amber’s computer committed suicide yesterday (luckily after doing her first time-machine back-up in over a month,) and mine has had this really hot/cold on/off relationship with the wireless router since day one.  (i’m taking my computer’s side.  that router is not a cool guy.) 

in the car to the apple store to get these problems solved, my ipod decided it hated us too.  so we just cried and clutched our electronics all the way to the genius bar. 

resolution: amber was told, “well, you’re not under warranty any more, but you’re still covered,” (um…  what does that mean?!) and i pulled my ipod out of my bag and realized the battery was just dead.

we bought some fantastic peach champagne to celebrate, and spent 6 hours trying on all my clothes.  then i fixed the internet and we watched “it happened one night.”

really, is there any way you can’t fall in love with this man?!?!

there was a lot of squealing and “ooh!!!”-ing, and then i decided to lock myself in the bathroom and chop off all my hair so that i look like a 12 year old boy.  again.
returning to my roots…
i have my reasons. 

(dear amber, i will throw away the hair pile later today, i promise…  i just wanted you to see it when you woke up.  it’s epic, is it not?)  

pictures to follow shortly?
why of course.  
how can i make such incredible promises?

because we’ve been spending a good portion of our time with a certain (incredibly) patient photographer with a striking resemblance to mick jagger (young version, not current.  big difference.  see photographic proof below…) following us around our neighborhood, agreeably setting up lighting and camera equipment as we sit on the curb complaining about too-tall heels and holding top-secret whispered “girls only” conversations and possibly asking, “are you ready yet?!” with an entirely inappropriate frequency. 

 option one

option two

yeah.  that’s right.  it’s kinda spooky…

for now, we’ve only got a couple last-minute late-night digital photos – but we’ve heard rumor that someone’s going to be in the darkroom later this week, which means there might be more Sharing Time ’round here…  hmmm.

i don’t like looking at you

amber doesn’t like looking at you either.

if you promise to stay tuned, i promise i’ll do my best to catch up on the past week and a half that i’ve been awol.  (ahem, internet connection…  and stuff.)

and i might also play another song for you. 

deal?

then i’d get mad, because i’d used my one chance, and it wasn’t even on a good roll – this was definitely some “yesterday bread.”
to make matters worse, i couldn’t even say anything about it, because i’d just used my one chance to speak.

but if i were able to take advancements on “one-chances to speak,” i’d cash in on tomorrow, turn around, and loud enough for everyone to hear, say “look, moron!  we’re not on a roll.  obviously we’re on a deserted island.”

unfortunately however, i’m allowed to speak and roam freely without vocal censorship or limitation on my bodily movement.

whoa.  that was almost a…  joke?  
this whole time i’ve been keeping them trapped like wild ponies in my brain, (the jokes?) – thinking they were stupid because i didn’t get them – when really all along it’s just been the other way around.  
i’m so sorry little brain-ponies.  that’s not the type of life you deserve to lead.

see what a college degree will get you?  the ability to think, reason, and own a credit card with the little honor-society emblem in the top left corner – with which you can use the last little bit of your remaining limit to pay for a lesser-educated man to come into your home and make something like electricity run through your wires.  
then you stick his thing in your laptop and he lets you talk about yourself.

(it’s called “wireless router,” diana, and no, you didn’t order one when you scheduled the installation.)

i believe my exact phrasing was somewhere along the lines of, “wait…  so i have to put the thing you’re pointing to into my laptop?  what if i ever want to do it in the bedroom?!” at which point he had no answer for me, (because it was a darn good question,) and said, “uh…  i need to go get something out of the truck ma’am.”

when he came back inside his hands were empty though, which leads me to the suspicion that the thing he needed to get was “away from me.”

what else to say about today?  well, we can start with “listened to ‘help i’m alive‘ loudly and repeatedly  for 6 hours, while pretending that i was pete wentz and doing ‘fist-pump’.”  
because that’s actually how i’ve imagined being him would feel like.  

it’s weird that metric wrote his theme song.

um, hi, 2008?  it’s 2009 now.  august 2009.  
hi, diana?  remember when you were 14?  that was not “earlier today.”

and pete?  this has just never been ok…

moving on, today also consisted of “act shocked by sound of same alarm i hear every morning,” (“day.”  whatever.) along with “ungraciously and obviously-not-meaning-it ask out-of-town friend if he wants some coffee and when he says ‘no thanks,’ make it anyway.  
spill it across him when he finally says, ‘ok…  sorry.’ in Baby Mouse voice.”

sorry b.  but not that sorry.  i didn’t even wake up for the last visiting friend.

day-planner?  that ain’t nothin but a list of suggestions.   
(just kidding!  anyone who doesn’t know me at all, will tell you – i’m the root of the phrase, “i totally remember saying that!”)

happening in real-time, i just dug my computer charger out of the box in the other room, plugged it into only my laptop, and convinced myself it was broken.

my own 19-year-old brother left my house this morning, shouting “call me when you’re not retarded.  oh wait, i guess this means goodbye forever!” over his shoulder as he left, refusing to either register my pleas for a second chance or halt the receding process.

as is usually the case with any house majority though, i embrace the stupid things that spew from my lips, and make no apologies. in fact, i’m going to go out tonight to celebrate my freedom of stupidity in a public place.

and therein lie the real gem – i won.
you didn’t realize it was a contest?
sorry. it was.

i’ve got all the snacks AND the internet

the Brother Who Judges

really asher?  you really thought “go put on those ‘princess’ shorts i got you from that one day you failed your driver’s test and let’s have some snacks,” was something i would say without having an ulterior motive?  
like “public humiliation?”
who’s laughing now?  
oh, right…  the whole world.  

think about this before you mock me, yee who judge too quickly…

this is just a teaser.  i’m going to make you actually read before you see the rest

oh, and fyi, you may now click on any picture to see it in FULL SIZE.
i’d suggest that you do that
i’ll slowly be working my way back in time to add this new and exciting (to me.  the rest of the world has been implementing it for ages,) feature to all previous posts as well.  because i know there’s nothing that you’d like to see more than a larger version of my face!

exordium:  since i wasn’t actually present at the shoot itself – just the styling of it the day before – i’ve attempted to stick with what i know – things i’ve designed myself, and a couple of the shots that amber and i styled together.  you can check out a little more of the “diana-writing about things she didn’t experience” action over at painfully hip, but since she was the lucky one not puking that day, i think we should join forces and demand that she share her experience that day.  let’s start a social revolution!!

moving on.

first of all, how shady am i?!  first i’m here, then i’m not, then i come back, then i leave you again…

typical girl.

i’m moving, ok?  it’s hard.
i don’t have an internet connection.  
i’m beginning to have a personal issue with “boxes.”  
as in, i whisper terrible things to them when no one is around.  
like, “your mother never loved you,” and “your boyfriend told me i’m prettier than you.”  
extreme?  no.   those things are pure evil.  you put your stuff in them, and then you have to carry them.

want some good news?  i’ve got pictures!!  and a video!  i know how much you love the videos.  my stats page tells me exactly how many times each one has been viewed.  
even after i guilt-trip you.  
come on guys.  ”slow internet connection” is not an excuse.  i’m trying to entertain you.

remember all the way back in july?  those good old days?  
remember corpus christi?  that place where i got really sick and stayed in bed for a day and a half, totally missing Fun Time?

well this beautiful girl/amazing hostess/provider-of-air-mattresses to those in need, and organizer of epic shoots sent us the results of the just-now-mentioned photo-op!

krystal aeby, Ultimate Hostess and also Totally Awesome

amber and i styled the shoot at the produce gallery in downtown corpus christi – (one of the) home(s) of the amazing produce boys, the day before it was scheduled.   and then i conveniently missed it by being preoccupied with my new and intimate relationship with the aeby’s toilet bowl.  i’ll show you a picture of those guys, because it’s much more attractive than what i was doing:

the produce boys, way more awesome than vomiting

as much as i wish i’d prioritized better, it still is kinda awesome to see your handiwork in action.  even if you weren’t actually there directing the action, and you’d really only made sure that the action was ready to happen the next day.  

i will find and destroy the flu virus.  i swear to you on my mother’s life.
(no, mom.  not “really diana?!?!“)

lookin’ good.  i know.

another awesome thing?  seeing your own creation in action.  behold, the unveiling of “things diana makes: the dress!”  (by “makes” i mean “makes up in her head and creates.”  i don’t do pre-printed patterns.)

yeah!  it doesn’t look half bad, does it?!  i made that!  (the dress.)

this is actually part of a larger collection, called “the two dresses diana made.”
behold again, “The Other Dress!”:

yes ladies, leopards are back.  and i brought them.

how about a little “behind the scenes” action, since neither one of us were able to attend?!

this is what people who aren’t in a relationship with a toilet bowl do for fun

and now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, painfully hip design collective and produce culture photo shoot, the movie!!  

for the love of my mother (who’s already been sentenced to sacrifice by her daughter’s hollow claims in the name of destroying influenza once and for all, just watch it!  ok?)  it makes me really happy when things i do are appreciated.  or pretend-appreciated.  

oh, and just in case this is what was holding you back, i didn’t film or edit this masterpiece.  i’m just the conduit.

see?  totally worth that minute and 18 seconds of your life.

awesome, right?  well, get used to it – and tucson, we’re lookin in your direction.  the painfully hip design collective is All Eyes On You  right now, and we’re here to stay.  
for a couple months at least. 

i even get my own business cards!  no more white-out across amber’s name when she’s not looking…  hello adulthood!  i’m diana, and i do believe you’re asking me for a dance.

took long enough.  do you know how long i’ve wanted my own business card?  other than the three different ones i currently have?

anyway,to wrap this up, we want to give a huge thanks to krystal aeby for co-ordinating this whole thing and single-handedly making it possible, chris aeby, (and krystal) for being such amazingly sweet and thoughtful hosts – and feeding us the best food we’ve ever tasted! - produce culture, and the produce boys themselves, for letting us use their amazing studio, sharat camacho for taking such awesome photographs, and christina pujol, chelsea wilkerson and megan haberzettle  for not only being such stunning models, but also showing so much support, enthusiasm and excitement.  that’s the stuff that keeps us going.

you guys are awesome!

(photo taken by lindy meow and can be found here.)

last night i did not have the craziest dream!  i had this dream where i finished all the milk.  and then when i woke up and made coffee, i got really bummed out about the milk situation because i didn’t want to put pants on and go to the store.  but get this – it was a dream!  there was real live milk in the fridge!!
true story.

2.  go on and on and on about yourself:

(photo taken by a little bit random and can be found here)

so, last night i had the best time ever!  the fun that went down at preen was a huge success, (um, amazing music, lots and lots of wonderful people, and a handful of gorgeous girls dressed straight from the shop racks?!)  ”afterwards” was spent on the rooftop of a certain building in a certain location in tucson, (i don’t want to name names…) watching the stars, watching the drunken idiots in the streets below, not drinking the beer i was handed* and having more than one really good conversation.  then i picked up asher on my way home and he made me dinner, helped me pack, and relinquished his desire to sleep to my megalomaniacal chatter and demanding inquisitions of what each and every “he said/she said,” meant, and the motivating factors behind it.  (exchange:  asher- “are all girls really this insane?”  diana- “you said you wanted sister time!!  a real sister would listen to another sister…”  asher- “you need a real sister.”)

i dropped him off at home at 4:30am where he effetely stumbled towards his door, but not before unloading all the “heavy” things i’d asked him to put in the truck for me.  then i went home, went to bed, and had that dream…

3. tell long stories that no one wants to hear:

(photo taken by sew wot! and can be found here)

the other night i was unpacking in my bedroom at studio a(wesome) (is that getting old yet?) with a couple friends.  asher walked in and hovered over us in the doorway, neither joining in on the conversation or looking interested or comfortable.

i said, “asher, are you going to join us or are you going to continue lurking?”
he said, “uhh…  i’m going to walk back to my apartment.  i have something i need to…  take care of.” 

(back story:  i had passed out face-first on his/staci’s bed earlier that day, after nearly 24 hours of sleeplessness.  when i woke up they were gone and staci had left a note next to me that said, “don’t eat anything out of the fridge.  it’s broken and everything is rotten.”)

return to main story:  i remember vaguely thinking it was strange that asher didn’t leave through either front door, but walked all the way through the house to use the back door in the kitchen.

five minutes later there was a horrifying screeching sound and a lot of profanity coming from the back of the house.
above-mentioned friends and i followed the profanity towards the kitchen, to find asher shouting and repeatedly throwing his body  against my refrigerator, which he’d managed to unplug and push across the kitchen before coming to a complete halt, lodged halfway out the back door.  

i said, “what are you doing?”
he said, “mind your own business!”
i said, “my refrigerator is my own business.”
he said, “landlord steve told me to do this.”

landlord steve did not tell him to do this.  
i think my main question is how much rational thought he had given to the plan, “single-handed and silently push diana’s refrigerator out her back door , carry it down two steps, drag it across a community patio and a courtyard, carry it back up two steps, and push it through my own front door.  repeat in opposite order with broken fridge.  while she is home.”

my other question involves reconsidering how “awesome” it is to move into the house next door to your little brother.

so…  i’m stalling because i don’t have any pictures to share from last night.  someone thought that putting the camera battery in her purse and leaving the actual piece of equipment at home would be sufficient.  so that someone is now waiting for staci to email her the photos.  sorry.  i hope the tips help though?

*in all seriousness – and this might be the only time i take “serious” seriously – drinking and then operating a vehicle is not cool in my book.  ever.  if you drink and drive, you are a moron, and if you drink and drive and get caught doing it, you deserve every penalty, fee, and loss of personal freedom that you are slapped with.  i’ve lost people i’ve cared about – more than once – to drunken idiocy.  i hope you never have to go through that.  

this rule applies to everyone.  i would say that to my own mother.  hi mom.
end of seriousness.

yep, once again, 4th ave and downtown will be connected by one very convenient underpass.  no longer will we have to trek all the way to the 6th ave underpass to get to 80’s night.  no longer will we have to bravely endanger our lives as we try to take the “short cut” on a dare, climb across the train tracks, and fall off the other side of the bridge and break our ankle.  (i personally don’t know anyone who would do that …  maybe.)

if this thrills the living crap out of you and you’re in the area, then you should join us for some celebratin’ at preen.

i swear to you, it will be more fun than you can imagine.  i mean, look what happened last time:

(all pictures taken by the amazing ryan mihalyi)

you don’t get the blonde one tonight.  she’s not in tucson…  yet.

one very hot example of humanity

yes ladies!  he’s single!  and he’s playing again tonight!
just kidding.  about the single part.

what if none of that excites you?  then what if i told you the handsome man who took those photographs himself might make an appearance?  

ok, recap:

1. the lovely ladies at preen will be there, (yep, at preen,) and they’re hosting a “surprise sale.”  i’d tell you what it is, but it’s a surprise.  go see for yourself.
2. i’ll be there.  i’m always fun.  always.
3. asher deaver  (yeah!  my brother!  good job, clouseau.)  is going to play some pretty songs he wrote.  and some other people may or may not be playing some songs they wrote too, but you won’t know unless you come check it out.
4. there will be lots and lots of attractive people milling about.

really?  you’re “just not that into” fun?  um, ok?

have i mentioned before that i hate moving?  no?  i haven’t?  well, then let me tell you – i hate moving.  

(moving for diana = not only my own personal belongings, (including my massive closet.  i think the shoe collection alone is going to be one car trip.) but also my studio, (and all the fabric, sewing machines, the dress-forms, the light kit…  you get the picture.) AND my actual “office.”  (that’s what i like to call my piles of paperwork that i like to avoid taking care of.  i need a personal assistant…)

anyway, to avoid the inevitable – which would be me taking 2000 words to explain exactly how much i hate moving, and why, i’m going to keep this short and sweet by sharing a couple more sneak peeks at the new painfully hip/wellwornroad headquarters, now that some progress has been made.  are you excited?!?!  
don’t be too excited.  nothing’s done.  it’s just been transported and stacked nicely.  

it’s starting…  that’s my kitchen chair, some of my wall art, and half of
the sewing/pattern drafting/draping books i own…

fabric piles on the floor are larger than they appear

i can’t wait to be done with the moving process.  i think i even more “can’t wait” to have actual shelves, a closet, my desk, and all the other favorite things i own all in one spot.

only, “both happen to” has creepily turned into “both always are.”  

this time i had the trusty canon with me though, so after a sandwich-and-rice-pudding-lunch-date, i took jake and his beauteous lady down to studio a(wesome) for the Official Tour, and for the sake of hilarity, proof of creepy outfit similarities, and in honor of everyone’s favorite movie, we decided to hold an american apparel shoot of our own.  

Everyone’s Favorite Movie:

Everyday Sexy: The Jake and Diana Edition
shot at studio a(wesome)

(wait – before i start, i want to say something – i’ve now given you two chances to watch this epic example of 
paradisaical cinematography.  if you still haven’t done it, i’m offended.
also, you won’t get the jokes.  it’s really a loose-loose situation.
how are you going to amend this?)

back to the shoot:

Wall Are Sexy!!

really?  you expect a caption after the hilarity of the title “wall are sexy?” 

Butts Together Now!

I’m-Not-Sure-What’s-Going-On!! Are Sexy!!

Going To The Bathroom Are Sexy!!

i think it would not be inaccurate to say that we “tore it up.”    

oh, and in case you were wondering, i’m still listening to that built to spill song on repeat. 
and in case you were also wondering if this is the first time i’ve ever done this in my life, i will tell you the answer, and that answer is no, it is not.
i thought you might want to hear another built to spill song though, since we’re on a bender:

it usually re-appears while i’m going through a period of change.  

right now is one of those times.  

i’m aware of the fact that i posted this in the last post, but it’s stuck in me right now.  don’t judge…

this should make you smile

it can’t be categorize it as good or bad – it just is what it is.  

i’m melancholy for the things that have been pushed to places that are a bit too far away for me to take comfort in.

at the same time there is a tingling in my fingertips and the top of my spine, and i don’t doubt for a moment that when you listen to yourself and make the decisions that you really believe you’re supposed to make, even if they’re not entirely right, they won’t take you to a place that will destroy you.  when you create motion, the movement comes closer to you.

it’s the fear of change that hurts us in the end.

surround yourself with the people who adore you – the people who you adore.  

i’m don’t feel prepared to accurately put my thoughts into words right now, so i’m going to leave you with these two things – one, a kerouac quote that amber posted the other day that sent goose-bumps up my spine and made my brain go numb.  i may have even cried a little bit:

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

and lastly, the lyrics to that song i can’t put out of my head.  read it – really read it.  there’s so much in it that i could never find the right words to say…

I’m not knocking your want to carry that home

Took it with you when you moved and got it broke

Found the pieces, we counted them all alone

Didn’t add up, forgot to carry a zero

I can’t be your apologist very long

I’m surprised that you’d want to carry that on

Count your blemishes you can’t they’re all gone

I can’t see your response putting them back on

Like they’re waiting for your guard to fall

So they can see it all

And you’re so occupied with what other persons are occupied with

And vice versa

And you’ve become what you thought was dumb

A fraction of the sum

Yeah you’ve become

Yeah you have become a fraction of the sum

The middle and the front

And now it’s coming back hasn’t it come too far

I was trying to help but I guess I pushed too hard

And now we can’t even touch it

Afraid it’ll fall apart

-built to spill

(carry the zero)

listen to it with me:  

if you’re reading this sometime between the hours of 3:00am and 6:30am today, then give yourself a hug – you’re one of the elite few who can (probably) claim they saw the very first photos of studio a(wesome), even before amber got the chance.

behold – Studio A(wesome)

yes, you are looking at a 120-year-old ranch house, once located on the furthest edge of south tucson, the desert around it slowly deliquescing into buildings and traffic and human domain, until becoming completely shielded from the hazards – and the safety – of the undomesticated, uninhabited, trenchant wild west.

it is the most beautiful thing i have seen in a very very very long time.

asher’s mini garden, in front of his mini apartment across the street…

so in case we missed an important step here, amber and i are going to be roomies in just a few short weeks.

do you have any idea what this means?!  i don’t think we do either…  but prepare yourself for the incomprehensible pandemic of “whoa!” that is guaranteed to erupt from Studio A(wesome.)  ok?  we cool?

do you want to see our kitchen, in all it’s “just abandoned by the previous tenants and not yet attended to by the property manager” splendor?  

this monstrosity is nearly 200sf by itself.  are you jealous of our kitchen?  asher is.

hello new water heater, meet my favorite western shirt

yesterday involved laundry – lots and lots of laundry.  i tried to remember the last time i’d been to a laundromat, and my best guesstimation was 7 weeks ago.  i guess we’re all lucky that i’m clothed in this picture – i’m the luckiest of us all, because my favorite shirt somehow got lost in the depths of my closet, granting me the thrill of wearing it on laundry day.  you can’t know how beautiful of a thing that is until you experience it for yourself.

asher got bored in his tiny apartment this morning and decided it was perfectly acceptable behavior to cross the courtyard and break into his sister’s house to see for himself just exactly how much better studio a(wesome) is, in comparison to his hobbit-home.

i was awoken by this phone call:

a:  WHAT THE HELL?!?!
d:  …i’m not sure…?
a:  your house is what’s the hell!!!  it’s FIVE times the size of mine.  it’s at least 60,000 square feet!!
d:  …
a:  you never asked me if i wanted to move in with you.  you didn’t ask if i wanted to be your room mate!!!
d:  i did, actually…
a:  and what did i say?!?!
d:  um…  ”no.”
a:  I SAID NO BEFORE I SAW IT!!!  

i got up, put on some (clean!) clothes and drove over to his house to make him take a Picture Of Shame in front of his mud hut for the Poor Telephone Behavior he displayed this morning.  

“i am very sorry that i broke into your house and woke you up by screaming at you over my own poor decisions.”

and that is how you curb bad behavior before it gets out of control.

 Hipsters You Want To Hate But Can’t Because They’re Actually Awesome

this is jake.  a.k.a. “jakey.” 

yes, v-necks ARE manly – but only if you don’t fill out the bust 

this game was actually born from a conversation jake and i had a few months ago.  the conversation went like this:

d:  are those women’s pants?
j:  are you implying that there’s a rational part of your brain that actually thinks they might not be?
d:  hmm…
j:  i got another severed head added to my Stack Of Severed Head Tattoos up my calf.
d:  i’d ask to see it but i doubt you could pull the bottom of those jeans over a pair of socks, let alone past your knee.
j:  wanna see my bike?  it’s almost done…  
d:  if i didn’t know you i’d want to hit you with my car if i saw you riding down the street.
j:  yeah.  will you buy me a brownie?

this got me thinking – i’d want to run over one of my own best friends.  just because of the color of his hair, the drawings on his skin, his strange dangly earlobes…  i am so closed-minded that i would use a vehicle to harm this beautiful person simply because he is wearing women’s jeans and a sea-foam v-neck.  

there is something very wrong with all of us who think that things like this are hilarious:

that’s not hilarious, ok?  it’s not even funny.  it’s breeding hatred based on such superficiality as a person’s love for tube socks.  i don’t like to be mocked for the things i love.

and one of the things i love is jakey.

jakey, i love you because you dress up like a panda bear and still have a hot girlfriend:

but you ARE drinking bud light and i think a ferret got at the “manly part” of your lady-pants

i appreciate you because you aren’t afraid to ask the question, “what would happen if my bike didn’t have brakes?!”

there is nothing to be mocked about not having brakes

i might not agree that eating another living human being is the right thing to do, but jakey, i won’t judge you for your beliefs.  

yes, the man with the bloody glasses IS my friend.

so who wins this game, you’re asking?  and i’ll tell you – but i think you might find yourself a bit surprised by the answer – we all do.

 any time you feel that little flutter of understanding in your chest and swerve to avoid the terrified malnourished pedestrian standing directly in the middle of the footpath god made for you to strike him down on, the world becomes a better place.

any time you choose to give the man on the bike wearing acid-wash jeans the right-of-way and not the “just kidding!  i’m driving again!” right-of-way, a new baby is born with a heart full of acceptance.

this is a freakin’ awesome game.

ps. mom, this is fashion-related, ok?  if you want to lecture me on my content, maybe you should start your own blog.