And now I get to do ZOMBIE MAKEUP ALSO
I cannot wait for a college Halloween party.
I am so excited.
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This song is a perennial favorite on my “putting on makeup and doing my hair” playlist.
Yes I have a playlist for getting ready for parties, shutup
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I’m posting this because it’s literally the worst picture ever taken of me and it makes me laugh.
Someone uploaded this to Facebook last night and I just couldn’t help but crack up XD
BUT for those who asked, this is me as Zombie Amy Winehouse. That’s not a real cigarette; I don’t smoke and never will. I also, at the time this picture was taken, was not incredibly drunk (and in fact I remained sober through the rest of the night) - I was only pretending to be, for the sake of the costume and the photograph. And this picture disappoints me because the way I had my arms means you can’t see the TOTALLY BITCHIN’ TATTOOS that Katelyn drew on me. She really is fantastic; it was basically a replica of Amy’s real tattoos, done freehand in Sharpie, and they looked really really awesome.
So until someone uploads the other pictures from the night this is the only record I have of that ridiculously awesome costume. This.
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“Then she became massively famous and I was pleased to see her acknowledged but mostly baffled because I’d not experienced her work and, this not being the 1950’s, I wondered how a ‘jazz singer’ had achieved such cultural prominence. I wasn’t curious enough to do anything so extreme as listen to her music or go to one of her gigs; I was becoming famous myself at the time and that was an all-consuming experience. It was only by chance that I attended a Paul Weller gig at the Roundhouse that I ever saw her live.
“I arrived late and as I made my way to the audience through the plastic smiles and plastic cups I heard the rolling, wondrous resonance of a female vocal. Entering the space I saw Amy on stage with Weller and his band; and then the awe. The awe that envelops when witnessing a genius. From her oddly dainty presence that voice, a voice that seemed not to come from her but from somewhere beyond even Billie and Ella, from the font of all greatness. A voice that was filled with such power and pain that it was at once entirely human yet laced with the divine. My ears, my mouth, my heart and mind all instantly opened. Winehouse. Winehouse? Winehouse! That twerp, all eyeliner and lager dithering up Chalk Farm Road under a back-combed barnet, the lips that I’d only seen clenching a fishwife fag and dribbling curses now a portal for this holy sound. So now I knew. She wasn’t just some hapless wannabe, yet another pissed up nit who was never gonna make it, nor was she even a ten-a-penny chanteuse enjoying her fifteen minutes.
“She was a fucking genius.”
- Russell Brand, on his good friend Amy Winehouse.
