections.\nAs far as shoes go, my hopes and dreams were shattered when I fell in love with a $69 pair of mustard yellow boots at Steve Madden that turned out to be $169. I might as well have stomped my feet and told the Steve Madden salesgirls that they weren't invited to my party. Luckily, Bakers came to my rescue with a $59 pair of brown leather ankle boots, but I'm still not sure if I'm allowed back in to any Steve Madden store in North America. \nI left the mall with enough heavy bags to beat and mangle the male model who poses in front of Abercrombie wearing a winter coat and rock-hard pecs, so I suppose it was a successful trip.
(11/20/06 3:55am)
In 1776, Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence that all men are created equal. This was one of the most crucial elements of American democracy, created back when our nation was an emaciated baby with a big head. (But not cute like TomKat's or Brangelina's baby. Probably more like what I imagine Conan O'Brien and Calista Flockhart's pilgrim love-child would look like.)\nWell, what most history books neglect to mention is what happened after that. Thomas, angry with not being able to find a winter coat that accentuated his rockin' biceps, added a footnote to the Declaration of Independence. It said, "All men are created equal -- but all coats most certainly are not."\nThat's right. After the pilgrims and the Indians broke bread and passed out because of tryptophan, they sure didn't wake up at 5 a.m. to make it to the Kohl's early bird extravaganza sale for Christmas napkins and bargain treadmills. \nBut fortunately, corporate America has eaten our morals, and Thanksgiving is now more about guerrilla warfare shopping than cranberry sauce and awkward conversations about the Home Shopping Network with your Aunt Eileen. And for most of you volatile shoppers out there, the temperature is dropping and a winter coat is top priority. So what should you buy?\nFirst of all, unlike Bloomington, your hometown's mandatory winter uniform probably isn't a black North Face fleece, so let's break those shackles loose. \nThere are oodles of coats to choose from this winter, and they'll all keep you feeling toasty but looking even hotter. Military coats are the cat's meow of November. They're great both short and long, especially paired with a nice knee-high boot. Typically, they have brass buttons and a built-in belt -- great details that set you apart from the crowd.\nNext in the hierarchy comes the classic peacoat. It works in wool, tweed or corduroy and emanates an air of sophistication, even if you're wearing one of those silk-screened golden retriever sweatshirts underneath. And hey, peacoats worked for sailors! Even the ones with scurvy probably got laid when they wore their peacoats. \nWhen you're looking for either a military-style or a peacoat, try on a few with empire waists. It's an easy way to dress up a casual coat without making it too swanky to sport at the local White Castle. \nIf none of these tickles your furry fancy, there will always be the classic trench coat. The trench is like that guy who always drunk texts you at 1 in the morning to see "what up." He'll get the job done, but he probably won't cuddle afterward. Similarly, the trench is a great backup, though it won't keep you as warm as a one-night stand with wool. Wear it with a thick sweater, though, and you'll never know the difference.\nFor those die-hard puffy coat martyrs out there, I have not forgotten about your cause for zippers and faux-fur-trimmed hoods. If you have already sold your soul to the nylon/acrylic devil, at least try hunting for a vintage-style puffy coat. Avoid solid colors, especially bright, traffic conductor colors. That's just asking for it. Also, there is such a thing as too much puff. If strangers keep asking you, "Where is your igloo?" or make jokes about how you make the U.S. budget deficit look small, you better shed some synthetic pounds.\nSo Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, and have a happy (and safe) day-after-Thanksgiving shopping slaughterhouse. Let's hope that black eye matches your new winter wardrobe. Thomas Jefferson would be so proud.
(11/13/06 3:48am)
Welcome to my panties. \nToday, they are light pink and boy-cut. They say "I heart to cuddle" on my booty. I love them and, oh boy, do I love to cuddle!\nVictoria's Secret splits its panties into nine sexy categories: bikinis, boyshorts, briefs, hiphuggers, low-rise, tangas, thongs, v-strings and no-show panties. That's a lot of panty.\nPanties are so important to Victoria's Secret that its sales associates are not even allowed to refer to the panties as "underwear." Next time you're bored, try to get them to say it. They won't do it. \nSo, one question arises: What kind are you wearing? And, also, what the hell are tangas? That's a question for another column, though.\nThe truth is, panties are crucial. They're like the secret ingredient in your special sauce. Say, for example, that your outfit is filet mignon. It's a juicy porterhouse of Dolce & Gabbana with a Manolo Blahnik sauce -- your spicy red thong is the perfect touch for a perfect plate. It makes you feel even zestier. And say, for example, that you're scarfing down leftover Aeropostale sweatpants with a side of Keds -- your spicy red thong will at least make you somewhat edible. \nYou might not look like a goddess, but you should start treating your vagina like one.\nPanties are unquestionably given far less attention than other attire. So why devote time and money to something most people never see? \nThere are two reasons. First, everything feels better in a great G-string. Put a little silk in your nether regions, and you'll be smiling all day. Second, you never know when you might have to show it off.\nYou could meet a charming stranger in the Dollar Spot aisle at Target. You could seduce the Jimmy John's guy when he delivers your "Vito." You could stand in front of Ballantine Hall wearing a sandwich board sign that reads "You're Not Too Ugly For Me." Regardless, opportunities are everywhere. You don't want to be missing out on the action just because you're sporting that "Dora the Explorer" underwear your aunt bought for you last Easter. \nI'm sure the ladies out there can relate. Say you're hooking up with a new guy, and he finally strips down to his skivvies, only to reveal a tattered pair of "ALF" boxers? Not so sexy. Of all sitcom puppets, ALF is statistically the least erotic.\nSo let's avoid those situations from now on. \n"How?" you ask. You've got to stay on your toes. Or, in this case, on your ass. If your undergarments don't make you feel hot, they certainly won't make anyone else feel frisky, either.\nThe good thing is that sexy underwear is not that hard to find. It's actually ugly underwear that requires effort. (Who's making that effort, I'm not sure.) Even the Pink collection from Victoria's Secret is sexy, and it's made for girls going through puberty. And most pairs feature multi-colored cartoon dogs.\nSo my advice is this: Always be prepared. Stock up on sexy things for your bod, and it'll thank you for it. Maybe it'll even snag you a stud.\nAnd, for the guys who are reading this and asking themselves why they're still reading -- try buying a lucky lady friend some G-string goodness. She might slap you, or she might let you spank her. The odds are bad, but it's probably worth it.
(11/06/06 3:35am)
I have a love/hate relationship with my boyfriend, Denim. Sometimes he shrinks and doesn't perform very well. Sometimes he compliments my ass, so I let him get close and touch me inappropriately. Our relationship is unstable, but I know this much is true: I like skinny boys, but I love skinny jeans.\nBacktrack to the fifth grade when I got my first pair of wide-leg jeans. I had convinced my mom that Bush frontman Gavin Rossdale would never love me without them, and she finally caved and bought me two pairs of SilverTab wide-leg denim miracles from JCPenney. It was like the Messiah had come. \nTwo years later, I wouldn't be caught dead in them. Those wide-leg jeans were so far out of the closet, they might as well have been Lance Bass. Flares were in. Everyone who was anyone could have fit six machetes and a chain saw in the calf area of her jeans. And if you went to my junior high, you know they probably did. \nAround junior year of high school, the flare jean caught Mudd brand sleeping with the entire basketball team. Its reputation was tarnished. But thankfully, the bootcut fit came to its rescue. It still had sass, but at least it had boundaries. \nAnd now, in my junior year of college, it's all about the skinny jean. Finally. Tapered legs are hotter than Flavor Flav. And they make your ass look deelishus. \n"After years of bootcut denim dominance, slim cuts -- à la '80s punk rock -- are squeezing back into the fashion vernacular," wrote USA Today fashion correspondent Alison Maxwell in an April article. \nKate Moss wears 'em all the time. And everyone wants to be Kate Moss. Sure there's that heroin addiction and the fact that her boy Pete Doherty looks like an advertisement for suicide, but Kate is a freakin' bombshell in her teeny-tiny jeans.\nOne of the great things about skinny jeans is that they look good on a lot of people, not just Kate. Don't be deceived by the name. Skinny jeans aren't only for skinny people. If that were the case, they'd have to rename apparel made for fat people "velour fat pants" or "I'm-so-puffy vests." For most people, skinny jeans make the legs appear longer, creating an illusion of slenderness. \nRemember when your mom used to melt cheese on your broccoli so you'd eat it? The broccoli still tasted like broccoli, but it was covered in a deceiving layer of gooey pasteurized goodness that you just couldn't resist. Wearing skinny jeans is like covering your body in melted cheese. You just look better.\nAnd you know this trend is big when even the god-forsaken College Mall is selling skinny jeans. They sell them everywhere, from Macy's to Charlotte Russe. \nLucky magazine fashion director Hope Greenberg wrote: "A year ago, you couldn't even find them in the mall, and now it has absolutely trickled down."\nSo true. Last Christmas, I bought a long sought-after pair of skinnies at my favorite fashion-forward mecca, H&M, and people stared at me like I was walking a goldfish on a leash around campus. Now they're flying off the shelves at Forever21 faster than Ugg boots and cut-up sweatshirts in New Jersey.\nI have a feeling this trend is staying around, too. I mean, where else can it go? It started wide, but then it saw a photo of Calista Flockhart and started feeling bad about itself. And it has been sweating off the pounds ever since. Maybe when Calista breaks out of a size 00 -- or Kirstie Alley fits into it -- the trend can end.
(10/30/06 3:36am)
Thrift stores really get me off. I don't know if it's the menagerie of "World's Best Boss" coffee mugs or the naked Cabbage Patch dolls with one arm and crayon-colored plastic faces, but I love 'em, and I know you do, too. It's the only place where you can literally find an outfit for every occasion, from an '80s prom to a first date at Starbucks. And for almost no money!\nNearly everyone's been to a thrift store. Some go once a year for Halloween and scour aisle after aisle for Cosby sweaters and bell-bottoms. Some memorize the shipment schedule and flirt with the stock boys so they can get first dibs on the hand-me-downs every week. Regardless, we've all been there. Some stores can be a little intimidating, so here's my "how-to-shop-thrifty-and-not-lose-your-marbles" guide to Goodwill.\nThere are a lot of things to remember when vintage shopping. First and foremost, hold your nose.\nThen remember to keep an open mind. Yes, some thrift stores might be dirty, and some of the clothes might be pre-worn by a sweaty, 480-pound guy nicknamed "Sweet Cheeks." But hey, he probably had a great personality.\nAs we all know and have probably pointed and laughed at, there are used bras and "tighty-whities" at Goodwill. Get over it. You don't have to buy them. I mean, you can if you're into that sort of thing; I'm sure there's some sort of eroticism in the mysterious past life of your panties. If you're a frugal Freddy, just buy your undies at Wal-Mart and feed corporate America's bastard child of greed and shame like everyone else. \nSo now that your nasal passages are closed off and you've bypassed the secondhand intimates, let's shop. But thrift shopping is no walk in the mall, so you better be ready. I'm talking dedication here -- none of this pansy, hands-off browsing. You've got to, as they advise in "High School Musical," get your head in the game. There should be thorough sifting, size-checking and fitting. It's OK to try things on. Scabies isn't that common.\nAnd keep your eyes peeled. For every 467 pairs of acid-washed, high-waisted mom jeans, there is one kickass belted shirtdress. For every 1,825 turtleneck sweaters with snowman appliques and sequins, there is one great leather bomber jacket. Be confident; you will find that diamond in the vomit-stained rough.\nShopping thrift is also a great way to expand your wardrobe. Not in quantity but in variety. People always tell me they couldn't "pull off" the clothes I wear, but it's not like I'm sporting aluminum foil tank tops and LEGO dresses to class. If your entire wardrobe is Abercrombie T-shirts and tattered jeans, it might be hard to pull off anything else simply because people will react to the change. But you can keep your wardrobe varied with super-cheap vintage pieces that spice things up. And if you wear it and decide you look more revolting than Nicole Richie in a bikini, trash it. It probably cost less than your pride.\nAnd the great thing about Goodwill is that you can feel good about wasting your parents' money on some dead guy's argyle, knee-high socks. About 83 percent of Goodwill's total revenues are used to fund education, career services and other critical community programs, according to its Web site.\nEvery time you shop at Hollister, a Republican kills a kitten.\nBut seriously, take a little trip to your local thrift store, and buy something that 46 other people in your history class aren't wearing. You'll be surprised at what you can pull off. And if it turns out you can't, who cares? Is one dollar really that important to you? Do you really need another cheap Buddha doll from the Target dollar spot? You don't even meditate.
(10/16/06 2:44am)
I am not political. I would rather watch a "Meerkat Manor" marathon than watch a political debate. I'm too busy getting anti-Ugg boot petitions signed to read about Iraq, so my knowledge of politics is limited. \nBut this is what I know: I know our president can't pronounce the word "nuclear," and he's slightly less eloquent than an intoxicated 6-year-old. I know I miss Bill Clinton because he had a kinky sex life and he could play the saxophone! (I'm sure George W. Bush couldn't even play the recorder if he tried.) Most importantly, I know I'm a Democrat because their promotional T-shirt selection is a hell of a lot better.\nSearching for a clever Republican T-shirt is like trying to find fruits and vegetables in Raven Symone's fridge. You might find one lonely, moldy head of lettuce wedged among a lifetime supply of Nutrageous bars and ranch dressing. Similarly, if you look hard enough, you can maybe spot a "Bush Rocks!" or "I Heart War" ringer tee roaming the streets. Maybe. They might be on the clearance rack at Aéropostale.\nRepublican T-shirts can't be funny because, really, what do Republicans have to laugh at? \nWell, for one, they're depriving well-deserving couples of happiness and generous tax breaks because they have a different sexual preference. (Separation of church and state, yeah right).\nDemocratic T-shirts, on the other hand, are a riot. "Vote Bush: Fascism Rocks." Now that is funny. How about a graphic of some furry pubic hair next to our president's goofy face reading "Good Bush ... Bad Bush"? When was the last time a Republican made a political comparison using hairy genitalia? Actually, when was the last time a Republican admitted to even having genitalia?\n"I do not!" Roger Republican says. "There's nothing down there, I swear!"\nNow I'm not saying that Dems are better because they're witty and have great silk-screening connections. It's because donkeys are way better pets than elephants. They're a lot less demanding, and they don't require nearly as many peanuts.\nKidding! It's because Republicans are idealists and Democrats are realists, and idealists are never funny.\nFor example, we shouldn't make emergency contraception available to girls under the age of 16 because they shouldn't be having sex, right? Yeah, that's realistic. Let's just stop selling everything that's unhealthy or immoral: Marlboro Lights, Starbucks, velour sweatpants. That'll fix Congress' problems.\nMaybe if certain Republican members of Congress spent more time being honest about the country's issues and less time instant messaging "Do I make you horny?" to 16-year-old boys, we'd be in better shape. \nMy point is this: Republicans aren't funny because they're too busy dreaming about how the country should be. Democrats are funny because, well, Republicans give us a lot of motivation for ridicule. Also because we're just trying to be honest about the way things are. In the end, isn't the truth funnier than anything else?\nToday, the truth is the man running our country says words like "misunderestimated." Now that, America, is funny.
(10/09/06 2:46am)
I love all bags. Black bags, white bags -- even bags that still wear flares because they haven't gotten the memo about skinny jeans yet. But there is such a thing as too much bag.\nFor example: Girls who like to carry both a backpack and a purse on campus. Umm, what? Couldn't you just, oh, I don't know, put the stuff from your purse in your backpack? Isn't that like wearing jeans and then putting jean shorts on over them? \nI don't care if your little jean shorts are worth hella Benjamins. Hell, I wouldn't care if they were diamond-encrusted and worn to the Last Supper.\nBy the way, Louis Vuitton called. He said, "Why the hell are you spending $900 on my ugly bag? I saw the same one at Claire's yesterday. It was $14.99, and it came with a free ear-piercing."\nThe following is a list of things I would rather spend $900 on: 113 copies of Weird Al Yankovic's Greatest Hits CD, a 60-year subscription to Cat Fancy magazine or 22.5 10th Anniversary Edition Tickle Me Elmo dolls.\nWhat's so great about Louis bags? Umm ... he knows his own initials? I guess that's always a plus. Coach doesn't even have initials. Give me a break.\nWhy would you want to carry all your essentials (wallet, cell phone, Go-gurt) in the same bag as everyone else? This could get mighty confusing. You could come home from the bars with a purse full of Twizzlers and Bratz dolls. That never happens when you shop at Forever 21. And, even if it did, the price of the bag equals the approximate price of six Twizzlers. That, my friends, is called thriftiness.\nNow onto the purse's chubbier, stays--at--home--on--the--weekends older sister, the backpack. Now, "backpack" is a blanket term used to classify satchels, canteens with straps, miniature suitcases with wheels and a handle (often denoting a trip to Grandma's in large block letters and primary colors) and all other nonpurse--related items. \n"But what about paisley diaper bags? Do they count, too?" asks Vera Bradley.\n"Yes, Vera. They count," I say. But only if you're blind. And maybe deaf. Even Helen Keller managed to accessorize with a pink JanSport. That Vera Bradley bag might be paisley, but it's still screaming, "My mommy spoils me!" \nYour backpack is important, so show it some love -- perhaps in the form of leather or a nice printed canvas. You know who loves canvas? Mischa Barton. She loves canvas so much that she is marrying it and starring in a major ad campaign to promote it. \nHere is my point: Mischa Barton is the only person in the free world who can wear those canvas Keds and still be cool.\nKidding. Well, no, but here is my real point: Backpacks are like boyfriends. They carry your books and feel you up in public, so they better be pretty.\nPurses, on the other hand, aren't that important. When you're going to the bars and finally leaving the gaucho pants at home, your outfit should do all the talking. You're not going to shack up because your teeny-tiny Coach purse had one too many tequila shots and showed a little too much cleavage. \nYour backpack might be the purse's chubbier older sister, but its ass is out of this world.
(10/02/06 2:40am)
Brrrr. This weekend was cold. So cold, in fact, that I saw girls wearing warm Ugg boots with their miniskirts and belted tanks at every party I went to.\nOh, nevermind, they did that in July. Regardless, it's THO weather. And you know what that means: It's time to break out the padded bras and North Face jackets. \nAccording to The North Face Web site, the brand got its name because "the north face of a mountain is generally the coldest, iciest and most formidable route to climb." It goes on to say the founders thought the name reflected their "mission and dedication to the extreme."\nAs I trek through the Arboretum during the peak of Indiana's notoriously icy autumn weather, my fingers purple from frostbite and my hair quickly evolving into brownish-red icicles, I begin easing in and out of consciousness. My fellow students' corpses are scattered in every direction -- the trek to Briscoe was just too far. I, however, am headed to the health center, where I will get most of my more useless appendages sliced off with a hacksaw and pick up free condoms on the third floor. I will then be able to continue my expedition and, I hope, reach my final destination: the IU Bookstore -- I'm out of Burt's Bees, and my lips are crazy-chapped.\nGood thing I'm wearing a North Face fleece, otherwise the walk to class would be a deathtrap. \n It makes sense, given that IU is the coldest, iciest and most formidable campus on earth.\nWhat? All right, let's face it: I hate The North Face. I hate it more than I hate girls whose names are one letter off from normal names, like "Kirsten" or "Lara." (Why do that to your child? You know she's going to spend 75 percent of her lifetime correcting substitute teachers.) \nBut it's not that I hate The North Face entirely. I just hate that one freakin' coat. You know the one: You've seen it on 27,000 of your closest friends. It's fleece (If cotton is the official "fabric of our lives," then fleece is the official fabric of tools). It's typically gray or black, but some of the more adventurous ladies out there dare to wear it in pink or baby blue. It's kind of like when parents dress up their ugly, androgynous babies in obviously gendered clothes to avoid that awkward "What's this cute little man's name?" "Uhh, it's Jill ..." moment. Ma'am, your baby girl is still fugly in that frilly dress. Ladies, that coat is still ugly despite the advanced technologies of pastel-colored fleece.\nI was thinking that this ugly black/gray/pink/blue compost heap of fleece was all that the company sold. But after browsing the Web site, I now know that The North Face manufactures 112 different coats for men and 110 for women. That's a veritable smorgasbord of warmth. And, get this: They come in other styles and colors. Someone should really spread the word about this. Who wants to start the "For every 1,000 people who buy a nonfleece North Face jacket, I will donate one nickel to Darfur" group on Facebook?\nThere are a lot of coats out there. So why the obsession with this particular brand? Is it because of the one-of-a-kind logo? Or your devotion to extreme sports (like using the elliptical at the SRSC or lifting a 250-pound fatty for a keg stand)? Or because you like wearing the same coat as your little brother, grandmother, barber, mail carrier, hamster and fun-loving youth pastor? \nI know it's warm and all. (I hear the lining's made of kittens and toaster ovens.) But aren't all coats warm? Unless your coat has spaghetti straps and a v-neck, I'm guessing it's going to keep out the cold. Don't blame poor, innocent warmth on your unsightly, conformist coat. \nSo unless I see you scaling the east wall of Ballantine Hall or spelunking in the basement of Memorial Hall, you need to (North) face the facts. Your coat might keep you warm, but you sure don't look hot.
(09/25/06 2:44am)
Every time I head back home to what has inevitably become "my parents' house," I have to face the nightmare of my past: my old bedroom.\nI flash back to middle school, where my thoughts on interior decorating were as follows: \nHow many plastic glow-in-the-dark stars does it take to make a whole galaxy? How many more pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio can I fit into my hot guy collage? Isn't it such a good idea to put my Magna Doodle in my window, so I can send messages to the outside world? \nFast-forward to me looking around my room after graduating high school: What the hell is wrong with me? \nI decided at that moment that I would make an effort to decorate once I got to college. (I also decided to nickname myself "Philly" and tell all my new friends as a means of reinventing myself ... which was just silly, like cartoons and Republicans.) Of course, when I decided to decorate, I was also envisioning my dorm room as the one the gang slept in on "Saved by the Bell: The College Years." You remember it -- two bedrooms attached to an oversized lounge attached to a Roman bathhouse attached to an indoor racquetball court attached to a Buddhist prayer room. Once I got to school and saw the prison that is Teter-Wissler, I thought to myself: What would Christina Aguilera do? Teter can't hold me down.\nSo I decorated. Now, two years later, out of the dorms and in my fabulous apartment, I am still decorating. Me, my gay roommate and about four other people on this campus.\nMaybe I should clarify what decorating is ... not.\nBad posters do not give you interior design cred. This includes any poster that has the phrase "laugh, love, live" on it, anything by Anne Geddes or puppy dog-themed artwork. Is that what you want to see when you stumble home drunk with an unattractive stranger who might or might not be a sex opposite to what you think he or she is? A fat, Caucasian baby dressed up as a sunflower and a dog with sad eyes? I have to mention "The Kiss" poster. Yeah, guys, I know lesbians wearing full-sized white panties are orgasmic, but they're probably just on their period. It's a lesbian poster, so where are the Birkenstocks and oversized clothes? They're not real lesbians. You will never have a three-way with these ladies. Lower your standards and just start dating chicks with braces already.\nDo you know what else doesn't count as decor? Anything that once contained alcohol. (Showing off your drinking skills at IU is like a porn star wearing an 'I'm a Porn Star' T-shirt at a porn star convention.) That's right, I don't want to see your empty Pabst Blue Ribbon bottles lining the kitchen counters like a sacrifice to the white-trash beer gods. All those empty handles of Kamchatka? Impressive. Guys who can't afford Absolut really get me off. But why limit it to liquor bottles? What about nonalcoholic beverages, like empty milk gallons or old Kroger-brand orange juice cartons? They'd look so hot next to your George Foreman grill. Or, better yet, why not move on to food? You ate a granola bar as a late-night snack? Tack that wrapper on the wall, and show the world your accomplishments. Chicken bones, egg shells, peach pits ... the possibilities are endless here, really.\nWhere is the love, folks? Hasn't anyone heard of IKEA? It's a Swedish orgasm masquerading itself as a furniture store. You should try it. You can decorate your entire apartment for about $15, and then go eat meatballs in the cafeteria.\nWhat about legitimate art? You know, by artists? I bet Andy Warhol got laid way more than Captain Morgan. And I hear Jose Cuervo can't get it up. Jackson Pollock never had that problem. Shall I continue?\nThat being said, buy a rug. Or some curtains. Or a three-foot water bong (and invite me over). We're finally out of our parents' houses, and your new apartment doesn't have Freddie Prinze Jr. stickers stuck to your door frame, so let's embrace that. Give it the love it deserves. So either start decorating or start licking the walls and touching them inappropriately because it's time to get busy.
(09/18/06 2:43am)
Welcome, straight men, to How to Dress Like A Gay Man But Still Get Laid By Chicks 101. \nWe're all a little older now; we're in college. Or we're out of high school, at least. That's something, so let's celebrate by looking like we're out of high school. Now, boys, I'm not saying you should clean out Men's Warehouse and start sporting suits and ties to class (although you'll like the way you look ... that one guy guarantees it.) Still, there are some flawless techniques to look mature while still getting girls to slap your ass and call you Daddy, so let's get this party started.\nLast weekend you might have done 16 beer bongs, puked in a stranger's sink and woke up next to some chick wearing only a tube top and a mustache. That's college. So, even if you're not really a grown-up yet, let's fake it, shall we? \nFirst things first, pull up your pants. Your "Yo Quiero Taco Bell" boxers aren't sexy. They don't make me want you; they make me want a baja chalupa. \nLike I said, you don't have to be a grown-up to dress like one. Similarly, you don't have to be gay to dress like one. For example, I can't even count the number of times I've suggested to my guy friends to try on some tighter jeans. I'm not talking I-can-see-your-scrotum jeans, just a great slim-fit, boot-cut. \n"That's gay." You're right. Buying these jeans is like filling out your Homosexuals of America application with a feather pen and purple ink ... No, letting some guy wearing black see-through mesh stick his tongue down your throat in the bathroom of a well-lit club is gay. Wearing nice-fitting jeans is like putting a chick magnet in your boxer briefs. Chirp, chirp, boys, chirp, chirp.\nAnd I have to ask: What's with those sexually explicit Abercrombie & Fitch shirts? I mean, yeah dude, we get it. If there's a midnight game of shirts vs. skins tackle football with the ladies, you are so in. You love the vagina. You're bringing your own pigskin. Why don't you just wear a shirt that says "I LOVE POONTANG" or "GO HETEROS!" with a couple of busty cartoon cheerleaders fondling football players on the sidelines? \nI stopped wearing that hogwash when I actually started getting some; maybe you should have done the same. Try a polo or a button-up -- those vertical stripes aren't going to hurt your beer gut. T-shirts, not including the aforementioned Abercrombie shirts for the horny and obtuse, work great for class and the bars. Even Bullwinkle's.\nAll right, now you're dressed. But feet are people, too, so let's talk about them. Yes, I see you stompin' in your Air Force Ones. And you in the Crocs, don't think your rubber garden shoes are getting you a free pass to Vagina Island. They're not. I know they're uber-comfortable, and I'm sure they are a dream compared to your shoe repertoire of tennis shoes and Doc Martens. Oh God, you guys have it rough. Try balancing all your weight on two stiletto heels the size of freakin' fingernails while blisters form in six different spots of your feet ... after 11 Miller Lites. Shoes aren't that complicated, guys, so how about some Diesel sneakers or a rockin' pair of Pumas? Ditch the Crocs, and save us all, please.\nIf you follow these simple steps to dressing yourself and you're a Democrat, you'll probably get laid within seven days. Buy some petunias or make dinner for a special lady friend, and I'm guessing you'll only have to wait three to four days (or hours, depending on how long your ... petunia is.) Girls really aren't that hard to please, and sometimes we want to play midnight shirts vs. skins tackle football just as much as you guys do. Just don't show up in Crocs and Taco Bell boxers, and we'll blow the whistle.
(09/11/06 2:54am)
You're an Informatics major who just got laid, finally learned all the lyrics to "High School Musical" or just found out what the "pen15" club is.\nThese are all compelling reasons to get a tattoo.\nEven better? You've just gotten over that two-month dating hump. Call me old-fashioned, but the only legitimate way to prove your love is getting a tattoo of your boyfriend's initials. That, and a few sexually explicit acts that I can't very well describe right here. But really, unless his name is Thomas Ian Turkowicz or Billy Louis Oscar Wendell Jacob Oliver Bartlett, it's a great idea. Similar great ideas include a Jenny Craig logo on your arm fat or Flavor Flav's portrait, clock included, on your left boob. All good ideas.\nSeriously, tattoos are for life, like contracts with the devil (or worse, Nextel). Don't get me wrong, I'm big on tattoos. I have two, and I plan on getting more (they're like Pringles), but my dad said I have to wait until he croaks. But I'll be honest here: If you have a tattoo, I might not love it. As much as I love a good tribal design, I have to ask: Do you belong to a tribe? If so, whip out your rainstick because I seriously doubt it. \nAs you can surely tell, I have a lot of opinions on tattoos -- well, tattoos and furries (so creepy!). But that's not part of this article, so I'll stick to the ink. Mockery aside, I have only one steadfast rule, one that, if broken, should cause the rule-breaker years of public ridicule. The punishment includes, but is not limited to, being forced to buy T-shirts with captivating proverbs on them like "Princess" or "Heartbreaker" from Kohl's. And the rule is: If you don't speak Chinese, don't get something written in Chinese tattooed on your body. (This isn't really Chinese-specific as it works similarly with all languages, but this one seems to be the most prevalent.) \nFor example, I notice that some people like to pick out random words from the dictionary like "love" or "faith" or "shoe" and get the Chinese symbol tattooed on their ass (or lovely lady lumps). You know these girls Googled the translation. \nSo here's another thing to ponder: Say Plopsy McSlutterson wants to get the Chinese symbol for "serenity" on her lower back. But what if Chet, Plopsy's tattoo artist, is having a bad day? And I mean really bad -- like the cheese packet was missing from his Easy Mac box, and his mom hasn't responded to his last three text messages. Instantaneously, "serenity" could become "buttmunch" and -- here's the glorious part -- Plopsy wouldn't even know!\nAccording to vanishingtattoo.com, "tattoo" was the third most popular word searched on Lycos.com in 2003. That's more hits than "cherub," "radioactive isotopes" and "socks for grandma" combined, folks. Where the hell has all the innocence of branding gone? And who are these insubordinate miscreants out there searching for tattoo ideas on the Internet while the rest of conventional society is cruising for free, low-grade porn and chicken recipes? Is this really how it works now?\nWhy don't we all go back to the good old days when people got their tattoos during long prison stints, using long, dirty needles and smuggled ink? Come on, what are you going to choose: hepatitis and originality or good health and bad taste? It's your choice, just listen to your heart. Unless your heart is on your ass and it's written in Chinese.