oi, niece!

Hello kid, pleasure to meet you. I'm your mom's annoying friend Pop. You can call me auntie Pop...or just Pop in that matter...hell I don't really believe in these kind of references. How do you do? How's earth so far...you've been here for like uhm...seven days now aye?

I'd like to introduce me to you. I'm twenty seven years old. I like cheese and garlic and cheese. I like white and black and Pokka green tea. I like The Beatles and Ladytron and Phoebe Buffay, and I'm not gonna stop till tomorrow if we continue on this.

I love love love movies. I like learning to draw. I love shoes but haven't been able to afford plenty enough. I like vampires. I wish I can be as cool as David Bowie. I like bow ties, oxford shoes, top hats, and pipes.

I like Marlboro red. I love mascara, hate lipstick, love cheek blush. I wish I'm twenty pounds slimmer twenty centimeters taller. I poo too easily...like you now maybe...hey we got one thing in common already! I like your mom and your dad, and your flowery auntie, your smokie auntie, and your drunkie auntie, and your grandma whom I actually have not met in person till now...another common we have I'm sure {except for the grandma part}.

I like pretending to be French, and pretending to speak French. I love sartorial things. I love Southpark and Little Britain, they get into my head too far. Currently I've been feeling like an owl...not because I don't sleep at night...I just do with no particular reason. I procrastinate too often. I hate waking up early in the morning, but love the coffee part. And I imagine things too much.

Just a head start to get you to know me...you know...in case I won't have the chance to do it myself. Not really necessary, but see, I like babbling, that's why I'm doing this as I'm holding off going to the bathroom to pee right now cos I'm too lazy to get up from my chair.

Anyway, hope we'll meet again soon. For your potty training perhaps...well that part's not that soon...

As for now, sleep tight, eat right, kick your ma once in a while, be a good bad girl, and take it slow with the getting to know life on earth. It's gonna suck a lot...but the good days will come even much more!

It's beautiful here, sweetie!
Bisous.

{ picture from Iyan's album }

rory, first contact.

Mayday. Status report from Auntie Smokie today, January twenty second two thousand ten, nine o four a.m. Berlin Laureline has surfaced earth in three point five kilograms, from mother Yolanda Chandra, and father Ardiyan, with grandma Mande at side.
The Aunties Troop are all teary-eyed with confirmed butterflies' presence inside the stomach.
Further investigation at landing coordinate will be conducted this afternoon.
Auntie Cheese out.

*playing: Today - Smashing Pumpkins

worry! mushy! happy! countdown to rory!

Ten a.m. January twenty first, two thousand ten. Twenty four hours from now, my killer best friend will be premiering her baby girl Rory through a cesarean section. She cannot have a natural delivery due to her asthma. So Rory's gotta surface through the tummy!

The twenty eighth was the original plan. However, since Rory's juggling up and down the hill too much in the womb, she's tangled by the umbilical cord now. They must commence sooner.

I think Rory just cannot wait longer to pop out and tickleedoodloo yap yap play with us! :"D

All the best prayers for you, for Iyan, for Rory. We love you so much, sister. Can't wait for our very first barbaric niece!
Roar roar darling Rory!


{ lady blackenthered in rory's thirty seventh week. picture from yola's blackenthepregnancy. }

*singing David Bowie's Space Oddity.... "...commencing countdown engine's on...check ignition and may God's love be with you..."

candy o

I wish I had your long twirly legs, Candy o.
Though I'd still know not, where to go.

[ pencil + color pencil + photoshop ]

simpsons couture

How lucky! The Simpsons get to go on a dreamy fashion travel in Paris at Harper's Bazaar.
I'm so bloody jealous, Homer! D'oh!

a(n) (imaginary) conversation with thom yorke and talk show host.

TY: I want to be someone else or I'll explode.
TRS: I want to explode or I'll explode.

TY: Floating upon this surface for the birds.
TRS: Foating, hanging, clinging, none that would make sense to me.

TY: I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches and nothing.
TRS: Today, I'll come for the gun.

TY: You want me? Well come on and break the door down.
TRS: Okay, but I'm locking myself inside mine, so maybe later.

TY: I'm ready. i'm ready. i'm ready.
TRS: I'm fucking scared. I'm fucking scared. I'm fucking scared.

happy birthday evita

A delayed promise to the very stylish Miss Evita. Based on one of her awesome photos here.
Happy birthday dear! Shine on! Mwah! :)

[ pencil + illustrator ]

*playing: Killing Moon - Nouvelle Vague

ola two thousand ten

No new year's resolution! Just one plan to pull all my guts together to get a supermega short haircut ala Domino Harvey that I've been craving for years hence ignoring how it will not be flattering my bone structure. And since I don't think when I'm dead and looking back I'd give a damn about bone structure shit, I'd rather look like a soccer field than regretting things I didn't dare to do. :P
A promise? Hell no. Just a happy plan.

As for the rest...nyaaah we'll see. :D

*playing: Lust For Life - Iggy Pop