Saturday, April 30, 2011

I would love to style a shoot that pays homage to the epitome of men, Depeche Mode. This will also give me an excuse to dress men in t-strap shoes (à la "Master and Servant" music video), 9 to 5 suits, leather drop crotch pants, and hand cuffs. Meow.

Image source: the internet.


Note: some of my posts will be reviews of various forms of art and entertainment for my review writing class. Until I figure out a way to make a page within my blog that will be exclusive to these posts, these reviews will be on this page. Otherwise, enjoy!

When I watched the first episode of "Workaholics," Comedy Central's latest television series that premiered on April 6, I thought of nothing but a sausage fest that's all too familiar. This is coming from a girl who often hangs out with a bunch of semi-lethargic wits who, by getting involved in juvenile antics and later talking about them over some weed and Bud Light, flip the bird at the monotonous wheel of life.

What's more dull and monotonous for the men in "Workaholics," played by the unfamiliar faces of Anders Holm, Blake Anderson, and Adam Devine? Life fresh out of college and into an entry job - and boy are they holding strong onto the last patch of grass on the cliff of high times.

The first episode is full of kickers that will engage viewers on various "gotcha" jokes and leave them indignant. Titled "Piss and Shit" (so that you're warned on the impending hilariously crude, low brow humor), the first few minutes introduce a large daytime backyard party full of khaki shorts, bikini, bare skins, and booze-filled Solo cups.

Amidst the wackiness, Anders, 1/3 of the post-college trinity that includes Blake and Adam, receives advice from his roommates that the best way to take part in this newfound communication of "sexting" is to "give back the goods." (Note: even though they're college graduates, they're still interested in the culture of mischievous youth.) A flash of his flesh, click, and "text received" later, a randy Anders realized that his pimping was actually a trap set by his roommates. Not only did the bare skin and the booze encompass the life of the party, so did Ander’s down under.

The premise of the premiere episode stars, yes, the poop and the pee. The three roommates/co-workers come to work after their day of partying with a notification that a company-wide drug test is taking place that day. In panic, the trio spends their work day figuring out how to bypass submitting their own heavily infected urine samples to a villainous drug tester. The well-prepared Anders had his stash of clean urine accidentally smacked out of his hand, so the three scurry the office and a children's playground for plan B and C. To make sure that the episode has a "random" sub-plot, the three pass their time scattering "poo dollars" on sidewalks and streets, cat calling its victims. Can there be any better way to relate a plotline to their intended demographic of your average college/post-college bro?

Kyle Newacheck, the 27-year-old director of the series, lives with two of the main characters, so it's safe to imagine that the brotherly love/hate among the three characters reflect the roommates situations the director has among the main actors. I imagine an exchange of poop jokes and laughter, but the kind that harkens back to the dazed dorm days of college. These poop jokes are a slight intellectual upgrade from the playground sandbox, wearing glasses and with a copy of The Onion in tow. Moments like Anders having clean urine stashed in his drawer escalading to having a stashed urine-related accident will leave viewers in disgust.

Unfortunately the first episode brings nothing new to the comedy table, but instead provides an alternative. It's like if your mom replaces the inimitable roasted turkey with a chicken substitute for Thanksgiving. There's familiarity, it may be pretty good, but you can't beat the originator. Workaholics is the chicken substitute to shows like "Arrested Development," "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia," and "Office Space." It just happens to switch up the conflict of the characters to be fresh out of college and, with difficulty, making the transition from the party life to real life.

But hey, if the viewers like the aforementioned series and wouldn’t mind diving into a similar but equally satisfying alternative, then Workaholics may be the next series on their DVR cue.

New episodes of the series airs Wednesdays @ 10:30 p.m. on Comedy Central. Click here to watch the reviewed episode in its entirety.

Photo from

Sunday, April 24, 2011

It was raining unicorns and Cthulus yesterday, so I decided to dedicate my Saturday afternoon to getting back to doing what I've always loved doing (until school happened): design accessories.

This was the result of making use of a lot of denim fabric I had lying around. Some unraveled from a run through the washers (for whatever reason, I don't remember), others were remnants of denim jeans that were hacked into booty shorts. The raveling ends and the side seams could have easily been unseamed or cut away, but I wanted to take advantage of these "burdens" and create a bag that you'll find difficult to not stare at. In this case, the destruction is quite beautiful. The tote shown above comes with a large front pocket and a concealed pocket on the top left. It's roughly the size of your standard record bag, but it has a 1.5" depth so you don't have to fear it ripping in two. I'm planning on making some zipper pouches and wallets to complement this tote.

I got real ambitious and decided to create a tag for this hypothetical accessory line that, success depending, may take off if I work to continue with it. Austy Ana is actually my middle name split in two (Austyana), and I couldn't use Rika because a star-obsessed Swedish designer beat me to it. Hell, say Austy Ana out loud and it DOES sound like a name that would roll off the tongues of the fashion-conscious, so I'm okay with the alternative.

Alsooo speaking of rehashed hobbies, I found some OLD projects I've sold in the past after digging through my very old Photobucket account. (It took me half a year to finally remember my login information.) Made Fresh was what I formally called all this and it did well until the middle of my freshman year in college.

If you're interested in this bag and/or want more details on what I'm working on, don't hesitate to e-mail me. Ultimately this is going to help me save some money for my big move to New York City this August.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Eff it all, my right brain is back in business.

Sunday, April 17, 2011


Occasionally I'll get a random Facebook friend request from some Southeast Asian punks, which I never mind because a) I'm always stoked to meet someone who is in the same ethnicity and music realm and b) I'm such a culture creeper, so this gives me the opportunity to vicariously see what the DIY scene is like in my birth country. Indonesia is the 4th most populated country and the 1st most populated Muslim country in the world. My recollections of what the country is like as I grew up in the United States is that everyone walked around in colorful traditional Indonesian garb, praising Allah in some sing-song over Gamelans and timpanis, and were a walking poster child of good morals. I got to blame my parents and the pirated karaoke videos they play at our Eid parties for these juvenile perceptions.

Realistically, the youth counter-culture is as intriguing as anything of the like is elsewhere. Particularly, the country is a BOOMING hotbed of the DIY punk scene. Iron Lung recently completed their Southeast Asian tour, and it was endearing to hear how ecstatic Indonesians were about their arrival. I was oblivious to all of this until my freshman year of college, when I stumbled upon PROLETAR through To Live A Lie. Although my extensive Myspace hunt introduced me to a slew of fast hardcore and grindcore bands, the obstacle I couldn't bypass was the lack of access to these bands' releases.

Until now. I received perhaps on of THE BEST packages to ever hit my mailbox from Moko, a recent Facebook friend who was quick to introduce me to a dizzying list of Indonesian bands. I've spent the early hours of Monday morning (it's almost 4 a.m., btw) going through his trade package and I'm nowhere near completion.

Because this shit is hard to find/gain access to, I've decided to compile a mix of the songs I'm digging so far and pass it on to you readers. Once again, infinite thanks to Moko for this Christmas (or Eid) in April, and I need to remind myself that I owe him a generous trade package of some U.S. bands. This is also a sly way for me to boost traffic on this blog. So download, enjoy, and tune in to Absolute Catastrophe, my radio show, this Thursday from 8-9 p.m. on to check out more from this collection.


Track listing:

1. "Biadab" AGGRESSOR from State Is Dead: 3 Thrashcore Solutions
2. "Politisasi Kejar Tayang" AGRESI! from Mismash Of Coalition
3. "ballads of kenshin and his sakabato" AK47 from Barricades close the street but open the way
4. "Sound of Revolution" AK47 from Barricades close the street but open the way
5. "Conspiracy" DEAD VERTICAL from When Love Finds A Fool, Grind Still Rules
6. "Did I Have A Delightful Conversation With Timothy McVeigh Rights After His Death Penalty" DOMESTIK DOCKTRIN from Manufakturing Karma EP
7. "Betray" DOMESTIK DOCKTRIN from VA - A Tribute To Minor Threat (Indonesia) - Gone But Not Forgotten
8. "Peace... No Fucking War" FIRSTBLOOD from Split With A SISTEM RIJEK
9. "New Pleasure" MORTAL COMBAT from Hello?! Fukk You! Thank You!
10. "Stand Up and Be Countered" FALLEN WORLD from Blast from the Far East #3
11. "Smell of the Silence" PEACE OR ANNIHILATION from Horrific Disturbing Vision Of War
12. "Dear Fascist/Wish You're Dead!" A SISTEM RIJEK! from First Sight No Sight
13. "Janganlah Memandang Sebelah Mata" SATELLITE from A Moral EP
14. "Point Which Will Not Find There's Onky Led Us Each" TASTE OF FLESH from Split 7'' With SPACE TO BEING
15. "In Grind We Porn" ROTTEN VAGINA 69 from Compilation Contribution Part 4&5
16. "Perusak" TOTAL ANARCHY from Frustasi Global
17. "The Broken of Your State Like My Broken Song" PROLETAR from Blast from the Far East #3
18. "Loud and Fast" GXFXTX from Kazamate & A.D.T. & GxFxTx
19. "United Difference" NINJA HATORRY from Ninja Hatorry
20. "Fake Human Unity" OBSESIF KOMPULSIF from The Taste of Thrash

Photo of Iron Lung playing in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Source: Mohd Rizman's Flickr.

Note: I'll add band links later. Time for bed.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Yet another shameless plug of one of my favorite boutique stores. If you're in NYC between today (the 15th) and the 17th and you're not going to OAK's sample sale, I'm teetering on whether we should remain friends. But really, you'd be silly to miss out the OAK + friends sample sale this weekend.

Expect items from OAK (of course), Hyden Yoo, Pleasure Principles, Unif, Them Atelier, and Funktional. If you never thought you could afford Rick Owens, now is the exception because this sample sale is slashing up to 85% off retail price of past seasons items. This is getting me all teary-eyed because I am nowhere near the Williamsburg shop, but I've sent my want list to a dear friend of mine so we'll see what she scored for me.

The Williamsburg shop is on 208 N. 8th Street in Brooklyn and the sample sale will go one between 11 a.m. and 8 p.m., with Sunday hours ending at 7 p.m. The sale is cash only.

Photos taken from OAK NYC's Facebook.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Thought I'd throw this in here since it has to do with ~*real life*~. As of Sunday, I have ended my year-long reign as Ohio University's All-Campus Radio Network's General Manager. Lots of stress, lots of lack of a night's rest, lots of work. In retrospect, I've gotten a lot out of working intimately with administrators and colleagues just to keep a station running - even if it meant making a grown man cry.

This photo was taken at the 40th Anniversary banquet, and here I am standing next to some of ACRN's previous GMs after two days worth of hosting/MCing for visiting alums. I seldom dress this conservatively, but I got to suit for the occasion. Needless to say I busted out the distressed black jorts and combat boots at the after-party.

Photos taken by Shana Fields.

Monday, April 11, 2011

3_23 - 27. NYC

:: DAY 1 ::

In the ass crack of dawn of Wednesday, March 23, I took a Greyhound from Columbus, Oh., to my (future) stomping grounds for a hot, four-day impromptu visit. A lot of people find the Greyhounds to be the doom of traveling, but I personally don't mind it. I am also part scum. The solution to surviving a 14-hour bus ride, in which stops are aplenty and the fear of lost luggage never alleviates, is to just sleep through it. The 14 felt more like 7 and I had a chance to catch up on some recommended jams I've been putting off on listening, as well as revisiting the classics. The following track below best summarizes one moment of the trip when a man who reeked of fries and wet cigarettes took a seat next to me and occupied his Allentown to Newark trip by either rocking in his seat or talking loudly on his phone.

When I got off the ACE to these lines, excitement caused me to heave. I come back feeling like I never left. I got on the F and had to transfer to the J on Essex because of late night lines. You know what that means: I got here around midnight; didn't get on the J until 12:50 a.m. Ugh. Arrived at my friend Meghan's place in South Williamsburg and because we haven't seen each other since winter, chat up a storm until 3 in the morn. Meghan keeps me up by either taking me out dancing until venue staff kicks us out (New Year's Day, ayo) or getting into some serious girl talks.

Meghan's vegan diet = fridge stocked with the healthiest food. My health freak self was totally digging this pumpkin granola cereal concoction with almond milk and dried cranberries. (Can't say Craisins because that's a registered trademarked of Ocean Spray - which I was not eating.) The breakfast prepped me for a day of getting my shopping fix out of the way.

Of course I went to Supreme - but this time not for myself. Got my brother the Supreme x Thrasher magazine t-shirt. He wanted the hoodie, but he didn't give me + $100 for it. Meghan and I walked through SoHo to Bond Street to check out my favorite (can I stress it enough?) NYC boutique OAK. When we got to the door, I had difficulties opening it and gave up after multiple jerks. The sales associate gave me a nonchalant stare as she hung some Maison Margielas on their silver racks. We inferred that the store may have closed itself for a personal shopper, so we decided to make a quick stop at Hospital since it was just a 3-minute walk away. My random purchase of Arkanum's "Fran Marder" on picture disc ended up being a rare find - limited to 100, holla. Meghan and I ended up making a new friend at the shop, the Boston transplant Jim. All three of us geeked out over arena shows of bands like Iron Maiden (more of Meghan's forte), Slayer, and Megadeth. Jim, if you're reading this, please keep in touch!

Our second attempt at OAK succeeded over an embarrassing realization: you had to push the door to enter. Whoops. Thanks for the pointer, photography man staring at me from your white van. After trying on some basic wears from OAK and A.OK (25% off basics) and drooling in envy over Rick Owens, I ended up getting a poncho and a slouch A.OK v-neck tee. Meghan got the Alexander Wang hoodie I've eyed for ages and jealousy struck me for a few seconds.

(why am I making this pose... ?)

Capped off our day by walking through Saint Mark's. Outside of the historical Trash and Vaudeville clothing store was Ray Goodman himself smoking a cigarette and talking it up with another man who was equally eccentric in attire. Goodman pretty much posed outside like this. Can't say my style encompasses the glam of the 1975 NYC punk scene, but I literally had troubles getting myself out of a pair of distressed, acid marbled stretch jeans that won my heart. It took 15 minutes to get out of it and throw it over to Meghan who also wanted to try it on.

Later that day I met up with former co-intern at Opening Ceremony and legit chick Kristen Mom at Don Hill's to check out Trouble Andrew's "Leaked" Album launch party. We got there too early and faced some awkwardly unpleasant openers. Had we got there 2 hours later, we may have stayed up to seeing Trouble Andrew finally perform, but there were too many acts on the bill and our patience was running dry by the third act. My 1:30 a.m. return home may have been the earliest I've ever returned from a night out here. I later regretted not checking out Bag Raiders instead at Santo's - which would have been cheaper than the $9 I spent on beer at DH.

:: DAY 2 ::

Met up with my friend Alex during his lunch hours. He treated me to Chipotle in celebration of his enrollment into CalArts, and because I edit the essay that helped get him into the school. We walked through NYU to his restaurant of choice 4 out of the 7 days in a week. Outside two students (?) were filming with a glass plate and we couldn't help but stare. Our sweet tooth craved La Colombe coffee so we walked back close to his work and got our caffeine intake. My mocha took effect until what seemed like 10 that evening.

Note : be careful following street signs around Greenwich Village. The broken streets will suck you into its painfully confusing maze of bench parks and roundabouts. I eventually walked over to Washington Square park wearing nothing but a heavy knit sweater, tights over leggings, and 5" platform heels, so I plopped myself on a bench both freezing and throbbing in pain. My friend Brian ended up joining me 20 minutes after our set meeting time, but I was in panic because my phone died and I had little to do but freeze to death and wait. It ended up being a blessing because a) there were dogs everywhere, and b) SwaggerNYC duo Sian-Pierre Regis and B-Rad Izzy approached me to be featured on the website. Schooled Regis on how to properly walk up steps in platform heels in the process, and he seemed impressed. When Brian finally arrived, we took the subway to MoMA to take advantage of what was my first "free Fridays" at the museum.

Memo to Dali from the future: Should've made this painting much larger. So underwhelmed by the dinkyness of the size.

Brian to Man Ray.

Watched the Pollock biopic two days before seeing this exhibit. The violent flicks of paint on these canvases as so much more palpable in the flesh. Good move on my part.

Got interactive.

Later that night, met up with long lost lover Jess and Brian to check out Pendu night that had Gatekeeper as its headliner. Found out around this night at a million other great shows were going on that night as well - including Capsule, Caspa, and Dave Nada. Regret not busting out my Make Up Forever dark purple lipstick; not regretting scoping out the sea of brooding, foppish babes in attendance. But enough of that, the flawless bill that also featured Streetwalker (1/2 of White Car) and Innergaze blissfully (or doomfully?) filled me with some underworld darkbeats. Gatekeeper's near flawless set had rapidly flashing car beams muffled in a layer of thick fog. There's something odd about seeing a stumbling, drunk goth though... shouldn't they be honing a face of apathy at all times? Meghan tried to get off work at the Times to meet up with us at the venue, but it was at capacity. Our matching Litas walked around the block to the Levy to hopefully settle that score.

:: DAY 3 ::

Had to meet up with Jill before I leave the following morning, so she insisted on meeting up at her apartment in the early afternoon to grab some lunch. We walked past McCarren Park into Greenpoint to eat at this mosaic-tiled Mediterranean restaurant that was well in my price range. I forgot the name of the restaurant, but I'm sure if you ask someone where one can order some bomb-ass rosemary fries, that person would direct you to this place. I spent a healthy $8 on this veggie sandwich meal and had to photograph it before it disappears into my belly.

We looked too good to not be photographed, so it had to be done. Afterward, I went into the LES to pick up one other item from Supreme and made a spontaneous purchase on a skate zine called "Hand Job Sk8 Zine" done by a guy who goes by the name of $haggy. Flipping through, I was entertained by his compilations of clippings from defunct skate magazines that contained his letters to these magazines' editors. May have to order the back issues; they were only $1 each anyways.

I was unnaturally elated over Nunslaughter playing a show in Brooklyn so I made sure I went. Planned to meet with my friend Jon after he gets off of work at the show, but beforehand faced the lulling awkwardness of patiently waiting solo for the show to start. I sat quietly at the bar drinking two cans of Lagers, eavesdropping on one of the Nunslaughter members talking about Tom Jones. Jon eventually arrived and joining us was his friend Mark. Our interest in the openers were lukewarm so we trekked through the arctic wind tunnels of Bushwick to Mark's place, at which he showed us a new release from his label The Year Is One. I've managed to get back to the Acheron in time for Nunslaughter to start, and lost the boys in transition because it turned out they were unfamiliar with the band's catalog. I've managed to snap some style shots as the band did a brief sound check. Never expected to get some helpful pointers from a band that plays "devil metal."

Tip #1: Knee rips must fold out like an open book.

Tip #2: add some gloss to your obligatory Bathory back patch.

Tip #3: Tell people to "deal with it" with a pair of aviators.

Tip #4: if you gotta stud the boots, for the love of God invert that cross.

I've poorly positioned myself in front of the PA speakers, setting myself up for a painfully short stay during their set. If I remember correctly, they played a good amount of songs from "Hell's Unholy Fire" so I was content enough to excuse missing half of their set. The pit got serious, and a heavier, stocky dude accidentally grabbed my head and slammed it against the speakers. I had to peace because the blood gushed out of my lips and the venue had no paper napkins. I managed to pat off the excess blood, but the pooling layer of skin was in need of ointment.

My trip home involved taking the wrong direction on the F, having to walk 20 blocks north due to construction to get to a station in which the F was going South, saw the Chrysler building in its shining glory, waiting for the notoriously slow late night J train, and coming home to Meghan who checked out early from The Death Set gig. We talked about our night over Italian bread and olive oil dip, but by 4 a.m. I had to pack up and get at least an hour of sleep for my 9:20 a.m. bus departure. Passed out cold on the way home.