Mad Crush Monday: A Bruce Willis Story

Yes thank you Bruce, I will have one ticket to the gun show

Approximately thirteen years ago I fell in love with a buff, buff man who promised to save me and the world. It may have been a little Freudian, but whateves, right?

You can count on me to be the last one standing Bruce.

I imagine Bruce to be a man of few words. Which is good. I think men talk too much these days. He communicates by blowing shit up. That's the sign of a real man.

When we meet, he'll be all, "I know this is a big decision, and I've thought hard about it. But Jaimie, I'm fairly sure that I'm meant to protect you via the magical bond that is romance."

Not. He'd be all yippee-ki-yay mother fucker, then ravage me. Hells yeah.

We'd got to all sorts of sweet gigs together.

And make really cute kids.

Bruce Willis, you are my Mad Crush Monday for lyfe.

Who's your Mad Crush Monday? Maybe I'll pinch him for next week.

Androgyny Perfected

Callum Wilson by David Armstrong via the Fashionisto.

I rest my case.

LATFH

Somebody once called me a hipster. My reply was, "fuck you, I am not!"

My mistake. According to this video, I am in fact a hipster.

Thanks to the ever lovely Jenni for showing this to me

But I would rather be a ninja. Check those sweet window moves.

Crush(ed)

Image from here

"It wasn't until we were well past the middle of it
that we realized
the old dull pain, whose stitched wrists and clammy fingers,
far from being subverted,
had only slipped underneath us, freshly scrubbed.
Mirrors and shop windows returned our faces to us,
replete with the tight lips and the eyes that remained eyes
and not the doorways we had hoped for.
His wounds healed, the skin a bit thicker than before,
scars like train tracks on his arms and on his body underneath his shirt."

- Richard Siken


I'll be happy when it's summer.

Days are happy when...

..
You eat avocado on toast for breakfast.

A cute boy walks you to work.

You discover an inspirational little project (pictured)

You send an e-mail to a friend, re-read it in your outbox, and chuckle at just how dang irrepressibly funny you are.

You discover that the collective noun for llamas is a llovely of llamas.

The weatherman predicts that next Tuesday will be a whopping 17 degrees! Celsius!

You pass some budding wattle on your walk home.

You have magnificent plans for dinner.

What is making your days happy lovepies?

Mad Crush Monday: Tommy Lee Jones

I had a dream about Tommy Lee Jones last week. We met on a cowboys tour of west America in which we go to towns where famous western movies were shot, and play with real guns. I'm not sure if such tours exist, let's hope they do.

So, I was strolling along after gunning down all ten target people (in the dream the cut out target people could walk, cool huh?) and he came up to me and initiated conversation.

He complimented me on my excellent shooting skills and informed me of my radiant youthful beauty. I was pretty taken aback that he of all people was talking to me, let alone telling me that I was beautiful, but fear not. I played it cool. One thing led to another and before sunset he was declaring his undying love and devotion to me. Before we boarded our tour bus to go back to our hotel he proposed marriage. I accepted.

Then sadly, I awoke. It was a flipping sweet dream.

So dependable. Such a handsome cowboy.

Cowboys are fucking hot.

So knowledgeable. He's bursting with life experience.

The next day I happily trotted around thinking of Tommy Lee Jones. It was particularly strange as I hadn't seen anything with him in it since seeing No Country at the cinema. Never before have I found him attractive and the jury was still out until that evening when fate came a knocking. My housemate Nick (hi Nick!) decided to watch the Fugitive, a movie I'd never seen before. I'd told no one about my new love and then BAM! Done deal. Mad Crush Monday goes to Tommy Lee Jones.

He makes a babein' police officer.

He's just generally babein'.

Marry me for real?

True Porn?

Happy Thursday.

Dye

This summer, I'm going to tie, scrunch, bleach and dip dye everything. T-shirts, skirts, scarves, tights, leggings, tote bags, pillows, temptingly white puppies... No surface will be safe from my crazed, psychedelia craving hands.

And this is why:








Top to bottom: Shabd, Wikstenmade, Design*Sponge, Shabd, Design*Sponge, Shabd

Summer Dressing

Care of the Sartorialist

This summer I plan to look just like this.

Joyful, footloose and fancy free.

Please let me wake up to sun shine tomorrow, let my thesis be beautifully written and let it be summer.