what you missed last night: modernist relaunch

the smurfettes, and a few of the smurfs, live and in color. some of us did a better job of avoiding the camera than others.

for more, check caught in the flash.

you could cut the sexual tension with a plastic spork.

m.m.c. givin the shift eye; dj neville chamberlain in a suit?!

papa smurf and his smurfette.

d-mac.

pretty pretty princess.

girl crush: new and old.

right this moment

all that stands between me and death by hypothermia is sleeves. well, sleeves and an insulating layer of fat, but, mostly sleeves.

getting dressed for muggy-june-in-d.c. weather when your apartment is hot as magma and your office is so cold that penguins would wear sweaters, isnt easy.

celebrity reveal

ben affleck is a dick.

cokate has really creepy legs, but thats what airbrushing is for.

i saw you

dear suit:

i saw you walking from the farragut north metro to your office. i can only assume from your carefully cultivated quirky image, that you dislike being labeled a suit; i appreciate that. i dont like being a suit either, but it doesnt change the fact that i, like you, am indeed a suit (on the outside). but listen up tiny tim: unless you are going to play me some tip toe through the tulips, pack the ukulele away for a special occasion, like playing tiny bubbles at at the retirement homes monthly bingo extravaganza.

xoxo
vn

it shrinks? like a frightened turtle.

guess the celebrity part 2: who wants you to say hello to his little friend?

i could pick my teeth with those

guess the owner of these sexy legs:

stolen from xposure and dlisted.

the difference between drag queens and bellydancers

fake eyelashes? check.
fire engine red lipstick? check.
sequin bra? check.
wig? check.
penis tucked and taped? DING DING DING DING DING!

that said, i can only hope that my solo will be this hot.

a disturbing trend

most recent google searches:

18) triple dry
17) miniskirt without undies
16) loule hair
15) dave grohl's tattoos on both his arms pictures
14) hot bitches using bed pans
13) craigslist mens clothing austin texas
12) nasty pelvic exams
11) nasty tits
10) nasty tits
9) nasty boys and girls
8) douchery
7) ucla undies run
6) men pissing on men
5) men pissing
4) salon loule
3) neighborhood assitance corporation of america
2) nasty panty
1) men pissing

the two people searching for "nasty tits" within minutes of each other? not the same person. nor are the three people looking for men pissing (on men), unless of course they have invented a plane that travels from spain to greece to virginia in minutes. i actually noticed that "men pissing" has become a very popular way to find my blog (for reasons i dont even want to know).

her name is my name too

[editors note: the its a small world theme song should be playing in your head while you read this]

my friend just told me a "isnt that crazy?!" small world story that we took from "huh. coincidence" to "thats just downright freaky" in the span of two minutes.

it started out with her saying that she recently had a med student sit in on her exam and discovered that they both had a friend in common. apparently like everyone else, they made chit chat by playing the "what school are you at? oh! do you know, such and such?" game, and it turns out she did, making the get naked part of the exam a little awkward for all involved.

as she relayed the story to me, i of course ask the med student's name, because she is in the same class and year as the a.s.s. if it is who i think it is, not only have i met her several times, but she and the a.s.s. are good friends. the coincidences, however, dont stop there. it turns out that through the a.s.s. i have also met the girl they had in common; i only know this because we share a name, and while my name isnt unusual, its also not common (how many van nasty's do you know?). in fact, because we have the same name, the a.s.s. has wrongly emailed or texted us more than once, sending her information about a show at the black cat, and me notes from physiology class. i have more than once pretended to be very offended by the fact that he confuses us, and have not at all subtly let him know that i am van nasty #1, and she is van nasty #2 and that i dont appreciate being confused with someone else.

oddly enough the coincidence doesnt end there. after hearing her story, i mention that i am in the market for a new doctor and my friend offers to recommend hers to me, which i decline because ive already been recommended a good doctor. turns out (of course) its the same doctor. see? its a small world after all.

(as if on cue, someone in the building just stopped by the desk asking for help logging into their email account. turns out, they are a professor at the same university from which the a.s.s. matriculated, which, since he went to school 3000 miles away, is more of a coincidence than it sounds!).

five things about me right now

5) my hair is both longer and curlier than yesterday. how is that possible? shouldnt it be that if my hair is curlier it would be shorter? and while i can understand that its curly (hello hot, humid weather!) should it also look a foot longer? thankfully, im getting a pre-cut on tuesday. as previously noted, my haircuts are irregular events. im planning to donate my hair later this year and want to test drive a new hairdresser for a new, edgier look.

4) that cannot actually be how "edgier" is spelled, can it? does it look completely bizarre and foreign to anyone else?

3) there is someone pacing, and looming over me, as we speak. allow me to explain: looming over me will not cause someone else to do their job faster. sorry. it just doesnt work that way.

2) the dewey decimals band recently played fort reno, a free concert 10 minutes from my house, and possibly my absolute favorite dc summer activity. while in the past i have had to (mostly unsuccessfully) beg people to go with me to see dewey's band (and therefore hopefully avoid the awkward, not sure what my role is or what im supposed to be doing, after show encounter) this time, every person i have ever met came out of the wood work to ask if i was going to the show (as though my history of bad decision making needed encouragement). hilariously, people were equally motivated to discourage my going to fort reno. apparently the haters know me well enough to know that my decision making skills, especially when clouded with alcohol, cannot be trusted, and actually organized to prevent me from going (not that i would have gone... at least i dont think). they plied me away with food, booze and a belated birthday dinner; god, i am such a birthday slut! (for the record, i havent seen him since the crying episode. i was however, once tempted to stop by his work [where i met him], which i miss as much if not more than him. literally, the only thing that stopped me was that i was wearing the same outfit i wore the last time i saw him, and while im apparently not too ashamed to see him again after crying hysterically in his bed, i am too embarrassed to do it in the same outfit. female logic, it boggles the mind).

1) i stepped on one of my hard contacts and have been wearing my glasses for the past three weeks. im vaguely shocked that after 10 years of hard contacts, this is the first time that thats ever happened - especially considering that they literally go flying out of my eye on a semi-regular basis. thank god i have cute glasses.

NACA update

as i have previously discussed, i am hoping to soon be among the landed gentry. granted, my land will most likely be a 500 sq ft condo that brings me no closer to achieving my twin goals of one day having an in unit washer-dryer and a dish washer than i currently am, but that is not the point. the point will be that when i sit around my second hand furnished apartment, hand washing my dishes and running down to the silverfish infested basement to do laundry, i will at least be able to say i own and not rent. i will be the queen of my own little fiefdom where i can impose ridiculous rules as i see fit.

i blogged last week about my dissatisfaction with NACA, the neighborhood assistance corporation of america, a.k.a. the program i have been trying to use to buy my "house". their response was swift and appropriate. i was surprised (but not really seeing as i spent half my time monitoring blogs to see what they say about my clients) that they stumbled onto my blog; it honestly hadnt been my intention. not only did they leave me a comment on the blog entry, but they contacted me by email (which by the way is hilarious to have a conversation with someone where you are trying to convey that you are a responsible adult and are using the email address of vannastea at gmail dot com). they assured me that they had contacted to woman i met with and that she would be getting in touch with me. im sure no one will be surprised to hear that she in fact did not get back to me. nor am i sure that i would want to continue the process with her; if someone blogged about you which caused your corporate office to contact you, how excited would you be to then help this person buy a home?

side note: my account is a gmail account. as you may know, emails sent to a gmail account are scanned electronically for key words and advertisements are then targeted specifically to what they assume your interests are based on your email content. i get lots of targeted ads trying to sell me coffee which, though i dont feel like i email about, is indeed very important to my daily function, so brava gmail. this time, the targeted ad: 100% confidential whistleblowing. seriously. i had to print it out and show it to everyone in the office. hilarity ensued.

other things that happened this month

more specifically, things that happened on the 11th.

much the way otherwise sane women go all bridzilla while planning their wedding - suddenly realizing they have passionate, if otherwise latent, convictions about whether the china they register for is ivory, cream or off white - i suddenly become completely insane about my birthday. i blame my father, not just because its convenient, but because im fairly certain its his fault. its been at least 20 years since ive spent a birthday with my dad, and 28 years since he's remembered my birth. granted, i often forget his birthday, but, since i had no part in his conception, wasnt present at his delivery, was not responsible for the selection and spelling of his name, and have never lived with him in any meaningful way, i think i can be granted a two day wiggle room. in years past, our birthday tango has gone something like this: he forgets. i fume silently. i wait until fathers day to call him and remind him that he forgot my birthday, at which point he laughs, and says "look at that. you werent even on the calendar!" bartering begins. finally last year i told him, "if you are going to otherwise be absent from my life, attempts at buying my affection (or toleration) are going to have to come with more zeros." i was only 20% joking.

this year, though i didnt hear from my dad on my birthday (or at all until i called him on fathers day which caught him completely off guard as he had forgotten that too), i did receive a gift certificate from him prior to the actual day. so while there is no proof that he actually knows my birthday, he does seem to be aware that he has two daughters, one of whom is still somewhere in her 20s and born sometime early in june. progress!

my mother however went all out as mothers tend to do. she sang me happy birthday no less than five times, and at least once at my office while on speaker phone. she and i spent sunday morning together having brunch (more booze than brunch) then did some light shopping in georgetown which consisted of me shopping for books and music. my sister and her family sent me a gift certificate which ive had already spent (which is so very unlike me. i normally horde those like a squirrel storing up for winter. in fact, at this very moment i have two gift certificates i was given for christmas, one from my first day at work, and one from last years birthday). so thanks m.j.; in case youre wondering, you bought me the mother mother c.d. i couldnt find anywhere else (and by anywhere i mean barnes and noble because i really wasnt trying that hard), the newish voxtrot, miranda july's new book that i will probably find, like her movies, too precious, and an ugly doll (because for a minute i was confused and thought that i was eight).

as for the actual birthday, it was spent among great friends who went out of their way to celebrate with me. i truly and sincerely feel blessed to have friends who will come out with me on a monday night and make sure that i never, not even for a second, stand around without a drink in both my hands. not only that, but apparently 28 is the year of jewelry (who knew?!) and i now sport handmade earrings, a toe ring, and a six-legged spider necklace (which i actually believe to be a dung beetle, an appropriate gift seeing as we're both full of shit!).

i am not, as you will see, a morning person

its 9:30 on a saturday morning and ive been awake and quasi-functional for three and a half hours, two and a half of those at work. i actually got up earlier this morning than i do during the week which is completely unnecessary. however, its for a good cause: papa smurf is taking some of the smurfettes and i to a show at merriweather this afternoon. so, while it sucks to be at work at 7 a.m. on a saturday, its a little easier knowing that by 5pm i will be drinking gin and tonics, picnicking, listening to thievery corporation and manu chao, and generally smurfing it up.

on a smurf related topic: one of the principals at van nasty world head quarters actually said "excellent smurfing" to me on friday. im glad to hear that my one woman mission to bring "smurf" back is starting to catch on.

on a music related topic: pink martini played wolftrap on monday. shows at wolftrap are one of my favorite summer activities. who doesnt love packing a picnic and sitting on a nice summer night (i seriously almost wrote summers eve prompting me to think "who talks like that?" followed quickly by "ewwwww!")? unfortunately for me, i miss pink martini every time they come to town, and monday was no exception. last summer they played the lisner and the a.s.s. was supposed to get us tickets; granted, i should have known better than to put him in charge of ticket buying for a show i, and not he, wanted to see. as you would expect, that little endeavor went pear shaped. this year i was determined to go! however, my desire and determination was in direct opposition to the wilting summer heat and the inaugural night of fort reno. somehow, in spite of a plethora of other options, i ended up once again spending the night bonding with the couch and watching me without you, which for what its worth, is a great movie.

*update: hah! its obviously way too early for me because i totally forgot the purpose of this little trip down memory lane which was: i went in to work on tuesday and c.s. (my sister from another mother) asked the boss: how was pink martini? which prompted me to go apoplectic because, omg, not only could i have had someone to go to the show with, but it could have been the boss man to whom i have an entire wall dedicated as an alter (complete with photos, always burning incense, and hugo boss shoes).

this should be titled: me and boys

because you dont always learn from your own mistakes.

google chat is too advanced for me

her: what the shit are you doing??

(response to my having disappeared by closing gmail.)

me: sorry, i am constantly being outsmarted by google chat
her: it's not a good sign
me: please. im constantly outsmarted by capri suns. google should be too pleased with itself

other things that are iffy, but not yet boycotted

about six weeks ago i had my first appointment with naca, the neighborhood assistance corporation of america, a national non-profit/community advocacy/home buying assistance program. my first meeting took more than two months to get and was cancelled twice. they tell you that they need two years of tax information and three months of bank statements, credit card statements and pay stubs. they use this information to perform some basic credit counseling to determine how financially able you are to buy, and what your current savings patterns are.

when i provided them with my information i said (to the low-talking-gum-popping girl at the front desk) you arent going to make copies of my information are you? her response: no. what she didnt mention was that they were going to scan my documents into the computer system. though my counselor was a perfectly lovely girl, i have no idea who else has access to that information or how long they keep it on file. they know my bank account number (savings and checking), my credit card information, my social security number, my mother's maident name, my shoe size and how much i weigh; i am essentially waiting for the day that my credit cards are maxed out and my bank account empty. not only that, but its been six weeks and there has been no follow-up, and my multiple emails and voicemails have all gone un-returned.

i am hopeful that i will still buy a place; i am doubtful it will be with naca's assistance.

p.s. please, please, please, dont empty my already anemic bank account.

p.p.s. please, please, please, feel free to pay off my student loans.

things that i am boycotting

i like to keep my hair long. it has nothing to do with vanity, and everything to do with being cheap and lazy; i would much rather sleep than spend precious snooze-hitting-slash-coffee-drinking minutes styling or blowing out (or washing, or brushing) my hair (which is why im always a minute away from forming white girl dreadlocks). in fact, hair cuts (like birthdays)are annual events, or at most, bi-annual events (like sex!). and, like tattoos, are always an emergency- must-get-it-now!, sort of thing for me. ive clearly never been one for delayed gratification.

recently, after discovering a family of squirrels trying to nest in my hair, i thought, "it may be time for my 2007 haircut." and then i decided to do something stupid. i decided instead of going to my normal hairdresser who i love, i would try someone new. ive seen john from salon loule cut hair at the red and the black for the tuesday night, "i know a girl who has big feet" $12 for a haircut and a shot event. he does a fantastic job and i even have friends who see him on the regular. not only that, ive recommended him multiple multiple times. ive heard stories that he is unreliable, however, after talking to him and seeing how much time and effort he puts into his work (and finding out he's $40 cheaper) i thought it would be worth a try.

i called (and called and called and called) to make an appointment. each time i reached a voicemail, left my name and number, but, never heard back. finally, i reached john himself, and we made an appointment for friday. unfortunately, minutes later i found out i had to be in a meeting at the same time, so, i called and cancelled (leaving, of course, a voicemail). worried that no one would receive it, i called again thursday leaving another voicemail. friday rolls around and wouldnt you know it, an hour and half before my scheduled-but-twice-attempted-to-cancel appointment, john calls to cancel due to a personal emergency. because he offers to squeeze me in on monday (my birfday and real reason for getting said haircut) i dont mention my multiple, failed attempts at canceling my appointment.

monday rolls around and minutes before i try and quietly sneak out to get my hair cut, i notice a gathering in the kitchen... surprise office birthday party!! (that'll teach me to try and leave unnoticed). running late, i grab a cab and head to my haircut, getting there exactly on time only to find a sticky note posted to the door that read "be back at 4:30" which was interesting in that it was 45 minutes AFTER our appointment. annoyed that i a) missed out on my own birthday cake, and b) wasted $12 on a cab, i called the salon and, wait for it, left yet another message. three days later and no one had gotten back to me, so i sent john an email. a week later, and still no word.

had i known i was going to be stood up, i would have at least washed my hair seeing as i was going directly from work to my birthday party.

boycott!!!

disgusting, or disgustingly good?

five things about me right now:


5) i am eating a pear. a pear thats lived a hard, hard life. a pear so beaten and abused that it could apply for funding under the violence against women act. that said, the pear is still mighty tasty.


4) someone sent me a power point presentation for a briefing that contained this picture which prompted the title of "disgusting or disgustingly good?"

it was titled "butter burger" and is literally a burger smothered in butter. and is that bacon i see? this is the picture the encyclopedia will use to illustrate the phrase "heart attack on a plate." is anyone else hungry?

3) the following assignment was handed out to me at my birthday festivus: find out if the hot guy in my office, a partner no less, is a top or bottom. inquiring gays want to know!

2) and on that note, i am now engaged in a conversation with cocoa puff, maker of excellent mixed tapes, debating if he were to go gay, would he be a top or bottom all because i am incapable of accepting flip remarks at face value.

1) and finally, i am going to see an interpretation of "romeo and juliet" as performed by "tiny ninja theater" before being a silent rendition of hamlet. you say whaaat? exaaaactly!

the 7th anniversary of my 21st birthday will be celebrated tonight

so, today is my birthday. i have a very conflicted relationship with my birthday. it always feels awkward to ask people to help you celebrate a day that is really only important to you, and maybe, your mom (although past a certain point [say, once she no longer counts your age in months] even she doesnt care much).

last year was a particularly difficult birthday for me (though i vaguely remember celebrating for three days straight and having an awesomely drunk time). but, i was in a job i hated and working every day with people who i didnt respect and who made me miserable. its amazing the difference a year can make. i loff my job (still) and and am thankful for the opportunities it's presented me with. and, more than that, i am overwhelmed and grateful to be surrounded by such amazing people. i took yesterday off work and hung out shopping and brunching with my moms, then i went to a friends for a cook out. we had planned to go to the architecture in helsinki show, but never quite made it. instead we drank white sangria, ate b(r)ugers, coca-cola chocolate buttercream cupcakes, laughed and took hideously greasy pictures. so, all in all, a great day and an awesome way to close out my 27th year.

the lonely planet guide to my apartment

FAST FACTS

Full Name: The Peoples Republic of My Apartment, A Subdivision of Greater Van Nasty

Capitol City: My Bed, My Apartment

Area: 450 sq ft

Population: 1 (Sometimes as many as 2)

Religion: The sole inhabitant worships often at the altar of Sephora, however My Apartment is a polytheistic country and also recognizes DSW, MAC, Target, Starbucks and Barnes and Noble as well as several lesser god-like deities.

AT A GLACE

My Apartment is a poor country with a skittish and infrequently seen population. Recent recessions have forced the population to take desperate measures and rations have taken a toll on the population physically and more importantly sartorially. During the summer months My Apartment is frequently hot and desolate. However, it is precisely its underdeveloped and somewhat dangerous atmosphere - combined with the opportunity to party with the local - that attracts adventurous, and sometimes desperate, visitors.

ORIENTATION

My Apartment's limited horizon of second hand furniture can be intimidating at first glance, and its population of one difficult to locate and make meaningful communications with, particularly if it is early and the population has been deprived of coffee. Unfortunately, My Apartment has rigorous customs requirements and it is often most expedient to bribe your way into My Apartment. Upon entering you will see a large couch where most of the “Gilmore Girls” watching takes place and the occasional making out with boys (see “Festivals)”. Directly across the vast expanse of My Apartment is the bed, where nothing exciting ever takes place. To the east is the food district, which is currently unoccupied except by a sole bar. The current inhabitant of My Apartment believes in the “model diet” which consists exclusively of coffee, cigarettes, and diet coke. However, to the southeast is the shopping and garment district, which is far more lively and filled with colorful shoes and handbags.

WHAT TO BRING

My Apartment strictly enforces a BYO policy that extends beyond food and beer and to what other countries consider “necessities” such as water, toilet paper, and cable. However, it is possible to purchase some of these items at a highly inflated price.

WHEN TO GO

The best time to travel to My Apartment is when the population has returned from a visit to one of the local watering holes with people from neighboring villages. Visits during daylight hours are highly discouraged as the resident will likely not be in My Apartment, and, My Apartment is best appreciated in the dark.

LOCAL CUSTOMS

The population of My Apartment has a daily ritual of complaining, cursing and redirecting blame, which occurs at various times during the course of a day but most frequently in the morning, prior to coffee, but after sleeping through the snooze button upwards of ten times. Meals are usually taken outside of My Apartment. Do not be deterred by an unwillingness to talk about emotions, or habits of repressiveness. These are traits that have been passed down through generations of WASPS who are My Apartments ancestral people.

HEALTH

Polio and hepatitis have been completely eradicated from My Apartment, due in large part to intervention from the My Apartment Department of Health and Human Services. However, My Apartment does caution travelers about the dangers of sexually transmitted diseases; while abstinence is the only 100% effective preventative, it is strenuously not endorsed by the My Apartment dictatorship. However, the My Apartment free clinic does provide condoms and antibiotics (see "Medical Services").

MODERN HISTORY

My Apartment is approaching its 10 year anniversary of quasi-independence, and “independent-like” status. This will be celebrated at the annual Birthday Meltdown (see “Festivals”), which according to Jonathan Stern, a visitor to My Apartment “is a tour de force of recrimination and self-loathing, highlighted by fanciful stilt-walkers and dancers wearing hand-sewn headdresses.”

WOMEN TRAVELERS

Solo female travelers are not welcomed in My Apartment, nor are females traveling with male guides, unless the guide is physically attractive, with significant stamina and is willing to leave said female at the border. Solo male travelers, however, are welcome and encouraged.

DANGERS & ANNOYANCES

The population of My Apartment while aggressive and often combative, is mostly considered to be neither dangerous nor violent. However, the inhabitant is annoyed greatly by people who say “anyways” even though the word is “anyway” and such instances can sometimes put travelers safety at risk.

NIGHT LIFE

There was once a cockfight in My Apartment, though it was unplanned and will likely never happen again (see "Law Enforcement").

WILDLIFE

The cockroaches are domesticated and no longer qualify as “wild.”

and in other news...

last week our dance company, u street caravan, had a photo shoot... at 11 p.m. on a friday night as though i have no social life whatsoever (which may be true, but do you need to rub it in?).

as a general state of being, i am anti-photo. after having seen these particular photos, i feel completely justified. some of the pictures are gorgeous, however, none that i am in. if i were smarter, or had paid attention during logic classes, i would find a way to prove that my being in a photo and it being flattering are mutual exclusive events.

let me also say, that saying you have a "photo shoot" is far more glamorous than actually having one. cramming 14 people in a small studio with more lights than people is rarely a pleasant experience. add to that the anxiety of being half-naked and the fact that it's 1 a.m., and virtually no one, save maybe anne rice, is going to be at their best.

i spent a good 40 minutes that night posing exactly like this:

seriously though, from the princess di eyes (head tilted down, eyes looking up), to the amy winehouse egyptian eyeliner, the pup has it down. it could teach master classes in giving good face.

post photo shoot jojo and i rode the metro home together. that's right, the metro. in full drag-queenesque makeup (ridiculous fake eyelashes and blow job red lipstick included) on a friday night at 2:30 a.m. we, and by we and i mean i, looked like a tranny hooker. crossing the street from chinatown to the metro, i half expected eddie murphy to pull over and offer me a ride. i have never been so thankful to get home in my life.

though i did pull $60 between chinatown and van ness, but thats just between you and me.

long time no blog

this week has basically kicked my ass in every way imaginable. work has been insane, and ive been working 13 hour days to try and keep on top of it. sadly, i think im still falling massively behind, but at 9:30 p.m. on any given weekday, there isnt much more that can be done about it.

thankfully, much of the insanity has passed. and even more thankfully, seven months in and i still love my job. its intense and sometimes crazy, but for the first time it feels worth it. most part, im not working for clients im working for causes, which makes the late nights, gray hairs and stress induced ulcers seem worth it. well, that and discovering a 12 pack of beer in the office fridge. thank god we have interns i can blame that shit on.

in other news, i got to meet amani toomer who is even more beautiful in person, and i now have tiki barber's home email to auction off the the highest bidder. commence with the bidding!!

really though, he is seriously pretty. his picture does NOT do him justice. le sigh.

panty-creamer of the day

caption this: