Site Update

The rumors are true. Wait…. there are no rumors? Ok, well, then…you’re hearing it here first. The site is undergoing a bit of a change. SweetBird will be taking a hiatus to get her Portland feet firmly planted. But luckily I come equipped with an arsenal of incredibly talented guest bloggers and photographers to help me maintain the site to bring you only the snarkiest and most entertaining fashion and lifestyle writing from this here city we call home. On the docket:

  • My lovely and talented, wordsmith extraordinaire rooomate Nikki is working on an article for you abour her quest for fake love in Portland. Check her out here: uhhuhcupid.tumblr.com. She’s adorable.

Me and Nik

  • Red hair saga posts. I found this pic of this babe on tumblr and instantly fell in love with her hair. After donning a red wig for Halloween, I thought, why not?! However, I’m currently trying to grow it out. But screw it…I’m gonna start the process now anyway. First appointment to get these bangin copper highlights? Thursday June 7.
  • Remember that babe-a-rella Jordan from my 90’s post? Well she and I are going thrift store shopping. Shopping on a budget! Hooray? Can’t wait to show you what we find.
  • For all the ladies out there. My sister does not have a foul mouth like I do, in fact, she’s quite a lady, but she’s an excellent writer and she wants to tell you about style on a budget too. The difference being, she has very different fashion sense than me  and is far less crass. Like what you read? She has her own blog over at reallivingbeauty.com.

She’s a lady.

  • I have super superior photographer friends. Like, ridiculously talented. We’re cookin up some original shoots for you.
  • I also have a ridiculously talented graphic designer friend. He’s gonna help make the blog look extra purdy.

And then, a whole bunch of misc crap. The same old foul-mouthed, semi fashion-related articles you’ve come to know and love. Just wanted to give you a heads up while also getting you excited for what’s to come!

xoxo,

Lou

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The Dream of the 90’s

I know. That title is a bit predictable, so sue me. I want to write about 90’s fashion, but first I have to say that your view of the 90’s might be different than my view of the 90’s and then, well there’s the 90’s as we all remember it fashion-wise. I’m sure I can post this picture:

And make half of you squeal in nostalgic delight, but I started the 90’s a little girl wearing stretchy headbands that matched my bulky sweaters, which I wore over leggings (pretty sure the horror of this is why it sticks with me) and ended the 90’s a stoner hoodlum that considered gold chains and chola hoops the height of fashion.

Up here in Portland, I have a healthy amount of young friends that are bringing back the trends my older sisters use to rock. My sisters (33 and 34 respectfully) probably both wanted everything Brenda wore on 90210…or did you want Kelly’s wardrobe? See? I’m too young. I don’t even know. But what I do know is that I have a picture of my super bangin hot homie Jordan (24 … young bitch) wearing almost that exact same Donna dress.

Look at that 90210 picture again. Can you believe David Silver is banging Megan Fox now? WTF.

Dude. Jordan. You are such a Donna. Check out her hat here:

Hahaha, Brenda’s blouse. Holy shit. Reminds me of that Seinfeld episode…the pirate shirt episode. So funny. Dang. You guys actually liked this back then. Kelly’s pants!! Wha??? So good. So, so good. And I laugh, but in 20 years I bet we’ll all be laughing at the clothes we see on Gossip Girl.

What other 90’s trends are cropping up you ask? I’ll allow Miley Cyrus to demonstrate. Miley Cyrus! I’m pretty sure a 20 year old today recycling your own teenage fashion makes you Vintage. Not there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just sort of mind blowing, no?

Grungy flannels and boots? I might even wear that. No. I know I would wear that. But what in the actual fuck is that first outfit? It should have stayed in the 90’s where it belongs. Christ.

Like I said, I was in a different adolescent stage during the 90’s. But what’s weird is I feel like I’m bringing back my own 90’s trends and it’s freaking me out.

Mentioned it earlier, but I thought I was a little badass when I was oh … 14. That would be, 1997. All this picture illustrates is that I actually wore gold chains and Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirts that were 18 sizes too large for me, but I was too lazy to find anything better.

Seriously though, I ran with a crowd of juvenile delinquents. I thought I was hard and yet, JESUS look at my tiny, innocent, non-makeuped face.(No make up was not the norm as evidenced by my yearbook pic below).


Now look at this! A gift from my boyfriend upon hearing about my obsession with gold chains. And I recently stole his gold CASIO because who am I kidding? It’s fucking awesome.

And admittedly, my most recent chola get-up is much better than my junior high attempt, but point is, the obsession still exists even if most days I don’t indulge it, saving it instead for theme kickball teams and the like.

Then… (can you spot me?)

So. Much. Bronzer and Hairspray.

Now.

Gold, Gold, Gold!

I don’t know anyone that hates 90’s fashion. In fact, most people either love it in theory, feel completely affectionate toward it, or go full on and wear it every fucking day like they’re “bringing it back”, which fine, yeah, I’m all for it.

I’m bringing back my own 90’s after all and I bet if you aren’t doing that yourself, you’re wishing someone would so you could look at it again and squeeeeee in delight? Amirite?

Go on, tell me about your 90’s fashion obsessions. Or, shock me, and tell me about your 90’s fashion gripes that you wish would just die already (see: Miley Cyrus, above photo).

For better for worse, as my lovely Jordan showcases for us, the dream of the 90’s is indeed alive in Portland and not just cause we’re all a bunch of layabouts. 90’s are Vintage, bitch.

xoxo,

Lou

Would you let Fish eat your Feet?

I was flipping through a National Geographic in the break room at work just now and I stumbled across an article on traveling in Thailand or some shit and there was a picture of some girls, all sitting in a row, with their feet dunked in a gigantic fish tank. Something like this:

I’ve heard of fish pedicures before, but this time I gave it 5 seconds thought before almost barfing and deciding I would NEVER do this. Even researching this post is grossing me out, and I am not easily grossed out. Look at these pictures and then take this poll so I can see if I’m in the minority or not. Would you let some tiny fish eat away at your feet?

No surprise it’s been banned a lot of places for being “unsanitary”, but lots of traditional pedicures are unsanitary too. Is this just organic?

If I haven’t grossed you out yet…fish also do full body exfoliation.

So tell me…would you get a Fish Pedicure?

Le freak, So Shiekh

The other day I was at the mall with Olivia. Yes the mall. I love the mall. The smell of pretzels and artificial cheese heavy in the air, scene kids with hideous haircuts skipping by with their Hello, Kitty backpacks and bargains galore!

Unfortunately we were there shopping for birthday gifts and I’m more broke than an America’s Next Top Model finalist so I did no bargain shopping of my own. However, we couldn’t resist a trip to Shiekh. Oh Shiekh, how I love you. You take the most upsetting shoe trends and make them even more upsetting by adding glitter, flames, spikes and all other varieties of adornment that have no place on feet.

Even your logo is terrible. God, I love you.

I have bought a few pairs of non-blingy boots from here that I adore. Granted they tend to fall apart after a few months but whatevs, my fashion attention span is that of a hyperactive two year old high on sugar.

The shoes I saw that day were so surprisingly bad. One of two things must be happening:

1. I’m really and truly getting old. So old that I’m genuinely confounded by fashions worn by kids these days. 

2. The fashions that kids these days are really and truly getting more horrible. 

Truly hideous shoes in point:

WTF? Please ignore the clown shoes in the back and focus on the “snake in an oil spill by the nuclear power plant” monstrosities that I’m holding. Why….why, why does there need to be a small weird little platform under the toe? Is the shoe not attention grabbing enough? Barf, I say. BARF.

There is only one occasion that these shoes would be acceptable for. If you are one of the people in the dragon costume at a Chinese New Year parade. Then fine, your little kooky dragon feet would be adorable. Other than that? No, bitch. No.

These could be cool as part of a Halloween costume. Sexy creature from the black lagoon? Aquaman? Unfortunately, broads are hoofin’ downtown in these things. I don’t even have any words left. I’m overcome by the ugly.

Part of me wonders how much I would have pissed my pants with glee if someone had gifted these shoes on me when I was 17. I think there would be some seriously wet pants. But at 17 I also had a bright pink pixie cut, giant men’s polyester pants and little boy t-ball tees from salvation Army. I wasn’t exactly drowning in good taste.

I feel like grown women should know better. But again, maybe I’m just old and crotchety.

Oh and also…

This may be the end of my friendship with Lou but I have to admit, I really like these booties. They’re definitely Jeffery Cambell rip-offs but the toe isn’t as bulbous and horrifying.

I think they’re so cute. I’m sorry, Lou! I just bought this dress:

And it screams for booties. For those booties. Oh god, the shame!!!! The shame!!!!!

Okay. That’s all. I have to go soak my eyeballs in whiskey to get rid of all the vomit inducing, blinding shoes I just looked at.

Happy Friday! Enjoy some random shit

I’ve been talking about posting for awhile now and I’m SORRY if I SUCK at being productive. I’m staring at a mountain of work, but it’s Friday and sunny and all my brain is thinking is drinks! Happy Hour! Whee!

So, mind if it’s a bit random?

I just looked on my phone to see what Amber’s (Hi Amber!) great ideas were for the blog. And what I drunkenly agreed were insanely spectacular:

  • 90’s fashion comebacks. What did I do then that I am doing again. I’ll give you a hint:

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I actually really want to write this post, but it’s going to require some scanning of photos. My lord. You will love it. Junior high Lucy was … interesting. I also want to know what YOU did in the 90’s that you find yourself doing again. And, of course, I will make assumptions about strangers and judge them for it. Obviously. And only 2:23 pm? Stupid work day.

  • Second idea was park lyfe Do’s and Don’ts.

For the last couple of years, I’ve spent a sizable chunk of summer days sitting at Col. Summers park. Haven’t we all, amirite Portland? It’s full of fuckin weirdos. And bike nerds, hippies, children, dogs, druggies, bums, etc, etc. I couldn’t find a picture that did it justice, but here’s a pretty pic I took there the other day:

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Widmer? Those hipsters be fancy!

Anyway, since I always end up buzzed there anyway, the plan is to one day get my ass up off my park blanket and take some pics of weirdos and then tell you if it’s a park lyfe do or a park lyfe don’t. Dude. It’s going to be super fun.

And my last topic…..

  • growing out your hair and what a bitch that is.

Pretttttty sure this was just me being drunk and frustrated with my hair. But it is true, no? For those of you that have experienced it? I keep seeing these super bangin ponytails, which give me serious hair envy. As it is, I wear my hair in a bun almost every single day. Over it. Here’s another park picture to illustrate. This has been my hair for like, ever.

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So yeah, … I guess, that’s the end of that topic. Grow you son of a bitch, grow!

I will leave you with this. A bit of Friday steez….first, Ashley Olsen.

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Second? Me!

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Yup. And you better believe my top buttons be coming un-buttoned too just as soon as I leave work. 

So yeah, I know, random post, but I wrote it, didn’t I? Stop being so picky. I really will get on that 90’s post asap and have it up for your reading enjoyment in no time.

xoxo, Lou

Get Drunk, Get Fat

FAIL.

Fail, fail, fail, fail.

My experiment to get drunk, not fat did not go as planned last night.

Or…it did, since I drank no beer which is what I set out to do for a few weeks.

(Thought the night I wrote that other post, the boyfriend came home from a BBQ with a six pack of PBR and without even thinking I took the one he offered me. My resolve lasted two hours! Record setting fail.)

Last night a bunch of us went out for a friend’s birthday. I was resolved to not drink beer even though I have about $80 to last me til payday on Friday. The bar we convened at serves it’s signature cocktail in a giant mason jar. I fucking love drinks in mason jars. I love drinks in any sort of weird container. Glasses shaped like cowboy boots, copper mugs, fishbowls, I love them all. I’m a sucker for them.

Therefore, I started the night off with this:

That is a shit ton of bourbon, some other alcohol and then a whole lot of sugar.

SUGAR.

So by not drinking a god damn beer, which would have been 5 dollars cheaper, I drank this monster sugar beast which contained god knows how many calories.

We then moved on to everyone’s favorite neighborhood strip club/dive bar, Sassy’s. No birthday is complete until you’ve seen bored, tattooed strippers flail around in mis-matched bra and panty sets.

(I LOVE strippers but for the love of god, ladies, put a little effort in. It looks like you got to work, pulled off your jeans and ironic Motley Crue tank top and hopped up in stage in your Target bra and Forever21 panties. That don’t even match! Gah! That said, there are some fantastic girls who work there that I adore and kick ass at what they do.)

I decided that instead of a tallboy, I would have a rum and coke. Because more sugar was obviously what I needed.

Then a friend bought everyone a round of whiskey shots. That was the best caloric decision of the night, given that whiskey is only around 73 calories.

But I followed it up with another rum and coke. Though to my credit, there was so much rum in both drinks that I doubt I even got very much coke.

At this time, after having a girl force me to look into her lady folds up at the rack, I decided I needed tator tots. Add to my calories for the night a basket of greasy potato nuggets. Excellent call, Sweetbird!

After my tots I then gave my last ten dollars in cash to a dancer only because she could make her ass cheeks bounce by flexing them one at a time. I’m intensely jealous of this ability as well as booty popping, clapping and any other form of doing cool shit with your ass.

Best.Booty.Video.Ever.

Broke and drunk, we called it a night and rode up the never ending hill home. Sure, Portland has hills. Slopes…inclines. Whatever, seemed really hard last night.

Upon arriving at home, I made myself a vegan grilled cheese sandwich with fake bacon and ate some cookies.

Winner.

What have we learned here? That giving up beer will not make me less fat. Drinking liquor makes me more drunk and more prone to getting the munchies.

New plan: just work out more. 

Okay, so enough with trying to pass of my drinking as a health experiment. Back to fashion and beauty. I got nothing though so it’s up to Lou!

Get Drunk, Not Fat

Shockingly, I didn’t just pull that title out of my ass.

It’s a freakin’ website….called Get Drunk Not Fat.  It does just what its says, teaches you what the best things to drink are to get drunk and not fat.

Ha!!!

(sidenote: I started looking for pictures of drunk hipsters to put throughout this post but the first picture that popped up with of Lindsay Lohan being druuuunk. Then much like Katy Perry’s breasts, I got sucked into fucked up Lilo pictures. Now you get her!)

Lilo watches her calories by taking shots all night.

Full disclosure: It’s about 80 degrees outside and I’m on a self imposed booze free night. Therefore I’m hanging out in cut offs and a bikini top making cookies. Oh and baking bread. I’m such a fat kid. I’m totally eating the cookie dough too. It’s okay cuz it’s vegan so I can’t get salmonella. Just fat.

Lou’s big sis once shared with me her dietary wisdom:

“Eat less, save your calorie intake for alcohol.”

Drunk Lilo thinks that’s great advice!

I tried that a few times and while it did result in spending less money and getting more drunk due to the empty stomach, it made me feel like cat shit the next day. Lou has mastered the art of drinking her dinner and never seems to be worse for the wear. I think it’s something in that family’s blood. Magical princess hair and excellent boozability.

What does any of this have to do with fashion? Nothing. Other than the fact that clothes look better when you’re not lumpy in all the wrong places. Girls with beer guts are no bueno.

During my cookie baking/fat kid pig out, Ms.Cuntbook texted me to tell me to invent her a calorie free beer. I don’t think my idea of drinking the beer and then barfing it back up ten minutes later was the bright idea she was looking for.

I’ve never really considered how many calories were in beer. Actually, I never consider the calories in anything. Probably not the smartest thing.

Apparently a rum and diet coke is a great thing to drink because it’s only 64 calories. To that I say barf. Keep your mixer!

Lilo loves rum! 

Booze by the calories:

Rum – 64 Calories per 1 oz
Brandy – 64 Calories per 1 oz
Gin – 64 Calories per 1 oz
Tequila – 64 Calories per 1 oz
Scotch Whiskey – 73 Calories per 1 oz
Vodka – 73 Calories per 1 oz
Whisky – 73 Calories per 1 oz

The internet says that the average bottle of beer contains 150 calories. WOOF! Give me straight whiskey any day.

There’s been a lot of hullaballoo (best word ever) around these parts lately about alcohol. Some people have gotten it into to their heads that when you’re a grown up you don’t go out and get sauced anymore. Have those people never seen Mad Men? Booze and cigarettes all day! Not that Don Draper should be a role model. But still….you can still be a responsible person, an adult, and enjoy drankin’.

I’m giving myself a health challenge (I’m laughing as I write this because a health challenge involving drinking is fucking hilarious to me) to lay off the beer and just enjoy either wine or whiskey. For…a couple of weeks? Maybe til June? Just to see how I feel. Perhaps my little bit of tummy will back the fuck off. Probably not but my intake of cheap beer since we moved back is bonkers. I’m an adult now, god dammit, I’m going to drink like one!

Okay now can someone tell me how the fuck this happened?

Holy jesus, girl!! 

Alright, I’ve got cookies to eat. Go to the bar armed with the knowledge of how fat what you’re drinking is going to make you, adjust accordingly. Or don’t. I’ll probably blow it after two days. Beer is cheap, yo!

Why Don’t I Have Drag Queen Friends?

I’m pretty sure Katy Perry and I would get along really well. Mostly because I really like boobs. But also because she and I share an affinity for drag make-up.

“I have watched every episode ofRuPaul’s Drag Race. Sometimes I want to dress up like myself and go onstage as a drag queen to see if anyone knows the difference. I’m two degrees away from a drag queen anyways.”

BOOOOOOOBS.

Googling Katy Perry’s tits is a total time suck. I just lost 20 minutes staring into those things. This might just become a post about her boobs.

Moving on.

Trying anyway.

I used to wear a whorish amount of eye make-up (cue the Charlie Sheen quote from Ferris Bueller…or are you too young for that shit?) but now I only wear a slutty amount. I really miss wearing a shit ton of eye make-up but I have no girlfriends here that like to slut it up face-wise.

Lou is one of those girls whose face doesn’t need make-up. A little mascara, a little blush and lip gloss and she’s good to go. My other ladies here are mostly the same. Everyone is pretty conservative and goes for looking natural. Guh. I have never loved natural. Mostly because I don’t look good that way.

DISTRACTED!!! Though they kinda look like they’re smooshed against a window in this one. I can still dig it.

Aaaaand moving on.

I’ve been told, since the very first time I had a make-up artist put my face on for me, that I have a face that can “handle a lot of make-up”.

To me that’s just code for “Bitch you is ugly and you need all the help you can get.”

I blame all of those make-up artists for my obsession with blue eye shadow and love of pancake foundation. I mean really, look at me a few years back. That was a perfectly normal amount of eye shadow for me.

Ms. Cuntbook has been my bestie for years, 12 or 13 years(!!!!) now. God, we’re old. She is the only girl in my life that loves to fuck around with colors as much as I do. We both have drawer upon drawer of eye shadows, fake lashes, lipstick and blushes. Whenever I’m near her, inevitably, I get back on the whore horse again.

SO MUCH COLOR!!!

I’d like to make a girlfriend up here specifically because she wears too much eye make-up. Just walk up to some girl on the street and shout “Ohmygod your make-up is so fucking uhhhmazing, come to my house and let’s play with eye shadow and take pictures and squeal!!!”

Somehow, I don’t think that would go over very well.

I only have a few more years where I can get away with wearing a shit ton of goop on my face. Soon my eyelids will turn to papery mush, my lips will crinkle up like a cat butthole and my entire face will sag into a jowly mess. So right now, I want to wear some god damn blue eye shadow!

Maybe I will. Tonight.

Oh and…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOBS!!!!

Urban Decay Eyeliner Review with appropriate snark

I’ve been meaning to write a post about Urban Decay’s 24/7 Waterproof Liquid Liner for a while now. Then the other day I accidentally did a durability test on it and was pretty shocked by the results. Shocked implies far too much emotion but sounds better than mildly surprised.

I’ve been rocking cat eyeliner since 17. It never gets old to me. If I could do my make-up like Lana Del Ray’s every day, I would.

Technically, I could do my make-up like that every day but I have a different gripe about why I feel weird about doing that. I’ll most likely write that post next since I’m currently sitting at work trying to kill a few hours in between de-hairing the lovely bits of PDXers.

My one gripe with this liner is that there never seems to be very much color in the tip of the brush. I end up shaking it like crazy to no avail. The only thing that gets color back in there is pressing the side firmly down on something, generally I use the back of my hand. After that the liner goes on quite well.

Most of the time I wash my hands right after I press the brush to them to avoid a black spot on my hand for the rest of the day. But the other afternoon I was in a rush to meet a girlfriend and after hastily doing my make-up I rushed out the door with that black dot still on my hand.

I noticed it while driving to lunch and tried to pick it off with my nail. Nope. I licked it and tried to smear it off. No sir. I rubbed it furiously against the leg of my jeans. It stayed put. So I thought meh, fuck it and went on with my day.

Later that night I had to deep clean my entire house in order to get ready for the ladies clothing swap the next night (also a possible future post). Halfway through washing every dish I own, I noticed the black dot was still there. Perfectly intact.

By this point I wanted to see how long it would stay. And stay it did, through all those dishes and two showers after that. I also wash my hands constantly and it didn’t budge.

This shit is waterproof as a motherfucker. That’s what I’m saying. Motherfuckers aren’t really waterproof, huh? As waterproof as Lindsay Lohan’s plastic face? As waterproof as Betty White’s vagina? As waterproof as plastic sheets on a bedwetter’s bed?

If you want party all night, go home with a stranger, have sweaty sex, sleep with your face shoved in the pillow and still wake up with gorgeous make-up eye liner then go buy the shit out of this stuff.

Also, I’m not going to harp on this shit here because this blog is dedicated to bitchiness, not world issues….but….I’ve been trying very hard to be aware of what I’m buying when it comes to cosmetics. Urban Decay does no animal testing. There are plenty of other brands as well. There’s really no excuse for you to hide your head in the sand when it comes to this shit and then claim you’re an animal lover.

Watch that girl being fucked with and tell me you wanna buy MAC products.

I’ll be over here with curlers in my hair, using my cruelty free eye liner that won’t budge even if I spray myself in the face with a fire hose. Though it comes off just great with a bit of olive oil. I’m sure eye make-up remover would do the trick as well but I’m a hippie.