Monday, June 30, 2008
It doesn't happen that often that, when I see what someone is wearing, I literally rear my head back in horror and suck in a deep breath of shock and terror all at the same time. But then... but then... I think... "I haven't cruised Fuggly in a while. Let's go take a peek."
I present: Holy Corn Chip, Batman - she's wearing an "Automatic car wash brush and can I get a wax with that - Oh - wait - you missed a spot are are you SURE you vacuumed the back shelf where are you going - I don't see enough shine on those rims what do you mean you're finished - I STILL HAVE BUG GUTS IN MY GRILL DAMNED YOU - dress".
And I know you've heard me say this before but truly, folks, what the hell is wrong with these people??
I present: Holy Corn Chip, Batman - she's wearing an "Automatic car wash brush and can I get a wax with that - Oh - wait - you missed a spot are are you SURE you vacuumed the back shelf where are you going - I don't see enough shine on those rims what do you mean you're finished - I STILL HAVE BUG GUTS IN MY GRILL DAMNED YOU - dress".
And I know you've heard me say this before but truly, folks, what the hell is wrong with these people??
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
No I haven't deserted you. But you know, sometimes life interferes with blogging. Things on my mind today:
Tacos al pastor with cilantro and onions from Taqueria Arandes. The one on 290. There are a lot of them in town and, even though they are a chain, the one on 290 is the only one that makes these tacos this way. You know, the right way.
_______________________________
These presidential "debates"? What a crock of shit. First, they aren't debates. I took debate in school. Ladies and gentlemen, this ain't it. Second - a common question this year is "How, in your brilliant high worthiness, would you fund your new wacko bullshit scheme to rebuild the American Health Care System (which isn't actually broken but that's another story)?" To which the answer, in one form or another, is always "I would take one third from the individual users, one third from taxes, and one third from the government".
Doesn't this make you want to go out and kill a wombat?? What do these people think - that we ALLLLLL are stooopid?
Let's see:
1/3 from individuals = Money out of your pocket directly.
1/3 from taxes = Money out of your pocket through taxes.
1/3 from the government = Money out of your pocket through taxes.
This equals 100% from you, the blind and foolish person, citizen, individual. Where do people think "government money" comes from? ARE YOU THAT STUPID??? Maybe you're the wombat I want to go out and kill.
_______________________________
Ever got an urge to go over to one of your best friend's house, stick her into a plastic trash bag, mold memory mesh screen to her breasts, and then plaster a life cast of them? Me, neither. BUT. My friend is in luuuuv. Bad luuuuuv. And she's also one seriously horny little girlfriend in luuuuuv.
So she decided she wants to dress up in the Leia slave costume for her boyfriend - you know - the one she luuuuuuvs. Off to the costume shops we skip. On to the net we surf. Then we have to take some nitroglycerin because we're both having heart attacks over the prices people want for these costumes. Holy. Cow.
Now, this is the friend who, a few years ago when I hand made valentine's papier-mache candy bombs and folded little origami boxes for them to live in until they were popped, came up to me with a deeply quizzical face and said "So. Do you just go home sometimes and.....craft????"
My answer was of course, yeah - you got a problem with that?
So I'm sitting around - actually I was laying in bed trying to go to sleep - when I was struck by in-spi-RATION. Let's mold her breasts!! Yeah!! We can MAKE a Leia slave costume!! I've spent enough time trolling the aisles of Michael's and Hobby Lobby to know that they have this memory mesh screen stuff and this pre-plastered cloth strip stuff. And I have tons of gold paint (naturally). And I've got the craft know how.
All these things came together one night when I went to my friend's house and felt her up. Now, I remember the first time I ever met this friend. It was in an all staff meeting at a job two jobs ago. I remember when she walked into the room and I heard her talk that I thought: Oh Wow this girl is so freaking cool and pretty and unbelievably SMART. I like her so much but she is so cool I know we'll never be friends. And here we are, six years later, me feeling her up. You just never know where life will lead. These two picks are of the first phase: The Feel Up Your Friend Phase. The first is the "Yeah haha I actually got her to wear a garbage bag" photo
The second is the "Wow this is what your tits look like molded in plaster!!" photo. As you can see, we've drawn on the basic outlines for the decorative gold swirls and I am now ready to do the build-up for those and cut out the actual pieces. Not pictured here is the girdle piece that goes over her butt.
I'll share more of "The Making Of" photos as I make progress.
Tacos al pastor with cilantro and onions from Taqueria Arandes. The one on 290. There are a lot of them in town and, even though they are a chain, the one on 290 is the only one that makes these tacos this way. You know, the right way.
_______________________________
These presidential "debates"? What a crock of shit. First, they aren't debates. I took debate in school. Ladies and gentlemen, this ain't it. Second - a common question this year is "How, in your brilliant high worthiness, would you fund your new wacko bullshit scheme to rebuild the American Health Care System (which isn't actually broken but that's another story)?" To which the answer, in one form or another, is always "I would take one third from the individual users, one third from taxes, and one third from the government".
Doesn't this make you want to go out and kill a wombat?? What do these people think - that we ALLLLLL are stooopid?
Let's see:
1/3 from individuals = Money out of your pocket directly.
1/3 from taxes = Money out of your pocket through taxes.
1/3 from the government = Money out of your pocket through taxes.
This equals 100% from you, the blind and foolish person, citizen, individual. Where do people think "government money" comes from? ARE YOU THAT STUPID??? Maybe you're the wombat I want to go out and kill.
_______________________________
Ever got an urge to go over to one of your best friend's house, stick her into a plastic trash bag, mold memory mesh screen to her breasts, and then plaster a life cast of them? Me, neither. BUT. My friend is in luuuuv. Bad luuuuuv. And she's also one seriously horny little girlfriend in luuuuuv.
So she decided she wants to dress up in the Leia slave costume for her boyfriend - you know - the one she luuuuuuvs. Off to the costume shops we skip. On to the net we surf. Then we have to take some nitroglycerin because we're both having heart attacks over the prices people want for these costumes. Holy. Cow.
Now, this is the friend who, a few years ago when I hand made valentine's papier-mache candy bombs and folded little origami boxes for them to live in until they were popped, came up to me with a deeply quizzical face and said "So. Do you just go home sometimes and.....craft????"
My answer was of course, yeah - you got a problem with that?
So I'm sitting around - actually I was laying in bed trying to go to sleep - when I was struck by in-spi-RATION. Let's mold her breasts!! Yeah!! We can MAKE a Leia slave costume!! I've spent enough time trolling the aisles of Michael's and Hobby Lobby to know that they have this memory mesh screen stuff and this pre-plastered cloth strip stuff. And I have tons of gold paint (naturally). And I've got the craft know how.
All these things came together one night when I went to my friend's house and felt her up. Now, I remember the first time I ever met this friend. It was in an all staff meeting at a job two jobs ago. I remember when she walked into the room and I heard her talk that I thought: Oh Wow this girl is so freaking cool and pretty and unbelievably SMART. I like her so much but she is so cool I know we'll never be friends. And here we are, six years later, me feeling her up. You just never know where life will lead. These two picks are of the first phase: The Feel Up Your Friend Phase. The first is the "Yeah haha I actually got her to wear a garbage bag" photo
The second is the "Wow this is what your tits look like molded in plaster!!" photo. As you can see, we've drawn on the basic outlines for the decorative gold swirls and I am now ready to do the build-up for those and cut out the actual pieces. Not pictured here is the girdle piece that goes over her butt.
I'll share more of "The Making Of" photos as I make progress.
Labels: cooking, cult, fashion, headlines, personal urban drama
Monday, October 30, 2006
Since I know how much fun it is to read about the dreams of people you've never met I just had to share this with you all.
It's summer. A beautiful day. The Husband and I, along with our four children (WHICH WE DO NOT HAVE) are in a park. The kids are down by the river bank. I am walking down a dirt path toward the river to play with the kids. There is much happiness and laughter. I am walking carefully, holding up the skirt of my gown so as not to muss it. That's right. My gown. Because of course I'm wearing this lime green gown with crinoline skirt, heavily embroidered with beads and sequins that Queen Elizabeth II wore in the 1950's, while The Husband is wearing cut off jeans and river sandals. Ain't that always the way?
To view other fantastic gowns and jewels that you'll never own, or to see fantastic close up shots of this old thing I just threw on, go waste some time like I did over at the Dress for the Occasion section of the Royal Collection.
It's summer. A beautiful day. The Husband and I, along with our four children (WHICH WE DO NOT HAVE) are in a park. The kids are down by the river bank. I am walking down a dirt path toward the river to play with the kids. There is much happiness and laughter. I am walking carefully, holding up the skirt of my gown so as not to muss it. That's right. My gown. Because of course I'm wearing this lime green gown with crinoline skirt, heavily embroidered with beads and sequins that Queen Elizabeth II wore in the 1950's, while The Husband is wearing cut off jeans and river sandals. Ain't that always the way?
To view other fantastic gowns and jewels that you'll never own, or to see fantastic close up shots of this old thing I just threw on, go waste some time like I did over at the Dress for the Occasion section of the Royal Collection.
Labels: fashion, personal urban drama
Friday, October 06, 2006
Listen. I'm not a girly girl. I own one lipstick. It's really only tint, in a tube like chapstick, bought in the health food market.
BUT. This fingernail polish? Looks like a manicure, huh? No brush marks, no globs of polish on my skin, no unattractive gooping at the cuticle line.
Guess what? Took me 6 minutes to apply, while I was reading email and having my morning diet coke. My secret? Well, I have to tell you a story.
My sister called me a couple of months ago and it went like this:
Her: Hi! Guess who's an Avon Lady?
Me: Who?
Her: Me!
Me: No really, who?
Her: Me!
Me: Ha HA HA HA!
This led to the ritual exchange of catalogs. Which led to me remembering how scanky all the Avon perfumes used to smell in the 1970's. And to my ongoing lack of ability to understand why people SWEAR by Skin So Soft.
And to the discover of (drumroll please) Instant Fingernail Polish!! I shit you not.
I had to try it. I have great nails, but I never wear polish because I am genetically incapable of applying it. I get about three nails in when I screw one up bad. I try to fix it but, like what happens in relationships, it just goes from bad to worse. So I go au natural.
Until now. I ordered 20 sets of these things (at my sister's super duper Avon Lady discount price) and am in the process of giving it to all my friends. It wears like regular polish, but better - stays shiny til you take it off. I've lasted 16 days in one color so far. I've had girlfriends call me and truly shriek at me over the phone: THIS IS AWESOME I NEED MORE, they say.
So yeah I'm all excited about this stuff. Last time I was this excited about a girly thing was when I was 13 and found out that regardless of what my mother had told me, you DO NOT have to be married to use tampons instead of pads.
Don't have an Avon Lady? Get one. Apparently they're everywhere.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Saturday, February 25, 2006
I feel like I got hit by a truck. Again. Almost, anyway.
Last night we hosted about 400 of our favorite people for the annual gala benefiting the school where I work. I work in development so for the last few months my life has been GALA GALA GALA. It was a great success - we raised about $200,000, $50 grand more than our goal. People -even people who attend these sort of charity things all year long- said they actually had FUN. So woo hoo for the development team.
I worked 17 hours straight yesterday, most of it on my feet, going back and forth from the prep room to the silent auction set up to the ball room to the hotel management room to the prep room to the blah blah blah. I was in a big poofy beaded ball gown for the last 7 of those hours. I chose a floor length number so that no one could see that I was wearing sneakers under it.
I got to sleep at three this morning. Woke up at noon. Took two Darvocet 100s. Went back to sleep. Woke up at 8pm. Ate something. Walked around the house for a few minutes thinking "Ouch damned pain ouch!". But it is all worth it - we triumphed last night and it feels good. I get to spend tomorrow in bed, too. Then back to work on Monday to count our haul in detail.
Happy weekend to all!
Last night we hosted about 400 of our favorite people for the annual gala benefiting the school where I work. I work in development so for the last few months my life has been GALA GALA GALA. It was a great success - we raised about $200,000, $50 grand more than our goal. People -even people who attend these sort of charity things all year long- said they actually had FUN. So woo hoo for the development team.
I worked 17 hours straight yesterday, most of it on my feet, going back and forth from the prep room to the silent auction set up to the ball room to the hotel management room to the prep room to the blah blah blah. I was in a big poofy beaded ball gown for the last 7 of those hours. I chose a floor length number so that no one could see that I was wearing sneakers under it.
I got to sleep at three this morning. Woke up at noon. Took two Darvocet 100s. Went back to sleep. Woke up at 8pm. Ate something. Walked around the house for a few minutes thinking "Ouch damned pain ouch!". But it is all worth it - we triumphed last night and it feels good. I get to spend tomorrow in bed, too. Then back to work on Monday to count our haul in detail.
Happy weekend to all!
Labels: fashion, personal urban drama
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
This is a confession.
I have an addiction. An undeniable attraction to something which could, if I allowed it to, have a devestating and draining effect on my finances and mental health. Something which I've been physically drawn to since puberty, something for which they make no Methadone.
No, it's not chocolate. Well I guess it could be, especially in its most perfect form, FROSTING, but it's worse than that.
It's the perfect combination of two of my favorite things in the world:
Suede.
and...
Green.
GREEN SUEDE PUMPS.
I dare the world's psychiatric community to explain it. My mother didn't own a pair, and I was never sexually abused by a crossdesser wearing a pair. I did once have a man remove one from my right foot and drink champagne out of it, but I was well into my grrensuedeproblem by then, and we were both awful drunk at the time.
Aaaaaaaanyway, I just saw THESE on the brillant Manolo's site. Aren't they the quintessence of EXQUISITE? They're calling to me.
And WOW! What a bargain! ONLY $400! I'm gonna go puke now.
I have an addiction. An undeniable attraction to something which could, if I allowed it to, have a devestating and draining effect on my finances and mental health. Something which I've been physically drawn to since puberty, something for which they make no Methadone.
No, it's not chocolate. Well I guess it could be, especially in its most perfect form, FROSTING, but it's worse than that.
It's the perfect combination of two of my favorite things in the world:
Suede.
and...
Green.
GREEN SUEDE PUMPS.
I dare the world's psychiatric community to explain it. My mother didn't own a pair, and I was never sexually abused by a crossdesser wearing a pair. I did once have a man remove one from my right foot and drink champagne out of it, but I was well into my grrensuedeproblem by then, and we were both awful drunk at the time.
Aaaaaaaanyway, I just saw THESE on the brillant Manolo's site. Aren't they the quintessence of EXQUISITE? They're calling to me.
And WOW! What a bargain! ONLY $400! I'm gonna go puke now.
Labels: fashion, personal urban drama
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
That insane mass of white tulle and lace I called a wedding gown a couple of years ago is hanging in the back of my closet in a clear plastic tulle-prison tied closed with bronze chiffon ribbon.
I was hanging up laundry last night and happened to glance to my right and I saw it there, in the corner. Rather, I saw it there, taking up that entire end of the closet, even strapped into a big bag and tied down for it's own protection.
Maybe it's because I usually just wear casual clothes and LIKE my life that way. Maybe it's because we got married at dusk instead of in the morning so I only got to really wear it for a few hours. Maybe it's because underneath it all I'm just a girly schmo.
But I want to put that damned dress on and prance around in it. I want to wear the veil while I shampoo the living room carpet. I want to be cinched back into that corset even if it DID stab my upper thighs and flounce around with those 20 pounds of white princess poofy skirt blocking everyone else's way. I want to wear that gown until somebody big and bad enough tells me I just have to take it off. I want to have mad crazy monkey sex in it. I want to sleep in it. I want to roll around on the floor with the dogs in it.
I've been thinking about renewing our vows, even though we've only been married not quite two years, just so I could get away with putting that thing on again. We're going to my husband's best friend's wedding in two weeks. I'm already jealous that that woman gets to wear hers and I don't get to wear mine.
I was hanging up laundry last night and happened to glance to my right and I saw it there, in the corner. Rather, I saw it there, taking up that entire end of the closet, even strapped into a big bag and tied down for it's own protection.
Maybe it's because I usually just wear casual clothes and LIKE my life that way. Maybe it's because we got married at dusk instead of in the morning so I only got to really wear it for a few hours. Maybe it's because underneath it all I'm just a girly schmo.
But I want to put that damned dress on and prance around in it. I want to wear the veil while I shampoo the living room carpet. I want to be cinched back into that corset even if it DID stab my upper thighs and flounce around with those 20 pounds of white princess poofy skirt blocking everyone else's way. I want to wear that gown until somebody big and bad enough tells me I just have to take it off. I want to have mad crazy monkey sex in it. I want to sleep in it. I want to roll around on the floor with the dogs in it.
I've been thinking about renewing our vows, even though we've only been married not quite two years, just so I could get away with putting that thing on again. We're going to my husband's best friend's wedding in two weeks. I'm already jealous that that woman gets to wear hers and I don't get to wear mine.
Labels: fashion, husband, personal urban drama
Sunday, June 29, 2003
I was thrilled when Nordstroms came to Houston. Finally, a store that understands shoes!!! I'm cheap, so when I paid $130 for two pair it was a big deal. But the leather - oh, the leather. Soft, supple, smelling so wonderful. The vamp nice and low, the custom stitching in that perfect contrast color, the perfect leather sole.
SLIPPERY is what that damned perfect leather sole is, and, as of yesterday at about 6pm, I have no skin remaining on my left knee thanks to those damned perfect buttery leather shoes. I can't decide what hurts more - bending my leg or unbending my leg. The irony? I slipped on a handicapped ramp. Had I taken the stairs, I would have been fine.
I haven't taken a fall this bad since 1997. My brother came to visit at the time and saw the bloody awful mess that had once been a knee and was very concerned that my 6'4" boyfriend (now husband) had been messing around with me. He couldn't believe a grown woman could be such a klutz; assumed it had to be abuse. There's a REASON they didn't name me Grace, OK?
Ouch, whine, ouch.
SLIPPERY is what that damned perfect leather sole is, and, as of yesterday at about 6pm, I have no skin remaining on my left knee thanks to those damned perfect buttery leather shoes. I can't decide what hurts more - bending my leg or unbending my leg. The irony? I slipped on a handicapped ramp. Had I taken the stairs, I would have been fine.
I haven't taken a fall this bad since 1997. My brother came to visit at the time and saw the bloody awful mess that had once been a knee and was very concerned that my 6'4" boyfriend (now husband) had been messing around with me. He couldn't believe a grown woman could be such a klutz; assumed it had to be abuse. There's a REASON they didn't name me Grace, OK?
Ouch, whine, ouch.
Labels: fashion
