pablo: si no me divierto yo no se divierte nadie
la perra: odio el ajedrez por que siempre pierdo la reina
anoche, miles en la fiesta ArteBA: qué genio este DJ atroz que debería estar en cana antes que acercarse a unas bandejas...no puedo paraaar!
la zorra: me encanta escribir las escenas hot...si sólo el guión fuera todo sexo
ale: si sólo la vida fuera todo sexo
charly garcia: gozar es tan diferente a matar
chica porno y fugaz: el lubricante es copado
pablo: degenerado si, fiestero no
pablo: no one is allowed to have fun unless I am
the bitch: I hate to play chess because I always lose the queen
thousands at the BA art fair party last night: ohmygod!! this atrocious DJ should be incarcerated for crimes against music, and I can't tell the difference...I'm having such a blast!!!
the fox: I love writing sex scenes...if only the script were all sex
ale: if only life were all sex
charly garcia: coming is so different from killing
daniel ash: forget your daylight forget your tomorrows/get into your bliss get out of control
pablo: I'm a degenerate, not a slut
flesh for fantasy part 2
ps. si rompe el unitario del que soy una de las guionistas por ahí el plan LA se convierte en: me mudo a un mega galpón refaccionado con talleres de artistas, pileta y cochera para mi thunderbird rojo descapotable en barracas donde para el cumple de la perra armo fiesta megaláctica con lineup impresionante de todos nuestros DJs favoritos, vienen mi hermana mi prima más todos los amigos de Andalucía Rosario NY Berlín etc., toca daniel ash y bailamos hasta el desmayo, lo que no pasa nunca así que no aflojen DJs...no aflojen!
y como por razones misteriosas a la perra no le gustan las chongas la que termina casandose con shane soy yo: adoptamos miles de nenes, rescatamos miles de perros callejeros, logramos mandar binner al gobierno y todo es peace love ecstasy unity respect.
dr. trincado your dream team is on the way
anoche el doctor nos quitó todas las penas de este mundo tan frívolo y banal en el que nos toca vivir...así que se lo digo como daniel ash:my head is full of magic baby
and I can share this with you
I feel I'm on top again baby
& that's got everything to do with you
I'm alive
so alive
love & rockets
flesh for fantasy part 1
La vida post Paris la heroina las estrellas los Louboutins y Cattaneo en Bains Douches: la perra y yo nos mudamos a LA, donde soy guionista de una serie HBO ganadora de miles de premios. Paramos en una suite en el Chateau Marmont mientras refaccionamos nuestra casa Richard Neutra en Silver Lake, vamos a la playa en mi Thunderbird rojo descapotable a fumar porro al atardecer y después al Viper Room a ver el reunion de Love & Rockets. La perra se casa con Shane y de vez en cuando volvemos a BA a bailar Dr. Trincado y otros DJs que amamos. Después me harto de subirme a un avión tan seguido y les consigo fechas a todos mis DJs favoritos en LA. Hago fiesta de bienvenida en casa y vienen los amigos de BA Rosario NY Boston LA Roma Londres y Berlin más mi hermana de Mozambique y mi prima de Milán. Comemos montañas de sushi recontra bailamos de vez en cuando nos tiramos a la pileta y todo es peace love ecstasy unity respect.
***
Life after heroin & starfucking and Louboutins & Cattaneo in Paris: the bitch queen and I move to LA, where I'm a writer at a multiple prize-winning HBO series. We stay in a suite at the Chateau while the plumbing gets fixed at our Neutra house in Silver Lake, drive to the beach in my red Thunderbird convertible to smoke a joint at sunset then go to the Love & Rockets reunion at the Viper Room.
The bitch queen and Shane get married and once in while we go back to BA to dance to Dr. Trincado and some other DJs we love. Then I get tired of having to fly back all the time so I score gigs for all my favorite DJs in LA. I throw them a welcome party at home and all our friends from BA Rosario NY Boston LA Rome London Berlin plus my sister from Mozambique and my cousin from Milan show up. We eat boatloads of sushi, dance under the stars, splash around in the pool and everything is peace love ecstasy unity respect.
las zorras sí zufren/bitches do cry
Aparentemente soy capaz de cualquier cosa cuando de macho se trata. Por ej. me casé con uno que, cuando nos mudamos a lo que para mi era territorio ajeno, de idioma desconocido y donde no tenía ni una puta amiga, me dijo lo siguiente: no me pidas que te de una mano con el castellano stef, que te va a llevar mucho tiempo aprenderlo y me da fiaca. Cosa que a la zorra embriagada de amor le pareció absolutamente racional, onda pero por supuesto...cómo te voy a joder con semejantes reclamos insignificantes mi rey! En inglés se lo dije, obvio.
Y así hasta el otro día, cuando le comento a uno que me tiene más o menos encadenada: mirá q soy grande...vos en cambio tenes la vida por delante bombón...acordame por qué estamos en plan de estrellar el auto a 150km/h contra la pared? El, lacónico: por que sí apretando el acelerador y claro, a la zorra le parece de lo más racional así que feliz se olvida de todo por que acá, ahora, así y de ninguna otra manera es lo único que tiene sentido y quién le quita el huesito, dale a verrr?
Next, en el poco tiempo que me queda me mudo a paris a meterme heroina y coger con estrellas. Mi única duda al respecto es que la zorra ya tuvo su rockstar dueño y más capo que él, la veo difícil. La otra sería paris, a delirar con zapatos louboutin y bailar hernan cattaneo en bains douches.
this is our decision, to live fast and die young
we've got the vision, now let's have some fun
yeah it's overwhelming but what else can we do?
mgmt
Apparently the bitch inside me is capable of pretty much anything where a man is concerned. Take this guy I was married to for five years. When we moved to this completely alien territory, where the inhabitants spoke gibberish and I had literally not a single friend to my name, he said the following: btw stef don't expect me to bail you out with your spanish...it'll take you so long to get up to speed that I'd just get bored answering your questions all the time. It may sound strange, but his reasoning struck the love-drunk bitch as utterly rational, as in of course darling...I wouldn't dream of pestering you with such trivial demands!
Believe it or not, the song remains the same. Take this guy who has me more or less under his wicked spell. He drives really really well and way too fast, which of course really really turns me on, but even so in a rare moment of sanity I said: I may have been around the block but you still have your whole life ahead of you babe...remind me again why we're crashing the car into the wall at 180? He answers because I said so and he floors it and check it out: this strikes the bitch as a perfectly sane explanation, so she gets even more excited because let's face it, nothing else matters except right here, right now, like this, and in no other way.
What's left? I guess I'll have to move to paris shoot some heroin & fuck with the stars. Except...hold on! Been there, done that. The other option is move to paris, swan around in louboutins & dance to hernan cattaneo in bains douches.
Y así hasta el otro día, cuando le comento a uno que me tiene más o menos encadenada: mirá q soy grande...vos en cambio tenes la vida por delante bombón...acordame por qué estamos en plan de estrellar el auto a 150km/h contra la pared? El, lacónico: por que sí apretando el acelerador y claro, a la zorra le parece de lo más racional así que feliz se olvida de todo por que acá, ahora, así y de ninguna otra manera es lo único que tiene sentido y quién le quita el huesito, dale a verrr?
Next, en el poco tiempo que me queda me mudo a paris a meterme heroina y coger con estrellas. Mi única duda al respecto es que la zorra ya tuvo su rockstar dueño y más capo que él, la veo difícil. La otra sería paris, a delirar con zapatos louboutin y bailar hernan cattaneo en bains douches.
this is our decision, to live fast and die young
we've got the vision, now let's have some fun
yeah it's overwhelming but what else can we do?
mgmt
Apparently the bitch inside me is capable of pretty much anything where a man is concerned. Take this guy I was married to for five years. When we moved to this completely alien territory, where the inhabitants spoke gibberish and I had literally not a single friend to my name, he said the following: btw stef don't expect me to bail you out with your spanish...it'll take you so long to get up to speed that I'd just get bored answering your questions all the time. It may sound strange, but his reasoning struck the love-drunk bitch as utterly rational, as in of course darling...I wouldn't dream of pestering you with such trivial demands!
Believe it or not, the song remains the same. Take this guy who has me more or less under his wicked spell. He drives really really well and way too fast, which of course really really turns me on, but even so in a rare moment of sanity I said: I may have been around the block but you still have your whole life ahead of you babe...remind me again why we're crashing the car into the wall at 180? He answers because I said so and he floors it and check it out: this strikes the bitch as a perfectly sane explanation, so she gets even more excited because let's face it, nothing else matters except right here, right now, like this, and in no other way.
What's left? I guess I'll have to move to paris shoot some heroin & fuck with the stars. Except...hold on! Been there, done that. The other option is move to paris, swan around in louboutins & dance to hernan cattaneo in bains douches.
it's a sad & beautiful world
Odio los lunes y soy una tarada mal, pero tmb es cierto que este doctor la tiene clara. Suerte que tengo tus maravillosos sets en permanent repeat...Madame Musique reina y consola.While I don't like mondays and am mos def a first-class retard, it is also true that the one & only doctor knows what time it is: I have you on permanent replay & it couldn't be any other way.
trincado love affair
Who's the luckiest fox of them all? Moi, because I have dr. trincado's latest sets on my sound system & they are off the charts. So move over Avalon or whatever poor excuse for a nightclub you've got left in New York City...it's niceto this thursday or nothing.we bring you this music
and we call it
the only kind of music
that makes you move
closer and closer
to yourself
afrika bambaataa
Por ser zorra y astuta logré bajar los últimos sets del dr. trincado que la egoista de la otra zorra tenía aguardados en algún escondite virtual: que el jueves llegue muy pronto por favorrr.
la edad de la intolerancia
la bailarina en la oscuridad: necesito un cordón vip enfrente de la cabina...es mucho pedir?
la perra: no me gustan las chicas fáciles
el hincha de racing: mi ex está saliendo con un jugador de san lorenzo...en cuatro años juntos no aprendió nada la boluda
major tommy: plan A o nada
mariano: cada vez más no soporto los que no se drogan
ivan: el rock es de las islas, o no es
la fanática de claude benard: mejor muerta que en zapatillas
pablo (no ese, el otro): el mundo se divide en los que leyeron a proust y los que no
the pretenders: date cuenta...acá no hay nadie como yo
los padres del mini monstruo equis: mi bebe es el más bello del mundo...es un dato objetivo
la tana: mi país es el más bello del mundo...es un dato objetivo
jill: querida cuanto más te alejas de madison avenue más feucho se pone...es un dato objetivo
juan: el rock ha muerto
luca prodan: ponerle orégano a los ravioles es de última
el hincha de racing: el sushi me hace vomitar
la perra: odio a todo el mundo
la asesina en masa: odio los lunes
la siciliana: ni olvido ni perdón
la bailarina en la oscuridad: ni te conozco y ya me aburriste...no te acerques...no te acerques!!
la perra: no me gustan las chicas fáciles
el hincha de racing: mi ex está saliendo con un jugador de san lorenzo...en cuatro años juntos no aprendió nada la boluda
major tommy: plan A o nada
mariano: cada vez más no soporto los que no se drogan
ivan: el rock es de las islas, o no es
la fanática de claude benard: mejor muerta que en zapatillas
pablo (no ese, el otro): el mundo se divide en los que leyeron a proust y los que no
the pretenders: date cuenta...acá no hay nadie como yo
los padres del mini monstruo equis: mi bebe es el más bello del mundo...es un dato objetivo
la tana: mi país es el más bello del mundo...es un dato objetivo
jill: querida cuanto más te alejas de madison avenue más feucho se pone...es un dato objetivo
juan: el rock ha muerto
luca prodan: ponerle orégano a los ravioles es de última
el hincha de racing: el sushi me hace vomitar
la perra: odio a todo el mundo
la asesina en masa: odio los lunes
la siciliana: ni olvido ni perdón
la bailarina en la oscuridad: ni te conozco y ya me aburriste...no te acerques...no te acerques!!
the age of intolerance
the dancer in the dark: I need my own velvet rope in front of the DJ booth...is that too much to ask?
the sicilian: I never forgive or forget
the bitch queen: I don't like girls who are easy
the racing football fan: my ex is dating a san lorenzo player...in four years with me she didn't learn a thing
jay-z: if you don't like my lyrics you can press fast forward
isabella blow: if you don't wear lipstick I can't talk to you
mariano: the older I get the less I can stand people who don't get high
ivan: rock n roll is from the islands, or it's not rock
miss kittin: sex drugs rock n roll is over/I decide it's over
juan: rock is dead
pablo (not him, the other one): the world is divided into those who read proust and those who didn't
major tommy: plan A or nothing
the new parents: my baby is the most beautiful one in the world...it's an objective fact
the italian: my country is the most beautiful one in the world...it's an objective fact
jill: the farther you get from madison avenue the drabber it gets...it's an objective fact
luca prodan: putting oregano on ravioli is for losers
the racing fan: sushi makes me vomit
the bitch queen: I hate everyone
the mass murderer: I don't like mondays
sneakers?! no way: give me high heels or give me death
the pretenders: there's nobody else here like me/I'm special so special
the dancer in the dark: please don't say anything, you've bored me already
the sicilian: I never forgive or forget
the bitch queen: I don't like girls who are easy
the racing football fan: my ex is dating a san lorenzo player...in four years with me she didn't learn a thing
jay-z: if you don't like my lyrics you can press fast forward
isabella blow: if you don't wear lipstick I can't talk to you
mariano: the older I get the less I can stand people who don't get high
ivan: rock n roll is from the islands, or it's not rock
miss kittin: sex drugs rock n roll is over/I decide it's over
juan: rock is dead
pablo (not him, the other one): the world is divided into those who read proust and those who didn't
major tommy: plan A or nothing
the new parents: my baby is the most beautiful one in the world...it's an objective fact
the italian: my country is the most beautiful one in the world...it's an objective fact
jill: the farther you get from madison avenue the drabber it gets...it's an objective fact
luca prodan: putting oregano on ravioli is for losers
the racing fan: sushi makes me vomit
the bitch queen: I hate everyone
the mass murderer: I don't like mondays
sneakers?! no way: give me high heels or give me death
the pretenders: there's nobody else here like me/I'm special so special
the dancer in the dark: please don't say anything, you've bored me already
wacha!
mi copiloto: qué haces en la cabina?? bajá perraaa q la pista se puso bravajuan: el mejor abrazo + crack de espina dorsal
athos: un capo, end of story
el diez: no aflojes phreaky mf...no aflojes!!
el chino: ese momento heavy metal no me lo voy a olvidar nunca
charly darling: visión demasiado fugaz...quedate que yo te cuido hermosa
pablo: ausente sin autorización, pero como me quitaste las telarañas te perdono...casi
el flaco de la gorra: que alguien le avise que estas tres palabritas - no me toques - no dan para profundo análisis ni debate plisssss
la mina de la mochila: caballera y buena onda y gracias por el speed en el momento indicado
la moraleja: como en una versión condensada de la vida real, ciertos DJs me inspiran puro amor cuando me dan duro con todo y un odio visceral cuando me dejan colgada. Así que FUCK TECHNO!! pero no...too late
el disco roto de las minas
1. va a llamar?2. por qué no llamó?
3. lo quiero llamar
4. si lo llamo quedo en offside seguro
5. sti cazzi, lo llamo igual
6. por qué soy tan boluda?
7. se olvidó de mi
8. volvió con la ex
9. es un mentiroso y tiene novia
10. lo atropellaron
11. quiero olvidarmelo
12. no puedo
13. fuck
14. por qué no llama?
(repeat)
broken record, the girl sessions
1. I hope he calls
2. why didn't he call?
3. maybe I should call him
4. if you call him it's game over, you know that
5. I'm gonna call him anyway
6. why am I such a loser?
7. he probably forgot all about me
8. he got back together with the ex
9. he had a girlfriend all along
10. he got run over
11. please god let me forget him
12. I can't
13. fuck
14. why isn't he calling?
(repeat)
ps. LEL check it out...the bitchin' headphones you gave me, still kicking ass after all these years
trust me: 42 years in 42 quotes
42. trust me, i'm gonna do you like you've never been done before41. i want to move to buenos aires so i can be your fuck buddy
40. kiss me, listen i have a girlfriend, kiss me again, again, stop! OK again
39. you wanna come party at my house? don't get me into trouble now, that's my girlfriend over there
38. if i move to buenos aires i'll probably end up leaving her anyway
37. are you kidding? i love cats!
36. no i'm not allergic to cats
35. trust me, i'm not afraid of cats
34. why is he looking at me like that?
33. does he bite? he looks like he's gonna bite
32. i'm positive my girlfriend doesn't cheat on me
31. ninety nine percent anyway
30. you want me to make you fall in love with me or what?
29. don't rape me, i'm not gay, don't rape me!!
28. well yeah i did do it with a transvestite once
27. a couple of times actually
26. i'm an alpha male baby
25. i can make any woman come
24. i'll make you come like a train all night
23. girl you make me wanna switch teams right now
22. i want you to be mine
21. i want you to leave him
20. i want to leave my wife for you
19. i want you to move in with me
18. i want to move in with you
17. i don't have a girlfriend
16. i mean i did until recently
15. well she doesn't know yet but trust me it's a done deal
14. of course i'll tell her the next time she calls, what do you take me for?
13. if you stay i'll put half of it in your name
12. i'll buy you a house in tuscany so you can write all day while the munchkins run around
11. there's no way i'm shooting blanks btw, i'll give you as many as you want
10. trust me, if you're pregnant i'll buy you a house
9. you're the only one who can save me
8. how about atlantic city in a chopper on saturday?
7. how about we drive to the hamptons on saturday?
6. i'll call you on saturday
5. i'll call you
4. i never said that
3. you never said that
2. well yeah i came...of course inside, where else? i was a virgin too until two minutes ago! ok sorry it's really hard to control! so if you got pregnant i'll ask my brother what to do! ok I won't ask him...OK I WON'T TELL ANYONE...relax, there's no way your parents will find out...what do you mean I ruined your life?...I'm only 16 too...I know it's not the same for me...so did you come? jesus, chill out!!!
1. how old are you sugar? wow, just like my youngest...you're gonna be a maneater for sure...trust me.
endless propaganda
42. te voy a recontragarchar no sabes como41. quiero mudarme a buenos aires y ser tu amante
40. dame un beso, ojo que tengo novia, dame otro, otro, otro, pará! bueno otro
39. vienen a casa chicas? no me hagan lío que esa es mi novia
38. igual si me mudo a buenos aires termino largando a mi novia
37. los gatos? me encantan!
36. no soy alérgico a los gatos
35. no le tengo miedo a los gatos
34. por qué me mira así?
33. muerde?
32. mi novia no me pone cuernos, estoy seguro
31. bueno, casi cien por cien
30. que queres, que te enamore?
29. no me violes, no soy puto, no me violes!!
28. bueno sí una vez estuve con un travesti
27. bueno un par de veces
26. soy un macho alpha
25. conmigo acaban todas
24. te hago acabar miles de veces nena
23. soy puto pero me volas la cabeza iguaaal
22. quiero que seas mia
21. quiero que lo dejes
20. quiero dejar a mi mujer por vos
19. quiero que te mudes a mi casa
18. quiero mudarme a tu casa
17. no tengo novia
16. bueno recién la dejé
15. no le avisé todavía pero ya está
14. prometo que se lo digo la proxima vez que llama
13. si te quedas conmigo lo comparto todo
12. te compro una quinta en toscana así escribis todo el día con los nenes dando vueltas
11. mirá que soy re fertil, todos varones te doy
10. si te quedaste embarazada te regalo una casa
9. sos la única que me puede salvar
8. el sábado te llevo al casino en Atlantic City en helicóptero
7. el sábado te llevo a mi casa en la costa
6. te llamo el sábado
5. te llamo
4. nunca dije eso
3. nunca me dijiste eso
2. y sí...adentro, claro, y donde si no? yo también era virgen hasta hace dos minutos! bueno disculpame es re difícil de controlar! bueno si te quedaste le pregunto a mi hermano! Ok no le pregunto...OK NO LE CUENTO...no que no se enteran tus viejos....como que arruiné tu vida? Yo tmb tengo 16...ya se que no es lo mismo pero igual....y...acabaste? sorry!!!
1. qué edad tenes preciosa? mira vos...como mi hijita...vas a ser una come hombres seguro.
i'm all ears
the quiet cabby: That'll be five fifty, and watch out for the evil eye.
the bitch queen: Stef, newsflash...you're not gay.
the crashing bore: Where are you from?
the bank teller: Our system is down.
major tommy: I owe it all to women.
the kickass dj from rosario: When I say love/You better believe I mean love/L-O-V-E.
the baby-faced worldwide superstar: What do you find attractive in a man Stef?
a guy i was married to for five years: It's not you, it's me.
the german snowboarder: You don't like minimal? Get out of the car!
the sexy psycho who threw me up against the wall: HAHAHAHA.
dr. kgb: Change the locks and don't speak to him again unless it's through your lawyer.
oh captain my captain: Men don't grow, they just grow old.
the cheap knock-off: I got 99 problems and a bitch IS one.
another crashing bore: Where are you from?
the anonymous commentator: Idon'tunderstandyouthereforeIhateyou (repeat)
the dj whose influences are throwing muses...wait, the cult...ohmygod, yello...holy shit!! the stranglers: I don't wanna be a freak/But I can't help myself.
my backup: I know you're not a dyke Stef but for god's sake stick around and help me wrangle these bitches anyway.
the cashier at the supermarket: Our system is down.
a guy i was married to for five years: It's not me, it's your blog.
the evil twin: Dance you cocksuckers!!!
the lippy fag who works at josefina ferroni: You don't like josefina ferroni? Get out of the car!
mgmt: You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.
pablo: Miaow.
the bitch queen: Stef, newsflash...you're not gay.
the crashing bore: Where are you from?
the bank teller: Our system is down.
major tommy: I owe it all to women.
the kickass dj from rosario: When I say love/You better believe I mean love/L-O-V-E.
the baby-faced worldwide superstar: What do you find attractive in a man Stef?
a guy i was married to for five years: It's not you, it's me.
the german snowboarder: You don't like minimal? Get out of the car!
the sexy psycho who threw me up against the wall: HAHAHAHA.
dr. kgb: Change the locks and don't speak to him again unless it's through your lawyer.
oh captain my captain: Men don't grow, they just grow old.
the cheap knock-off: I got 99 problems and a bitch IS one.
another crashing bore: Where are you from?
the anonymous commentator: Idon'tunderstandyouthereforeIhateyou (repeat)
the dj whose influences are throwing muses...wait, the cult...ohmygod, yello...holy shit!! the stranglers: I don't wanna be a freak/But I can't help myself.
my backup: I know you're not a dyke Stef but for god's sake stick around and help me wrangle these bitches anyway.
the cashier at the supermarket: Our system is down.
a guy i was married to for five years: It's not me, it's your blog.
the evil twin: Dance you cocksuckers!!!
the lippy fag who works at josefina ferroni: You don't like josefina ferroni? Get out of the car!
mgmt: You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.
pablo: Miaow.
compilación al estilo de simpática y puntual
el tachero taciturno: Son cinco con cincuenta y cuídese mucho de la envidia.
la perra: Ojo al piojo.
greg: No quiero ser deseado. Sólo quiero ser comprendido.
la cajera del banco: Se cayó el sistema.
la reina: Stef no sos gay te aviso.
un aburrido: De donde sos?
major tommy: Fue todo gracias a las mujeres.
uno con el que estuve casada cinco años: No sos vos, soy yo.
el snowboarder alemán: No te gusta el minimal? Bajá del auto!
la maga: Las reinas siempre vuelan más altas y más rápidas.
el psicosádico sexy que me tiró contra la pared: JAJAJAJAJA.
el dr. kgb: Cambiá las cerraduras y no le vuelves a hablar si no es por tu abogado.
nuestro capitán: Acordate tanaaa...los hombres no crecen, envejecen.
el comentarista anónimo: No te entiendo, ergo te odio...no te entiendo, ergo te odio...no te entiendo, ergo te odio (repeat)
louis vutton the 3rd: I got 99 problems and a bitch IS one.
la super estrella con cara de nene: Qué es lo que te gusta de un hombre Stef?
otro aburrido: De donde sos?
el mellizo: Bailen putos!!!
mi copiloto: Ya se que no sos torta Stef pero ayudame a zafar de esta jauría de perras te lo pido por favorrrrr.
el cajero del super: Se cayó el sistema.
uno con el que estuve casada cinco años: No soy yo, es tu blog.
el putito canchero: No te gusta josefina ferroni? Bajá del auto!
mgmt: I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin and fuck with the stars.
pablo: Miaow.
la perra: Ojo al piojo.
greg: No quiero ser deseado. Sólo quiero ser comprendido.
la cajera del banco: Se cayó el sistema.
la reina: Stef no sos gay te aviso.
un aburrido: De donde sos?
major tommy: Fue todo gracias a las mujeres.
uno con el que estuve casada cinco años: No sos vos, soy yo.
el snowboarder alemán: No te gusta el minimal? Bajá del auto!
la maga: Las reinas siempre vuelan más altas y más rápidas.
el psicosádico sexy que me tiró contra la pared: JAJAJAJAJA.
el dr. kgb: Cambiá las cerraduras y no le vuelves a hablar si no es por tu abogado.
nuestro capitán: Acordate tanaaa...los hombres no crecen, envejecen.
el comentarista anónimo: No te entiendo, ergo te odio...no te entiendo, ergo te odio...no te entiendo, ergo te odio (repeat)
louis vutton the 3rd: I got 99 problems and a bitch IS one.
la super estrella con cara de nene: Qué es lo que te gusta de un hombre Stef?
otro aburrido: De donde sos?
el mellizo: Bailen putos!!!
mi copiloto: Ya se que no sos torta Stef pero ayudame a zafar de esta jauría de perras te lo pido por favorrrrr.
el cajero del super: Se cayó el sistema.
uno con el que estuve casada cinco años: No soy yo, es tu blog.
el putito canchero: No te gusta josefina ferroni? Bajá del auto!
mgmt: I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin and fuck with the stars.
pablo: Miaow.
we some phreaky mothahfuckahs
viernes cinelli nos tiene clavadas ahí hasta the bitter end; pierdo cinco kilos transpirando; puede ser tan buena onda un DJ tan genial? Y sí...es de Rosario. Do you wanna feel love?/When I say love/You best believe I mean love/L-O-V-E. Ok Franco I get it. sábado dejo cinco kilos más en el set de ro-k, que dice así: I don't wanna be a freak/But I can't help myself. Yo tampoco Diego...me neither.
antropología en las pistas
1. la torta que baila re mal y demasiado cerca: hola qué taaal...siglo XXI mami, no podes ser tan torpe
2. la medio parecida a madame mim más su novia: hmmmm
3. el flaco impresentable de barba y anteojos: dedicación enternecedora
4. el patovica de security que paró a mirar: púdrete cerdo
5. el lindo de la puerta: cheee...se te escaparon las tortugas
6. el morocho hermoso con cara de indio que se quedó y se quedó y...nunca le cayó la ficha
7. el brad pitt de pelo rockero y su noviecita o hermana incestuosa cero glamour: flaco no te conviene mandarla al frente, ahí perdiste puntos
8. el de remera blanca: belleza sin cojones, callejón sin salida...atrévete o muerete de hambre principito
9. otra torta pero no, es la novia del DJ que vino a marcar territorio; le aseguro que aunque en este momento mi pasión para su hombre es arrasadora y mi entrega total, ambas se van a acabar con el set. Es verdad que un buen DJ, homme/femme/homo/hetero que sea, me hace sentir que me está cogiendo re hondo y por todos lados hasta el delirio. Entonces buscate un macho aburrido o bancatela, perraaa....Pero no se lo digo en voz alta por que a. me cae bien y b. casi me caga a piñas cuando decide toparse con mi codo
10. y la cerecita del postre: el leo que me consigue un elastico para el pelo a las 5am, ama a the cult tanto como yo, y sabe que todo esto o pasa por peace love ecstacy unity respect o no vale la pena carajo
anthropology on the dance floor
1. the dyke who dances way badly and way too close: helloooo...21st century and counting sister, you cannot be this retarded
2. the chick who reminds me of madame mim plus her girlfriend: hmmmm
3. the skinny bearded guy with glasses: points for dedication
4. the neanderthal from security who stops to stare: die you fascist pig
5. the cutie at the door: from me to you babe...timing is everything
6. the gorgeous indian-looking guy who stayed and stayed and stayed and...never caught on
7. the brad pitt look-alike and his tiny perky girlfriend or incestuous sister: not my idea of bait dude...she doesn't have what it takes
8. the eye candy in the white t-shirt: beauty without balls is a dead-end street...dare to be fly or starve you dirty pretty thing
9. another dyke but no, it's the DJ's girlfriend coming to stake out her turf. I assure her that while at this moment my surrender to her man is complete, it will end when the set does. A good DJ is like a good lover so if you can't take the heat get out of the kitchen girrrl....but I keep this to myself because a. I like her and b. she almost bitch-slapped me when she decided to run into my elbow
10. and then there was pablo: the one who finds me a hair tie in the middle of the club at 5am, loves the cult as much as I do, and understands that peace love ecstacy unity respect is what this is all about goddammit
2. la medio parecida a madame mim más su novia: hmmmm
3. el flaco impresentable de barba y anteojos: dedicación enternecedora
4. el patovica de security que paró a mirar: púdrete cerdo
5. el lindo de la puerta: cheee...se te escaparon las tortugas
6. el morocho hermoso con cara de indio que se quedó y se quedó y...nunca le cayó la ficha
7. el brad pitt de pelo rockero y su noviecita o hermana incestuosa cero glamour: flaco no te conviene mandarla al frente, ahí perdiste puntos
8. el de remera blanca: belleza sin cojones, callejón sin salida...atrévete o muerete de hambre principito
9. otra torta pero no, es la novia del DJ que vino a marcar territorio; le aseguro que aunque en este momento mi pasión para su hombre es arrasadora y mi entrega total, ambas se van a acabar con el set. Es verdad que un buen DJ, homme/femme/homo/hetero que sea, me hace sentir que me está cogiendo re hondo y por todos lados hasta el delirio. Entonces buscate un macho aburrido o bancatela, perraaa....Pero no se lo digo en voz alta por que a. me cae bien y b. casi me caga a piñas cuando decide toparse con mi codo
10. y la cerecita del postre: el leo que me consigue un elastico para el pelo a las 5am, ama a the cult tanto como yo, y sabe que todo esto o pasa por peace love ecstacy unity respect o no vale la pena carajo
anthropology on the dance floor
1. the dyke who dances way badly and way too close: helloooo...21st century and counting sister, you cannot be this retarded
2. the chick who reminds me of madame mim plus her girlfriend: hmmmm
3. the skinny bearded guy with glasses: points for dedication
4. the neanderthal from security who stops to stare: die you fascist pig
5. the cutie at the door: from me to you babe...timing is everything
6. the gorgeous indian-looking guy who stayed and stayed and stayed and...never caught on
7. the brad pitt look-alike and his tiny perky girlfriend or incestuous sister: not my idea of bait dude...she doesn't have what it takes
8. the eye candy in the white t-shirt: beauty without balls is a dead-end street...dare to be fly or starve you dirty pretty thing
9. another dyke but no, it's the DJ's girlfriend coming to stake out her turf. I assure her that while at this moment my surrender to her man is complete, it will end when the set does. A good DJ is like a good lover so if you can't take the heat get out of the kitchen girrrl....but I keep this to myself because a. I like her and b. she almost bitch-slapped me when she decided to run into my elbow
10. and then there was pablo: the one who finds me a hair tie in the middle of the club at 5am, loves the cult as much as I do, and understands that peace love ecstacy unity respect is what this is all about goddammit
siesta
Le vuelvo a preguntar a mi copiloto si fuera gay serías mi amante o qué? Me contesta te tendría demasiado miedo sos arrasadora. Primero te borraría el blog y si te mandas otra como la de la barra te arranco todos los pelos. Pienso fuck, si me teme esta perra tan mala, hermosa y universalmente codiciada imagináte los pibes: una causa perdida de antemano.
Y ahora a dormir, que tonight tenemos pistas a pisar: trabajo en una clínica clandestina donde las aborteras son mujeres y los que abortan son hombres y vivo con mi ex, una rubia que me cuenta lo feliz que está que nos separamos y como no ve la hora de mudarse a los angeles mientras de mis zapatos brotan cucarachas estilo cronenberg.
Suerte que al despertarme encuentro este regalo de gaby, nuestro hombre en boston y el único que sabe lo que es el fucking rocanrol carajo. Así que encaro la noche cantando if you're havin' girl problems i feel bad for you son/I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one!!!
***
i hate naps
I ask my copilot so if I were gay would be lovers or what? She says I'd be shitting bricks you're way too overwhelming. First off I'd have to delete your blog, and if you ever pull another stunt like the one at the bar I'd rip all your hair out. I think fuck, if this gorgeous queen bitch is afraid of me imagine men: a lost cause.
Cut to naptime before clubtime: I work in an underground abortion clinic where the doctors are all women and the patients are all men and I live with my ex wife, this blonde who tells me how happy she is we split up and how she can't wait to move to LA while cronenberg-style cockroaches sprout from my shoes.
Thank god when I wake up I find this present from gaby, our man in boston and the only one who understands what the fucking rock n roll religion is all about. So I follow his instructions to CRANK IT and jump into the shower singing if you're havin' girl problems i feel bad for you son/I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one!!!
Y ahora a dormir, que tonight tenemos pistas a pisar: trabajo en una clínica clandestina donde las aborteras son mujeres y los que abortan son hombres y vivo con mi ex, una rubia que me cuenta lo feliz que está que nos separamos y como no ve la hora de mudarse a los angeles mientras de mis zapatos brotan cucarachas estilo cronenberg.
Suerte que al despertarme encuentro este regalo de gaby, nuestro hombre en boston y el único que sabe lo que es el fucking rocanrol carajo. Así que encaro la noche cantando if you're havin' girl problems i feel bad for you son/I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one!!!
***i hate naps
I ask my copilot so if I were gay would be lovers or what? She says I'd be shitting bricks you're way too overwhelming. First off I'd have to delete your blog, and if you ever pull another stunt like the one at the bar I'd rip all your hair out. I think fuck, if this gorgeous queen bitch is afraid of me imagine men: a lost cause.
Cut to naptime before clubtime: I work in an underground abortion clinic where the doctors are all women and the patients are all men and I live with my ex wife, this blonde who tells me how happy she is we split up and how she can't wait to move to LA while cronenberg-style cockroaches sprout from my shoes.
Thank god when I wake up I find this present from gaby, our man in boston and the only one who understands what the fucking rock n roll religion is all about. So I follow his instructions to CRANK IT and jump into the shower singing if you're havin' girl problems i feel bad for you son/I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one!!!
you gotta get, that, dirt off your shoulder
I can't change my moldNo, no, no, no, no
I can't change my body
No, no, no
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
We've got your sex and violence, melody and silence
jay z/the verve
i'm not kidding
(este cuento en español)
Hanging out with this boy-beastie and his luscious mouth wasn't such a bad idea after all, I think just before he regales me with the following stunningly profound insight: If you had your tits done you'd be seriously hot. Squashing him to the point of no return would be such child's play that noblesse oblige prevents me from reciprocating, because while I'm not required to penetrate anyone with my breasts, fake or otherwise, certain male bodily defects are not to be remedied and, as Magali said: Tell a guy that to his face and he'll throw himself under the first moving bus.
Filled with wonder at this further secretion from that apparently ubiquitous entity I've dubbed the male psychobabble, I find myself echoing comrade vlada's immortal call: what is to be done? I contemplate adding a gag to my night-crawling kit, but instantly discard the notion because after lipstick gloss ciggies digicam cell cash keys there's not one cubic millimeter to spare in my perfect-for-clubbing purse and let's face it, no other purse will do. Next option, becoming a lesbian: god knows I've tried. Fucking guys with no tongue: too creepy. Forgetting sex altogether: yeah, right.
I'm grooving to this track that goes chicks with no tits/on the dance floor/are the best/the skinniest, sluttiest/sweetest, baddest by my new favorite band forever of the moment and wishing I was gay so I could be mariana eva's girlfriend, when a delectable creature swims into my gravitational zone. He's smooth, he's bold, he's glamorous, he is no doubt the greatest dancer on the floor and possibly the world...before too long I'm pretty sure he's irresistible, what am I saying, indispensable. And as usual god has the last laugh, because not only does he turn out to be everything a girl like me could want: not a single retarded word crosses his perfect lips. OK now I really am in trouble.
PS. thanks queen mary for your genius present...I'm gonna say it like erykah: girlontape is always comin for real/an you know the deal.
Hanging out with this boy-beastie and his luscious mouth wasn't such a bad idea after all, I think just before he regales me with the following stunningly profound insight: If you had your tits done you'd be seriously hot. Squashing him to the point of no return would be such child's play that noblesse oblige prevents me from reciprocating, because while I'm not required to penetrate anyone with my breasts, fake or otherwise, certain male bodily defects are not to be remedied and, as Magali said: Tell a guy that to his face and he'll throw himself under the first moving bus.
Filled with wonder at this further secretion from that apparently ubiquitous entity I've dubbed the male psychobabble, I find myself echoing comrade vlada's immortal call: what is to be done? I contemplate adding a gag to my night-crawling kit, but instantly discard the notion because after lipstick gloss ciggies digicam cell cash keys there's not one cubic millimeter to spare in my perfect-for-clubbing purse and let's face it, no other purse will do. Next option, becoming a lesbian: god knows I've tried. Fucking guys with no tongue: too creepy. Forgetting sex altogether: yeah, right.
I'm grooving to this track that goes chicks with no tits/on the dance floor/are the best/the skinniest, sluttiest/sweetest, baddest by my new favorite band forever of the moment and wishing I was gay so I could be mariana eva's girlfriend, when a delectable creature swims into my gravitational zone. He's smooth, he's bold, he's glamorous, he is no doubt the greatest dancer on the floor and possibly the world...before too long I'm pretty sure he's irresistible, what am I saying, indispensable. And as usual god has the last laugh, because not only does he turn out to be everything a girl like me could want: not a single retarded word crosses his perfect lips. OK now I really am in trouble.
PS. thanks queen mary for your genius present...I'm gonna say it like erykah: girlontape is always comin for real/an you know the deal.
les chroniques de la chonguez con't.
(this story in english)
Estoy casi a punto de pensar que después de todo no fue tan perjudicial consentir a pasar un rato con cierto bombón y su boca más que rica, cuando escucho el siguiente profundo análisis: si te hicieras las tetas serías una diosa mal. Podría aplastarlo pero noblesse oblige me impide reciprocar con mis propias observaciones, por que si de un lado con mis tetas yo no tengo que penetrar a nadie, por el otro ciertos defectos físicos varoniles no tienen remedio y, como dijo la Maga: si le decis eso a un pibe sale y se tira bajo el primer colectivo que pasa.
Pasmada una vez más ante la aparentemente universal pelotudez de la chonguez me encuentro parafraseando el inmortal llamado del compañero vlada: ¿qué hacer carajo? Vuelvo a meditar la posibilidad de agregar una mordaza a mi arsenal trasnochero, lo que me generaría problemas de índole fashion por que entre lapiz brillo puchos camarita celu billetera llaves no me sobra ni un mílimetro cúbico en la cartera y prefiero morir antes que bailar con otra más grande encima, un bochorno fatal. Después, hacerme torta: lo intenté, dios sabe. Coger con pibes sin lengua: no, asco. Olvidarme del sexo: jajaja.
Justo estoy escuchando el mix de mi nueva banda favorita para siempre del momento que dice: chicas sin tetas/en las pistas/son las más/flacas, putas, dulces, malas cuando aparece una flor de macho que con habilísima, sútil y sensual movida no tarda en convencerme de que es fascinante, no irresistible no, indispensable. Y como de costumbre dios se ríe de mis elucubraciones, por que este no sólo es el rey de todo lo que le corresponde a una girl como yo: no se le escapa ni una palabra de más. Ahora sí estoy jodida.
Estoy casi a punto de pensar que después de todo no fue tan perjudicial consentir a pasar un rato con cierto bombón y su boca más que rica, cuando escucho el siguiente profundo análisis: si te hicieras las tetas serías una diosa mal. Podría aplastarlo pero noblesse oblige me impide reciprocar con mis propias observaciones, por que si de un lado con mis tetas yo no tengo que penetrar a nadie, por el otro ciertos defectos físicos varoniles no tienen remedio y, como dijo la Maga: si le decis eso a un pibe sale y se tira bajo el primer colectivo que pasa.
Pasmada una vez más ante la aparentemente universal pelotudez de la chonguez me encuentro parafraseando el inmortal llamado del compañero vlada: ¿qué hacer carajo? Vuelvo a meditar la posibilidad de agregar una mordaza a mi arsenal trasnochero, lo que me generaría problemas de índole fashion por que entre lapiz brillo puchos camarita celu billetera llaves no me sobra ni un mílimetro cúbico en la cartera y prefiero morir antes que bailar con otra más grande encima, un bochorno fatal. Después, hacerme torta: lo intenté, dios sabe. Coger con pibes sin lengua: no, asco. Olvidarme del sexo: jajaja.
Justo estoy escuchando el mix de mi nueva banda favorita para siempre del momento que dice: chicas sin tetas/en las pistas/son las más/flacas, putas, dulces, malas cuando aparece una flor de macho que con habilísima, sútil y sensual movida no tarda en convencerme de que es fascinante, no irresistible no, indispensable. Y como de costumbre dios se ríe de mis elucubraciones, por que este no sólo es el rey de todo lo que le corresponde a una girl como yo: no se le escapa ni una palabra de más. Ahora sí estoy jodida.
cuentito + diosa electro rockera para simpática y puntual
Anoche tony soprano en versión trillonaria me pidió matrimonio mientras me paseaba por su suite megaláctica en un hotel mil estrellas cual satanás susurrándome al oído entregate y todo esto será tuyo. Poseída por una indudable attracción física hacia el über gangster enamorado, flashée con innombrables pinturas dignas del hermitage colgadas en un sinfín de salas opulentas tapizadas de alfombras persas, y me tiré en una pileta inmensa destellante como una joya bajo un techo de cristal.
Mientras nadaba ecstática, sobrevolando magnifícos mosaicos de peces jugando con sirenas salidos de algún palacio de pompeiana memoria, soñé con la galaxia de zapatos louboutin etcetera que sin duda me otorgaría semejante alianza, al mismo tiempo que afloraba el pensamiento admonitorio: no te olvides...todo esto es botín de robo y asesinato.
El romance implica el vasallaje a una entidad corrupta, prepotente e ilusoria: éste fue el mensaje no tan cifrado que me despachó mi onírico pretendiente mafioso. Con lo cual me desperté y, aliviada al constatar que mi cama era vacía de criminales sobrepesados, meneando mi cabellera como la rockstar que llevo adentro deliré con esta canción sensacional que se llama liberté:
Last night a trillionaire version of tony soprano asked for my hand in marriage while showing me around his pharaonic suite in a thousand-star hotel, much like the devil whispering in my ear surrender, and all this will be yours. Possessed by a strange physical attraction to the enamored gangster, I gazed in rapture at countless museum-quality paintings in opulent persian-carpeted rooms, and dove into a vast jewel-like swimming pool that lay serenely beneath a crystal skylight.
As I swam ecstatically over precious mosaics of fishes playing with mermaids out of some delightful pompeiian palace, I fantasized about the galaxy of louboutins and other objects of desire that such an alliance would undoubtedly afford me, while at the same time the admonitory thought emerged: all this comes from blood money...don't forget.
The romantic ideal implies bondage to a corrupt, hubristic and seductive entity: such was the not-so-coded message delivered by my dream lover. Having rogered that, I woke up relieved to find my bed empty of overweight racketeers and, thrashing my hair like a rock star, danced around the house to the wicked beat of a sensational track called liberté.
my show
se viene la girlcam...15 de mayo-15 de junio
galería brandon
l. m. drago 236
girlplay
photo exhibit
may 15-june 15
casa brandon gallery
buenos aires
the intergalactic space traveler's return
(este cuento en español)
Jumping back into the ring after five years of marital fidelity is akin to an astronaut’s re-entry after a long, arduous intergalactic mission: the blue planet is coming up fast, and as I punch in the landing sequence and pray that ground control hasn’t lost my coordinates I worry about my fate in a world grown unfamiliar in my absence and in which, hampered by a now quaint skill set, I'll inevitably be quarantined into geekdom.
My first discovery is that my knowledge of the boy-beastie is far from obsolete, because evolution has been a non-issue in the light years that I’ve been away. Case in point, the friend who hits on me four days into my separation, ergo while I’m still on the ground visibly hemorrhaging from multiple and aggravated wounds. I explain that look I’m really not up for this I hope you understand etcetera. He replies somewhat huffily what do you take me for, besides I’m madly in love with so-and-so and anyway I consider you a friend repeat friend stop and drops out of sight.
Anyway: What is a man…what’s a kiss…what’s sex? I wonder as, much like an amputee feeling her missing limb, I become aware of a blank, curious gap: something essential has been taken away, and while it doesn’t hurt, its absence, I know, makes me a cripple. Don’t worry, you’ll snap out of it. You just have to give it time my friends tell me kindly, in the tone people use to recommend chicken soup for a lingering cold. I nod, faking agreement, then run home to check my intergalactic space travel instruction manual anyway. God forbid I missed some key point in the landing sequence or, worse, an entire section titled MIND THE GAP. But all it says is: thinking is pointless, dancing essential. Like what I need right now is a freaking fortune cookie,
like I have a choice. Cut to 5am, my favorite nightclub and the stranger who lives by the motto my heart belongs to my girlfriend, but my body belongs to me. Since here I am floating in a tin can, convinced that my circuits must be dead, at first I overlook the signal coming in loud and clear that THIS IS GROUND CONTROL. He’s locked on to my ship, and he’s bringing me in. He's hot, he’s articulate, he gets me, I get a thrill, yes, cab, home:
as I step gingerly over the threshold with another man I’m fully expecting the earth to open up under my feet but the dreaded crossing is smooth, flawless, delightful, for ground control with his verve and grace, movie-star looks and wicked rock 'n roll hair, deep sexy kisses and whipsmart banter, has unquestionably been designed to spec and flown in from Paris exclusively for me, solely to be deployed at this precise moment and no other. con't.
Jumping back into the ring after five years of marital fidelity is akin to an astronaut’s re-entry after a long, arduous intergalactic mission: the blue planet is coming up fast, and as I punch in the landing sequence and pray that ground control hasn’t lost my coordinates I worry about my fate in a world grown unfamiliar in my absence and in which, hampered by a now quaint skill set, I'll inevitably be quarantined into geekdom.
My first discovery is that my knowledge of the boy-beastie is far from obsolete, because evolution has been a non-issue in the light years that I’ve been away. Case in point, the friend who hits on me four days into my separation, ergo while I’m still on the ground visibly hemorrhaging from multiple and aggravated wounds. I explain that look I’m really not up for this I hope you understand etcetera. He replies somewhat huffily what do you take me for, besides I’m madly in love with so-and-so and anyway I consider you a friend repeat friend stop and drops out of sight.
Anyway: What is a man…what’s a kiss…what’s sex? I wonder as, much like an amputee feeling her missing limb, I become aware of a blank, curious gap: something essential has been taken away, and while it doesn’t hurt, its absence, I know, makes me a cripple. Don’t worry, you’ll snap out of it. You just have to give it time my friends tell me kindly, in the tone people use to recommend chicken soup for a lingering cold. I nod, faking agreement, then run home to check my intergalactic space travel instruction manual anyway. God forbid I missed some key point in the landing sequence or, worse, an entire section titled MIND THE GAP. But all it says is: thinking is pointless, dancing essential. Like what I need right now is a freaking fortune cookie,
like I have a choice. Cut to 5am, my favorite nightclub and the stranger who lives by the motto my heart belongs to my girlfriend, but my body belongs to me. Since here I am floating in a tin can, convinced that my circuits must be dead, at first I overlook the signal coming in loud and clear that THIS IS GROUND CONTROL. He’s locked on to my ship, and he’s bringing me in. He's hot, he’s articulate, he gets me, I get a thrill, yes, cab, home:
as I step gingerly over the threshold with another man I’m fully expecting the earth to open up under my feet but the dreaded crossing is smooth, flawless, delightful, for ground control with his verve and grace, movie-star looks and wicked rock 'n roll hair, deep sexy kisses and whipsmart banter, has unquestionably been designed to spec and flown in from Paris exclusively for me, solely to be deployed at this precise moment and no other. con't.
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