Welcome to Charming or Tedious.

ABOUT YOUR HOST, NIKI STERNER: LOS ANGELES DENIZEN, FIVE NINE AND FINE, GENERAL ASSHOLE, YOUR NEW BEST FRIEND.

"I am going to come and burn the house down...but you will blow me first." -Mel Gibson

Questions? Compliments? Concerns? N00dz? theurbanaesthete (AT) gmail.com

hausofpeep:

Beers at Barney’s, Saturday. (Taken with Instagram)

I’m in the middle of a love sandwich.

So everyone’s favorite Swedish Meatball is finally back in America, and for a whole month to boot! Here’s us dining like the classy ladies we are (Jenn and Mallory snuck out pre-pictures, as usual) and then here is Sofie and I in the parking lot where we got lost trying to find her rental car. I’m quite partial to that picture as it makes it look like we’re either homeless or took pictures while we peed behind a closed restaurant, which isn’t really that far from the truth.

Enjoy yaselves.

The girls and I are going wine tasting again this Saturday in Temecula. Seeing as how my current (and last! LAST! FOREVER!) class has already made me slap myself in exasperation AND cry, saying I’m excited for a day trip with adults who know how to speak proper English and make me laugh is an understatement.
Here are some pictures of the last trip-keep your eye out for the blurry one of the crowd around somebody’s pet piglet! Most of these were taken at Wilson Creek Winery (Randi’s a member) which is set atop sprawling greens with a gorgeous tasting “cavern”.
Back to slapping and crying. Bye.

The girls and I are going wine tasting again this Saturday in Temecula. Seeing as how my current (and last! LAST! FOREVER!) class has already made me slap myself in exasperation AND cry, saying I’m excited for a day trip with adults who know how to speak proper English and make me laugh is an understatement.

Here are some pictures of the last trip-keep your eye out for the blurry one of the crowd around somebody’s pet piglet! Most of these were taken at Wilson Creek Winery (Randi’s a member) which is set atop sprawling greens with a gorgeous tasting “cavern”.

Back to slapping and crying. Bye.

CINCO DE DRINKO!

Here’s a photo of me and my amazing friends after we had a tea party on a Saturday afternoon 2 weeks ago.

We’re whimsical.

Camera: Canon PowerShot SD450
Aperture: f/2.8
Exposure: 1/60th
Focal Length: 35mm

Jenny’s Birthday or; Too Many Tequila Shots or; Innocuous Drunk or; Maeby Can Sing
Jenny’s birthday was a delightful success filled with chocolate bananas, raw fish (not a euphamism for lesbians), the Dresden’s own Marty & Elaine, and so much more.
I walked to the Metro on 5 inch heels, after which I had to stand for a whopping 10 minutes during the commute because of rush hour. GOD, DO YOU FEEL SORRY FOR ME OR WHAT? To top this off, we didn’t take a “standup” picture so you can’t even see my amazing ensemble. It’s like my life has no meaning.
After we drank a bunch of sake and ate sushi and poked at Jenn’s chocolate bananas, we tossed off over to the Dresden, since it was directly across the street. I’ll tell you: the place never disappoints me. I must admit I’m considering having my next birthday there, which I think really says something. That something is I feel at home in a mid 70s era lounge being berated by old people.
Now I’ll say this: I haven’t been drinking much lately and it’s AMAZING. Ever since I turned 25 or so, I get the gnarliest hangover from anything stronger than a glass of wine, and it’s some bullshit. Basically, after 25, your body sends you daily faxes reminding you the crap you put it through on the regular isn’t something you can sustain, so you better rock out while you can because the end is nigh. However, maybe it was the spirit of Jenny’s birthday or the fact we were in a 70s era lounge as stated or merely the spine tingling thought of being serenaded by Los Angeles’ own Marty & Elaine, but I was in the mood to consume alcoholic beverages. I distinctly made a note to myself when we entered the Dresden to have one drink and be home by 11. Oh, self. You’re so comical.
I won’t bore you with the details of the night, but let’s just say I got innocuous drunk-the kind of drunk where you’re perfectly buzzed, just enough to keep ordering drinks, until you stand up and you realize you’re wobbly and potentially glassy eyed. This kind of drunk is obnoxious because you wake up with a hangover the size of Texas without having the kind of super drunk, mooning people under overpasses grabbing everyone’s titties kind of fun you should have had for a hangover the size I described. Add in a predisposition to horrible hangovers and you have a recipe for asshattery. Thanks, aging.
The night ended with Stacy pointing out Michael Cera and Alia Shawkat (George Michael and Maeby from Arrested Development, respectively) were sitting in a booth behind us. Now, the Dresden is often rife with “unassuming” B list celebs but come on, everybody loves Arrested Development. But that’s not all, oh no: Alia got up to sing. BITCH HAS PIPES. She sang an unrecognizable jazz standard and it was amazing. Her voice is reminiscent of Billie Holiday but much prettier and without Billie’s signature harsh edge to it. Not only that, but she was dressed like in the mid 90’s granny look, which I always find *adorable*. Button down loose dress, small cardigan over it. So precious. Anyway, she sang and it was beautiful and Stacy got hit on by some guy who’s going to be the next (better looking) Michael Buble and it was a lovely, cheesy Hollywood night all around. And in case you’re wondering if I’ve lost my cuntery, I was so fucking unfazed by this it took me four weeks to write a blog post about it, so please bukkake yourself with shame.

Jenny’s Birthday or; Too Many Tequila Shots or; Innocuous Drunk or; Maeby Can Sing

Jenny’s birthday was a delightful success filled with chocolate bananas, raw fish (not a euphamism for lesbians), the Dresden’s own Marty & Elaine, and so much more.

I walked to the Metro on 5 inch heels, after which I had to stand for a whopping 10 minutes during the commute because of rush hour. GOD, DO YOU FEEL SORRY FOR ME OR WHAT? To top this off, we didn’t take a “standup” picture so you can’t even see my amazing ensemble. It’s like my life has no meaning.

After we drank a bunch of sake and ate sushi and poked at Jenn’s chocolate bananas, we tossed off over to the Dresden, since it was directly across the street. I’ll tell you: the place never disappoints me. I must admit I’m considering having my next birthday there, which I think really says something. That something is I feel at home in a mid 70s era lounge being berated by old people.

Now I’ll say this: I haven’t been drinking much lately and it’s AMAZING. Ever since I turned 25 or so, I get the gnarliest hangover from anything stronger than a glass of wine, and it’s some bullshit. Basically, after 25, your body sends you daily faxes reminding you the crap you put it through on the regular isn’t something you can sustain, so you better rock out while you can because the end is nigh. However, maybe it was the spirit of Jenny’s birthday or the fact we were in a 70s era lounge as stated or merely the spine tingling thought of being serenaded by Los Angeles’ own Marty & Elaine, but I was in the mood to consume alcoholic beverages. I distinctly made a note to myself when we entered the Dresden to have one drink and be home by 11. Oh, self. You’re so comical.

I won’t bore you with the details of the night, but let’s just say I got innocuous drunk-the kind of drunk where you’re perfectly buzzed, just enough to keep ordering drinks, until you stand up and you realize you’re wobbly and potentially glassy eyed. This kind of drunk is obnoxious because you wake up with a hangover the size of Texas without having the kind of super drunk, mooning people under overpasses grabbing everyone’s titties kind of fun you should have had for a hangover the size I described. Add in a predisposition to horrible hangovers and you have a recipe for asshattery. Thanks, aging.

The night ended with Stacy pointing out Michael Cera and Alia Shawkat (George Michael and Maeby from Arrested Development, respectively) were sitting in a booth behind us. Now, the Dresden is often rife with “unassuming” B list celebs but come on, everybody loves Arrested Development. But that’s not all, oh no: Alia got up to sing. BITCH HAS PIPES. She sang an unrecognizable jazz standard and it was amazing. Her voice is reminiscent of Billie Holiday but much prettier and without Billie’s signature harsh edge to it. Not only that, but she was dressed like in the mid 90’s granny look, which I always find *adorable*. Button down loose dress, small cardigan over it. So precious. Anyway, she sang and it was beautiful and Stacy got hit on by some guy who’s going to be the next (better looking) Michael Buble and it was a lovely, cheesy Hollywood night all around. And in case you’re wondering if I’ve lost my cuntery, I was so fucking unfazed by this it took me four weeks to write a blog post about it, so please bukkake yourself with shame.

Randi’s birthday was back in June, and ended with almost everyone way too fucking drunk and crying. I still can’t remember the last time I drank as much tequila or another day my feet hurt so bad I wanted to cry.
REGARDLESS, that shit was fun as a motha! It was a daytime affair on Olvera Street, which was a brilliant idea In My Book. Get drunk early, eat tacos, talk shit, go home, sleep. Sure, it ended up NOTHING FUCKING LIKE THAT, but it was the jam nonetheless. I love birthdays (unless I have a shit ton of them coinciding, in which case I HATE BIRTHDAYS, FUCK YOU), especially when they involve lots of pictures, booze, and reminiscing about Sofie.
<3

Randi’s birthday was back in June, and ended with almost everyone way too fucking drunk and crying. I still can’t remember the last time I drank as much tequila or another day my feet hurt so bad I wanted to cry.

REGARDLESS, that shit was fun as a motha! It was a daytime affair on Olvera Street, which was a brilliant idea In My Book. Get drunk early, eat tacos, talk shit, go home, sleep. Sure, it ended up NOTHING FUCKING LIKE THAT, but it was the jam nonetheless. I love birthdays (unless I have a shit ton of them coinciding, in which case I HATE BIRTHDAYS, FUCK YOU), especially when they involve lots of pictures, booze, and reminiscing about Sofie.

I left my busted ass old digicam with my friend Jessica for seriously a year. I got it back last week, and the old pictures are making me “have moments”.

This is the glory of Ballcrackers, aka the time Pelinda, Nkoyo, Sofie, Randi and our respective manfriends went to the LA Ballet’s version of the Nutcracker at UCLA’s Royce Hall. For the record, it was raining like a MOFO, my Dolce Vita shoes almost killed me several times (no joke-fuck that brand), and the ballet was weak. No orchestra? Are you fucking with me?

Regardless, I thought everyone looked quite lovely, and it was pretty sweet watching the dudes dance in the rain.