Well, my friend M came through with fucking cupcakes with Lady fucking Gaga fucking screenprinted on them. Here's a side-by-side, as promised.
Um, weird, right? The saddest thing about this comparison is that my hair only looks marginally better in the left photo. I need a haircut, y'all. Here's a closeup of the cupcake since you probs can't see it that well.
Bam, motherfuckers. My friends rock.
A few life updates, more for my benefit than yours.
1. The Gaga concert was transcendent. So transcendent that I'm having great difficulty writing about it. Suffice it to say: I laughed, I cried, I jumped up and down, I closed my eyes and felt the energy of the room pumping in my blood, I danced, and my boobs almost fell out of my strapless dress. And when I walked out of Radio City, I felt like myself for the first time in months and months.*
2. The hair bow tattoo is a definite go. I went with J on Saturday to a consultation at Brooklyn Adorned and we are both getting tats on the same day in March. It's going on the inside of my left wrist. I'm very excited.
3. On the way back to Manhattan after my tattoo consult, I saw Rich, the writer of FourFour, on the L train!!!! It was my first (semi)celebrity sighting that I actually cared about enough to try to talk to the person. He was very nice and took my blogging card (yes, I have those). I was (too) nerdily excited. I of course told him how much I love Winston.
4. Last night was my co-birthday blowout bash with my friend B. She turned 25 on Jan. 15, and my 24th birfday was last week, so we just decided to mash 'em together for a big blowout night at Solas in the East Village. It was amazing. I counted, and all together, about 23 people came out to celebrate with us. It was such an amazing New York night; I was surrounded by people I love, and when Bad Romance played, I got to re-live a bit of the concert energy from a couple nights before. Pokerface also played, and Z and I danced up and down the stairs. Natch.
