Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?

Hey! Hey guys, it's me! Your patron saint of practicality and poise, who wears shorts in negative temperatures and takes outfit photos in public restrooms!



(High-fashion cuticle scrutiny.)



(High-fashion pit check, complete with high-fashion ginger roots that can't be tamed/saved/blamed/changed/tamed.)

Celebrating New York fashion week with a vintage fur coat, Anthro cropped sweatshirt and Zara high-waisted pleated shorts. There's a reason I'm not your patron saint of dating.

I'd like to introduce you to a new friend.



His name is Henry.





He's...rather mesmerizing.



And almost as photogenic as I am.

As a devoted Potter fanatic, I've always had a sneaking suspicion that my patronus would be a peacock. Vain. Ostentatious. And a little bit too much. When I spotted this ring in Aldo Accessories a few weeks ago, I knew it needed a new home on my finger. Even if it meant forcing a harassed sales associate to dig through backstock to find a ring sized small enough to fit my freakish baby hands.

Whatever. I work retail. I know full well that downtime is the enemy. She was secretly thrilled.

Aldo also carries an eagle (for all you Philadelphia fans out there!) and a goldfish (for all you new Pisces out there! EH? EH?). I'm just happy the flash panic over the "new zodiac" has subsided, as no one affected is old enough to so much as bang out a dramatic Facebook status/we all know I would have stubbornly stayed a Taurus anyway. Speaking of Facebook, here's a current event I'm much more concerned with: did anyone else notice that Zuck and his minions have changed the "Remove from Friends" button? It now reads "Unfriend." EW. WHAT. WHY. EW. I've always said "Defriend." I feel like my creative liberties concerning Facebook terminology have been yanked out from under me, right along with unique interests and the little box under my photo (may it rest in peace). Salt, meet wound.

Now enjoy a "did-she-just-say-what-I-think-she-just-said?" jam from girlcrush K. Perr to start your Wednesday off on the right...feather. (Note: I had to remove the mp3 I had originally posted after receiving a scary copyright infringement e-mail from Blogger. Turns out K. Perr and her people are really on top of things. Sorry!)

I cannot text you with a drink in my hand.

No, you're not crazy: La Vie got a facelift. Do you dig it? Is it ruining your life? Holler at your girl.

So anyone who has spent a decent amount of time with me lately is all too aware that I am gaga for Gaga. I'm her biggest fan, I'll follow her until she loves me...you know. The works.



After receiving her new EP a few days early from fellow gaga-roupie Tracey, I'm gonna go ahead and give it my stamp of embarrassingly-high-iTunes-play count approval. My current obsession is "Telephone" (not to be confused with "Videophone," Gaga's other, lesser duet with Beyoncé), a night-out anthem in the vein of "Poker Face" that showcases Gaga's vocal chops as well as her ability to jog my ass out of my computer chair. Other standouts include the 1980s-esque "Dance In The Dark," creepy electro-ballad "Monster," and a silly but catchy tune by the name of "Alejandro." I wasn't even going to mention "Bad Romance," which I'm assuming you already know is life-changing. But just in case:

Seven things.

Poor Miley Cyrus. She just can't win. One second she gets slammed for being too bubblegum; the next, she's demonizing our nation's youth by showing her back on a magazine cover. I'll admit that I find the idea of her autobiography - Miles to Go, an inside look at the first sixteen years! - a bit ludicrous. But all things considered, it's not easy to grow up in the public eye, and Miley has managed to find a happy medium between Disney drone and crackwhore.

So here's my confession: I LOVE MILEY CYRUS. And what's more, I'm not ashamed to tell the world why. In honor of a song I've rocked out to everywhere from sorority house dance parties to the confines of my Maxima, here's a list of seven things about Miley I have found to be entirely worthy of our adoration.

1) Hannah Montana. It's sweet. It's entertaining. It's completely outlandish, and a key bonding point for my twelve-year-old sister and me.

2) "See You Again." Is there anyone who doesn't love this song? It made a cameo as my ringtone for about four months, changed only because waking up to its addicting bridge meant it looping through my head all day long. I still blast this one to get pumped before a big night out. I have Miley to thank for my liquid courage.

3) Her 2009 Oscar dress.



Say what you will about scalloped potatoes, but I see the Cinderella gown every little girl dreams of wearing. Pulling off this much fabric takes serious pluck, and girlfriend managed to wear this dress without it wearing her.

4) Her controversies, most of which have to do with Miley's being an open-minded, outspoken person. There's something endearing about how, much to the chagrin of the AFA, Miley publicly declared herself both a Christian and a proponent of gay marriage. They're still praying that God will show her the light. I'm still saying: GET IT, GIRL.

5) Her wardrobe on the Hannah Montana: The Movie press junket. I'm 100% in love with all four of these outfits:









I also wish she would stand up straighter...but hey, you can't win 'em all.

6) She dated Nick Jonas. Whether you love or hate the JoBros, he is the Justin Timberlake of this generation of preteens. The fact that she ended the relationship quietly and with class also speaks volumes about her maturity, especially when compared to more, er, dramatic starlets (Taylor Swift, anyone?).

And finally...

7) She is the offspring of the man who brought us "Achy Breaky Heart." Miley may be a lot of things, but genetically irrelevant is not one of them.

So ooh, so ahh, so cool.

This Is Alphabeat is European synth-pop at its finest, my current obsession being jaunty puppy-love anthem "10,000 Nights." Also worth a listen: "Boyfriend," "Fascination," "Public Image," and "Fantastic 6." Or, you know, the whole album. If you're feeling ambitious.