Woke up rock-star styles this morning at Brotel (affectionate term for house of many bros) surrounded by fun awesome hotties and vinyl. Pretty rad. I actually immediately puked though because I'm SUCH a classy babe. I haven't puked in like, 2 years so you know it was a good night. Cut to me catching myself in the bathroom mirror, full-on still wearing fake lashes and rhinestones and hotpants and these dope Puma wrestling boots that OUT OF NOWHERE showed up at Dollhouse one day and never left. Typical Sunday morning uniform. Time for eggs.
Every once and awhile I realize how much the DH gave me and continues to give me every day of my life. Like, wow. And obviously I don't just mean in ideal footwear... but I'm not discounting those gifts either. Prime example, after two years of watching those wrestling kicks chill in the lost & found... I slipped them on and angels sang from above. I was happier than Cinderfuckingella. I'm such a lucky bitch. It's INSANE. I give thanks. Trust.
OH YEAH, I got to see The Gaff last night and hang out a bit, record collector supreme. Prairie boy after my own heart. Can't deny it, there's something about those funk-lovin' Homebreakin' kids that just gets me right in the heartface. Such sweethearts, and funny as fuck. Woodhead has been killing it lately too, I fucking love that guy. He's actually one of the first people I ever met in Vancouver... almost 10 years ago.
Whoa.
Has it really been 10 years since I moved from the Peg that cold-ass January with my random cardboard boxes and a steamtrunk full of books? Yeah. Why the fuck I thought heavy-ass books would be a good thing to move I don't know. But I was 19. I knew nothing. And you know, on that note I have to say that I'm HELLA stoked to hit the big 3-oh this year. My twenties have been HARD schooling... although I always wanna keep learning, obvsies, or I'd be like, super bored. But the survival stuff, the grindstone, paying the dues, the blood and sweat and tears and anguish of getting through those little voices that say "you can't you can't you CAN'T... you don't deserve it, or you're not ______ enough, or that just doesn't HAPPEN for people, you can't, can't, you can't make it happen.... etc etc etc." THAT was the hardest part. For me getting over that shit was harder than any other aspect of anything, harder than all of the proverbial elbow grease. After you finally kick the shit out those voices it's alllll gravy, like a slip n' slide down a river of rainbows. But it took me a long hard time to squish those little fuckers. Sometimes they still try to make noises but I got good heels on me now. They stay down.
When you think about it my dream (now my life) must have seemed somewhat implausible, I suppose. I mean, I'm a neo-cabaret performer, for eff's sake. I fucking STRIP-HOP for a living. It's my FUCKING JOB to wear neon orange pumps and host parties and toplessly swear about the patriarchy and spin ass tassles and shit. So basically I'm now undeniable next-door neighbour proof that the implausible is still possible. Might not be easy, but it's possible. And wow, has it ever been worth it. I'm proud that I hung in there, although there were some times my doubts started poisoning everything like autotune. I guess at the end of the day sometimes you just gotta turn the radio off... and put your dope friends' music ON.
I'll always have roots here. I'm a BC bitch for life. The West Coast is just where my head and my body and my heart feel the bestest... always... something about nature, I don't know. :) What can I say, I'm a hippie and shit. But lately I'm SO SO SO SO looking forward to getting out there and terrorizing cities far and wide. I just wanna tear a STRIP outta the world, literally. I wanna to see castles and ruins and eat exotic cheeses after shows in old old OLD theatres... I want to hold my hands up to the walls of the OG Moulin Rouge, stretch on pianos like Deitrich and spit rhymes like Dante. I want to drip in Grecian pearls, run my hands over Italian leather and click heels on cobblestone streets. I wanna feel bass in different hemispheres. I want to spread my sass wider than legs on Sunday morning. And then I wanna come home and dive into the ocean and wash it all off in the studio. And dance. And dance. And dance.
ADVENTURE TOWN, darlings. I'mma run for mayor. True story.
These new tracks are the first step I think... lovin' em. There's some really interesting (and surprising) words coming out of me right now and I'm just sitting back and tyring not to get in my own way. The imagery comes next, twisting up some hard-core future pin-up shit. After that I gotta figure out the live show, still obviously working with the Sweet Soul grrls as well. The music is working more and more into the hosting aspects of the burlesque shows and that's dope. It's all fitting together. So it may be some group jaunts, but also the flexibility of doing some solo missions here and there as well. Might be nice to just bust a move with a good technically skilled DJ and hit clubs on a sprawl, like a East Coast leg or a Cali trip. Two turntables and a microphone. Add some tassles. Boom. Done.
So yeah. If I'm not blogging as much or being as out on the town it's cuz I'm scheming happily in the sass cave with a mechanical pencil and a plate of home-made guac. It's all coming out, just in different ways and on my own time... it's good. And personal development is high on the list for me right now. Physical shifts for me as well. I'm training. I'm prepping. I'm making room.
Recently I was re-reading some of my old blog posts (remember MYSPACE, omg, so OVER) and came across this one... thought I'd re-post it cuz I feel that 25 year-old CP was pretty cute. Not gonna lie. I know, SHOCKER.
love love love
LOVE. really though. (love)
xoxo
CP
Crystal Precious' Fabulous Guide to Being Fabulous. By Crystal Precious
'Sup.
SO lately (okay, so maybe not just lately) it has come to my attention that my fabulousness levels are going totally off the chart. Also my delicious narcissism, but I've never denied that (just remember the key, just because I think I'M fabulous doesn't mean that I think you're not, ummkay? I realize that being fabulous doen't mean being a snobby elitist bitch from hell, although playing the part can sometimes be fun if done so with proper amounts of satirical irony, But you all know this already).
ANYWAY, in due accordance to rule number 12 in my 12-Step Guide to Being Fabulous, I've felt passionately compelled to compile the following tidbits for anyone that wonders, "How DOES Crystal end up being so fabulous ALL the TIME? GOD It must be hard." Well, actually, no. No it's not.
Welcome to
CRYSTAL PRECIOUS' FABULOUS 12 STEP GUIDE to BEING FABULOUS
by CRYSTAL PRECIOUS.
1. Say the word ..Fabulous.. as much as humanly possible. Say it at home, at work, in dinner, in bed.. say it so much that your friends make up drinking games where they have to take a drink every time you say it.
2. Make sure that your friends are complete lushes. It's best if your friends have dedicated nights for being a lush (for example, Cara Milk has a "Lush Night" every Thursday at the Sweet Soul Designs studio where her employees are enjoy manditory cocktails or red wine. FABULOUS).
3. When arriving at a party, immediately peruse the floor for cheese platters and upon finding one, park your bag / purse nearby. This reminds you to go back for more cheese in case you accidentally get drunk.. you think to yourself, "Where's my purse, is my purse okay.. oh! I forgot about the cheese!" Very convenient.
4. Always wear clothing that is border-line too small for you. If you accidentally shrink something or gain a few extra pounds, throw on an extra special garter and WEAR THAT FUCKER ANYWAY.
5. Try to encourage your extremely good looking or interesting friends to be in a constant state of undress. Examples: Throw underwear/lingerie parties, produce burlesque shows, make your apartment a pants-free zone, and make out with as many of them as possible. Trust me, it just seems to make everything better.
6. Always have at least 8 HAG-fags around to tell you how fabulous you are. It's best if at least three of them live in your apartment building or neighborhood. They should be well-dressed, well-spoken and have all of the Madonna DVDs that you don't own so you can borrow them. If they protest at being called HAG-fags, tell them to deal. Nobody ever asked YOU if YOU liked being called a hag. And they've been calling you that since like, the nineties. Ummmkay? Mwah! Deal.
7. Have a fabulous roommate that's a talented artist/designer/intellect who enjoys cooking delicious exotic dinners and purchasing good quality wines. This comes in handy when spending time being fabulous at home. It's also good if they happen to own leopard print chaise lounges. That's definitely a plus.
8. This one is important. NEVER wear lipstick that transfers on anything. I firmly believe that lipstick belongs on lips and that's where it should stay.. none of this wine-glass-joint-passing-collar-rubbing smear festival. We live in the scientific age, people! We deserve lipstick that's 100% cock and sandwich proof. Get a forever-lasting lipstick (the MAC one is shit, I warn you. Surprising, I know, since all their other products RULE. But their long lasting lipstick you can never get it off and it makes your lips all dry and flakey. Get the Revlon one. Colorstay Overtime in Forever Scarlet, aka my near-constant hue). IF you are one of those sensitive skin types and you simply can't deal, blot it up or wear something sheer. This allows us to wear lipstick at all times, i.e. to brunch, getting coffee.. I've even worn lipstick while camping and occasionally, while having bubble baths (I am so dead serious, you can ask my mom even). Whatever, just make sure it doesn't get everywhere. It is FO.. SHIZZLE a necessity of fabulousness, I feel.
9. MAKE SURE to have updated photos of yourself close at hand. Remember .. glossy 8 by 10's make excellent Christmas gifts! What better way to congratulate your fabulous friends on having such good taste by offering a hot sassy pic of yourself to grace their walls?
10. DON'T pay any attention to anyone that accuses you of being superficial, un-PC, trivial, blah blah blah. Remember: you are intelligent, aware of current events, have a deeply rooted sense of responsibility to planet earth and all of its inhabitants, and acknowledge that things like high heels were at some point rooted in patriarchy, they're uncomfortable, yadda yadda. It's just that you happen to like high heels. Because they're fabulous. And you understand that it is your absolute RESPONSIBILITY to indulge in things you truly adore, whether that adoration is a product of skewed socialization or not. Because you're fabulous. (By the way, you should not, by any means, feel the need to defend yourself to any critics.. you're too busy. Being fabulous.)
11. Try to avoid polar fleece. I'm sorry, but polar fleece, while temptingly comfortable, is just not fabulous. I have to admit I myself have broken this rule once .. but the item also had fun fur and zebra stripes, so I figured it didn't count.
12. Smile genuinely a lot. This is easier to do when you are happy, excited or stoned, so put yourself in these situations as often as possible, or any others that trigger the reaction of knowing how fabulous you are. See, it's all a big happy circle. OF FABULOUSNESS
There is also a bunch of other shit I haven't covered, like training cabana boyz, NEVER feeling guilty about eating and drinking whatever you want, having sex whenever you want with people that fit your fabulousness standards, and all of that.. but I kind of feel that that shiz is a given and it would be like, embarrassing to have to actually WRITE it. Um, yeah.
ABOVE all, remember the law of numbers! It's WAY easier to be fabulous when you..re surrounded by fabulousness. I speak from experience. So please, encourage your friends to indulge in being fabulous.. It's SUPER underrated.
Except by me.
kiss kiss
xo
CP
