Speaking of Trevor’s scintillating shout-out to little old me (I also know Jesse Camp!), I figured I might sober up the mood around here and throw my two cents into the “no way to say gay” debate.
Let me begin by saying I’m pretty open-minded. I voted no against Prop 8. I’ve never eaten fried pork rinds. I love the Golden Girls and musical numbers. I think Rick Warren should be assraped. Girls have gone down on me (no offense but I haven’t returned the favor because vaginas look like aliens).
However, I still call things gay. I don’t use it derogatively. Some things in life are gay and it’s ok to call them out. Such as, sports. Sports are gay. Dudes who play sports are gay. Dudes who watch sports are gay. Fraternities are gay. Remixes are gay. V-necks are gay. Mickey Mouse license plates are gay. Rainbows are gay. American Apparel ads are gay. High fives are gay.
I’m not saying any of these things sucky or lame. I’m saying they are literally, in the literal sense of the word, gay.
All my friends are gay. Some of you dudes may go, no I’m not gay, Camille. Actually, yes you are. Because if you are my friend then you are probably gay, either a little bit or a lot. Sorry if those shards of truth are hard to swallow. I’ve heard swallowing is a proof of love.
So let’s just agree gay is not a bad word.
Gay gay gay gay gay gay gay. Gay!
PS: Luv U Trev. Late-night pancakes 4-ev-R.
Come! This Tuesday the 24th at the LA Beauty Bar. Trevor is DJing! and it’s Trevor’s going away party before he goes away for 2 months on warp tour! We’re going to miss him!
Also we have a very special Private Bad Kitty Photobooth that will go on bad-kittys.com So expect to see some pics of Trevor in his Tiger Undies and some cute girls!
People in San Francisco come out to the Beauty Bar this Wednesday the 25th!
Trevor-I met Trevor working the door Tuesdays at Cinespace. (Steve Aoki later fired me for “not collecting any money and just talking to boys.†He then had to pay me to just socialize upstairs. So I talked to boys upstairs and they collected more money downstairs, apparently. I got to talk to Trevor more. He was part of the beginning of Hush Hush aka “my first party,†and most others involved. Trevor DJed and made our flyer each month for free. Other DJs who were getting paid, bitched and wrote me crazy emails demanding insano amounts of money that we were not making. Trevor never asked for a thing. Finally, we started to make enough money to pay more of the people involved. The first person I knew deserved it was Trevor. When I say, “pay†maybe I gave him a hundred bucks. He could have cared, which was awesome. That’s Trevor. He’s just an awesome dude, not fronting at all. I talk to Trevor/have something I need to talk to Trevor about at least once a day. I have no idea how that happened. I think it might have been one too many trips to Cactus.
Russ-I woke up hung over one Wednesday morning, after some Tuesday night that ended when it was light out. I check my voicemail and I have this bitchy ass message from some dude who I deemed “Steve Aoki’s intern,†but later became know as “Russ.†The message is super serious and accuses me of stealing some dumb Dim Mak collection sample shirt or hoodie or something, I would never want. Apparently, I “stole†it from Steve’s office the previous evening. I call Steve furious, bitching about his intern accusing me of stealing some dumb ass shit. He tries to defend himself saying “Russ†was told to call everyone from the previous evening. He kept trying to explain that he did not think I/my friends stole the item, but he just needed to scare everyone to find the person who did. I am pissed/offended/hungover and keep interrupting his dumb explanations by swearing at him. I finally scream over him, “I was wearing a 400 dollar dress last night. I didn’t steal your dumb-ass dinosaur print shit†I then hung up, decided I hated Russ, and went back to sleep. “Russ†introduced himself to me the next week. He was neither a 17-year-old intern nor asshole. We have been friends ever since. I have screamed at Russ and “cried at†Russ, when over stressed. One afternoon at Cinespace after crying/yelling at Russ on the phone, I told him to hold on while I could scream at Stuart. Stuart wouldn’t speak to me for two hours. I finally apologized to Stuart. He made me call Russ to say “Sorry,†too. Russ loves me “even though I am crazy.â€
(Oh, Trevor gets the same credit for the yelling/crying crazy toleration of me. Both these boys are legit and I love them to death.)
Rony-Rony starts like Trevor. He came to Cinespace Tuesdays. The door dude would “confiscate his camera equipment. I would “hold onto it.†I would go grab a drink upstairs and give it to him. Like Mark, Rony made fun of me everytime he took my picture because I always looked the same. Rony got mad at Julie and me for leaving him at the boring ass Nylon crap and going to “fun places†at SXSW. He then seemed angrier at the fact we returned drunk. He would sort of get mad when I showed up to events; he was in need of Julie’s help on. He had this huge line of drunken dessert of weirdos, in line waiting for their photos at the Filter thing at Coachella. We had just gotten there from LA. He had a mirror, in the corner behind all his stuff. He was too busy too notice I was lying on the ground in front of it, using it to do my make-up for at least fifteen minutes. He should have yelled at me earlier.
Le Disko-Le Disko was one of those kids I saw everywhere, talked to, and had no idea who the hell he was. I had no idea about the DJing or whatever else homeboy entails. We made strange conversation everytime we saw each other. I seriously did not know his name until the last month I was in LA. Frankie Chan told me who he was. I nodded to Franki, realizing i was completely retarded, “That totally makes sense. I should really ask people their names.â€
Katy Perry-Never met her. I don’t think she lived in LA, until recently. I secretly hate her. Actually no I actually hate her, no secret. All her Myspace photos are of her and her cat. They are like BFFs. Its like Katy in formalwear with her cat. Then Katy and her cat in matching Pajamas. This used to be me. It is not anymore. My cat died. My roommate killed her/let her out. She got hit by a car. She was my best friend in the entire world. Katy makes me think about that, cry hysterically, and then remember how awesome it was to find my cat dead in the driveway. Thanks Katy!
Cisco Adler-My attorney has suggested I type “pass.”
I ignored everyone else, on said list. I will presume, they are prolly like um sorta famous people Trevor forced to realize they were “born to be writers.” They prolly got busy with thier Facebook’s and bailed.
Trevor and I have decided it might be a little more entertaining for me to write on here too. I think that may mean he might post less dumb YouTube videos. He will instead have to step up his game to compete with the brilliance that is my everyday and every other day thoughts.
Ladies love Trevor. They are usually 19 and have developed their fashion sense by observing photos on Cobrasnake from the uber-hip fashion nightmare known as Tuesdays at Cinespace. This phenomenon peaked at SXSW. My friend Kurt found it fascinating. He and Trevor discussed it at length. They realized they looked exactly alike. They are both dudes, they both wear t-shirts, they are both black. Kurt tried making the rounds with me as his wingman. We had Kurt act sort of shy and pretend he is a DJ, and not some rapper. We targeted girls wearing glasses with no lenses. We looked for ones struggling to keep wearing their Dim Mak dinosaur print hoodie even through it was 100 degrees. We sought out girls with boys’ underwear on their heads and socks over their shoes praying that it could make them the next Cory Kennedy. We targeted girls that Trevor had already tried to hide in the bathroom from. We had almost given up. We were sitting in the back in the Nylon office feeling defeated. Then some girl walking by stopped and said, “Wait, aren’t you in Plastic Little?†We both perked up. Trevor’s coaching seemed to be working. Everything seemed to be falling into place. Our evening was not a complete wash. Wait actually; thinking back it was definitely a dude.
Trevor (left), strangest dressed 19 year old ever grabbing her crotch (middle), poor Kurt (right)
