and the winner is...

Puff? Chop? Bong?

DigiMess of People

A party at Arlo's means a sweet blend of cheap red wines, your subsequent sweaty friends drunk on aforementioned red wines, and of course...hot bitches. I ran into John and MexiJesus from American Apparel and enjoyed several mishmashed sentences yelled into my ear. After John tried to start shit with some guys in silk muscle tees out front, Gina and I had the pleasure of escorting him to the Yaris. We're so lucky.

ReadyZine 2.5 just in time for "Posse on Brodway"

PURCHASE A COPY TODAY!
(or other various porn and candy)
RAGS
454 N Broadway Ste 100
Santa Ana, CA 92701
(714) 836-7247

Don't come here

I'm tired of hipsters talking about the death of the thrift store when they were the ones who shanked the shit out of it. When you could no longer find your precious, disintegrated vintage t-shirts you bastards all picked up and went to Urban Outfitters and bought new ones made to look old. Now we're paying $78 for a leather purse that comes already beat up and can be paired perfectly with this wolf scarf that was mass produced for every kid in Malibu. I don't want to see you at SavMor Thrift on First. I will kick your ass and the super bitchy ladies who work there will dissapoint you when they tell you they will not take your credit card filled with your parents money. Everything seems to be $1.19. The radio is on a Spanish station but the sale announcements are in English. I have walked out of here with purple rollerskates, turquoise mesh t-shirts, giant plastic ponies...and a great sense of relief knowing I won't see three girls at Avalon wearing the exact same thing as me and subsequently, giving me unintimidating art student hard looks.

Issue 2.0 out today!!

read-a-thon

rick or rickey?

Dj Oldboy won our last poll

You and that goddamn caramelized fig

Do you want to marry Josh? I want to marry Josh. Besides being generally adorable, everything he cooks kills me a little on the inside and I am left to think of how bomb it was for the next three days until I can't stand it anymore and I go back to the Crosby with this crazy look in my eye and then CJ says, 'oooooh have you tried this?'...and my life is ruined all over again. Is it going to be weird when I get 'Baguette of the Day' tattooed in Old English across my back?

Amor Prohibodo

I went on a date with a twenty year-old that I met at the Olive Garden. He took me to Broadway Billiards y Carambola and it was dope y rad. Not only did I encounter this gorgeous mural with some very big boobies, but I drank Chelada while I tried to decided between the four Selena songs I know on the jukebox. The sweet little bartender was the only saving grace from this child idiot rubbing my thigh, well that and the beer. Needless to say it was not a love connection but I am considering making myself a fixture here. I need to get my eyebrows tattooed first.

Use your iphone to find the dopest place on earth

I will never be cool because I am a transient with a shady past, but for the rest of you who can pass the credit check, congratulations on your iphone. Micah used his and brought us to the Santa Ana Dairy Queen. Perhaps he should have installed some sort of application that would have warned us that the gnar levels were about to reach new heights...Here we met Joel, who works the night shift at the DQ, along with about 600 other employees. Joel seems to pass his hours at the DQ performing some sort of activity that makes his eyes incredibly red and the stuff he says very, very funny. Joel told us that DQ was his second job, that he was considering a tattoo, but not about Dairy Queen because he is, 'not that serious about it.' Well that's good.

What the hell is happening

The Yost Theater has a secret Renovations are beginning on the historical Yost Theater in our beloved Art District. Strictly secret sources tell us this multi-purpose venue will soon begin to showcase art, music and cinema soon to rival the likes of the El Rey in Hollywood.

Spotted in Santa Ana

Oh hell no.

Gina and Konoske both locked in a moment.

Hoods on the right, wild for the night.

Look assholes, I told you we're out of Wild Turkey.

What goes best with Mom and Dad's Frangelico?

everyone cries at the night gallery

I’m emotional and I’m embarrassing. Ask anyone who has spent fifteen minutes with me when I am discussing the more gnarly points of how much I hate the circus, or perhaps catch me on the tail end of a show about Boy George, and chances are...I’m crying. I’m not an annoying crier, just a crier. So, I try to take precaution. When I hear that godforsaken Sara McLaughlin song, I know that horrible Humane Society commercial is coming on (you know the one I mean, with the dog with one eye, WHY?!?!?) And I promptly flee the room. However, sometimes I am caught off guard. Sometimes I lose it. Sometimes, I cry at the Night Gallery.
So the hype on the Browns is spectacular. The legend of two adult Goths living in our midst and keeping it real definitely got me aroused. I had heard all about the sculpture, the cars, Tamara’s hair and subsequently Robert’s as well. I had heard various different takes, all with the sweet cynicalness we have come to expect from downtown Santa Ana. Some would say Tamara is more Goth than Rob. Others would say no one can be Goth and work for Hot Topic (why...I thought that was like their Mervyns?) I had no idea so many people were still worrying about the "real vs. faux" debate on Goth and Goth issues. I guess I have a lot to learn.
My first trip to the gallery was made as a sort of pilgrimage, to set my sights on all this action and be my own judge. After all, I felt I had the qualifications, having attended more than three Nine Inch Nails tours and having had both Bauhaus and Sisters of Mercy phases, respectively. I too had a long bang at one point. I think we all did.
I was accompanied by Gina, my best friend and huge fan of the Browns and the Night Gallery. Our first few moments inside were intense, navigating our way through a bunch of kids with backpacks until we hit the epicenter of what seemed like the house I may have designed in tenth grade. Everything is dark. There is a low rumbling coming from the corner which could be a Tool song, or perhaps the crazy energy reverberating off this huge wooden box with a spinning object inside. I attempt to focus but I am overwhelmed by catrina Christmas ornaments. I try to regain my footing, only to be introduced to Tamara and Robert. I want to nominate these two for the raddest couple in the world. Fuck Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Fuck that bitch from the Princess Diaries and her weird boyfriend with the big nose. I want an US Weekly packed with these two. What are they eating? Where are they going? What dope-ass bat vase is Robert working on today? Oh my god.
After introductions, Gina gives me an inquisitive look. I say, "They are so nice." She looks at me again. I begin to notice a sculpture of a robot holding a baby. My chin starts to quake. Gina gives a more serious look, as if to say, "NOT HERE." I look around. There are old photos of grave sites. Then, I realize there is a massive lump in my throat. Gina kindly thanks everyone and escorts me out, just as my eyes begin to well up and my voice starts to break.
"It’s just so rad, " I say.
"Well, I guess if you’re going to cry over something, it might as well be the Night Gallery," she laughs.
She is totally right.

Launch Party Weekend