samedi 17 octobre 2015


In case you have been wondering where I am or what I have been up to, feel free to check out my nü blog. It has been 3+ years since I updated here (such is the life of a deadbeat blogger). Fortunately for you, I am still ~on da web~ over at ISABELLA LUGOSI DOT COM! I am no longer a Belle Delinquant, I am Isabella Lugosi: Hood Rich International Playgirl. My blog chronicles my dumb shenanigans abroad from 2013 forward. Want to read about my severe sunburn in Cancun? Narrowly escaping death via double decker bus in London? What about showing up in New Delhi with no luggage? All of those stories (and more!) are there for your entertainment. Hope to see y'all there. Who thought it would be a good idea to get me a passport?!

still goth in 5000 degree heat (celsius)

Auf Wiedersehen!

dimanche 29 mai 2011

bummertime blues.

So as y'all know, Summer is upon us. I'm from Southern California, so the only real "seasons" we have are Spring Break, Summer Vacation, Halloween, and Christmas.

My birthday is in the summer, and although it is a very important global event it is STILL not enough to make me like it one bit. It is that serious. I hate the humidity, I hate the sun, and most importantly I hate that people forget how to dress during these crucial months. I'm not talking about leggings as pants at this point. The war against Leggings as Pants has worn me down! I am but a shell of my former self. No matter how much I try to save people's dignity they refuse to listen to someone as sensible as I. I have seen it time and time again, and to quote the forever stylish Little Richard-- "You could stick a fork in me and it would come out clean, cause I am SO done!" I am completely desensitized.

Personally, I refuse to acknowledge seasons as far as fashion is concerned. I wear only two colors year round: Black and Blacker. I wear whatever I want whenever I want, Mother Nature be damned. You can imagine how disastrous this topic must be if I absolutely have to bring it up. I am not talking about bright colors. I am not talking about bathing suits as tops. I am not even talking about people who wear short shorts even though their thighs look like deflated bubble wrap. I am talking about a greater offense-- SANDALS.

Seems like every goblin rises from the Underworld to parade their gargoyle feet all over my city. WHY?! The uglier someone's feet are, the more shameless they are. Sandals have been around forever, I mean even JESUS wore them, so why can't people get it together at this point? Hookers in Ancient Greece wore sandals that left an imprint saying "ΑΚΟΛΟΥΘΙ" aka FOLLOW ME. It was how they advertised their services, which is totally genius. The only thing modern day losers advertise while wearing sandals is their need for an immediate intervention via a podiatrist. The Greek philosopher Aristotle once said "It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure what he meant by that was "Don't be dumb, put those sandals back!"

I wish I could empathize with those who have unfortunate feet. They wonder how it feels to dig their toes in the sand and feel the breeze on a scorching summer day. Alas, life isn't fair and I have really nice feet, so I can't relate. I'd post a picture, but I'm a modern woman who knows the value of beauty! With that said, if you have a foot fetish go ahead and send me money via paypal ;)To paraphrase John Waters-- "My eyes aren't garbage cans!", so keep those hammertoes to yourself.

lundi 16 mai 2011

into the wild.

One of the most important things you will ever know about me is that I hate Nature. I have friends who, despite my glaring disdain for All Things Natural, continue to invite me to go camping, hiking, and related "rugged" activities. NO MAS! Let me take a moment to explain my top 3 nuisances.


Spiders are the main offenders. They're so grotesque! I know it's totally cliche, but oh well. I don't even know what their purpose is (aside from terrifying me, obviously). Like, why do they have so many legs? How unnecessary. Not too long ago, a GIANT wild spider [from the deepest darkest jungles of South America probably] invited itself into my bathroom, specifically my sink... while I was brushing my teeth. What kind of world do we live in when an innocent me can't even work on their dental hygiene without a nasty ass bug intruding?! When I tried to kill it, it LEAPED. I'm not kidding, it must have had trampolines for feet cause I have never seen a bug do that. I left my house and refused to come back until someone presented it's body to me. Why would I go camping when there are plenty of bugs hanging around, just waiting for me to fall into their traps? Disgusting. They have tormented me for way too long. I have never hated HD television so much thanks to "Bug Wars", the nastiest show on television at the moment. Do I really need to see a nasty ass beetle up close like that? Nope. Please stop producing these shows! Whoever said spiders are more afraid of us than we are of them is lying like a rug. I mean, I know they aren't going anywhere but the least they could do is wear cute little berets like the spider from James and the Giant Peach to make me feel better.


I'm not an animal person, and that is a MAJOR understatement. People are really sensitive when I tell them that, but damn. I'm not out torturing cats like Jeffrey Dahmer, but to be frank I wouldn't mind if they disappeared off the face of the earth forever. The same goes for any domestic pet, really. Cats are mean as hell, no thank you. My attitude is more than enough. All they do is leave hair everywhere and stare at you like you're dumb. I'll pass. I have always found it bizarre when people said they missed their pets, like for real? People who bring their animals to stores kill me, too. This is not Petco, leave that beast at home! It is really not that serious, you guys. There have only been like 3 dogs in my life that I loved, and that was only because they didn't bark and make a scene. They were disciplined! If I had to choose, I'd get a bulldog because they are big and lazy just like me. I really can't stand small dogs, especially if they are hyper and don't shut the hell up. I need animals to respect my boundaries at all times. Get off me, get away from my food, get my shoes out of your mouth. The same rules apply for babies, the animals I detest the most. I don't want moms catching feelings about their "angels", but let it be known I am not interested in babies at all. I can handle toddlers and grown kids, though. I'm from the hood, so my exposure to real life animals is limited. The closest encounter I have ever had with a bear was when I ate some Teddy Grahams and I intend to keep it that way. Snakes, lions, zebras, and similar creatures can stay out of my life forever, too. The only acceptable animals in my world are cute ones like elephants, flamingos, and swans.


I try not to hate on the sun too much, cause it works overtime to keep things running smoothly on my sweet little planet. The sun really has our back when no one else does. The thing is, I've developed a major allergy to the sun. I don't know if it is a by-product of me being an 80s goth or what, cause it wasn't always this way. I used to hang out with my buddies doing all sorts of outdoor activities, but these days I can't be exposed to direct sunlight for longer than a half hour without breaking out in a crazy ass rash. What's going on, sun? When did things go wrong? Maybe my real beef is with heat. I'm not down with heat or it's rude ass brother HUMIDITY. I'd never vacation to a desert with my own money. I just can't function in those conditions. The sun has been pretty disrespectful as of late, though. Surely it has to do with global warming? I'm sorry but I can't live my life without hairspray. I'd die if I had to choose between y'all. If the sun disappeared tomorrow, life as we know it would cease to exist... but a life with a head full of fly-aways is no way to live, either. What a cruel world. As long as I have my SPF 100000 and stunner shades handy, I'm sure we can work something out.

Now, I know I am not BFF with nature and I probably never will be, but nothing is uglier than someone who litters. That is a major pet peeve of mine, and I will always call your nasty ass out. Not to get all hippie on y'all, but have some manners. Please pick up after yourself, don't throw trash in storm drains, and recycle (so you can go on a shopping spree).

dimanche 10 avril 2011

a nightmare on grape street.

Guys, I have to tell you all about one of the most exhausting and frightening weeks of my entire life TO DATE. I don't know how, and I don't know why... but last week I was missing out on catching crucial Z's via being caught in Insomnia's DEATHGRIP. It was a really trying time for me, as I enjoy the little things in life such as sleeping whenever I feel like it, laying in bed all day, and generally being the Mayor of Memory Foam Town.

It's no secret that life is always spitting on me, but this time it got me where it really hurt. Gone were the nights full of dreams that paled in comparison to my real life. Gone was the continued use of an obsolete alarm clock. Gone was any semblance of being a normal American girl. Sit back while I spin a terrifying tale about being the Only One Awake.

I have had sleeping problems for quite some time now, but it was usually only in the fall right around Daylight Savings Time. My sleeping woes were quickly solved when the time "fell back", so I never thought too much of it. I joked about it all the time and announced myself as the founder of the Never Sleep Club. Then things took a turn for the WORSE.

the scene of the crime

It started out innocently enough. I'd started staying up a little later than usual. An hour here, two hours there. I was fine with it, as that's what is expected of an Artist such as myself. I got to draw and write more. I was being productive! It kinda legitimized my hedonistic lifestyle. Like, of course I'm awake while everyone else is asleep. I'm an Artist, a non-conformist, a bon vivant. All I do is drink coffee, paint, and pay no mind to the constraints of TIME, maaaaan.

I loved it! My book was coming together, my walls were filling with new pieces, and my sketchbooks were filled to the gills. But my happiness was not to be. Suddenly, I stopped getting sleepy altogether. What was once a liberating experience quickly trapped me in it's disorienting web of despair!

i wanted to sleep *this* much

Before I knew it, the days were flying by and I was in a lucid state. Night and day became one and the same. I didn't know what was real anymore! I wondered if I'd ever sleep again. My usual breathtaking appearance was still breathtaking-- except this time I was making people scream in terror. Just like Kevin McAllister when he found his brother's girlfriend's picture--I was eliciting a very "Buzz, your girlfriend...woof!" reaction. I started to look like an overzealous extra in Michael Jackson's thriller video. Like, way to stay in character, you know?

I vowed that if I ever ran into Mr. Sandman, I'd punch him in the fucking face. Talk about slacking off on the job! I didn't know who to turn to, as it seemed like the entire planet was ASLEEP. I soon found myself pale and alone, surrounded by Nutri Grain wrappers, with only the harsh light emanating from television infomercials to keep me company. I was starting to feel left out. It was like that episode of the Simpsons where they start a No Homer's Club... and I was the world's Homer. I was at my wit's end!

Just as I was about to break down, salvation arrived. All of a sudden, I became super sleepy. Like, my sleepiness was trapped at the CDG airport in Paris and had experienced some flight delays on it's way back to LAX, but it had finally made it home. It burst through my bedroom doors, threw it's LV luggage aside, and breathlessly explained everything. Now it seems like it is trying to overcompensate, so I find myself fighting sleep whenever it strikes at a bad time, ie in the middle of the afternoon when I'm picking up my new shoes at Saks. So there it is, guys. Easy as that. When I grew weary of looking, I was found. It was a wild ride, but I made it!

Sweet Dreams!

lundi 4 avril 2011

the escape artist.

I have really done it this time. Like I mentioned in the previous entry, I vowed to "stay grounded" but sorta like Pringles- once you pop, you can't stop. For the record, I don't even "pop" nasty ass Pringles to begin with, but that's the only analogy I could think of. After "crunching some numbers", I went ahead and booked some flights. Yes, plural. I should just go ahead and "let the cat out of the bag"-- I AM CARMEN SAN DIEGO. Did you seriously think I was a commonplace hot brunette that happened to look great in red and loved to travel?

I can't help but feel a little embarrassed when I tell my buddies where I'm headed next. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the fact that I technically don't have a job (but that's another post entirely). Like, for some reason people think I am Prince Ali, FABULOUS HE, Ali Ababwa when in reality, I'm totally a Pre-Genie Aladdin with nothing but a cute purple vest and a killer smile to my name. Regardless of my tax bracket, I've kind of got this traveling thing down to a science. No need to be that person who doesn't "know the ropes". I am here to share 5 valuable tips!

Belle Delinquant's Guide to Traveling!


... because the term "traveling lightly" shouldn't have a place in your lexicon. I'm a creature of habit, I have to bring everything with me. I need to have options! I figure the only people who actually travel lightly are hippies, and like... I hate to break it to you, but I'm not some rich kid from Berkeley. I am a notorious overpacker! Oh welllll. I always seem to forget something important, too. I actually forgot to pack shoes once. SHOES! Ridiculous. I'm one of those assholes who would probably forget to pack their head if it weren't attached.


... and charm your way into a better seat! Channel your inner Jack Dawson. Maybe you will find your very own Molly Brown (flight attendant) who will help you leave those losers in steerage behind. On my trip back from New York, I was bumped up to FIRST CLASS! I sat next to Frodo himself, Elijah Wood. Too bad I was asleep the entire time and didn't notice til the end. Why pay for the good seats when you can cheat the system? Up the punx!


...but never actually look outside. Be serious! Nobody will ever believe you if/when you see a man on the wing, I promise. Assuming you don't get upgraded, you're as good as gold if you have a window seat. You have more space to nap, you won't be bothered with seatmates trying to use the restroom every 5 seconds, and you always get your drink/food first. It's perfect! The only thing that can ruin this is if you are sitting near a crying ass baby, and if that's the case remember that it could always be worse-- you could have been seated in the middle! Worst seat of all, like you should just CANCEL your tickets status.


... and pretend to be someone else. This is ONLY for a flight, don't be a fucking weirdo sociopath by doing it anywhere else. I usually fly alone, so I don't have anyone to really talk to. There is only so much my electronics, the inflight entertainment, or the Sky Mall catalog can do. Sometimes you want to make small talk with your neighbors. If you are lucky, they are cool. Good seatmates are the best! Especially when they make sure you are never left out when the drinks come around, if you catch my drift. Unfortunately, sometimes you sit next to a major Creepius Maximus which is where you gotta get all CATCH ME IF YOU CAN. It can range from the tiny (faking your name) to the gigantic (an entire made up story). In one extreme case, I had to pretend to be a non-English speaking French national. It sucks when you are clearly trying to listen to the playlist on your iPod that you carefully crafted before boarding, but fucking Kimmy Gibbler over in 37B refuses to get the hint.


... cause looking haggard is no way to start a holiday. About a half hour before you land, be sure to sneak away and get it together. This is especially true on long flights. Recycled air is awful and you don't wanna show up with your face so dry it looks like Pride Rock. Not a good look! To quote P. Diddy, you need to "moisturize your situation"! Do it before you land, cause the airport restrooms will be a mad haus!

Remember to have fun, take lots of pics, and flirt with the hot guy at Customs on your way back. ;)

You're welcome!

jeudi 24 mars 2011

csi: fashion school edition.

For those who had no idea, I used to be an Astronomy major (not kidding). I love science like you wouldn't believe, but let's face it- I'm not down with 20 hour labs and trips to the observatory every single weekend. My professor was awesome and I happen to look great in lab coats, but that is clearly not enough to pursue a PhD in that field. I was starting to get burned out on school. I was getting depressed. I needed to make a change ASAP. I put on my jet pack, strapped on some moon boots, and took off [to the Art Building].

I had already taken fashion design years before cause I had nothing better to do, but it was not really my passion. Now that I was back to get a get a degree in Something Important, I chose Astronomy. Never one to be "all work and no play", I started taking fashion classes on the side. Eventually it became my refuge. It was a place where the only String Theory I had to worry about was the property of yarn, the only Cosmos on my mind were the drinks after class, and the only time I needed to think about "the Future of Space" was when I discussed my fashion icon Judy Jetson.

While most of the assholes in my classes want to be Duhziners I'm going the nerdier route-- Costume Historian. I had no idea this job even existed but I fell in love right away. It is the perfect balance of Party and Business. It has the word "Costume" [fun] and "Historian" [serious] in it, so it's like a mullet, but socially acceptable. I marched down to admissions and made the switch completely. I'm not gonna tell yall what school I go to cause I don't need any Fatal Attractions waiting for me behind dress forms. What I will tell you though, is that this is the best school to have chosen for the second round of my College Career. The bad part is, there is tons of dumb ass riffraff in my classes.

While I'm not there to be a Judge Judy, sometimes it really pisses me off when I get stuck with the bottom of the barrel in a group project. There is a grown ass girl in my class with a fucking plastic KAZAAM backpack. Why?! I hate when people try to be "ironic", it is so unnecessary and just makes them look like douchebags. I'm over here trying to answer the bonus questions and it's kinda hard to concentrate with Shaq in a genie costume staring at me.

Then of course there is the Bro Hoe in head to toe Victoria's Secret PINK sweat suits. I am mad that this girl thinks it's acceptable to leave her haus in this shit. I am also tired of the Urban Outfitters losers, like who buy that raggedy ass clothes? It's garbage. Look, I'm not a style icon in the making, but I wouldn't wear a backpack... period. I wouldn't have let those sweats leave the mall. I wouldn't wear shoes that look like they were salvaged from the Titanic wreckage. If I were the Fashion Police, I'd sentence them to DEATH ROW.

It's just a mess. I'm not a hater, I can give credit where it is due... even if it's "not my thing" and it's something I "wouldn't be caught dead in". The bottom line is if you're gonna dress ugly, at least know what you're talking about and stop wasting everyone's time. I wanna be surrounded with people who "get it" and aren't glued to American Vogue, people who don't consider Katy Perry a fashion luminary, and people who don't think Schiaparelli is a type of fucking pasta. Is that too much to ask?

jeudi 17 mars 2011

creep blue sea.

So as you all know, I'm sort of a Grade A Dynamo. I have this stupid sense of adventure that just can't be contained. I am at my happiest when I'm in the air, exploring new places, and generally being a worldly individual. At this point in my life, it's pretty safe to say traveling is a passion of mine. I will book a flight for no fucking reason and figure out what to do later. I'm all walk and no talk, if you catch my drift. I'm also ridiculously fiscally irresponsible, but I'm not in debt cause I don't possess any credit cards. Anyway, after making sure my carbon footprint grew to the size of Texas via flyer miles last year, I decided to give nature a break. I put my passport away, deleted Travelocity from my bookmarks, and stopped visiting my favorite travel forum. I said I'd be more responsible, maybe even get a real job. I said I'd stay home on weeknights, actually do my homework, and be a prim 24 year old. I said a lot of things, dear readers, but I LIED.

It had only been about 2 months into the year when I started feeling "down in the dumps". Every time I stumbled over my deflated suitcase, I felt the skies darken just a bit more. I tried to ease the transition, to no avail. What did it matter if I'd put an over the top chandelier in my room? What did it matter if I had a brand new TV? What did it matter if my room was the baddest bachelorette cave in existence? It was just kinda like... want thingamabobs? I've got twenty. But who cares? No big deal... I WANT MORE! (Ariel, 1989). I missed the excitement of planning for a trip. I missed having my boobs felt up by TSA agents. I missed having crippling jet lag. I missed the Real Me.

And then it happened. It was an unusually hot day in Southern California and I was talking to my girl BFF about how great it would be to lounge at the beach with a frosty drink in our paws. Our birthdays are exactly 2 weeks apart and in the nearly 7 years that we have been friends, we've only celebrated our birthdays together ONCE. Those were the days... we were single and carefree. Well guess what? 2k11 found us in the very same situation. The stars aligned. It was time to wild the fuck out. Shit is popping off abroad, so we ruled out any international travel. We were kind of in a birthday rut, seeing as we didn't wanna go to Vegas aka the ultimate HAS BEEN of all destinations. We had an epiphany. Who needed a frosty drink on a beach when we could go to PARADISE?! So we did what any [fabulous] assholes with disposable income would do. We booked a trip to Hawaii.

I can't believe I have never been to Hawaii! I've flown over it, of course, but it never crossed my mind as a place to actually vacation. She is a major girl who likes to be pampered and I am a bad ass who prefers explosions. We are hitting up spas & Pearl Harbor to fulfill our differences, but we still needed an activity that would be mutually enjoyable. We needed a common ground. A quick google search led me to the answer. Two words: SCUBA DIVING!

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Scuba Diving is actually kinda chic. It's sort of like being an underwater Astronaut aka the most kick ass occupation imaginable. What's more, you also get to see real life ship wrecks and marine life in the ultimate HD as it is literally in your face. There is also the whole getting eaten by a shark thing which is kinda glamorous and exotic if you think about it. Guys, I am terrified of the ocean cause there are so many creepy ORGANISMS down there that I do not wanna play with. I refuse to get punked, so it's exactly the reason I am gonna do it. It is snatching me out of my comfort zone and dragging me down to the mysterious and murky depths of the goddamn Pacific Ocean! How balls to the wall is that? We are both Cancers so you know water is our natural habitat. It's probably destiny. I hope the Kraken, the Flying Dutchman, or stupid old Flotsam & Jetsam don't terrorize us. Here's to a very safe DEEP SEA EXPEDITION! Cross your fingers so I can find a sweet dinglehopper to show yall!

Six weeks til Hawaii!