ChrismaCanada Day Give-AWAY!

That's right boys and girls, for once my blog title is not intentionally misleading for the purpose of hoodwinking you into clicking on said title and wasting 10 minutes of your life reading the utterly useless lack of information with which I pollute the world wide web. 

In following with the generous-nature of the above title, I say in all earnestness and with the utmost professionalism: I WANT TO GIVE YOU FREE SHIT. This is entirely factual. Factoid #2: It is also CANADA DAY WEEKEND. And it seems only logical to combine my natural philanthropic goodwill with the celebration of red, white, free health care, and now, free cotton tank tops.

Cue CHRISMACANADA DAY: The one day a year when your two three four five day bender gets a whole lot more fashionable for free. And you don't even have to leave me cookies and milk. FACT.

Yo Prize. Size Small.

What more appropriate way to celebrate CHRISMACANADA DAY than with garb from a Canadian brand, namely Ambush Apparel? And what less appropriate way to celebrate CHRISMACANADA DAY than with a tank top that is...uh...purple and white? Ahem, yes, thematically-unfitting, but again, FACTUAL.

TO ENTER:

1. Like FWF on Facebook here
2. Follow FWF on Twitter here
3. Like Ambush Apparel on Facebook huuurrrr
4. Leave a comment below with your NAME and E-MAIL

Contest closes FRIDAY JULY 6 at MIDNIGHT (giving you 5 days post-Canada Day to regain lucidness as well as the ability to comprehend the requirements of the above criteria).
The winner will be chosen by random selection and announced right here the following day. So click, like, follow, and I'll see you 30 Gatorades from now.

On Non-Commmital Lesbianism

I'm gonna get hate letters for this one, aren't I? 

Well, this post isn't about lesbianism at all, because lesbian, I am not (I know, I'm conventional and boring) but boy oh boy (or girl oh girl??) do I have a GIRL CRUSH. So what I'm really talking about here is in fact quasi-lesbianism, or lesbianism of the occasional variety. Maybe I should start calling these posts on my female fetishes "Lesbian for a Day" or, if that one isn't politically incorrect enough, how about "From the Peen to the Vageen: A Day Trip?" The tag line? "Be a lezbo for one day, and you don't have to stay." 

Yep, these are the things I think up in my spare time.

The subject at hand responsible for my temporary sexual philanderings and politically-erroneous titles? Elsa Burkart. This girl wears fringe and turbans as a uniform, lives out of a '79 Dodge Ram half the year, rolls around naked in paint, is front-woman to The Saint James Society and entrepreneur of the soon-to-be-opened Fauve and Hunter online/travelling pop-up lifestyle boutique.

Sometimes I feel these invisible hands around my throat. I feel like there is smoke in my eyes, and I think about the things I don’t have. I don’t have a degree, I don’t have credit, I don’t have a driver’s license. I’ve never gone the conventional way. What matters most is what you do have: I’ve driven cars and read beautiful books. I’ve never let money get in the way of doing something I wanted. Even in fear, I’ve gone where my heart leads me, because I know that even if I made a mistake, it was just a lesson that needed to be learned.
-Elsa Burkart from I Like My Style magazine Spring/Summer '12 edition

For her, I could go gay... if only for a day. So I guess that means not gay at all. Damn. So in talking about lesbianism, I come to the conclusion that I am not talking about it at all... and that I am not talking about anything really, for that matter, which seems to be a recurring trend on this blog...

I guess all I really wanted to say was that she's hot... and I'm bothered. And I'm sorry for wasting your time on a weekly basis. Goodbye.

NNN at Your Own Risk: Featuring Radiohead

Conclusion from the review of the following photographs: My friends and I are REALLY SEXY PEOPLE. Ya know, especially that last pic down yonder.

Speaking of things down yonder, remember my last post, where I introduced to you the potentially revolutionary concept for summer attire, very literally dubbed Nipples, Navels and Nether Areas (NNN)? Well, last Friday, the NNN manifesto was put to good practice for my hot date with Thom Yorke at the surpassingly romantic Bell Centre in some denim short-shorts and a corset-bra for which I made the (possibly unwarranted) executive decision of conferring to it the status of a wearable top. And then I walked outside and realized that it was not, in fact, a wearable top and that I had become, in fact, a hooker. 

Whoops. 

           

My friend Carley, on the other hand, being a decent person, dressed with propriety in mind and as my accompaniment, was quite probably the only thing deterring passing motorists from asking me for a quote. But hey, that's what friends are for, right? 

Anyways, moral of the story is if you do choose to put NNN into practice in your own summer wardrobe, I can't promise that your family won't disown you, nor can I promise that you won't have to quit your day job for....errrrr.....higher employment. You've been warned. NNN at your own risk. And please don't sue me because I'm poor as shit. Thanks. Buh BYE.

See-Through and Cut-Off or how to be naked without being naked

Like This:

Step 1: A Bra. I wore one here, but if your sartorial expression is not hampered by social conventions and general nipple-aversion, by all means, BURN THAT BRA GIRL. YA BURN IT. If you happen to live in a cult or nudist colony of some sort, all the better.

Step 2: A top bespeckled in a conglomeration of intentionally-placed holes for scenic views made easily accessible.

Step 3:  High-waist short-shorts or any garment of a similar nature which requires a hyphen in between the words that construct its title. Options include booty-shorts, cut-offs, mini-skirts, bum-stunners, underwear-worn-as-outerwear, and chastity-belts (That last one doesn't actually get a hyphen, nor does it promote educationally-enriching sightseeing of any kind, so avoid it if at all possible.) 

The key is suggestion. Here I am suggesting that I am a bohemian flower child, which I am in fact not. I could (or could not) also be suggesting that I am naked, which I partially am, and partially am not. You see? This game requires zero commitment and full-on ambiguity. 

SO. Your motto for summer style? Repeat after me...Nipples, Navels and Nether Areas. The End.

MANIA MANIA masterpiece

Oh, you know, just some fucking awe-inspiring jewellery and look-book shots from Mania Mania. This is one of those posts where I say nothing. Be Thankful.

HOW TO BE AN INNEFECTIVE GROUPIE: A Tutorial

We like to go to concerts and dance like assholes and follow this up with a forced-upon post-show Q & A session with the band where we ask far too numerous questions and they provide far too few answers until that unavoidable tipping point where either one of the following scenarios occur:

1. Our over-eagerness is correctly translated as a pathetic appeal for attention...resulting in them leaving the conversation. OR...
2. Our over-eagerness is mistakenly translated as an enthusiastic desire to sleep with the band until they realize that we in fact do not want to sleep with the band...resulting in them leaving the conversation.

SO, how to be an apprenticing but ultimately failing Groupie, you ask? In terms of aesthetics, it helps if you decided to dye your hair with brightly coloured chalk, and by chalk I mean literally chalk. Straight off the side-walk legitimacy. People start to take you REALLY seriously after that.

What else? What else? Well...

1. Leather...or pleather for those of you (i.e. ME) who cannot afford nice things.
2. A winter toque in the summer because you are just THAT cool and subversive.
3. An exotic accessory such as the peacock necklace featured here, worn with the intention of exhibiting some semblance of cultural worldliness and intellect regardless of whether or not you actually possess said qualities.

Other options include lesbian hair cuts and/or Kate-Hudson-esque mops à la Almost Famous, bowler hats, anything fringe, and aggressive jewellery pieces that could double as a defence mechanisms should a flash mosh pit break out around you. It's all about preparation. Oh, and a pack of band-aids, if not for their pop-cultural reference factor or metaphorical value, than for their practical usefulness in lieu of such a mosh pit. Nobody wants you bleeding all over them on top of leaving a trail of chalk on every surface that you come into contact with.

So, if you enjoyed this step-by-step on how to NOT be good at what you do, follow me here for more thrilling tales of embarrassment and inadequacy this summer, because school is (finally) out and I have far too much free time to fill with poorly-made decisions and unintended consequences for your entertainment value.
Enjoy.