Tuesday, May 31, 2011


I have had the pleasure? honor? misfortune? to be yelled at on a public sidewalk not once in my life, but twice, both times while I was with my sister.

The first time was on our first trip to Chicago, and we literally walked our asses off all over Chi-town. One day we were ooot and aboot, probably going shopping, and an older lady is walking towards us. She was somewhat unkempt, and as she got closer we realized she was kind of muttering to herself, possibly a wee bit unbalanaced.

When we got close to her, we smiled, and she settled her gaze (and by "gaze" I mean "hate-filled glare") at me and shouted, "Get the fuck OVER!" Jen and I were stunned to say the least, and I think one of us said, "HEY!" back. We are not known for our comebacks, but were pretty shocked into silence anyway. Welcome to Chicago, folks!

The second time it happened was in Baltimore. I had gone to visit Jen after she had her second child, and was taking her to have a massage. I had planned it as a sort of surprise, and not being familiar with Baltimore, took my chances at a salon in an area I obviously knew nothing about. It wasn't a terrible part of town, but a block here and there was a little sketchy. We're walking on the sidewalk (AGAIN, I think you know where this is going), and coming up the other way is a young girl, maybe barely in her 20s, if even that.

As we got closer, we again made eye contact and smiled, and she looked ME in the eyes and said, "I KNOW you din't just look at me, bitch," and I kept walking, open-mouthed. I have no idea what quality I possess that encourages public sidewalk vitriol, but apparently what I possess says something along the lines of "Curse at me now. I enjoy it!" I realize I use a good bit of profanity in my blog, but I can assure you, I have NEVER shouted it at anyone on a public sidewalk.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you are ever with me in public, and we are walking down a sidewalk, please do not hold me responsible for any profanity that may be hurled our way.

On a similar yet totally unrelated note, I have to tell a story on my sis, since she is not the one who gets vocally assaulted, but on one instance, was chastised on paper.

Jen is not the best driver in the world (sorry girl, it's true), and nor is she the best parker when pulling in to a store. On one occasion she came out to her car, sitting crookedly in the parking space, and found a note that read as follows: "We know parking is difficult, but you could try harder." At first she laughed, because come on - that shit is FUNNY - but then the more she thought about it she was pissed. Ah well! Lucky me for hearing about that story, because Ames, Natty Lite and I maaaay have plagiarized said note one night in The Lou when we went out, and some stupid truck parked about 2 inches from the passenger side door, forcing us all to get in on the driver's side. Jackass.

Anyhoo, Happy Tuesday, ya'll!

Dress: Kensie, Dillards
Shoes: Vince Camuto
Necklace: Urban Outfitters
Bracelets: Primark
Earrings: F21


Monday, May 30, 2011

WWD: Mr. Mister. And Mr. Kate.

You know how one day you're trolling youtube for hair tutorial videos of Lauren Conrad (I may be a weeee bit obsessed with her at the mo), and you come across some tutorials for Victoria's Secret-type hurr, and those lead you to beachy waves, and those in turn to some chick named Mr. Kate?

Well it happens to me ALL THE TIME.

And much like the Pointer Sisters, I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it.

Surrsly - Mr. Kate's blog is not a mister at all, but an adorable, perky, hilarious, artsy, gorgeous, funky jewelry designer slash actress slash self-professed jane-of-all-trades, and I supah dupah giant puffy heart her blog.

It's one of those that is SO comprehensive (food! recipes! fashion! jewelry! elephants! okay - I have yet to come across an actual elephant, but I wouldn't be surprised if I did), that one could spend days, ney - MONTHS - trolling back through it.

Do yourself a flavaha flav and check it out for  your damn self. What else should you check out? The Hangover II, which we saw because Bridesmaids was SOLD OUT, DAMMIT. Still, you can't go wrong with Bradley Cooper. The best line? 

"They shot the monkey? I'M AT MY WIT'S END!!!"

Dress: Loft, via Goodwill
Shoes: Vince Camuto
Necklace: House of Harlow
Rings, Earrings: F21
Bracelets: Old Navy


Friday, May 27, 2011

Random Inspiration

via here

via here

Happy Friday!

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Give Us Strength

Spending the past few days seeing images and video of destruction in Joplin has taken a toll. I feel fragile, as if at any moment I could break down and cry, and I have. I am as I write this. Families literally ripped from each others' arms as a tornado carved a path of chaos through a town. Growing up in the midwest, tornados in spring are nothing new. Since I was a child I have known that wind and rain and thunder kicking up suddenly - or even more ominously - sudden and utter stillness, like even the birds in the trees were expectant with fear - meant the possibility that the family would be making a trip to our basement to ride out whatever happened. I remember the first time I realized that not everyone has a basement, and it struck me with terror. What would they do in case of a tornado, I thought, not realizing that Mother Nature does not wield her sword the same way in different parts of the country.

Talking to my cousin today, we both agreed that we had not felt the need to take cover because of a storm since we were kids. We had not felt those fingers of fear up our backs, until a few days ago when the tornado hit Joplin, just little more than 2 hours southwest of our home. We both watched the video, mostly black, of a group of people huddled in a back storage room in a convenience store, whose audio was all too clear. People moving quicky to safety, the sound of wind growing, and a sudden WHOOSH as windows blew, a deafening roar of nature, and cries, moans, prayers, and I love you's as those people realized this might be their last day.

Every day since the tornado, in our hometown the weather has been typical blustery spring weather, but this time it has been different. This time there are more nerves and more prayers than normal, knowing what we have seen those storms can do. Today we sat in a staff meeting in our small office in the train depot and joked that we have heard a tornado sounds like a train coming through, and with 30 some trains that go right by our office everyday, how could we determine the difference? As we sat in our meeting, police sirens started up, and we stopped, looking outside and then decided it was the monthly practice siren that goes off on Wednesdays. We carried on, even talking about what our emergency plan would be if it came to that, being in an old building that doesn't have a basement. Would we run to the bar across the street? Would we try the Methodist church at the end of the block? Go to the fire station one block over?

While talking, one of our building co-workers came over to tell us that they had been told to find shelter, that there was possible tornadic activity in the area. Our boss told us to go to the fire station if we felt the need to, that he was not going, that he had heard that if there really had been a tornado spotted the fire department would sound their alarms. Immediately, alarms sounded, as if they had been waiting for him to speak those words. Immediately we grabbed our things and went to the car, drove to the fire station, and headed down into their emergency response room with other citizens and workers in our area, everyone texting or calling their loved ones.

My first thoughts were my children, at my home a few miles away with my mom. I called to make sure they were okay and in the basement. They were. I called my husband, almost an hour away at his job to make sure he was okay. He was. We sat nervously and watched TV, tuned to local weather stations. My thoughts kept drifting to my children, and I couldn't help but think of the family in Joplin, huddled in their home, as their 16 month old child was literally torn from his mother's arms by the storm. The family who could not find him after the calm, and then found his clothing, torn and tattered. The family who searched frantically through rubble in hopes that they would come across him safe and sound.

I am sickened to say that just a few minutes ago, I read that they identified his body at an area morgue tonight. My heart breaks for them and their precious son, and I want to go wake my own children and just hold them. Just listen to them breathe. I cannot stop my tears. God, please give us strength.

If you want to help victims of the tornados that have hit the midwest, click here.


WWD: Way Back Wednesday - aka Tusk


When I was in fifth grade, I had just gotten glasses, was self-conscious about my nose (which was labeled "ski-slope"), was shy and nerdy. I had plenty of friends though, and for some reason recalled a particular birthday slumber party in the course of last weekend.

It was for a girl I never ended up being super close with, but we were chummy enough that she invited me to said birthday/slumber party, along with a handful of other girls. I couldn't tell you who else was there, but I do remember that there was no "fifth-grade slumber party drama." You know the kind - complete with tears, accusations of non-loyalty, or The Starting Of The Menses.

I also remember that Kelly's older sister - probably 15 at the time - was there, and for some reason she took a shine to me.
Or maybe she felt sorry for me - I don't know. What I DO remember is that she took me up to her bedroom, a dope dormer/attic type of room, and let me hang out with her.
I felt cooler than cool. She was the big sister I had never had. I vaguely recall looking at her collection of horse statues and playing Battleship with her.
I'm sure today she has no recollection of me, but the fact that she was so nice to me when - let's face it - I was a dorky little kid - has stuck with me all these years.
In honor of Way Back Wednesday, my safari-inspired dress, and my dorkitude that extended through high school when I played trumpet - YES, I SAID TRUMPET - in marching band, I present to you Fleetwood Mac's Tusk - with the USC marching band. It's a long one, but worth it.

Dress: J Crew via eBay
Shoes: J Simp  Dany's
Necklace: vintage via eBay
Earrings: World Market
Bracelets: Macy's, F21
Belt: Target

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


Driving back to the office from lunch today, I was behind a car with a few bumper stickers. There was the ever-present and always faithful "Semper Fi," and then, there was of course "I Love Vagina."


Did a quick check-o-the-driver and was fully expecting a teenaged male. Uh, no, not so much. Middle-aged lady driver in the hizzouse!

Quick check back at the bumper sticker to see if it may have said "Monologues" in tiny print under the word "Vagina." Negatory, ghost rider. The pattern is full. Full of love for bajingo, apparently.

There are all kinds of ridic bumper stickers out there: "My other ride is your mom;" "My kid can beat your honor student up;" and my personal least-favorite, "Silly boys, trucks are for girls." Until today, howevs, I had yet to see someone declare their love for a hoo-hoo, a twat, a vagine, a cooch, a vajay-jay.

I immediately wondered, "Is she an OB/GYN?" True story. I can't hep it. I also can't hep that I think it's more than a little funny that I'm relating this story when I'm dressed like Ellen Degeneres. Go on witcho love for the lady parts, my lesbian sistahs.

I just PERSONALLY think there might be a better way to express said love than that very clinical bumper sticker. I'm happy to take suggestions in the comments.
Shirt: The Hubs
Pants: Proenza Schouler for Target
Shoes: Thrifted
Necklaces: Thrifted, F21
Belt: Gap?
Urrings: F21

Um, YUM.

Go here to see what crazy beautiful mad scientist creation is being cooked up. You're welcome.

Monday, May 23, 2011

I have a heavy heart tonight watching coverage of the tornados that have devastated Joplin, Missouri, just two and a half hours from my home, where I sit comfortably, knowing that my family is safe and healthy around me. Please say a prayer for those affected, and if you wish to help, click here for ways you can contribute.


WWD: Clean Yo Damn MIRRORS!

This is a short and sweet WWD today that I snapped on my way out the door this weekend. Wore this same outfit to a shower I attended on Saturday, and loved it so much I wore it shopping on Sunday. Nevermind that my mirrors are filthier than filthy. I could clean them everyday (I don't) and within approximately 13 minutes, someone comes by and either puts sticky hands on them or licks them, so I have learned to ignore them unless someone comes over or I take a photo to post so all the interwebs can see how dirty they are.

Plus they are helpful when pulling one's pants up to one's boobs a la Old Man Chic. Thank you Simon for demonstrating.
Not only that, but they allow ya'll to also see how trashed the office is behind me (through a dirty haze, of course).
On an unrelated note, I have now purchased approximately 37 various compression garments to find just the right one. I have the "crotchless binder," of course, the "granny panty up to the boobs" one, the "open on the top and bottom waist cincher corset" one, and now, the "open at the boobs" tank one (wear your own bra! it advertises with exclamation points! perhaps to generate excitement about wearing it).  For the record, I am not excited about wearing ANY of them, least of all one that is open at the boob and makes me feel like a stripper about to go on. Okay, I just totally lied there. I AM excited about wearing that last one.
Shirt: JC Penny
Shorts: The Limited
Shoes: Target
Necklace: Urban Outfitters


Thursday, May 19, 2011

WWD:Pick a Pocket

Today was picture day at the office, and rather than wear the DORKY ivory turtleneck I sported 6 years ago when I started, I thought I'd shake things up with this little number.

I have always hated turtlenecks, so I am surprised that I even owned one, for one thing, and secondly, that I WORE IT TO HAVE A PHOTO MADE. Blech.

Two things that this outfit has going for it that the other didn't? 1 - it's not a turtleneck, and b) it has POCKETS.

When I got to the photography studio, he snapped the pics and then we went to review them. I am always more critical of myself in photos (I know, I know - strange that I do this on a daily basis then, you might think, but I have the control here). So we were browsing the photos, and the photog and his assistant were telling me what I nice smile I had, yada yada, but I was nit-picking through them, and at one point the assistant said, "Maybe you should button your sweater all the way up so you can't see the red," and I was all "bitch PLEASE," that red is HOT, and it's the one thing I'm sure of - that color looks GOOD on me.

Let's not even talk about the fact that it looks good with the turqwaaaz necklathe too.

Well, I can't help it - it DO look good.

I love this dress, and don't wear it enough. Scored it on clearance at a local boutique that is sadly no longer in existence, and am so glad I did. This is the first time I thought to wear it wif the leopard, and melikes. And I LOVE mixing red and poyple together. It's like they shouldn't go, but they do. Kind of like orange and pink, or peanut butter and marshmallow fluff.

And the little slip peeking out at the bottom is possibly a vintage slip that me mum got for me a looooong time ago. I like it because a) it helps hide my crotchless black binder, and 2) it's cute. Duh. Anypanty, I hope you have a glorious weekend. Catch ya on the flip side!

Cardi: Express, so old my Grandma fell off her dinosaur
Dress: Local boutique, now defunked
Shoes: Payless
Necklace: Macy's
Bracelet: F21


WWD: Smell-o-vision

Recently I got a sample of Carol's Daughter Monoi Repairing Shampoo, Conditioner and Conditioning Mask from Sephora, and the smell totally took me back to childhood.

It was summers at the lake with my mom, sister, aunts and cousins, getting sandy on the beach and then going to the public showers to wash off, shampooing with Breck or Fabrage Organics Wheat Germ and Honey Oil, or Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific, or good old Suave, and THANK YOU, Carol's Daughter, for taking me back there just for a moment.

I remember being my skinny, 8 year old self and seeing my aunts and mom and thinking "Their boobs are HUGE!" 

I adored one aunt in particular, more like an older sister, with her long, stick straight blond hair, blue eyes, and always tan skin. She was on the drill team with a red and white uniform and tall white boots. I COVETED that uniform.

My sister and cousins and I would wash off quickly, then run around outside while the grown-ups dried their hair, and we would pile into one or two cars, everyone smelling like Coppertone and baby oil and shampoo, and drive back to Grandma's farm with the windows rolled down, listening to the Eagles or Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Back at the farm we ran around until the sun went down, the smell of lilacs hanging around the windows of the house, listened to my uncles tell ghost stories when it got dark, roasted hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire outside while the grown-ups played Pitch at the kitchen table.

The cool summer nights wrapped around us like black velvet, and we slept in the pop-up camper, giggling and whispering to each other until every last one of us finally dropped off to sleep.

Tunic: T.J. Maxx, years ago
Tank: Old Navy
Jeans: Hudson, clothing swap
Earrings: Clothing swap
Rings: I have NO idea
Shoes: Steve Madden, DSW