Adeiu Yves

Stormy Weather

When it rains I often ask myself --Why am I in this ugly, dirty, racist town?
If not for my career which is nonexistant at the moment then for what I ask?
Another failed dream.

Photo By: Phil Dev

Bad Managers

After the double dirty look you gave me today that made me cry and after the biting rebut that followed when I asked if I had done something wrong, but the coup d'état was when I asked you for a word and you said in your vicious queeny way that "you didn't have time".

Consider what ever it was that I did as paid in full.

Perfectionista

After a very hard day at work today were I almost quit ( actually I think I did quit but my resignation wasn't excepted) I sat down to check my email and to catch up on the day's news. I came across this article in the New York Times and it got me to thinking about some of my tenets and how they effect me and the people around me. I've been called a tough cookie, a ball buster and a real BITCH. To the latter, I'm flattered because it's not like I put forth the effort. It just comes naturally for me and I think being a good bitch has more to do with perspective.

Isn't that just precious. I'm unassuming.

Truthfully, I'm more of a MotherF*^@#r when I put my mind to it but usually I keep my hat on, so to speak.

I admit that if I expected from others half of what I expected of myself, I would be more depressed than I am now or I would be waiting forever and it would just be done wrong anyway--So why even bother.

Perhaps, I'm not depressed but just disgruntled.

Hence without further ado and in no particular order...


I believe that one can never be too rich or too thin.

I believe that a woman should be called Miss or Madame never ma-am not unless being rude is your intention or you're in the south.

I believe that most ( and I say most only to be kind) Hip Hop in not real music and that it is just mumbled noise that has made an ugly blemish on society by glamorizing thug life, promoting the ill treatment of women ands disregards education. It has definitely made my life an ugly hell of sorts.

I believe that one should always strive to do the right thing not only by yourself but by others as well.

I believe in standing up for what you believe in.

I believe that some things should be kept to oneself.

I believe that social mores were "all but destroyed when casual friday was introduced to the work place."

I believe that you should always follow your dreams.

I believe in personal responsibility.

I believe in the American dream.

I believe that giving up is not an option: For me anyway.

I believe that you can never judge a book by its cover--Literally or metaphorically.

I believe that models should be really skinny.

I believe in treating people as you wish to be treated.

I believe that everyone is fallible.

I believe in fidelity or at least in trying.

I believe in equality or at least a level playing feild.

I believe that one day there will be a world without racism, hatred and bigotry.

Yes, I do believe in miracles and in G-d.

Happy Hanukkah.

Lady's Choice

Si j'ai eu le choix j'aurais choisi un notre.

I make everyone around us think that you're the best thing since sliced bread. I admit that I'm selfish and it's for my sake that I do this and not yours.

You disappoint and embarrass me because your drinking and drugging has become way too much to bear. Moreover, it’s really an ugly thing to watch. Your eyes no longer dance and your skin looks dull.

I've attempted to be a good friend to you and it seems as if I've failed once again. Perhaps you listened too closely when I said that you were brilliantly fabulous and you missed the other more important bits that followed the but.

Well... At least I've tried to be a good friend, which is more than I can say for...

No, I won't argue about who's been the better friend to whom.

I guess...I just want to say...

What I'm trying to say is...

"I'm sorry, I'm in your way."

If only I had a better selection to choose from...

Oh, but I still love you... for now, anyway.

Rose Colored Glasses

My rose colored glasses were smashed by a very tall fat jewish man at the Four Seasons Los Angeles while I was enjoying cocktails at the bar with a friend. He was nearly as wide as he was tall and somehow connected to the entertainment business.

My second pair... Because I always carried a spare have been scratched during the years beyond repair.

All that time in Marrakech, Paris, Chicago, New York and they lasted--Although I did come close to loosing them in Chicago after a deluge of sorts.

They just don't make things the way they used to.

L.A. can really be tough on the eyes and the soul for that matter.

I miss my glasses from time to time but I guess for now, my oversized Lavin wayfarers will just have to do.

Besides I'm a grown up now and the Lanvin may be a bit more becoming.

The Marvelous Miss Malkavich

94 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall

I deleted a number from my Judith Leiberman like Sidekick today while perusing the aisles at Ralph’s on 3rd and Labrea. It was the number of a friend that had been thoughtfully disgarded. I’m on the fence as to the length of the deletion or its permanence only because I'm attempting to be an adult about the situation.

I made the startling realization that this woman and myself were at two totally different ends of the spectrum in our beliefs and morals as well as our ability or inability to understand one another.

Far be it for me to say or think for that matter that I am the more empathetic one amongst us but --Yes The Big But... But I realized that with this woman I am always wrong.

Is it really possible for one person to be wrong 100% of the time?

"She" (my friend of sorts) doesn’t actually come out exactly and tell me that I'm wrong but she can never seems to agree with me or understand my point of view no matter how I put it. Therefore if I’m upset about something and I happen to share it with her as friends often share experiences, I’m always the one that needs to “get over it”, “ forget about it” or should just "Be Happy”.

I have tried to understand why people act and say some of the things they do. I have tried to become less reactive which is still a work in progress. I'm not saying that this makes me a better person but I do try earnestly and purposefully to make a full-hearted attempt at being a good person. Not that understanding makes me a good person but I treat people as I wish to be treated besides that I am compulsively drawn to doing the right thing.

Often times than not, I fail by missing the mark completely or the mistake that I seem to make all too often is that I expect that my efforts should mean something to people. And I’m naturally hurt when they don’t. But at least I try to understand and I'm the first to admit when I’m limited.

I'm also trying to understand that her point of view may be coming from her own limitations and unwillingness to face certain truths of reality.

"She" has a very subtle way of taking this moral high ground place of superiority were she sits passing judgment on the fallible ones like myself seemingly because she watches Oprah, does yoga, drives a hybrid mini-van, recycles and has a toddler in private school. Or maybe it's just because she goes to church on Sundays.

I don’t peddle my Scientology/Jesus, just Love/Ignore and everything is right in the world diatribe. Well, perhaps that would be because I’m jewish and I tend to say what’s on my mind although not so much these days. Or maybe even, it’s just not my way.

However, I never judged her when she had a child out of wedlock let alone two. Despite the very strong opinions that I have I never once told her that I agreed with her mother. Although for her sake, I'm happy it all appears to have worked out.

At least I care enough to make an attempt at understanding. Which is more than I can say from someone that I thought was my friend.

Still, somewhere in my heart after our conversation today, I felt that she might have had a point.
Then again, I do try too hard... Sometimes.



The Marvelous Miss Malkavich

A Day With Roxxie

Roxxanna reminds me of a little bear

Funny... I usually like bears

Le Chat

Il y a une fois un chat qui me suis

et il aime quand je lui dis oui

Mais ça me fait mal parce ce que

quand je lui dis oui, il fait le pipi

Ah...la tristesse que je sens tout le temps.

Alors! Je lui dis si!

J'ai découvert qu'il est un chat espagnol.

GI/CC

It's Not Personal

The common and convenient catch phrase of the "Haves" ( those in a position of having power however minute) at my job seems to be..."Oh, it's not personal... Don't take it personally".

Yeah, but when people are fuckin' with your Franklins --What can be more personal?

Besides, it's only your livelihood.

No, it's not personal. It's just plain wrong.

Myspace and "Me"

There have been a few people that wanted to meet me from myspace and they wondered which picture in my profile was mine. No big deal, I love meeting new people especially fellow artists.

I never cared to label my picture as "Me" because... I'm not sure why... although maybe it was because deep down inside I was afraid of being rejected.

With my writing especially I want people to grasps the content of who I am as a person through my mind and not to care what I look like.

When I informed my inquirers as to which I was, they most all mysteriously went away. Which is strange that they seemed to find me more interesting before they knew what I looked like or so it appeared. They were all men; Not to male bash but what am I to think?

I don't know why but I seem to scare people. I always have and perhaps always will. Perhaps scare is too strong of a word... I don't put people at ease and for some strange reason.

Looking at it this way does gives me a bit of solace..."these people probably did me a favor because if you're afraid from just my picture then be very afraid". Besides that I absolutely abhor cowards.

I'm tall, opinionated--I've been told sadly since I was a little girl that I was intimidating. Playing stupid and small so people would like me better and to put them more at ease didn't make me the successful, most well liked person that I thought that it would. It was at near detriment to myself esteem, so I stopped. Although I think it did make me a better actress, definitely I'm a stronger person because of it. I drive a muscle car and in addition to that I'm with the wonderful Mick Dixon anyway.

I'm a really cool person who's worth knowing but it still hurts. It's a slow burn of a hurt that really bugs me deep down inside.

Life is funny...
It has a way of ultimately bring us to the thing we are most trying to avoid.
It's that way for me, anyway.

Beauty is so much more than skin deep.

--Like the phoenix from the flame I shall rise again with a new skin.

"Another Pallywood Production"

Pallywood: Definition- refers to the staging of scenes by Palestinian journalists in order to present the Palestinians as hapless victims of Israeli aggression. Often times using equipment from Western news agencies, and that the resulting footage is sent on to those agencies for international consumption.

Cecilem Bibbi Hezbollah "I want tight close ups on all injured women and children.

Rolling Sound--Action!"

A Little Help From A Friend

This is an email that I received from one of our loyal readers that never leaves comments but who doesn't hesitate to ask us for help.

Oh hell, we love you anyway.

I get a little touchy when it comes to people in the service industry not being treated right because without them we'd all be in a cafeteria queue.

Hi Elbib,

I really enjoy your blog and I'm happy to see
that you went off and did your own thing successfully.
> I was wondering if you could do a fave: I encountered a
> > disturbing add on craigslist LA
> http://losangeles.craigslist.org/ret/138397854.html.
> A lot of us are out here in LA doing our thing and
> > unfortunately slinging drinks and serving food in the meantime. The last thing we need is a bunch of
> little narc bitches coming in and fucking with our jobs.
> Can you light these people up with a little phone/email traffic?? You are a public service god/goddess!!!!
> > Thank you
> >
> > Address:
> > EyeSpy Critiquing and Consulting
> > 15466 Los Gatos Suite 109
> > Los Gatos, CA 95032
> > Phone:
> > 888.339.3779 / 408.292.1612
> > Fax:
> > 408.295.4627
> > E-mail:
> > info@theeyespy.com
> > Tech Support: techsupport@theeyespy.com
> >

My Darling Theyskens

Theyskens, the darling of fashion forward stylists and a certain sort of retailer, was one of 30 Rochas staff informed last week that they would be getting pink slips.

Oh, I know; How awful... and just to think the news came as a major surprise given that this spring Theyskens, 29, was awarded International Designer of the Year by the CFDA, American fashion's governing body.

However, after several years of losses, Procter and Gamble pulled the plug on Rochas despite all the critical kudos. P and G, which will continue producing the Rochas fragrances it inherited when it acquired Wella's beauty portfolio in 2003, clearly does not consider fashion an essential area for growth.

"After four years of support, Procter and Gamble plans to stop its investment… in this company which is not part of our core business," P and G said in a statement. Yeah, what do they know, they sell toilet paper.

Rochas hired Theyskens as artistic director in November 2001. The designer with the Gothic looks first gained recognition for the outfit he designed for Madonna for the 1998 Oscars.

Theyskens was briefly courted by LVMH boss Bernard Arnault for the position of couturier at Givenchy, a job that eventually went to Julien Macdonald.

"Olivier Theyskens is now free to do whatever he wants. There is no restriction on him relaunching his own label," a P and G spokesman told FWD.

On joining Rochas, Theyskens stopped his eponymous collection amid reports of tension between the designer and his backer, Belgian lawyer Isabelle Stevens.

Speculation in Paris is that Theyskens will reignite his own label, though whether it is with Stevens remains to be seen.

Stevens, who held a majority interest in Theyskens name, did not return calls to her offices in Belgium and San Marino. Theyskens was unavailable for comment.

P and G inherited the Rochas fashion and fragrance divisions in its $6.9 billion acquisition of Wella's portfolio, which also included the Anna Sui, Montblanc, Escada and Gucci fragrances, though Rochas was the sole fashion holding.

The multinational stressed that, looking ahead, it would consider possible other solutions for Rochas, and underlined that it would continue Rochas licensing business. P and G apparently offered as a license the Rochas fashion business, but was greeted only by requests to buy both the Rochas fashion and fragrance brands together.

Moreover, recent history is littered with fashion houses unsuccessfully managed by far bigger beauty companies. L'Oreal sold off its Lanvin fashion holding and Groupe Clarins reined in the Thierry Mugler fashion brand even as its scents sales boomed.

Closing down even a medium-sized business takes several months under French labor law and the Rochas fashion division won't be fully closed until October.

Retailers expect Rochas fall/winter ready-to-wear collection to be shipped, and are holding out hope that Theyskens' last ideas for Rochas would become collectors' items.

Theyskens' shows for Rochas were consistently packed out events during Paris fashion week. When he joined Rochas four years ago, he was already a critically acclaimed young designer with a distinctive voice.

However, the failure of Theyskens and Rochas to build a substantial accessories business for ultimately doomed a business better known for wildly expensive gowns that reached as high as $35,000 at retail.

You're telling me- I couldn't never get a pair of shoes that were my size or that fit right. Well, maybe next time, Olivier.
Best wishes for the future.

Tales From The Dark Side Of Entourage

Can you say...OVER IT! Well, at least we wrapped early. People really should be nicer to poor Naomi because I nearly shoved and slapped someone myself.

"Damn, where did I put my Blackberry?"

Who am I kidding?..."SOMEONE"..."There were several people."

And please, "Ladies", please wear at least a thong with your $44.00 tissue thin party dresses from Image. Yes, I'm especially talking to you, "Miss Saved Pussy, Nicole Kidman Wannabe" from "Down Under". If, your accent was in fact, real.

Yes, this is Hollywood; where everything goes but that was obscene.

Goodness, that set was like The Beverly Center exploded after a crystal meth fire and only the well seasoned crack whores survived because they had an exit strategy, besides from them being the ones that set it in the first place.

I'm not violent, really...I'm not...I'm honest, as well as depressed.

Where have all of the fabulous people gone and why are my dreams always smashed by the horrible reality of it all.

Wow, that was a very Carrie Bradshaw statement.

I smell Aussie twat.

Yew hew, ooh...Wardrobe Mistress!

Perspective

I've been dying for validation from a career that doesn't seem to want me as much as I want it.

First it was one and then another.

What have you been dying for?

In Memoriam Of A Former Self

I've been known to hold a grudge. I don't know why. It's not that I purposely do it but things, especially negative things have a way of resting with me. It's sad because I've found that I have the ability to hate other human beings. Something, I didn't know was possible. I've always tried to be a loving, understanding and kind person but I've never quite felt as strongly about people or situations as I do now.

Perhaps, it's getting older maybe it's just knowing more but over the last few days I've been thinking of a certain situation that happened last week. Oddly enough on my birthday: a hell of a day to learn compassion and how to cry for others.

So here I am, ten minutes and a blog draft ago, find myself making a mental list of sorts and thinking... "Wow, I really fucking hate Joan... 2) for two years I have abhorred but tolerated Jamie Lynn (her very name should provide some insight, well no it doesn't... However, saying "Trailer Park" does). Plus it bothers the hell out of her that I have never seen one. 3) and as of late... I'm not too crazy about Keifer." Actually, I'm feeling a little sorry for the latter.

Oh hell, I feel sorry for Joan too. Her very handsome 32 year old son, the "not so" recovering addict but "Manic Depressive" as she calls his affliction (or anyone who doesn't agree with her, for that matter), has lost another job and she wonders why he's such a scrub. He's just had a second child ( a little girl ), when he neglects emotionally and financially his three year old son.

Joan, doesn't understand that all that he is or is not, is in a great part because of her. She's told him all of his life that as a black man he will never get ahead nor have anything of value, he will always be considered less than because of his skin color and that it's a "white man's world" and that his place in it will always be one of oppression. She has filled his head with the same old blah, blah, stereotypical bullshit that has plagued the belief system of blacks for years. Who can win with those odds but somehow, someway he is to champion the opponent and win the race. It's sad that somehow she thinks that's love.

And if that isn't bad enough she doesn't read well. She's nearly 60, perhaps older. I can't keep up anymore. She's already celebrated her 57th birthday a few times since I've known her. She says it's her eyes but I'm starting to suspect otherwise. I'm guessing that she probably has a sixth grade education at best. I might add, from Jamaica. Just the thought of the Jamaican school system with upwards of 50 students to a class makes me cringe. Her only saving grace is that she married well. I guess the second time was a charm.

Knowing all of that or at least being aware of the bigger picture only makes it worse for me because I still can't find it in my heart to forgive her.

It makes me wonder, what kind of beast am I? Has my once seemingly overflowing well of benevolence run dry?

I don't know...But one thing's for sure...

I fucking hate ignorant people and I especially hate ignorant people that tell me what I can't accomplish because of my national origin or skin color. I loath, people who judge me or think they know me or others because of it. I might add somewhere in there that these people will often give their opinion without it, being solicited.

People who make sweeping statements suck ass. BIG TIME!


G-d grant me the serenity...

I am no longer a prisoner of my past—past regrets, earlier traumas, pain and suffering.

I believe in miracles and a joy-filled future.

I believe in myself.

I gain the courage to let go!

I let go.

Of everything.

Period.

Snap Attack

Kate Moss is back and apparently kicking asses and taking names.
Of the paparazzi that is...

Oh My G-D, I Think I Scared Her

For those of you who know me, you know that I have been for sometime looking for an editor for my novel. I stumbled across, Jennifer Garrett Who Writes For A Living and who also to some extent works for Blogger. She is a self-professed "Complete Anal-Pile" when it comes to the written word. She stresses punctuation, punctuation, punctuation. So much so that supposably, she polices blogs by emailing the blogger about their bad grammar, punctuation and so-forth.

I recently e-mailed her. Not about her grammar police tactics but because I need an editor. Needless to say, I haven't heard back-from her which might be a good thing because personally, I didn't find her writing that, interesting or exciting.

I must say that I like reading blogs that aren't grammatically perfect and have too many ellipses. At least you have something interesting to say. Which is more than important than having nothing to say but saying it grammatically perfect. To all my blogging brethren... Keep using your ellipses, never be boring and remember that those who can "Do" those who "Can't" criticize.

And if you get an email telling you of your misuse of the english language invite them to kiss your... "Dita Von Teese is fabulous".

And with out further ado my email to Ms. Garrett.

Hi Jennifer,

First, I'd like to say that I am very intimidated by writing to you because I know that my grammar is being torn apart from the seams as your eyes glide across this email.

But, oh well. At least I didn't use ellipses. Whew.

My question is how can writers find their voices if we get hung up on correct punctuation? How can we correctly use punctuation to express sudden changes in thought, to contradict ourselves if and when we are writing stream of consciousness stuff?

I too have a grade school writing experience that was the antithesis of yours. Unlike, you I didn't win my writing contest. I was traumatized by my 3rd Grade teacher Mrs. Pounds’ blaring red pen across all of my words. There were so many mistakes on that piece of paper. It’s a wonder I didn't get a failing grade. I got a B- because she liked what I wrote.

It may sound silly but that stopped me from writing for a long time which I always enjoyed doing. It was probably because I was perplexed by the countless red marks and having written an enjoyable story and not doing it correctly. Now when I write I get so caught up in the punctuation that it's painful and I forget what it is that I’m trying to say.

Blogging breathed new life into me. I try to be a responsible blogger watching both my grammar and punctuation but if I followed all the rules then how am I expressing myself? Where does it all end and a voice and one’s story begin? I would love to hear your thoughts on this matter. I like your writing style. I’m still mulling over mine.

Thanks for your time,

G.G.

The Bitch Is Back

Okay, after a short, by short I mean a 27 hr, much needed respite from a certain said "purple shirt", I'm feeling a little bit better. Or am I really? Perhaps, my Alexander McQueen Scarf tied nicely in a bow around my neck ( It's actually two scarves but who's counting... I like big bows ) and my most favorite pair of Helmut Lang boots have only been a temporary salve for the mal-contentful rage against mankind or at least one restaurant in Beverly Hills. I'M F@*KING FABULOUS and my tibia hurts! Why G-D! Why!