"PUBERTY is a phase. Fifteen years of rejection is a lifestyle."
-Stanford, Sex and the City
Thursday, August 30, 2007
My posterity
I think if I have kids, I am going to name them all names that begin with "A". Not to embrace my mormon-culture-heritage, but so that if they ever have their own businesses, they will be first in the phone book.
This also eliminates the need for creative business names (and spellings, like "kwik kopy," which spelling creativities make me slightly insane with rage.)
This also eliminates the need for creative business names (and spellings, like "kwik kopy," which spelling creativities make me slightly insane with rage.)
Giddy-up!
I went to a Texas Rangers game on Tuesday night with some friends from work. It made me feel very American, and sporty, which feelings were not tainted by the possibility that I went primarily to watch athletic men run around in tight pants.
I have a theory that people are very similar to robots. Here's why. Whenever that loud-speaker started playing a "clapping sequence" that was familiar to the sheep-minded public, they (read: "we") all clapped along. Have we no minds of our own? Must we regress to the days of high-school pep rallys with a Pavlovian response every time we hear that old pattern (you know the one: clap-clap, clap-clap-clap, clap-clap-clap-clap, clap, clap)?
So, my friend pointed out a particularly gorgeous specimen on the field (is that what it is, a field? Or, do I say, "on the court?" "In the diamond?" I'm not sporty-- I think it's "in the diamond"). Jason Botts. Now, he's a Texas Ranger. And he's just horrible. He's young, but his stats don't look very good, even to me, and I just suggested that he may have been "on the court."
But, athletic talent or no, he looked GOOD. Huge. All the other players looked not unlike tiny babies next to him. For real. So, my friends and I are all drooling, and taking pictures of him. Divine!
We have decided to get tee-shirts printed up to wear to a game that say "Fem-Botts." How fabulous is that? Like a little Jason Botts fan club. He stinks, I mean, he's horrible,so he will have to come meet us. And then I will seduce him.
Last thing, we won! Isn't that the best phase "we won?" And when I say "we won," I mean both the Texas Rangers AND I won. Because I had something to do with it. Totally.
I didn't.
I have a theory that people are very similar to robots. Here's why. Whenever that loud-speaker started playing a "clapping sequence" that was familiar to the sheep-minded public, they (read: "we") all clapped along. Have we no minds of our own? Must we regress to the days of high-school pep rallys with a Pavlovian response every time we hear that old pattern (you know the one: clap-clap, clap-clap-clap, clap-clap-clap-clap, clap, clap)?
So, my friend pointed out a particularly gorgeous specimen on the field (is that what it is, a field? Or, do I say, "on the court?" "In the diamond?" I'm not sporty-- I think it's "in the diamond"). Jason Botts. Now, he's a Texas Ranger. And he's just horrible. He's young, but his stats don't look very good, even to me, and I just suggested that he may have been "on the court."
But, athletic talent or no, he looked GOOD. Huge. All the other players looked not unlike tiny babies next to him. For real. So, my friends and I are all drooling, and taking pictures of him. Divine!
We have decided to get tee-shirts printed up to wear to a game that say "Fem-Botts." How fabulous is that? Like a little Jason Botts fan club. He stinks, I mean, he's horrible,so he will have to come meet us. And then I will seduce him.
Last thing, we won! Isn't that the best phase "we won?" And when I say "we won," I mean both the Texas Rangers AND I won. Because I had something to do with it. Totally.
I didn't.
Death by Special K Red Berries...
I almost died this morning. Choked on my cereal. A huge flake just lodged itself at the entrance to my lung.
Poor Georgia was standing right in front of me as I, very unexpectedly, sprayed the entire area with the mouthful of cereal and milk I was chewing. Cereal landed on her forehead, cheek, glasses, shirt, and, very possibly, tiny toast. Which she ate anyway.
Poor Georgia was standing right in front of me as I, very unexpectedly, sprayed the entire area with the mouthful of cereal and milk I was chewing. Cereal landed on her forehead, cheek, glasses, shirt, and, very possibly, tiny toast. Which she ate anyway.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Doomed to boredom?
At dinner tonight with some friends, I could not help but notice a lady at the next table intently listening to our conversation. She was just staring over, not even trying to hide it.
Leaving the restaurant, I outlined my theory to my friends: she was either a) on a really bad date or b) married.
Leslie said she was wearing a huge rock. So, she was married. Her and her husband were sitting there barely speaking, and she had practically fallen over while walking past our table on the way to the bathroom, she was leaning in so much.
Geez, to be so bored with your spouse that strangers think you might be on a really bad, awkward date.
I want that.
(Kidding.)
Leaving the restaurant, I outlined my theory to my friends: she was either a) on a really bad date or b) married.
Leslie said she was wearing a huge rock. So, she was married. Her and her husband were sitting there barely speaking, and she had practically fallen over while walking past our table on the way to the bathroom, she was leaning in so much.
Geez, to be so bored with your spouse that strangers think you might be on a really bad, awkward date.
I want that.
(Kidding.)
Dread locks...
I am so sick of my hair! Even if I flat-iron it, it's just got no style. I want to chop it, but can't decide on a cut. I have a whole slew of pics, but am just so indecisive. I may just be style-less forever, like a Hilton sister.
Blah.
Blah.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Puppy-sitting is not all it's cracked up to be...
I'm bored.
It's scary in this big house all alone at night.
The puppies won't snuggle nearly as much as I want them to.
My parents left the house mostly out of food.
My fashion choices are very limited.
The front door is, if not actually impossible, virtually impossible to lock/un-lock.
I forgot to bring baubles with me, you know, earrings, necklaces, any kind of finery.
There is a fly in the house.
Thumbs down.
It's scary in this big house all alone at night.
The puppies won't snuggle nearly as much as I want them to.
My parents left the house mostly out of food.
My fashion choices are very limited.
The front door is, if not actually impossible, virtually impossible to lock/un-lock.
I forgot to bring baubles with me, you know, earrings, necklaces, any kind of finery.
There is a fly in the house.
Thumbs down.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Happiness is Lubbock, Texas in my Rear-View Mirror
Like the novel "On the Road," by Jack Kerouac, you may believe this to be a fantastical tale of road travel, believing it must be a work of fiction, as grandiose as it may be in scope. Nay, I submit to you, it is indeed a record of true occurances, of things that happened to me in and around Lubbock, Texas.
So, mom and I drove out to Lubbock for Big Mere's birthday. My little sister is 23 years old now and married. It freaks me out if for no other reason than that it means I am old... or older, anyway. (25, again and forever!)
We had fun. We ate at Abuelo's (which had good food, despite its ugly name) for Mere's birthday. We looked at furniture (mom, Mere, and I pointing out to each other the exact items the others were coveting inwardly--we have identical, amazing taste) whilst Jared (Mere's husband) silently suffered. Mere and Jared's place is cute inside, and she is working on making it even better. The weather was beautiful, I was surprised. Aside from it being out in the middle of nowhere, I liked Lubbock.
Just a few antidotes from the road, which is where the crazy happened.
First, we were passing what appeared to be a gasoline tanker, and the back had a sign that read "inedible." Do you think that is as weird as we did? Sure, I can see "toxic," or "flammable." But "inedible?" Well, I guess my first thought when I see a big-rig with a big metal tank on it often is, "hmm... I should climb up that ladder with a big straw and syphen some of that out. Bet it's delicious!"
Second, and this is more dumb than funny. Trying to leave Lubbock, we got on the loop. Somehow, we missed our exit (the sign for the big highway we were looking for was small.) Anyway, we drive for like, 30 minutes, and I'm like, "Frankford Ave, isn't that Mere's street?" And mom is like, "No, don't freak me out, we saw that sign when we were coming into town..." Only she was wrong. It was Mere's street. We had just wasted a half hour taking a not-so-scenic loop around the city. It was great.
Third, we grabbed some trail mix for the car. The back of the bag said: "Trail mix product of U.S.A. May contain ingredients from Mexico and/or China and/or India and/or Brazil and/or Chile and/or Argentina." Exactly how is that a product of the U.S.A. again?
Fourth, we were disturbed to see a giant steakhouse right next door to a cattle-trading place, with tons of cows loitering right outside the steakhouse windows. Like picking your won lobster, "Yes, I think I'd like to eat that black cow, the one with the white spots in the shape of a teddy-bear, thanks."
Fifth, mom tends to drive a little too close to the person in front of her, and a little too fast, if you ask me. ("You're wild!" -Dirty Dancing) She was tailing this eighteen-wheeler with all these metal tubes on the back. I kept picturing those tubes flying off and impaling me, before I ever got to see Europe, or skydive. I'm too young to go. So, I said, "hey, you should get a little further back, I keep picturing in scary movies how those things come flying off, killing people." And Mom, so reassuringly, said, "It's not just in scary movies, people die all the time from things falling off trucks." Thanks, mom. Here I thought it was a little far-fetched. Something new for me to actually worry about.
Sixth, we dined at a filling station/Subway restaurant. The front window was had a long bench that backed up to it, with little tables dotted down it, and a chair in front of each table. Behind each table, in front of the window, was a telephone. It totally looked like prison. Not to mention the other diners looked like prisoners. So, there ya go. Mom wanted to take a picture of me on the phone and some random guy on the outside with his hand on the glass. Would have been classic.
Seventh, (we're almost there!) we passed a truck with a bunch of smashed up porta-potties on it. Boy, did the car start to stink! So, Mom sped past, in fine form, and once we were a good deal ahead, we opened the windows to air out the car. But the smell was the air outside, not the porta-potties. It was so disgusting, I grabbed my scented hand lotion out of my purse, and squirted a bunch in my hands, holding a hand out to mom, and sputtering, "don't breathe through your mouth!" Mom was like, "put the lotion under your nose!" She took a gob of it and smeared it under her nose, like Vick's vapo-rub, and said, "look! A lotion mustache! Got milk?" I am dying laughing, trying not to breathe, and holding my lotion-covered hands to my face like Mary-Catherine Galleger ("When I get nervous, I put my hands in my arm-pits, and then I smell them, like this!") I took a picture of my mom's lotion mustache, but sadly, it's on my phone, so I can't post it here. So funny!
Second to last, we stopped at a gas station in Post, TX, to get gas and use the ladies' room. Signs (plural) on the walls explained that the "Manger requests that you don't put paper in the toilet." First of all, what? There was a trash can for used toilet paper. Gag reflex... now! So disgusting. And also, I didn't know that mangers could talk. I thought they were kind of like barns.
And last, I saw a car with a sticker on the back window that said "Ain't [something]" I couldn't read the second word. No like it really matters. Just had to see the "ain't" to determine how I felt about it. "Ain't" what? "Ain't educated?" "Ain't smart?" "Ain't trying to make a good impression?"
So, mom and I drove out to Lubbock for Big Mere's birthday. My little sister is 23 years old now and married. It freaks me out if for no other reason than that it means I am old... or older, anyway. (25, again and forever!)
We had fun. We ate at Abuelo's (which had good food, despite its ugly name) for Mere's birthday. We looked at furniture (mom, Mere, and I pointing out to each other the exact items the others were coveting inwardly--we have identical, amazing taste) whilst Jared (Mere's husband) silently suffered. Mere and Jared's place is cute inside, and she is working on making it even better. The weather was beautiful, I was surprised. Aside from it being out in the middle of nowhere, I liked Lubbock.
Just a few antidotes from the road, which is where the crazy happened.
First, we were passing what appeared to be a gasoline tanker, and the back had a sign that read "inedible." Do you think that is as weird as we did? Sure, I can see "toxic," or "flammable." But "inedible?" Well, I guess my first thought when I see a big-rig with a big metal tank on it often is, "hmm... I should climb up that ladder with a big straw and syphen some of that out. Bet it's delicious!"
Second, and this is more dumb than funny. Trying to leave Lubbock, we got on the loop. Somehow, we missed our exit (the sign for the big highway we were looking for was small.) Anyway, we drive for like, 30 minutes, and I'm like, "Frankford Ave, isn't that Mere's street?" And mom is like, "No, don't freak me out, we saw that sign when we were coming into town..." Only she was wrong. It was Mere's street. We had just wasted a half hour taking a not-so-scenic loop around the city. It was great.
Third, we grabbed some trail mix for the car. The back of the bag said: "Trail mix product of U.S.A. May contain ingredients from Mexico and/or China and/or India and/or Brazil and/or Chile and/or Argentina." Exactly how is that a product of the U.S.A. again?
Fourth, we were disturbed to see a giant steakhouse right next door to a cattle-trading place, with tons of cows loitering right outside the steakhouse windows. Like picking your won lobster, "Yes, I think I'd like to eat that black cow, the one with the white spots in the shape of a teddy-bear, thanks."
Fifth, mom tends to drive a little too close to the person in front of her, and a little too fast, if you ask me. ("You're wild!" -Dirty Dancing) She was tailing this eighteen-wheeler with all these metal tubes on the back. I kept picturing those tubes flying off and impaling me, before I ever got to see Europe, or skydive. I'm too young to go. So, I said, "hey, you should get a little further back, I keep picturing in scary movies how those things come flying off, killing people." And Mom, so reassuringly, said, "It's not just in scary movies, people die all the time from things falling off trucks." Thanks, mom. Here I thought it was a little far-fetched. Something new for me to actually worry about.
Sixth, we dined at a filling station/Subway restaurant. The front window was had a long bench that backed up to it, with little tables dotted down it, and a chair in front of each table. Behind each table, in front of the window, was a telephone. It totally looked like prison. Not to mention the other diners looked like prisoners. So, there ya go. Mom wanted to take a picture of me on the phone and some random guy on the outside with his hand on the glass. Would have been classic.
Seventh, (we're almost there!) we passed a truck with a bunch of smashed up porta-potties on it. Boy, did the car start to stink! So, Mom sped past, in fine form, and once we were a good deal ahead, we opened the windows to air out the car. But the smell was the air outside, not the porta-potties. It was so disgusting, I grabbed my scented hand lotion out of my purse, and squirted a bunch in my hands, holding a hand out to mom, and sputtering, "don't breathe through your mouth!" Mom was like, "put the lotion under your nose!" She took a gob of it and smeared it under her nose, like Vick's vapo-rub, and said, "look! A lotion mustache! Got milk?" I am dying laughing, trying not to breathe, and holding my lotion-covered hands to my face like Mary-Catherine Galleger ("When I get nervous, I put my hands in my arm-pits, and then I smell them, like this!") I took a picture of my mom's lotion mustache, but sadly, it's on my phone, so I can't post it here. So funny!
Second to last, we stopped at a gas station in Post, TX, to get gas and use the ladies' room. Signs (plural) on the walls explained that the "Manger requests that you don't put paper in the toilet." First of all, what? There was a trash can for used toilet paper. Gag reflex... now! So disgusting. And also, I didn't know that mangers could talk. I thought they were kind of like barns.
And last, I saw a car with a sticker on the back window that said "Ain't [something]" I couldn't read the second word. No like it really matters. Just had to see the "ain't" to determine how I felt about it. "Ain't" what? "Ain't educated?" "Ain't smart?" "Ain't trying to make a good impression?"
Sunday, August 19, 2007
If I've gotta be single...
I'll just keep lots of attractive young boyfriends.
This has always been my mantra. It's been going okay, the past couple of years. My "boyfriends" (I use the term loosley, they are more like my pets) are always at least two years younger than I am, and are typically very cute. Look, if it's not about love, they just need to be pretty. Right? And they are.
But, here's the thing. Suddenly, I find myself having to compete with like, 20-year-old girls. What? I don't know if they have always been around and I have just more successfully ignored them, or if they really are starting to be more and more aggressive. Whatev. Really, they don't stand a chance. But I'd just rather not have to school these poor little girls into low self esteem. Because as much as I don't want to be "the other woman," I don't have a problem stealing their boyfriends.
This has always been my mantra. It's been going okay, the past couple of years. My "boyfriends" (I use the term loosley, they are more like my pets) are always at least two years younger than I am, and are typically very cute. Look, if it's not about love, they just need to be pretty. Right? And they are.
But, here's the thing. Suddenly, I find myself having to compete with like, 20-year-old girls. What? I don't know if they have always been around and I have just more successfully ignored them, or if they really are starting to be more and more aggressive. Whatev. Really, they don't stand a chance. But I'd just rather not have to school these poor little girls into low self esteem. Because as much as I don't want to be "the other woman," I don't have a problem stealing their boyfriends.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Super Bad-a
I saw "Super Bad" last night. LOVE it! From the hilarious opening credits to the d.t.r. scene near the end ("I just want to run to the roof-tops and scream 'I love my best friend, Evan!'") I was laughing.
Those guys are awesome. Almost as funny as me.
Those guys are awesome. Almost as funny as me.
Friday, August 17, 2007
All Hail the Return of Colin Firth!!
In his infinite British wisdom and glory, Colin Firth is in some film about King Arthur opening soon ("The Last Legion," I believe it's called)! I just wanted to say "horrah" for his return and propose that we all just take a moment of silence to pray that somewhere in this film he dives into a pond in a sheer white shirt!
If I could only find someone as tall, dark, and British as Colin "Adonis" Firth, it would stop all my bitchin'! And, oh, my gosh, he seems to be some sort of soldier in the new movie. How delicious!
If I could only find someone as tall, dark, and British as Colin "Adonis" Firth, it would stop all my bitchin'! And, oh, my gosh, he seems to be some sort of soldier in the new movie. How delicious!
I am a magnet for unavailable men...
Why? I don't get it. From my "not-boyfriend" and my "not-relationship" to guys at work to ex-real-boyfriends, it's always the way. I deal with these taken guys flirting/insinuating/hinting/cheating practically every day.
What is it about me that makes me the "other woman" type? Is it because I am such a voluptuous sexpot looking thing that guys think they can't take me home to mama, but once they are in a relationship with someone else and the lust switch is flipped they are all about me?
Or is it because they are all just horn-dogs? I don't know, but I swear the next married/engaged/taken-by-a-wholesome-mormon-type-girl guy that hits on me is going to have another thing coming. And I don't mean a week in the lap of luxury, either.
Newsflash: girls with big boobs can be good people, too. And I keep getting stuck in the wrong category. I could be a wifey type, too. Of course, he'd have to be quite awesome to make it worth that. But just because I can't bake does not mean I don't deserve a real relationship. And I should get to decide for myself.
Where are all the single fellas? The ones who are not gay, but are still attractive, and looking for a real date?
Sorry if I sound bitter. I'm not bitter, just fed up! And girls, watch your men. They all cheat. Or at least, a lot of them do. Even ones that seem geeky.
What is it about me that makes me the "other woman" type? Is it because I am such a voluptuous sexpot looking thing that guys think they can't take me home to mama, but once they are in a relationship with someone else and the lust switch is flipped they are all about me?
Or is it because they are all just horn-dogs? I don't know, but I swear the next married/engaged/taken-by-a-wholesome-mormon-type-girl guy that hits on me is going to have another thing coming. And I don't mean a week in the lap of luxury, either.
Newsflash: girls with big boobs can be good people, too. And I keep getting stuck in the wrong category. I could be a wifey type, too. Of course, he'd have to be quite awesome to make it worth that. But just because I can't bake does not mean I don't deserve a real relationship. And I should get to decide for myself.
Where are all the single fellas? The ones who are not gay, but are still attractive, and looking for a real date?
Sorry if I sound bitter. I'm not bitter, just fed up! And girls, watch your men. They all cheat. Or at least, a lot of them do. Even ones that seem geeky.
If I get on my phone too, can we communicate better?
I am (unfortunately) in a customer service industry right now. Nothing irks me more than someone walking up to my counter, expecting me to help them, often by the powers of mind-reading that apparently is part of my job description, and they are on their em-effing cell phone. I pretty much try to ignore them as long as possible.
And the worst, THE WORST, is when they make a call while I am in the middle of helping them. Butt-heads.
Someday I'm gonna snap. Some lucky customer with poor phone ettiquette is going to have to get their phone surgically removed because I am going to jam it so far up their...
I mean it.
And the worst, THE WORST, is when they make a call while I am in the middle of helping them. Butt-heads.
Someday I'm gonna snap. Some lucky customer with poor phone ettiquette is going to have to get their phone surgically removed because I am going to jam it so far up their...
I mean it.
Charlie Bartlett
So, I feel kinda hot when I go to movies by myself. Well, on a weekday. It gives me this feeling of empowerment, and independence. And since I attend the local (radical!) independent film house, isn't independence like, the point?
I always get way the hell dolled up, so that guys attending can look at me and wish I were with them, and I can sit there and emit this "but I don't need OR want you" vibe. It's fabulous.
So, it was on one such occasion that I saw an advanced screening of "Charlie Bartlett," and it was awesome. The film is hilarious; Robert Downey, Jr (gorgeous) is in it; there is a totally hot bad-a high school guy in it who looks like my junior year boyfriend; and I can oddly relate to Charlie Bartlett, who serves as a kind of psychiatrist to his friends. Being a sort of amateur counselor myself, I liked his bathroom-stall counseling sessions, and plan to incorporate that setting into my own r'epertoire.
The movie was excellent, but my experience at the cinema was perhaps even better. I am alone, and am sitting next to this other cute girl who was also alone, who I will call Mimi (us indie-film goers are a lot cooler than most of the population, instead of feeling lame or sad, things like this make us even more confident). One the other side of her is this old couple. On the other side of me is this older lady, probably in her 50s, who is babbling on and on. I will call her Stella. She is really quite colorful, and I enjoy her seemingly random dribble.
The old couple next to Mimi has this giant tub of popcorn and a huge drink. As we are sitting waiting for previews, (we are there really early, the advanced screening was first-come, first-served, so we have like 30 minutes to wait) the old lady starts tucking all these napkins into her shirt. I am blatantly staring, and Mimi is trying to face forward. But it was unavoidable, Mimi and I made eye contact and just burst out laughing. Mimi struggles to whisper, "I was trying so hard..." Oh, my gosh! why would you do this? And in public? It's only popcorn, not soup! It made my night.
The other awesome detail has to do with Stella. There was a young man who worked for the theater standing a few rows in front of us, passing around sign-up sheets for movie-related mailing lists, reserving seats for a guy (who was in the movie) and his friends, talking about "Charlie Bartlett" tee-shirts (which I really wanted, but they ran out), and answering questions and stuff. Stella needed to get his attention a few times, and she would just holler (and I very specifically used the word "holler" instead of "shout," or "call," because it suits so much better what she was "hollering") down to him "Young 'un! Excuse me, Young 'un!" I haven't heard anyone say "Young 'un" since, well, maybe ever, aside from on such classic television series as "Little House on the Prarie," or perhaps on movies about the Deep South.
It was hilarious and awesome, and when I am older, I fully intend to call younger people "Young 'un."
I always get way the hell dolled up, so that guys attending can look at me and wish I were with them, and I can sit there and emit this "but I don't need OR want you" vibe. It's fabulous.
So, it was on one such occasion that I saw an advanced screening of "Charlie Bartlett," and it was awesome. The film is hilarious; Robert Downey, Jr (gorgeous) is in it; there is a totally hot bad-a high school guy in it who looks like my junior year boyfriend; and I can oddly relate to Charlie Bartlett, who serves as a kind of psychiatrist to his friends. Being a sort of amateur counselor myself, I liked his bathroom-stall counseling sessions, and plan to incorporate that setting into my own r'epertoire.
The movie was excellent, but my experience at the cinema was perhaps even better. I am alone, and am sitting next to this other cute girl who was also alone, who I will call Mimi (us indie-film goers are a lot cooler than most of the population, instead of feeling lame or sad, things like this make us even more confident). One the other side of her is this old couple. On the other side of me is this older lady, probably in her 50s, who is babbling on and on. I will call her Stella. She is really quite colorful, and I enjoy her seemingly random dribble.
The old couple next to Mimi has this giant tub of popcorn and a huge drink. As we are sitting waiting for previews, (we are there really early, the advanced screening was first-come, first-served, so we have like 30 minutes to wait) the old lady starts tucking all these napkins into her shirt. I am blatantly staring, and Mimi is trying to face forward. But it was unavoidable, Mimi and I made eye contact and just burst out laughing. Mimi struggles to whisper, "I was trying so hard..." Oh, my gosh! why would you do this? And in public? It's only popcorn, not soup! It made my night.
The other awesome detail has to do with Stella. There was a young man who worked for the theater standing a few rows in front of us, passing around sign-up sheets for movie-related mailing lists, reserving seats for a guy (who was in the movie) and his friends, talking about "Charlie Bartlett" tee-shirts (which I really wanted, but they ran out), and answering questions and stuff. Stella needed to get his attention a few times, and she would just holler (and I very specifically used the word "holler" instead of "shout," or "call," because it suits so much better what she was "hollering") down to him "Young 'un! Excuse me, Young 'un!" I haven't heard anyone say "Young 'un" since, well, maybe ever, aside from on such classic television series as "Little House on the Prarie," or perhaps on movies about the Deep South.
It was hilarious and awesome, and when I am older, I fully intend to call younger people "Young 'un."
go here
dallasrocktoberfest.com
And if you buy tickets, make sure you say you're going to see "Lost Letters to Santa." That's my sister's awesome band, in case you didn't know.
There will be six bands, including "Sorta," who i guess is pretty big.
And if you buy tickets, make sure you say you're going to see "Lost Letters to Santa." That's my sister's awesome band, in case you didn't know.
There will be six bands, including "Sorta," who i guess is pretty big.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
My calling
I think I have decided to write smutty romance novels. I have an inkling I might just be brilliant at it.
Once my mother suggested it to me, I am sure as a joke, while I was attending BYU. I was appalled at the thought...
But, I DO love to write. I AM good at it. I JUST MIGHT be the newest best thing in the soft-porn world.
Sorry, mormons.
Once my mother suggested it to me, I am sure as a joke, while I was attending BYU. I was appalled at the thought...
But, I DO love to write. I AM good at it. I JUST MIGHT be the newest best thing in the soft-porn world.
Sorry, mormons.
Those aren't shorts, they're a diaper!!
I keep seeing "ladies" around town in these terry short shorts, the ones that when you move show your tuckas. Ok, totally unattractive, people. I really don't know you well enough to be privy to cheek.
The way the fabric bunches a little, they really do look like a giant adult diaper. Skipping the 20s, 30s, etc, all the way up to octogenerian, are we? Well, I think those Depends are supposed to be worn UNDER your clothes. I think. I'm pretty sure. Yeah.
Also, it does nothing to hide all that cottage cheese. Girls, most of us have it, but I swear the women I've seen this week think it is SEXY or something, the way they are showing it off! Mama, no beuno.
The way the fabric bunches a little, they really do look like a giant adult diaper. Skipping the 20s, 30s, etc, all the way up to octogenerian, are we? Well, I think those Depends are supposed to be worn UNDER your clothes. I think. I'm pretty sure. Yeah.
Also, it does nothing to hide all that cottage cheese. Girls, most of us have it, but I swear the women I've seen this week think it is SEXY or something, the way they are showing it off! Mama, no beuno.
Wastin' the pretty...
I have become practically a pro at this. Anyone have any advice for how to stop? Gosh, since, I don't know, August (2005) I have been used and (not physically, are you kidding? I'd kill 'em) abused by guys.
I am in a rut of the greatest proportions. I know I'm fabulous. Why do I settle, settle, settle? And not even settle, but totally seek out effed-up relationships?
This is the riddle of the week. First person to get an answer that will help me wins an extra special virtual hug!
I am in a rut of the greatest proportions. I know I'm fabulous. Why do I settle, settle, settle? And not even settle, but totally seek out effed-up relationships?
This is the riddle of the week. First person to get an answer that will help me wins an extra special virtual hug!
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Manners Nazi
My sister and I were eating dinner tonight, and she was telling her fiance' that if he was going to marry her, he better have good manners. I piped up, "yeah, because we were raised by the 'Manners Nazi,' our dad."
We both quietly removed our elbows from the table, the mere mention of our father triggering a subconscious response, like Pavlov's dogs.
"Buzz, your girlfriend, 'woof!'"
We both quietly removed our elbows from the table, the mere mention of our father triggering a subconscious response, like Pavlov's dogs.
"Buzz, your girlfriend, 'woof!'"
Coco Chanel
She doomed us all to craving an eternal tan, at the expense of our young skin; introduced a new level of sophistication to suits; popularized tweed (THANK YOU!); and gave us some advice that I wish more people would abide:
When you are about to leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off. (Namely, an accessory.)
Seriously, really, start doing this. I tried it, and I think it makes a HUGE difference! Because elegance is so often understated.
And if I see one more lady with big earrings, a big necklace, and bracelets on both wrists I am gonna FREAK OUT!! Christmas trees are pretty. But maybe a little gaudy. Ya think?
When you are about to leave the house, look in the mirror and take one thing off. (Namely, an accessory.)
Seriously, really, start doing this. I tried it, and I think it makes a HUGE difference! Because elegance is so often understated.
And if I see one more lady with big earrings, a big necklace, and bracelets on both wrists I am gonna FREAK OUT!! Christmas trees are pretty. But maybe a little gaudy. Ya think?
E-vil, as in the fru-its of the devil, e-vil
What is the deal with the bad guy in scary movies always having, like, totally bad hair? What, in all their wicked doings they can't take the time to do a good blow-out? Hello, if I were an evil mastermind, I would still have totally good hair.
Friday, August 10, 2007
the naked dress
So, today I did some major damage to my bank account. By using retail therapy instead of paying a shrink to listen to me talk about my problems (i.e. "Geeky Mormon Boy (hereafter GMB)," pending "forever aloneness," the possiblity of Uggs boots never being pulled from the shelves (I saw a slew in Nordi's today), and a general feeling of woe produced by "alien customers") I was able to not only release my angst in a non-violent way, but also walk away with fabulous spoils that will surely make me smile for several months to come...
I got a pair of J Simp round-toed, royal blue, suede pumps (I know, I hate to support the evil empire that is Jessica Simpson, but the shoes were cute and inexpensive); some gorgeous black patent-leather Stuart Weitzman heels (on sale!!! Fabulous bargain, at Saks. Who knew?!); and a naked dress. Like SJP has on S&TC, except for a little less naked. It's gorgeous. Hopefully, the arsenal of uncomfortable, squeeze-that-in, make-everything-under-the-dress-that-is-practically-see-through-appear-to-be-covered undergarments I will have to wear will not cancel out the powers of the dress. I need to be smashing in it, and to feel like a million bucks. SOMETHING'S gotta make up for GMB and my other ailments!
PS: I found good sushi today, too. Surprisingly, outside the Macy's in the Dallas Galleria (a.k.a. "Heaven on Earth"), a little sushi bar makes some pretty good rolls for not too much. I was pleasantly surprised! Now, if I could only get a parasite from it, I would look even better in the naked dress!!
I got a pair of J Simp round-toed, royal blue, suede pumps (I know, I hate to support the evil empire that is Jessica Simpson, but the shoes were cute and inexpensive); some gorgeous black patent-leather Stuart Weitzman heels (on sale!!! Fabulous bargain, at Saks. Who knew?!); and a naked dress. Like SJP has on S&TC, except for a little less naked. It's gorgeous. Hopefully, the arsenal of uncomfortable, squeeze-that-in, make-everything-under-the-dress-that-is-practically-see-through-appear-to-be-covered undergarments I will have to wear will not cancel out the powers of the dress. I need to be smashing in it, and to feel like a million bucks. SOMETHING'S gotta make up for GMB and my other ailments!
PS: I found good sushi today, too. Surprisingly, outside the Macy's in the Dallas Galleria (a.k.a. "Heaven on Earth"), a little sushi bar makes some pretty good rolls for not too much. I was pleasantly surprised! Now, if I could only get a parasite from it, I would look even better in the naked dress!!
HO HO HO
Georgia's concert was radical! Not only did my sister kick butt singing, but I got to meet one of the Dallas Mavericks! My uncle (the band's rockin drummer) knows some of the Mavs and invited him out to the show.
Can I just say he was one tall glass of water? I made a total idiot of myself just trying to go over there whenever possible. But I mean... those guns! That face! He was totally attractive and not just because of his promising career choice;)
Anyway, it was all I could do not to gush all over him about how I don't even care about sports EXCEPT FOR the Mavs!
I am lame, lame, lame. But I asked my uncle to hook me up. Pray for me, y'all. My hair wasn't looking all that fabulous.
Can I just say he was one tall glass of water? I made a total idiot of myself just trying to go over there whenever possible. But I mean... those guns! That face! He was totally attractive and not just because of his promising career choice;)
Anyway, it was all I could do not to gush all over him about how I don't even care about sports EXCEPT FOR the Mavs!
I am lame, lame, lame. But I asked my uncle to hook me up. Pray for me, y'all. My hair wasn't looking all that fabulous.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Woah...
"Drawstrings are the leading cause of fashion-related injuries."
-The Paranoid's Pocket Guide
Good thing I don't condone drawstrigs....
-me
-The Paranoid's Pocket Guide
Good thing I don't condone drawstrigs....
-me
Lost Letters to Santa
My little sister's band, Lost Letters to Santa (bluesy, funky rock), is playing with 3 other bands tomorrow night, at 8 pm, at the Bone in Deep Ellum!!! (Who thought up the name of that club?!) It's $5 to get in, but the show should be great!!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
ain't that the truth...
"if you can't be a good example, then you'll just have to be a horrible warning."
-somebody said it, but i don't know who to be honest
-somebody said it, but i don't know who to be honest
FMOTW 2007 (holla! i did this one newest to oldest, which is better than 2006)
FMOTW: "you passed spanish because you gave Professor Montoya a lapdance after the final"
(July 19, 2007)
"yeah, LUCKILY..."
Name that quote... can you? Okay, it's after Elle Wood's friend offers her her lucky scrunchie on "Legally Blonde." Great moment. Great movie. Poor fashion choice. Scrunchies suck. Don't wear them after 1995. Like, totally.
FMOTW: Didn't Zack Morris wear those?
(Juy 19, 2007)
Jean shorts. 'Nough said.
FMOTW Flips flop.
(June 14, 2007)
I DON'T LIKE FLIP-FLOPS!!! THEY DO NOT AN OUTFIT MAKE!!! People seem to forget that outfits require shoes, not just a flat piece of rubber strapped to your foot (they won't even protect your foot if you step on a nail or some glass, it will just slice right through to your foot. Not good.) Even a summer outfit deserves some real sandals! Plus, flip-flops make your feet all dirty and gross at the end of the day. They are just the lazy-man's sandal. I frown on them.
FMOTW Umm... are you pregnant?
(June 14, 2007)
Okay, folks. I myself, my all-knowing, fashion-prodigy, unquestionable-taste-having self have, IN THE PAST, fallen victim to this sad trend. But, only once, and whilst catching an unfortunate glance at myself in a reflection in a window, I threw up in my mouth a little.
I am since sworn against the whole gathered teeshirt phenomenon, particularly those tops that have an empire waist and gathers that fall from just below the girls. I have an extremely slender, gorgeous friend who has no fat on her body. She was asked if she was pregnant while wearing one of these real blousy tops, and if THAT girl can't get away with it, then the rest of us really can't, either. Listen, any time someone has to wonder if you've got a bun in the oven, well, do I really have to tell you? It's bad. Like, the worst. Unless you actually do, and then, go ahead and wear these tops, especially if you want to keep 'em guessing well into your third trimester. (Perhaps you are, oh, I don't know, Mormon and single, and don't want to be forced to move to Vermont... You know, in cases like that, you can wear these tops.)
Even worse are the tops with the gathers above the boobs... Umm, this style makes you look like you just gave birth, as it emphasizes and causes even the tiniest chest to appear swollen with mother's milk. Seriously, those things look like bouyes in a lake of cotton.
FMOTW: The Adams Family (snap! snap!)
(May 11, 2007)
Okay, celebrities with little or no fashion knowledge of your own who lean on orange-skinned covered skeletons who are "stylists," listen up:
The whole "black tights look awesome with any spring-time dress, especially those with no black in them and preferably with fun, bright colors" idea is an em-effing lie. Your dress would be dy-na-mite with bare legs and cute platform pump sandals, even flats. But mind the bare leg... the evil death black tight wants to creep on there and make you look really especially morbid and ever so slightly 5-years-old.
Don't do it! It also makes me wonder if you are trying to hide your psoriasis (sp?)...
FMOTW: UGGG!! I can't believe this actually exists!
(May 11, 2007)
Okay, get ready to throw up in your mouth.
My little sister reports that in Lubbock, Texas, girls (lots of them) are walking around in Soffe shorts (like little cheerleader-wind-shorts, for those of you who did not attend high school in the great state of Texas), with tiny tees or tanks, and, wait for it... duhn, duhn, DUHN: UGGS boots.
When will society realize the much-desired end to the UGGS empire? Oh my holy crap, they are making the ugliest sandals known to man now, too!! I mean, who are their designers? I can imaging their meetings, "Umm... Charles, that design is not near ugly enough! You must try harder! You must make them scream 'UGG!!!'"
The UGGS phenomenon will surely drive me to an early grave.
FMOTW What, Did You Sit in Some White Paint?
(April 24, 2007)
I have talked about distressed jeans before. I know, I'm sorry. But here's the thing. When you buy jeans, it is difficult to see your own butt. I know you don't usually look at it before you leave your house in the morning. So much effort, and it usually looks just about the same (aside from the rare and sad but certainly hilarious times that your skirt is tucked into your panties in the back, therefore embarrassing you but making practically every other person who comes in contact with you have a much better day). I feel your pain.
I think that as a rule, one should always flip the jeans over that they are considering buying, and lay them on a clothing rack, or hang them up when possible. Then walk away. I'm talking a good 10 feet, more if space allows. Now, check out the butt. Does it look like you buffed the wax off of your father's mint 1967 white Ford Mustang (supply any shiny car if you don't like Mustangs, which really, I don't, but I don't know what other cars there were back then)? Or perhaps sat in white paint? Is this really the way your jeans would have naturally faded after a couple of years of washing, and apparently doing some pretty hard-core sitting?
Didn't think so. Now, walk away again. But forever.
FMOTW In Lieu of Graduation...
(April 24, 2007)
So, I'm about to graduate!! Yay!! Not only am I excited about moving on with my life, FINALLY, I am also excited to stop being annoyed about this here fashion mistake.
If you are attending a certain school, i.e. University of Utah (insert any school you choose here, really, it works at any of them), don't wear sweatshirts, hats, etc. that say "University of Utah" on them to the campus.
Okay, here's my reasoning. Because some have reacted to my rule with the argument, "isn't it worse to go to one school and champion another on your sweatshirt?" To them, I say, nay.
It is certainly fabulous that you got into the school that you love. Congrats. Seriously. Because some of you, as my peers, certainly surprise me with the fact that you graduated high school. (I mean some of my actual peers, in some of my classes, not you people reading my blog. If you are reading this, you must be smart. And witty. Most likely good-looking as well.)
Why advertise somewhere that you already are? Everyone that sees your shirt probably loves the U of U already. We know you love it, you go there. Let's not state the obvious.
That's like if you were sitting there, say, eating, and every person that walked by you (also eating), you grabbed by the baggy sweatshirt sleeve and said, "hey, guess what?" and they said, "what?" aniticipating some amazing revelation, and you said, "yeah, we're eating! Isn't that great?"
You would get some weird looks and perhaps a restraining order.
FMOTW Alarming Possible Trend
(april 24, 2007)
So... umm... sorry if I've said this before, although really, I do not think for one second that anyone could say this too many times...
Unfortunately, runways have seen something freaky in recent past. (Marni's Fall 2007 show comes to mind, I am sure you can google it. Or, maybe I'll find a pic to post on here.)
Man Leggings. Yeah, you read right. I am talking about skin-tight, spandex-blend cotton man leggings, and some with stirrups. I think I had a few pairs like that in the 4th grade. Not a good idea then, even on a little girl. Definitely not a good idea now, on a fully-grown, anatomically-correct male. Ain't nobody need to see that!
On the same topic, I really think men need not, EVER, leave the house in pajama pants. Not plaid flannel ones, nor cotton jersy ones. None of that. News Flash: most people are way too nice, or afraid to tell ya this, but, dude, we can see your package in those, big time. Workout pants with a nice stiffness (get your mind outta the gutter) are fine, but, I gotta be honest, those mesh basketball shorts also leave little to the imagination... Now, those shorts might be socially acceptable, but if it were up to me, those things would be off limits, too. A certain traumatic experience comes to mind involving someone perhaps called "Bear," or "Manataur." Jana, Michelle, Krissy, you know of what I speak.
FMOTW A New Breed of Superhero!
(April 24, 2007)
Introducing a new superhero, faster than a speeding bullet, who fights for justice and fashion the world over. By day, a red-headed Canuck named Mike Mayo with a flair for denim. By night, a superhero who searches out and saves fashion victims, letting no one go unprotected. His name, Denim Boy!
Wearing the very look from which that he defends the citizens of this great nation: a denim jacket, buttoned up, and jeans, slightly different in color but close enough that spectators cannot distinguish a difference; he educates and, sometimes through necessary force, chastises the wearers of head-to toe denim. His disguise allows him to penetrate their forces undiscovered, until he can bring them the truth. This looks does not propagate the fight for good, he tells them, but only makes stronger the forces of evil. His denim collar serves as a sort of mini cape which he uses to slice through the air with lithe stealth. With strength unmatched by mere mortals, who are un-enhanced with the dual good/evil power of denim, he conquers every foe, unafraid. His copper buttons gleam with justice, and his grommets serve as tiny chinese throwing stars with which he pins the denimed wrists and typically tapered ankles of unsuspecting fashion victims to the wall whilst he conducts his fashion salvation.
Beware, fashion villians. Denim Boy will find you, and his punishment will be swift. He will bestow no mercy.
FMOTW man, your legs look short!
(Feb 8, 2007)
What's the deal with wearing dresses over pants? Can we please think of yet ANOTHER way to make our legs look stumpy?! Because I don't think that 3 feet of torso and 12 inches of leg is quite stumpy enough. As if tunic-length shirts weren't bad enough.
Who do you think you are, girls wearing dresses with jeans/pants/leggings? And if you say Sienna Miller I think I might accidentally throw up on you, so beware.
FMOTW agent orange
(Feb 2, 2007)
So, it's been awhile since the "Coco-Chanel-got-really-tan-on-a-cruise-and-tan-became-the-in-thing" happened. In fact, tan is kind of out right now... It's winter, people are more health-conscious, and fair has once again become recognized as pretty (yay for me!)
Here's the thing, if you are naturally olive-skin-toned, and or just maintain a healthy glow, cool.
If you are orange, stop it.
FMOTW last time I checked, my butt was not a billboard
(Feb 1, 2007)
It might not be tiny, but I would like to avoid 'my butt' being in the same thought as 'a billboard' in anyone's mind or speech...
Several brands have these sweat pants, shorts, etc, with words written boldly across the buttock-region. (Victoria's Secret 'Pink,' Juicy, etc) Let me submit that this is a big fat no-no. First of all, one cannot help but read this and automatically associate the word (usually an adjective) with your butt. So, I know your butt is "pink," and I hope it's not "Juicy," and really anything that is written there can be omitted and everyone will be just fine.
I know high school cheerleaders have a penchant for work-out shorts with things written on the butt... This is still not okay, but is really the only time I can observe this trend and think, "yeah, that goes along with the territory..." Other than that, really people, it may be a creative advertising space, but butt should not equal billboard. If you choose it, I find no qualms about calling you out on it.
In the same realm, tee-shirts with what usually seems to be a descriptive are also usually heinous (and untrue, if you must wear a tee that proclaims you a "hottie," I must suggest that you probably are not...) but "I'm with the band," "G is for Gangsta'" (a personal fave), and "angel" just make me REALLY REALLY want to get a tee-shirt printed up that says "I doubt it." Then, when I pass someone in their "hottie" tee, I can just point at mine: "I doubt it." PS: SERIOUSLY a great late b-day present idea. I WANT THAT SHIRT!!!
Until people start wearing shirts that really describe them, i.e. "anal," "monotone," "belligerant," "horny," I will stick to my guns on this rule.
FMOTW bringin' sexy back
(Jan 19, 2007)
Hey every girl on earth (and some guys, sadly, too):
When you want to look sexy, really, ONE sexy article of clothing is enough. You don't need to wear a low-cut top AND a mini-skirt (and we all know how I feel about mini-skirts in general, or at least we should... yeah... they're bad). Or super-tight pants and a tube-top (which also disregards the laws of nature, seeing as how IT'S WINTER, people!) Just choose one.
It's like the "flashy rule: in the event that one must wear sequins, glitter, fur, animal print, or any form of flash (i.e. "flair") one must, in respect to the rules of fashion and its all-things-holy, limit said 'flash' to one piece per outfit. Complimentary pieces must maintain a certain level of moderation (i.e. "class"), so as to not overwhelm the wearer. The outfit is not what one should notice, but the wearer. Fashion reserves the right to make one appear to be a disco-ball, or some other undesirable gaudy thing should one choose to disregard this cardinal rule."
In the event that the precepts of above"flashy rule" is applied to the parallel, and equally vital, we'll call it... "sexy rule," one will look sexy and NOT slutty. If one chooses to disregard this well-proven, historically-accurate rule, I cannot help you. Seriously, you'll be slut-a-riffic. It sounds like a good thing, but it's not.
FMOTW maybe you can just use those straps to strangle yourself
(Jan 16, 2007)
Okay... so lately I've been seeing one of the greatest offenses to fashion ever to exist re-appear in stores, and it's only a matter of time before people start walking around in it thinking it's okay. I'm here to say that it is not okay.
"It" is overalls, and any variation thereof, including, but not limited to: full-lenght, farmers-shouldn't-even-wear-'em denim overalls;the ever-disturbing short-all;miniskirts with over-all bibs attached;and jeans with denim suspenders, a new twist on an old classic.
Please be alert: over-alls, though historically denim, can be fabricated out of many textures and colors.
Do not let your guard down, you may be led astray by the apparent ease of an over-all. As one-step as your outfit may be with over-alls, and as I do realize some people prefer easy-dressing, do not be misled by this temptation. Sometimes a little more work is required in dressing, although not quite as much as you must do if you end up in a field picking cotton, which is where you deserve to be if you wear overalls. Hopefully your cotton-picking will not facilitate more over-alls being produced.
(July 19, 2007)
"yeah, LUCKILY..."
Name that quote... can you? Okay, it's after Elle Wood's friend offers her her lucky scrunchie on "Legally Blonde." Great moment. Great movie. Poor fashion choice. Scrunchies suck. Don't wear them after 1995. Like, totally.
FMOTW: Didn't Zack Morris wear those?
(Juy 19, 2007)
Jean shorts. 'Nough said.
FMOTW Flips flop.
(June 14, 2007)
I DON'T LIKE FLIP-FLOPS!!! THEY DO NOT AN OUTFIT MAKE!!! People seem to forget that outfits require shoes, not just a flat piece of rubber strapped to your foot (they won't even protect your foot if you step on a nail or some glass, it will just slice right through to your foot. Not good.) Even a summer outfit deserves some real sandals! Plus, flip-flops make your feet all dirty and gross at the end of the day. They are just the lazy-man's sandal. I frown on them.
FMOTW Umm... are you pregnant?
(June 14, 2007)
Okay, folks. I myself, my all-knowing, fashion-prodigy, unquestionable-taste-having self have, IN THE PAST, fallen victim to this sad trend. But, only once, and whilst catching an unfortunate glance at myself in a reflection in a window, I threw up in my mouth a little.
I am since sworn against the whole gathered teeshirt phenomenon, particularly those tops that have an empire waist and gathers that fall from just below the girls. I have an extremely slender, gorgeous friend who has no fat on her body. She was asked if she was pregnant while wearing one of these real blousy tops, and if THAT girl can't get away with it, then the rest of us really can't, either. Listen, any time someone has to wonder if you've got a bun in the oven, well, do I really have to tell you? It's bad. Like, the worst. Unless you actually do, and then, go ahead and wear these tops, especially if you want to keep 'em guessing well into your third trimester. (Perhaps you are, oh, I don't know, Mormon and single, and don't want to be forced to move to Vermont... You know, in cases like that, you can wear these tops.)
Even worse are the tops with the gathers above the boobs... Umm, this style makes you look like you just gave birth, as it emphasizes and causes even the tiniest chest to appear swollen with mother's milk. Seriously, those things look like bouyes in a lake of cotton.
FMOTW: The Adams Family (snap! snap!)
(May 11, 2007)
Okay, celebrities with little or no fashion knowledge of your own who lean on orange-skinned covered skeletons who are "stylists," listen up:
The whole "black tights look awesome with any spring-time dress, especially those with no black in them and preferably with fun, bright colors" idea is an em-effing lie. Your dress would be dy-na-mite with bare legs and cute platform pump sandals, even flats. But mind the bare leg... the evil death black tight wants to creep on there and make you look really especially morbid and ever so slightly 5-years-old.
Don't do it! It also makes me wonder if you are trying to hide your psoriasis (sp?)...
FMOTW: UGGG!! I can't believe this actually exists!
(May 11, 2007)
Okay, get ready to throw up in your mouth.
My little sister reports that in Lubbock, Texas, girls (lots of them) are walking around in Soffe shorts (like little cheerleader-wind-shorts, for those of you who did not attend high school in the great state of Texas), with tiny tees or tanks, and, wait for it... duhn, duhn, DUHN: UGGS boots.
When will society realize the much-desired end to the UGGS empire? Oh my holy crap, they are making the ugliest sandals known to man now, too!! I mean, who are their designers? I can imaging their meetings, "Umm... Charles, that design is not near ugly enough! You must try harder! You must make them scream 'UGG!!!'"
The UGGS phenomenon will surely drive me to an early grave.
FMOTW What, Did You Sit in Some White Paint?
(April 24, 2007)
I have talked about distressed jeans before. I know, I'm sorry. But here's the thing. When you buy jeans, it is difficult to see your own butt. I know you don't usually look at it before you leave your house in the morning. So much effort, and it usually looks just about the same (aside from the rare and sad but certainly hilarious times that your skirt is tucked into your panties in the back, therefore embarrassing you but making practically every other person who comes in contact with you have a much better day). I feel your pain.
I think that as a rule, one should always flip the jeans over that they are considering buying, and lay them on a clothing rack, or hang them up when possible. Then walk away. I'm talking a good 10 feet, more if space allows. Now, check out the butt. Does it look like you buffed the wax off of your father's mint 1967 white Ford Mustang (supply any shiny car if you don't like Mustangs, which really, I don't, but I don't know what other cars there were back then)? Or perhaps sat in white paint? Is this really the way your jeans would have naturally faded after a couple of years of washing, and apparently doing some pretty hard-core sitting?
Didn't think so. Now, walk away again. But forever.
FMOTW In Lieu of Graduation...
(April 24, 2007)
So, I'm about to graduate!! Yay!! Not only am I excited about moving on with my life, FINALLY, I am also excited to stop being annoyed about this here fashion mistake.
If you are attending a certain school, i.e. University of Utah (insert any school you choose here, really, it works at any of them), don't wear sweatshirts, hats, etc. that say "University of Utah" on them to the campus.
Okay, here's my reasoning. Because some have reacted to my rule with the argument, "isn't it worse to go to one school and champion another on your sweatshirt?" To them, I say, nay.
It is certainly fabulous that you got into the school that you love. Congrats. Seriously. Because some of you, as my peers, certainly surprise me with the fact that you graduated high school. (I mean some of my actual peers, in some of my classes, not you people reading my blog. If you are reading this, you must be smart. And witty. Most likely good-looking as well.)
Why advertise somewhere that you already are? Everyone that sees your shirt probably loves the U of U already. We know you love it, you go there. Let's not state the obvious.
That's like if you were sitting there, say, eating, and every person that walked by you (also eating), you grabbed by the baggy sweatshirt sleeve and said, "hey, guess what?" and they said, "what?" aniticipating some amazing revelation, and you said, "yeah, we're eating! Isn't that great?"
You would get some weird looks and perhaps a restraining order.
FMOTW Alarming Possible Trend
(april 24, 2007)
So... umm... sorry if I've said this before, although really, I do not think for one second that anyone could say this too many times...
Unfortunately, runways have seen something freaky in recent past. (Marni's Fall 2007 show comes to mind, I am sure you can google it. Or, maybe I'll find a pic to post on here.)
Man Leggings. Yeah, you read right. I am talking about skin-tight, spandex-blend cotton man leggings, and some with stirrups. I think I had a few pairs like that in the 4th grade. Not a good idea then, even on a little girl. Definitely not a good idea now, on a fully-grown, anatomically-correct male. Ain't nobody need to see that!
On the same topic, I really think men need not, EVER, leave the house in pajama pants. Not plaid flannel ones, nor cotton jersy ones. None of that. News Flash: most people are way too nice, or afraid to tell ya this, but, dude, we can see your package in those, big time. Workout pants with a nice stiffness (get your mind outta the gutter) are fine, but, I gotta be honest, those mesh basketball shorts also leave little to the imagination... Now, those shorts might be socially acceptable, but if it were up to me, those things would be off limits, too. A certain traumatic experience comes to mind involving someone perhaps called "Bear," or "Manataur." Jana, Michelle, Krissy, you know of what I speak.
FMOTW A New Breed of Superhero!
(April 24, 2007)
Introducing a new superhero, faster than a speeding bullet, who fights for justice and fashion the world over. By day, a red-headed Canuck named Mike Mayo with a flair for denim. By night, a superhero who searches out and saves fashion victims, letting no one go unprotected. His name, Denim Boy!
Wearing the very look from which that he defends the citizens of this great nation: a denim jacket, buttoned up, and jeans, slightly different in color but close enough that spectators cannot distinguish a difference; he educates and, sometimes through necessary force, chastises the wearers of head-to toe denim. His disguise allows him to penetrate their forces undiscovered, until he can bring them the truth. This looks does not propagate the fight for good, he tells them, but only makes stronger the forces of evil. His denim collar serves as a sort of mini cape which he uses to slice through the air with lithe stealth. With strength unmatched by mere mortals, who are un-enhanced with the dual good/evil power of denim, he conquers every foe, unafraid. His copper buttons gleam with justice, and his grommets serve as tiny chinese throwing stars with which he pins the denimed wrists and typically tapered ankles of unsuspecting fashion victims to the wall whilst he conducts his fashion salvation.
Beware, fashion villians. Denim Boy will find you, and his punishment will be swift. He will bestow no mercy.
FMOTW man, your legs look short!
(Feb 8, 2007)
What's the deal with wearing dresses over pants? Can we please think of yet ANOTHER way to make our legs look stumpy?! Because I don't think that 3 feet of torso and 12 inches of leg is quite stumpy enough. As if tunic-length shirts weren't bad enough.
Who do you think you are, girls wearing dresses with jeans/pants/leggings? And if you say Sienna Miller I think I might accidentally throw up on you, so beware.
FMOTW agent orange
(Feb 2, 2007)
So, it's been awhile since the "Coco-Chanel-got-really-tan-on-a-cruise-and-tan-became-the-in-thing" happened. In fact, tan is kind of out right now... It's winter, people are more health-conscious, and fair has once again become recognized as pretty (yay for me!)
Here's the thing, if you are naturally olive-skin-toned, and or just maintain a healthy glow, cool.
If you are orange, stop it.
FMOTW last time I checked, my butt was not a billboard
(Feb 1, 2007)
It might not be tiny, but I would like to avoid 'my butt' being in the same thought as 'a billboard' in anyone's mind or speech...
Several brands have these sweat pants, shorts, etc, with words written boldly across the buttock-region. (Victoria's Secret 'Pink,' Juicy, etc) Let me submit that this is a big fat no-no. First of all, one cannot help but read this and automatically associate the word (usually an adjective) with your butt. So, I know your butt is "pink," and I hope it's not "Juicy," and really anything that is written there can be omitted and everyone will be just fine.
I know high school cheerleaders have a penchant for work-out shorts with things written on the butt... This is still not okay, but is really the only time I can observe this trend and think, "yeah, that goes along with the territory..." Other than that, really people, it may be a creative advertising space, but butt should not equal billboard. If you choose it, I find no qualms about calling you out on it.
In the same realm, tee-shirts with what usually seems to be a descriptive are also usually heinous (and untrue, if you must wear a tee that proclaims you a "hottie," I must suggest that you probably are not...) but "I'm with the band," "G is for Gangsta'" (a personal fave), and "angel" just make me REALLY REALLY want to get a tee-shirt printed up that says "I doubt it." Then, when I pass someone in their "hottie" tee, I can just point at mine: "I doubt it." PS: SERIOUSLY a great late b-day present idea. I WANT THAT SHIRT!!!
Until people start wearing shirts that really describe them, i.e. "anal," "monotone," "belligerant," "horny," I will stick to my guns on this rule.
FMOTW bringin' sexy back
(Jan 19, 2007)
Hey every girl on earth (and some guys, sadly, too):
When you want to look sexy, really, ONE sexy article of clothing is enough. You don't need to wear a low-cut top AND a mini-skirt (and we all know how I feel about mini-skirts in general, or at least we should... yeah... they're bad). Or super-tight pants and a tube-top (which also disregards the laws of nature, seeing as how IT'S WINTER, people!) Just choose one.
It's like the "flashy rule: in the event that one must wear sequins, glitter, fur, animal print, or any form of flash (i.e. "flair") one must, in respect to the rules of fashion and its all-things-holy, limit said 'flash' to one piece per outfit. Complimentary pieces must maintain a certain level of moderation (i.e. "class"), so as to not overwhelm the wearer. The outfit is not what one should notice, but the wearer. Fashion reserves the right to make one appear to be a disco-ball, or some other undesirable gaudy thing should one choose to disregard this cardinal rule."
In the event that the precepts of above"flashy rule" is applied to the parallel, and equally vital, we'll call it... "sexy rule," one will look sexy and NOT slutty. If one chooses to disregard this well-proven, historically-accurate rule, I cannot help you. Seriously, you'll be slut-a-riffic. It sounds like a good thing, but it's not.
FMOTW maybe you can just use those straps to strangle yourself
(Jan 16, 2007)
Okay... so lately I've been seeing one of the greatest offenses to fashion ever to exist re-appear in stores, and it's only a matter of time before people start walking around in it thinking it's okay. I'm here to say that it is not okay.
"It" is overalls, and any variation thereof, including, but not limited to: full-lenght, farmers-shouldn't-even-wear-'em denim overalls;the ever-disturbing short-all;miniskirts with over-all bibs attached;and jeans with denim suspenders, a new twist on an old classic.
Please be alert: over-alls, though historically denim, can be fabricated out of many textures and colors.
Do not let your guard down, you may be led astray by the apparent ease of an over-all. As one-step as your outfit may be with over-alls, and as I do realize some people prefer easy-dressing, do not be misled by this temptation. Sometimes a little more work is required in dressing, although not quite as much as you must do if you end up in a field picking cotton, which is where you deserve to be if you wear overalls. Hopefully your cotton-picking will not facilitate more over-alls being produced.
FMOTW 2006 (old but still true...)
FMOTW 1: Give me all your money!!!
(March 26, 2006)
This is going to be where I vent. Utah offers a potpourri of fashion mistakes just waiting to be made fun of. Here is my least favorite this week:
Gypsy skirts. You know the ones, the long (too long for almost any body type), really full (too full for ANY body type), crinkly ones. The ones that Old Navy was advertising MONTHS ago... and even then they were never real fashion. (Old Navy does not dictate anything to the fashion world... sad to say.)
These skirts are being worn by everyone, and are heinous and offensive to everyone who has to look at them. They make your body appear to be one big blob, and as much as super-fashionable people like Jessica Simpson might like to wear them (she's actually not, even though i'm sure she's a nice person and everything), people in the real world need to learn to not try and dress like their favorite pop-star.
I hate these skirts. They had a short appearance in the late eighties sometime, but even the eighties knew well enough to spit them the hell back out. I had one myself in the 8th grade, before I learned anything about CLOTHES THAT FIT...
Please try to avoid this monstrosity until futher notice, although I must predict that monkeys will fly out of my ass before I condone gypsy skirts.
FMOTW 2: She's a maniac, maniac, on the floor!/How did he fit his "yeah" in there?
(March 30, 2006)
OK, so I could NOT wait until the weekend.
It's like people know I'm writing this stuff down, and are getting dressed up just for me.
I already knew what I was going to write about until I saw THIS.
Spring is in the air... People aren't sure what season to dress for...
So dress for both, right?!
I will warn you, the visual image you are about to recieve may cause you to have to get counseling. Seriously.
A girl was walking around this morning in long black shorts, teva sandals (ugly combo, but nothing to cry about...) But, look again, oh hell, are those LEGWARMERS tucked into the tevas? Yes. They are.
Excuse me, miss, but Mikhail Baryshnikov's evil granola butch twin called and he wants his outfit back.
Also, seams of jeans across Utah are being rent in twian by mens' little bottoms as they try to sit down. The legging-esque jeans have got to go.
These guys have to commit to a whole new image when they invest in these. And it's not pretty.
I'm worried about their sperm count.
FMOTW 3: these boots are made for walkin'
(April 7, 2006)
There are soooo many things bugging me this week, but I will settle on the one that is about to disappear due to the impending season change (yay!!) so that I don't have to wait until NEXT winter, when I am sure the fashion un-conscious will continue to sport this rather baffling look... (They can't let it die after one season, you see, they must hold on to fashion mistakes past because THAT'S WHAT THEY DO.)
Boots over jeans, pants, and I'm very sorry to say, leggings-- (P.S. Debbie Gibson would be proud, but is that really what we are going for?!) WTF?
Although I must concur that winter sucks and snow sucks and getting it in your shoes sucks, if you absolutely MUST disregard the age-old adage "fashion over comfort" can't you please at least be less of an eyesore by wearing the boots under the pants?
All I can say is, we don't live on a tundra here in "the SLC," or anywhere in the U.S. for that matter. It's unnecessary.
Oh, and also, UGGS were cool 2 years ago. They make me go "UGG..."
Cheers until next time. I'm really not bitter. Just easily annoyed.
FMOTW 4: Rabbit
(April 18, 2006)
I can't believe I missed one...
TWO-TONE HAIR.
Ick! It's especially disturbing when the blonde is underneath the black or dark brown, but even switched it's repellant.
If the head is reminiscent of a small woodland creature it may be time to rethink your image... just a thought.
FMOTW 5: CROCS ("the rubber manace")
(April 29, 2006)
SOOOO much to complain about this week. I'm having a really hard time narrowing it down... But, I'll save some for later.
WHAT are these totally rubber, brightly-colored, gardener-esque, hole-infused, elvin clogs I'm seeing peeple wear like they're actually shoes? You know the ones. They're even selling them at Nordstrom shoe dept, much to my dismay.
If you can drain your bow-tie noodles with your footwear, you may be experiencing fashion difficulties. However, this is only a test of the emergency fashion system. If you immediately throw out these "shoes" and/or restrict them to your saturday afternoon gardening parties, you might not be beyond saving. If this becomes an actual emergency, you will hear further instructions as to how to go out and get yourself a pair of leggings and a miniskirt and wear them together, with a cropped tie-in-front cardi and horizontal-striped tee-shirt, or perhaps a camisol over the tee-shirt, because you may as well finish off the look, and commit yourself to blatant disregard of all things holy. And I don't mean "hole-y," like the "shoes."
FMOTW 6: I think that's some kind of 'shroom...
(May 7, 2006)
I don't know that this qualifies as fashion, per se, but maybe hygiene.
I think that those french-manicured toe-nails are just about the grossest thing ever. EV-ER.
First of all, your toe-nails have to be all long to have enough space for the white, and long toenails just don't fly. They can't be clean, and the last time I checked, we didn't want toes to look like fingers...
Secondly, they put so many layers of crap on the nails, that they look all thick. Gross. Thick toe nails = fungus, in my book.
So, let's get back to cute pink, coral, and red painted toenails, and leave the french manicure for the fingers, if you must get them at all... Blues, purples, and greens are also questionable on toes, because they can also look like fungus, or like you smashed your toes under a cinder-block or something, and haven't healed yet.
But let me caution you not to wear sandals without painted toenails. Plain toenails are almost as gross as french-manicured. Unless you're a guy, and I'm still deciding if it should actually be legal to make us look at your feet at all in that case.
FMOTW 7: genetics
(June 8, 2006)
I think that people who wear those black and white checkerboard slip-on vans tennis shoes should only be allowed to mate with each other so as to not spread the recessive allele to the rest of the population.
FMOTW infinity: tube tops and tanks over tees, oh my!
(June 20, 2006)
can i just pleeeaaaase suggest to the general public (including but not limited to mormon girls in utah) that tank tops and tube tops can be worn UNDER jackets/cardis but should not be worn over big/small/white/black/and otherwise tee-shirts?!?
i mean, get a grip, people. i'm not saying you have to look slutty, but please, if you aren't going to wear the clothes like they were intended, just DO NOT BUY THEM! if you have a moral code against bare shoulders, just buy shirts with sleeves, please!
"clueless" came out in like, 1995, and for some reason this look was acceptable then, but let's not resurrect something that should stay buried. just think of camis/tanks/tube tops over tees like you think of zombies. they're bad.
FMOTW 9: triple X... okay, single X
(jULY 10, 2006)
Utah is hard for me. Although I am sure I have seen this elsewhere, it is a real problem here.
When you buy a skirt with a slit in it, or a jacket with a little slit/vent in back, guess what? That little X of thread there, the one keeping that slit together, that's not a cute little detail. You cut that out. That is there to keep the slit nice while the item is on sale. CUT IT OUT MUTHAS!!!
I was appalled in church yesterday when a girl stood up to be recognized by the congregation with that little X on her jacket. Right on her butt. X marks the spot, man. I almost tapped her shoulder to let her know, but really, who else would this have offended but me? Everyone else there was probably like, "look at that cute little X... I love when designers put cute little details on their clothes..."
FMOTW: another one bites the dust... he really had a chance, too:(
(August 5, 2006)
Guys, when you wear a suit, please, PLEASE do not accompany it with black, puffy high-top sketchers. Unless you want a girl to perhaps reconsider any interest she at one time had in you. You don't have to be a fabulous dresser, but just... high tops? With a nice suit? Come on. Use them for basketball. Also, please don't wear athletic ankle-socks with a suit. Or black or any other color "dress ankle-socks," which are a new and especially heinous arrival. We don't need to see your ankles/legs, no matter how sexy they may be. Hugs and kisses!!!
FMOTW: "I wish I was a baller"
(august 23, 2006)
Men, and some women, sad to say, apparently are not aware that:
Sports Jerseys are not clothes. They are to be worn only when you are involved in an actual sport. And by involved, I mean, playing that sport right this minute, or warming the bench. And I don't mean the bleachers, I mean the actual bench.
Do not wear them to dinner, a party, or to college, or anywhere that does not require shorts that match them. And ESPECIALLY, a-hem, especially, do not wear one that says any name other than your own. I don't want to see any, oh, I don't know, "Nowitsky's" or even "Jordan's," as much as that might be a collectible.
And another thing, and this is where women violate all things holy: things you work out in are not clothes. I understand the urge to pick up a salad or something after a workout, but it's gotta be to-go. Sometimes you forget that the people around you are enjoying their time away from the gym, and do not want to look at your lycra-clad tushy. And as good as you may think it looks in that big mirror while you are doing arm curls, it loses its luster in the outside world, where if I'm forced to wear uncomfortable jeans that look fabulous, you really ought to have to be uncomfortable, too. And I'm not even going to mention the hideousness of sweatshirts. Okay.
FMOTW "i wish i was a baller part 2"
(Aug 24, 2006)
Thanks to my ingenious friend Genny, I was alerted to something even more horrible than a regular jersey... Jersey dresses. And I quote:
"...you might actually drop dead on the floor if you were to run into one of these girls: (YES, I have seen these being worn *on purpose* in the flesh. We get it all in good 'ole SC...)
http://www.hoopsvibe.com/jerseys/jerseys-dresses/la-lakers-hardwood-jersey-dress-ar1483.html
(only these were floor-length and had it all--a real number/name combo of a real player that the woman obviously was *not*)"
Thanks, Genny... I think. Almost makes me question my faith in humanity.
FMOTW Debbie Gibson would be proud
(Sept 21, 2006)
Hey, girls, guess what?! Tights and leggings worn either alone as pants or under miniskirts not only make you look like a popsicle, they are also like a giant flip-off to real fashion. Show me a girl who actually looks good in this "style," and I'll show you someone who looks good in bright pink eyeshadow. Yeah, never gonna happen. Guess what? You can't see the cellulite on the back of your thighs, but EVERYONE else can if you insist on wearing leggings. It's just a fact of life. Yeah, I have some life-dimples myself, but I'm not going to subject ya'll to it. Just being polite.
P.S.: speaking of bright pink eyeshadow, even heard of pink eye? You generally want to try and look like you DON'T have it, or consumption.
FWOTW so now that it's below 80 degrees...
(Sept 27, 2006)
You might want to re-think that acid washed denim miniskirt. Just a thought. And, really, I have to say regardless of the temperature, you never should have bought the hideous thing in the first place.
Let's just rule out miniskirts in general, especially if you're over 25.
FMOTW: it's not that you're not sexy, but...
(Oct 2, 2006)
Guys, really, tank tops? Doesn't wearing one make you feel like a woman? And I'm talking about "wife-beaters" as well as basketball-style work-out shirts where the angle of the arm-hole has any degree of trajectory angled more inward toward your neck than just strait up from your armpit. Me no like-y.
FMOTW the black death
(Oct 7, 2006)
Black denim, ICK! let me re-iterrate, not only for emphasis but also because the first time I said it (yes, i said it out loud) it left that much of a bad taste in my mouth: ICK!
It won't stay new looking no matter how hard you try, if in fact while under some hypnotic trance you should buy the disturbingly 80s garment in the first place.
Short but sweet, this FMOTW is one you should adhere to rigidly. There shall be no strays.
FMOTW I won't grow up, ode to Peter Pan
(Oct 10, 2006)
Ummm, I wish I could draw a picture on here. I have complained about boots over jeans before, and unfortunately the advent of skinny jeans has made this look even easier to physically accomplish.
My problem today is boots that are also flats. Especially suede ones. Especially if they lace up the front. Especially ones that are taller in front than in back, with a slope to the top edge. Do you know what I mean? Here's where a picture would come in handy.
When worn over jeans, these boots (which actually exist, much to, I am sure, the general population's dismay) cause one to look like either a) she believes she is a certain fictional character who flies and fights pirates and well, "won't grow up" or b) she is trying out for that character in the off-off-broadway play, or one put on by the local high school. Either way, it's bad.
FMOTW My outfit's got schizophrenia!
(Oct 10, 2006)
Inner monologue of girl at Costco yesterday:
"So, when it put itself on my body this morning, I knew this outfit couldn't make up its mind. It was all, 'I'm a cowgirl, I'm a Utah girl, I'm a cowgirl, I'm a Utah girl!'
I was totally perplexed by its complete disregard for fashion... 'Bronze (read:brown) scrunched cowgirl boots with black capri gaucho pants?!' I thought to my admittedly crazy self. WTF?
Little flashes of knee-skin? 'I mean, am I cold, or hot?' I said to my little black sweater and cream-colored undershirt, which cutely poked up above the collar of the sweater; as I pouffed and teased with such violence as to cause as much breakage and damage as possible to the top, back part of my already bleached and dark-streaked hair, and slicked the rest down as stick-strait and lifeless as possible.
'Where does this oufit say I'm going? To Murray High or to a yuppie-filled rodeo?' I pressed on as I layered on foundation to my super-tan face, added some pearlescent lipgloss (much lighter than my skintone, of course), and lots of mascera.
'What are you trying to do to me?!' I finally shouted at my outfit as I completed my make-up, making sure that every inch of my face was the same color, TAN, so as to not draw attention to the fact that although I'm thin and blonde, I actually don't have any cute features... Doesn't matter, in Utah, they will still say I'm gorgeous."
FMOTW you won't need cement boots...
(Nov 15, 2006)
...if they drop you in the river in clunky-soled, chunky-old platform shoes! Now, a little lesson in fashion 101, wedge shoes (tiny in back, but tall, with a small platform in front) are very different from big chunky platforms. Repeat after me: "wedge: good; chunky shoe: bad." Just say it as many times as you need to to become convinced. Oh, and tell your friends.
Friends don't let friends wear ugly shoes.
(March 26, 2006)
This is going to be where I vent. Utah offers a potpourri of fashion mistakes just waiting to be made fun of. Here is my least favorite this week:
Gypsy skirts. You know the ones, the long (too long for almost any body type), really full (too full for ANY body type), crinkly ones. The ones that Old Navy was advertising MONTHS ago... and even then they were never real fashion. (Old Navy does not dictate anything to the fashion world... sad to say.)
These skirts are being worn by everyone, and are heinous and offensive to everyone who has to look at them. They make your body appear to be one big blob, and as much as super-fashionable people like Jessica Simpson might like to wear them (she's actually not, even though i'm sure she's a nice person and everything), people in the real world need to learn to not try and dress like their favorite pop-star.
I hate these skirts. They had a short appearance in the late eighties sometime, but even the eighties knew well enough to spit them the hell back out. I had one myself in the 8th grade, before I learned anything about CLOTHES THAT FIT...
Please try to avoid this monstrosity until futher notice, although I must predict that monkeys will fly out of my ass before I condone gypsy skirts.
FMOTW 2: She's a maniac, maniac, on the floor!/How did he fit his "yeah" in there?
(March 30, 2006)
OK, so I could NOT wait until the weekend.
It's like people know I'm writing this stuff down, and are getting dressed up just for me.
I already knew what I was going to write about until I saw THIS.
Spring is in the air... People aren't sure what season to dress for...
So dress for both, right?!
I will warn you, the visual image you are about to recieve may cause you to have to get counseling. Seriously.
A girl was walking around this morning in long black shorts, teva sandals (ugly combo, but nothing to cry about...) But, look again, oh hell, are those LEGWARMERS tucked into the tevas? Yes. They are.
Excuse me, miss, but Mikhail Baryshnikov's evil granola butch twin called and he wants his outfit back.
Also, seams of jeans across Utah are being rent in twian by mens' little bottoms as they try to sit down. The legging-esque jeans have got to go.
These guys have to commit to a whole new image when they invest in these. And it's not pretty.
I'm worried about their sperm count.
FMOTW 3: these boots are made for walkin'
(April 7, 2006)
There are soooo many things bugging me this week, but I will settle on the one that is about to disappear due to the impending season change (yay!!) so that I don't have to wait until NEXT winter, when I am sure the fashion un-conscious will continue to sport this rather baffling look... (They can't let it die after one season, you see, they must hold on to fashion mistakes past because THAT'S WHAT THEY DO.)
Boots over jeans, pants, and I'm very sorry to say, leggings-- (P.S. Debbie Gibson would be proud, but is that really what we are going for?!) WTF?
Although I must concur that winter sucks and snow sucks and getting it in your shoes sucks, if you absolutely MUST disregard the age-old adage "fashion over comfort" can't you please at least be less of an eyesore by wearing the boots under the pants?
All I can say is, we don't live on a tundra here in "the SLC," or anywhere in the U.S. for that matter. It's unnecessary.
Oh, and also, UGGS were cool 2 years ago. They make me go "UGG..."
Cheers until next time. I'm really not bitter. Just easily annoyed.
FMOTW 4: Rabbit
(April 18, 2006)
I can't believe I missed one...
TWO-TONE HAIR.
Ick! It's especially disturbing when the blonde is underneath the black or dark brown, but even switched it's repellant.
If the head is reminiscent of a small woodland creature it may be time to rethink your image... just a thought.
FMOTW 5: CROCS ("the rubber manace")
(April 29, 2006)
SOOOO much to complain about this week. I'm having a really hard time narrowing it down... But, I'll save some for later.
WHAT are these totally rubber, brightly-colored, gardener-esque, hole-infused, elvin clogs I'm seeing peeple wear like they're actually shoes? You know the ones. They're even selling them at Nordstrom shoe dept, much to my dismay.
If you can drain your bow-tie noodles with your footwear, you may be experiencing fashion difficulties. However, this is only a test of the emergency fashion system. If you immediately throw out these "shoes" and/or restrict them to your saturday afternoon gardening parties, you might not be beyond saving. If this becomes an actual emergency, you will hear further instructions as to how to go out and get yourself a pair of leggings and a miniskirt and wear them together, with a cropped tie-in-front cardi and horizontal-striped tee-shirt, or perhaps a camisol over the tee-shirt, because you may as well finish off the look, and commit yourself to blatant disregard of all things holy. And I don't mean "hole-y," like the "shoes."
FMOTW 6: I think that's some kind of 'shroom...
(May 7, 2006)
I don't know that this qualifies as fashion, per se, but maybe hygiene.
I think that those french-manicured toe-nails are just about the grossest thing ever. EV-ER.
First of all, your toe-nails have to be all long to have enough space for the white, and long toenails just don't fly. They can't be clean, and the last time I checked, we didn't want toes to look like fingers...
Secondly, they put so many layers of crap on the nails, that they look all thick. Gross. Thick toe nails = fungus, in my book.
So, let's get back to cute pink, coral, and red painted toenails, and leave the french manicure for the fingers, if you must get them at all... Blues, purples, and greens are also questionable on toes, because they can also look like fungus, or like you smashed your toes under a cinder-block or something, and haven't healed yet.
But let me caution you not to wear sandals without painted toenails. Plain toenails are almost as gross as french-manicured. Unless you're a guy, and I'm still deciding if it should actually be legal to make us look at your feet at all in that case.
FMOTW 7: genetics
(June 8, 2006)
I think that people who wear those black and white checkerboard slip-on vans tennis shoes should only be allowed to mate with each other so as to not spread the recessive allele to the rest of the population.
FMOTW infinity: tube tops and tanks over tees, oh my!
(June 20, 2006)
can i just pleeeaaaase suggest to the general public (including but not limited to mormon girls in utah) that tank tops and tube tops can be worn UNDER jackets/cardis but should not be worn over big/small/white/black/and otherwise tee-shirts?!?
i mean, get a grip, people. i'm not saying you have to look slutty, but please, if you aren't going to wear the clothes like they were intended, just DO NOT BUY THEM! if you have a moral code against bare shoulders, just buy shirts with sleeves, please!
"clueless" came out in like, 1995, and for some reason this look was acceptable then, but let's not resurrect something that should stay buried. just think of camis/tanks/tube tops over tees like you think of zombies. they're bad.
FMOTW 9: triple X... okay, single X
(jULY 10, 2006)
Utah is hard for me. Although I am sure I have seen this elsewhere, it is a real problem here.
When you buy a skirt with a slit in it, or a jacket with a little slit/vent in back, guess what? That little X of thread there, the one keeping that slit together, that's not a cute little detail. You cut that out. That is there to keep the slit nice while the item is on sale. CUT IT OUT MUTHAS!!!
I was appalled in church yesterday when a girl stood up to be recognized by the congregation with that little X on her jacket. Right on her butt. X marks the spot, man. I almost tapped her shoulder to let her know, but really, who else would this have offended but me? Everyone else there was probably like, "look at that cute little X... I love when designers put cute little details on their clothes..."
FMOTW: another one bites the dust... he really had a chance, too:(
(August 5, 2006)
Guys, when you wear a suit, please, PLEASE do not accompany it with black, puffy high-top sketchers. Unless you want a girl to perhaps reconsider any interest she at one time had in you. You don't have to be a fabulous dresser, but just... high tops? With a nice suit? Come on. Use them for basketball. Also, please don't wear athletic ankle-socks with a suit. Or black or any other color "dress ankle-socks," which are a new and especially heinous arrival. We don't need to see your ankles/legs, no matter how sexy they may be. Hugs and kisses!!!
FMOTW: "I wish I was a baller"
(august 23, 2006)
Men, and some women, sad to say, apparently are not aware that:
Sports Jerseys are not clothes. They are to be worn only when you are involved in an actual sport. And by involved, I mean, playing that sport right this minute, or warming the bench. And I don't mean the bleachers, I mean the actual bench.
Do not wear them to dinner, a party, or to college, or anywhere that does not require shorts that match them. And ESPECIALLY, a-hem, especially, do not wear one that says any name other than your own. I don't want to see any, oh, I don't know, "Nowitsky's" or even "Jordan's," as much as that might be a collectible.
And another thing, and this is where women violate all things holy: things you work out in are not clothes. I understand the urge to pick up a salad or something after a workout, but it's gotta be to-go. Sometimes you forget that the people around you are enjoying their time away from the gym, and do not want to look at your lycra-clad tushy. And as good as you may think it looks in that big mirror while you are doing arm curls, it loses its luster in the outside world, where if I'm forced to wear uncomfortable jeans that look fabulous, you really ought to have to be uncomfortable, too. And I'm not even going to mention the hideousness of sweatshirts. Okay.
FMOTW "i wish i was a baller part 2"
(Aug 24, 2006)
Thanks to my ingenious friend Genny, I was alerted to something even more horrible than a regular jersey... Jersey dresses. And I quote:
"...you might actually drop dead on the floor if you were to run into one of these girls: (YES, I have seen these being worn *on purpose* in the flesh. We get it all in good 'ole SC...)
http://www.hoopsvibe.com/jerseys/jerseys-dresses/la-lakers-hardwood-jersey-dress-ar1483.html
(only these were floor-length and had it all--a real number/name combo of a real player that the woman obviously was *not*)"
Thanks, Genny... I think. Almost makes me question my faith in humanity.
FMOTW Debbie Gibson would be proud
(Sept 21, 2006)
Hey, girls, guess what?! Tights and leggings worn either alone as pants or under miniskirts not only make you look like a popsicle, they are also like a giant flip-off to real fashion. Show me a girl who actually looks good in this "style," and I'll show you someone who looks good in bright pink eyeshadow. Yeah, never gonna happen. Guess what? You can't see the cellulite on the back of your thighs, but EVERYONE else can if you insist on wearing leggings. It's just a fact of life. Yeah, I have some life-dimples myself, but I'm not going to subject ya'll to it. Just being polite.
P.S.: speaking of bright pink eyeshadow, even heard of pink eye? You generally want to try and look like you DON'T have it, or consumption.
FWOTW so now that it's below 80 degrees...
(Sept 27, 2006)
You might want to re-think that acid washed denim miniskirt. Just a thought. And, really, I have to say regardless of the temperature, you never should have bought the hideous thing in the first place.
Let's just rule out miniskirts in general, especially if you're over 25.
FMOTW: it's not that you're not sexy, but...
(Oct 2, 2006)
Guys, really, tank tops? Doesn't wearing one make you feel like a woman? And I'm talking about "wife-beaters" as well as basketball-style work-out shirts where the angle of the arm-hole has any degree of trajectory angled more inward toward your neck than just strait up from your armpit. Me no like-y.
FMOTW the black death
(Oct 7, 2006)
Black denim, ICK! let me re-iterrate, not only for emphasis but also because the first time I said it (yes, i said it out loud) it left that much of a bad taste in my mouth: ICK!
It won't stay new looking no matter how hard you try, if in fact while under some hypnotic trance you should buy the disturbingly 80s garment in the first place.
Short but sweet, this FMOTW is one you should adhere to rigidly. There shall be no strays.
FMOTW I won't grow up, ode to Peter Pan
(Oct 10, 2006)
Ummm, I wish I could draw a picture on here. I have complained about boots over jeans before, and unfortunately the advent of skinny jeans has made this look even easier to physically accomplish.
My problem today is boots that are also flats. Especially suede ones. Especially if they lace up the front. Especially ones that are taller in front than in back, with a slope to the top edge. Do you know what I mean? Here's where a picture would come in handy.
When worn over jeans, these boots (which actually exist, much to, I am sure, the general population's dismay) cause one to look like either a) she believes she is a certain fictional character who flies and fights pirates and well, "won't grow up" or b) she is trying out for that character in the off-off-broadway play, or one put on by the local high school. Either way, it's bad.
FMOTW My outfit's got schizophrenia!
(Oct 10, 2006)
Inner monologue of girl at Costco yesterday:
"So, when it put itself on my body this morning, I knew this outfit couldn't make up its mind. It was all, 'I'm a cowgirl, I'm a Utah girl, I'm a cowgirl, I'm a Utah girl!'
I was totally perplexed by its complete disregard for fashion... 'Bronze (read:brown) scrunched cowgirl boots with black capri gaucho pants?!' I thought to my admittedly crazy self. WTF?
Little flashes of knee-skin? 'I mean, am I cold, or hot?' I said to my little black sweater and cream-colored undershirt, which cutely poked up above the collar of the sweater; as I pouffed and teased with such violence as to cause as much breakage and damage as possible to the top, back part of my already bleached and dark-streaked hair, and slicked the rest down as stick-strait and lifeless as possible.
'Where does this oufit say I'm going? To Murray High or to a yuppie-filled rodeo?' I pressed on as I layered on foundation to my super-tan face, added some pearlescent lipgloss (much lighter than my skintone, of course), and lots of mascera.
'What are you trying to do to me?!' I finally shouted at my outfit as I completed my make-up, making sure that every inch of my face was the same color, TAN, so as to not draw attention to the fact that although I'm thin and blonde, I actually don't have any cute features... Doesn't matter, in Utah, they will still say I'm gorgeous."
FMOTW you won't need cement boots...
(Nov 15, 2006)
...if they drop you in the river in clunky-soled, chunky-old platform shoes! Now, a little lesson in fashion 101, wedge shoes (tiny in back, but tall, with a small platform in front) are very different from big chunky platforms. Repeat after me: "wedge: good; chunky shoe: bad." Just say it as many times as you need to to become convinced. Oh, and tell your friends.
Friends don't let friends wear ugly shoes.
Here I am , people!
Well... I am a blogger. I guess I have been writing my "Fashion Mistake of the Week" blog (hereafter "FMOTW") for about a year on Myspace. I am going to immediately copy all my FMOTWs here since some friends have asked me to.
Unfortunately, with my busy schedule, and forgetfulness, it has been less weekly, and more randomly that I have posted in the past. I will try to amend that habit here, posting a rather regular blog to not only appease my public but also to allow a healthy outlet to myself about not only fashion, but other ailments, and also any fabulous ideas that may strike me. And they do often.
I am certainly fabulous, but I will let my fashion whinings and other writings speak to that, instead of just touting my praises here.
And really, FMOTW may not be nice, but truly I write it to be funny, not to ruin the lives of the fashionably inept. I love the well-dressed and terribly-dressed alike. I just happen to be the patron saint of the well-dressed is all.
Unfortunately, with my busy schedule, and forgetfulness, it has been less weekly, and more randomly that I have posted in the past. I will try to amend that habit here, posting a rather regular blog to not only appease my public but also to allow a healthy outlet to myself about not only fashion, but other ailments, and also any fabulous ideas that may strike me. And they do often.
I am certainly fabulous, but I will let my fashion whinings and other writings speak to that, instead of just touting my praises here.
And really, FMOTW may not be nice, but truly I write it to be funny, not to ruin the lives of the fashionably inept. I love the well-dressed and terribly-dressed alike. I just happen to be the patron saint of the well-dressed is all.
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