The Miss Silk
a Reverse-Dorothy complex; voracious appetite for witty vernacular; and an affinity for Scotch. Email me at misssilk3@gmail.com
(Source: howtotalktogirlsatparties, via likeneelyohara)
(Source: bizarregoggles, via myhertsgard)
(Source: tiedyeskin, via perfectmanifest)
(Source: cremdelacreme, via thedame)
![I’m worried about Pittsburgh men.
Because its more comforting than being worried about me.
Last night, we started at the Warhol Museum—for the after hours cocktail. And we (of course) ended up in the balloon room until the place closed down. And there were cute guys….not one came in and tossed balloons with us. I mean, they’re PILLOWS that FLOAT and you can see your reflection in them!! It wasn’t until a couple of guys came partially in the room, watched us for half a second, then left that my friend turned to me and said, “If we were in NY, they would have talked to us.”
“If we were in LA, they would have joined in.” I bit my lip.
We went on to Lawrenceville (Hipster mecca of Pittsburgh) and we got stares. And I gave a friendly smile whenever a guy would make eye contact several times. Not a flirtatious smile or neccessarily encouraging but friendly, you know. Yet only one guy talked to us. Which was fine ‘cause this was the first time we’ve gone out together so we were getting to know eachother so I really didn’t think about it until we left.
Finally, we headed to Polish Hill to Gooskies. Proported to be the “place bands hang out after the show”. SO MUCH FUN…but these boys? Look, there was a punk band playing. No one was dancing or banging their heads or NODDING their heads or making rock-on signs or anything. This was our text conversation (it was too loud to talk):
Me,”The band members are all fat.”
Her,”Thats Pittsburgh musicians.”
Me,”No! Wiz Khalifa is from here have faith.”
Her,”They are! This is the music scene. Seriously.”
Me,”It’s the french fries on the sandwitches”
Me,”Do you think if I start ramming people I can start a mash pit?”
Her,”Yes!!!!”
[In which I start ramming people. Only one guy pushed back—everyone else gave me looks like “Why does this drunk girl keep falling on me?”]
Me,”These boyz don know nuttin ‘bout punk rock”
Her,”Cute guy in whiiiiiiite, to ur rt”
Me,”White shirt?”
Her,”Yup”
Her,”Into you”
Her,”No shit.”
Her,”Smiling whoooole time.”
I made eye contact with White Shirt and we smiled at eachother—he was cute! And when the band was done, I waited for him to break away from his friends and approach….but he never did. Looked at me a lot. Never came over.
So I’m worried. And trying not worry about me.](http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyj5zkynpy1qzvt2io1_400.jpg)
I’m worried about Pittsburgh men.
Because its more comforting than being worried about me.
Last night, we started at the Warhol Museum—for the after hours cocktail. And we (of course) ended up in the balloon room until the place closed down. And there were cute guys….not one came in and tossed balloons with us. I mean, they’re PILLOWS that FLOAT and you can see your reflection in them!! It wasn’t until a couple of guys came partially in the room, watched us for half a second, then left that my friend turned to me and said, “If we were in NY, they would have talked to us.”
“If we were in LA, they would have joined in.” I bit my lip.
We went on to Lawrenceville (Hipster mecca of Pittsburgh) and we got stares. And I gave a friendly smile whenever a guy would make eye contact several times. Not a flirtatious smile or neccessarily encouraging but friendly, you know. Yet only one guy talked to us. Which was fine ‘cause this was the first time we’ve gone out together so we were getting to know eachother so I really didn’t think about it until we left.
Finally, we headed to Polish Hill to Gooskies. Proported to be the “place bands hang out after the show”. SO MUCH FUN…but these boys? Look, there was a punk band playing. No one was dancing or banging their heads or NODDING their heads or making rock-on signs or anything. This was our text conversation (it was too loud to talk):
Me,”The band members are all fat.”
Her,”Thats Pittsburgh musicians.”
Me,”No! Wiz Khalifa is from here have faith.”
Her,”They are! This is the music scene. Seriously.”
Me,”It’s the french fries on the sandwitches”
Me,”Do you think if I start ramming people I can start a mash pit?”
Her,”Yes!!!!”
[In which I start ramming people. Only one guy pushed back—everyone else gave me looks like “Why does this drunk girl keep falling on me?”]
Me,”These boyz don know nuttin ‘bout punk rock”
Her,”Cute guy in whiiiiiiite, to ur rt”
Me,”White shirt?”
Her,”Yup”
Her,”Into you”
Her,”No shit.”
Her,”Smiling whoooole time.”
I made eye contact with White Shirt and we smiled at eachother—he was cute! And when the band was done, I waited for him to break away from his friends and approach….but he never did. Looked at me a lot. Never came over.
So I’m worried. And trying not worry about me.
(Source: losmadden, via perfectmanifest)
what-do-i-wear:Details Atelier Versace, S/S 2012.
(via thedame)
I drew it yesterday. Just holding myself accountable so I dont try to shrug out of sketching today. 30 minutes a day. I have to do this—I have to stay creative. I’ll eventually work in design again—I just have to keep my mind in the right place.
People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.
A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.
A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…”
” - Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love (via soul-surfer)
scottem:Wool/fleece over leather? So good.
cakeladyhustla:CakeLady style diary
(via shadowzbringthestarlight)
SUBWAY ETIQUETTE : NYC [BROOKLYN]
(via streetetiquette)
You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed.
You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you’ll be the best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.
Except when you don’t
Because, sometimes, you won’t.
I’m sorry to say so
but, sadly, it’s true
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.
You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You’ll be left in a Lurch.
You’ll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you’ll be in a Slump.
And when you’re in a Slump,
you’re not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.
You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.
A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?
And IF you go in, should you turn left or right
… or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
You can get so confused
that you’ll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place…
…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
NO!
That’s not for you!
Somehow you’ll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You’ll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.
Oh, The Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Zeuss
Something to always keep in mind.
(Source: gaws)
