Sunday December 30, 2007

Objectively, I understand that
1) I do not get to make a Birthday Wishlist any longer for my parents and assorted relatives.
2) clicking around on the Victoria's Secret website is a bad idea, as it will lead to the purchase of itchy underwear that looked good in the photo.

But sometimes, I swear, hidden gems on VS.  Such as:

leather jacket
a muuuuuuuch cheaper hot leather motorcycle jacket than the gunmetal grey one I was previously stalking.  ($148 vs. $627:  how is this even a contest, really?)

Student loans for winter quarter come through on Wednesday.  Care to take bets how many hours I last on January 2nd before purchasing this for myself and claiming "early birthday present"?

Sunday December 30, 2007

A sample schedule for the short week I spent at my parents' house over the holidays:

noon: wake up
noon-thirty:  finish breakfast of almond & chocolate toffee and peanut-butter cookies with tea; justify this as being healthy due to ginseng in tea.
12:45: commandeer computer for purpose of "work"
3:30: leave perch at computer to volunteer for trip to Target, secure in the knowledge that this expedition could result in both a stop at Starbucks and possibly some Target clearance treats.
4:30: make more tea, sit down for two+ hours of Law & Order.  Have lunch of chocolate cookies, chocolate drops, and more toffee.
7:00: open bottle of wine for dinner.  Parents rarely drink, therefore they purchase "semi-sweet table wine", which is alcoholic koolaid.
7:20: finish first serving of steak, shrimp, giant bowl of pasta, and small handful of virtuous vegetables.  Finish boozy koolaid.  Open bottle of dessert wine.
7:45: stumble upon leftover bread pudding in fridge.  Insist that the holidays call for dessert with every meal.
8:00: more Law & Order, more healthy ginseng tea.
9:50: oooh, nachos would be a really good idea.
10:10:  nachos go really well with beer.
1:05: promise self that I will only check email before bed and not obsessively refresh pages looking for the first appearance of holiday cashmere clearance.
2:50: contacts are drying out under the welcoming glow of the computer, time for bed.

All day, every day:  curse lack of cellphone reception.  Curse lack of motivation to use treadmill in basement.  Curse self for not using ice skates in garage to take an energizing spin around the lake.
Marvel that new grey Citizens received as Christmas present still fit. 


Thursday December 27, 2007

Yes, this is an 8 1/2 foot tall bronze sculpture in someone's front yard.

No, this is not a good idea.


Wednesday December 26, 2007

As I have nothing but time, here in the great expanse of parking lots that is Kearney, I decided to make my hairstylist proud and actually, y'know, style my hair this morning.  I figured that not too much damage could really be inflicted by the hot rollers, as my hair is stick-straight and fine and would really rather just lay there than curl. 
Wow, hot-rollering my hair to achieve a vaguely wavy, textur-y look was a bad idea.  A bad enough idea that I spent the next 15 minutes with water and a comb, flattening my hair into its normal state of submissiveness. 
My hair + curls = bad idea.
And no, no photos will be provided to prove this equation.

Also, thrifting (I would call it "vintageing", but really, Goodwill is not vintage.) in Kearney is far more disappointing than I had remembered.  Even Salvation Army, my secret weapon of high-school disco-queen outfits, is now reduced to two racks of winter jackets from 1986 and some Wranglers with a 38" waist.  Goodwill did have a rather nice faux-fur 3/4 length swing coat with a portrait collar, but once on, the marked size of "Ladies' 8" turned out to be, presumably, "Ladies' 18", as I could've fit my mother inside the coat with me.  There is a difference between a swing coat and a tent, and this particular item did not make that distinction.

To come:  photos of the best visual example of more-money-than-taste.  I took photos today of an 8-foot bronze statue found in the front yard of one Nebraska family.  Formerly a statue of their three children climbing a soaring eagle, the family seems to have had a fourth child and had the statue altered to include a new, almost life-size representation of their youngest. 
I promise, it's even worse than it sounds.


Tuesday December 25, 2007

Spotted last night at Christmas Eve church service:
a 60-something woman wearing a bright green velour tracksuit over an unfortunately sequinned reindeer sweater.  With sparkly flipflops.


Thursday December 20, 2007

Last night, at screening of "Sweeney Todd", I leaned over to whisper to Mary:

"I have the urge to yell 'soylent green is PEOPLE!' right now."


Monday December 17, 2007

Yesterday, I wore navy blue shorts with a black t-shirt.  In public. 
(And by "public" I mean "to yoga class", but still, once I realized that the shorts were blue and not black, I got a little twitchy.  It's a thing I have.)



Saturday December 15, 2007

What. the. fuck., Duncan Hines.  You KNOW that my specialty cake, the to-swoon-over cake, the cake that has made me famous in certain circles, is a double-layer hazelnut cake with salty caramel frosting.  WHY would you then go out and create your own jarred, over-sweet, commercially available caramel frosting?  Now any bitch with a cake mix can be a pretender to the awesome caramel frosting throne, but I will not take this challenge lightly.  Oh no.  I will tweak my caramel frosting recipe (note:  mine is made by caramelizing real sugar and going from there, not by adding "caramel flavor" to a generic overprocessed and overstabilized buttercream like sooooome frostings one can purchae at the grocery store) until caramel dominance is mine.

Ok, secondary caramel dominance, as we all know that my recipe is totally a riff on the brilliant Adrienne Odom's pastry wonderfulness.

In completely unrelated news, I am now the owner of a gorgeous vintage fur Dior cloche.  It's been calling my name from the Mustardseed window for weeks now, and I caved today and bought it.  I'll have Noah take a photo of me being all flirty and coy in the hat and show it off to you soon, I swear.


Friday December 14, 2007

(Um, yesterday's post was nearly incoherent.  Sorry.  "I want things!  Things do not exist!  Oh no!  This saves me money and time!")

This week, I accidentally kicked the Director of the Contemporary Arts Center in the elbow.  And then I continued to kick her for the next two minutes.  At this point, if she does not remember my name, I will continue kicking!
Just kidding.  What really transpired was a hamstring-breaking Yogalates class, which I foolishly decided would be a great, relaxing introduction back into a daily yoga practice.  Aside from the bit about me never having done Pilates before, I also haven't kept up with yoga for the past two months or so, which leads to situations in which the yoga studio is extremely crowded, and Raphaela takes the mat directly to my left, and then the balance-on-your-right-arm-and-arch-your-back-and-kick! poses begin, and I, being unable to do graceful swinging kicks and balances, commence smacking of her right elbow with my left foot.  Not once, oh no, but about seven times.  Oops.

(Now my entire upper body is so sore it hurts to put on a coat, pointing out all the muscles that exist in name only.  Those muscles are now screaming "why in god's name did you attempt that arm balance?!?")

And yet, despite my best efforts to break her arm, Raphaela not only did not avoid my potentially uncontrollable limbs in the office today, but went out of her way to be awesome.  I suppose that I can't suggest that you, too, should repeatedly hit the person upon whom you really would like to make a favorable impression, but it seems to work for me.
I'm off to go smack around next quarter's Managerial Accounting professor, then.


Thursday December 13, 2007

I generally go shopping with a very specific piece in mind- sleeve length, material, color, cut, the whole thing.  Certainly, I must've seen such a dress/coat/shoe somewhere, because these designs would not just jump into my head, now would they?  Except that naturally, these pieces do not exist in the wild. 
Such as:  since September, I have craved a navy blue satiny/silky tie-neck sleeveless blouse with a banded waist and blousy body.  And this does not exist goddamn anywhere.  I'd go for a halter-neck, a high neck... except that no one has produced this for me yet.

Last weekend, somewhere on a untraceable trail of links, I came across a similar blouse by Tulle Clothing- except Tulle Clothing does not have a website, and all their major online third-party retailers are not the site I saw, and do not have the girly, dolled-up blouse that could make me look like a put-together grownup.
This is clearly a sign that the internet hates me.

(I love the word "blouse".)


Sunday December 9, 2007

Admittedly, at times I can be a spendthrifty, Discover Card-toting, instant gratification shopper.  But, with three weeks before the next student loan check and bills to pay, I'm limited to just posting the pretty things that I would want for Christmas if A) Santa Claus were real and B) Santa Claus were a very generous sugar daddy.  Materialism ahoy.

Marc Jacobs lizard-skin bad-ass cuff watch
because my current watch has three dots and no numbers, and I haven't really know if it was 4:40 or 5:40 for seven years now.

Matt & Nat baby blue Jorja Fox bag
because I can think of no classier way to smuggle a pair of flats, a sandwich, a magazine, a sweater, and possibly even my cat into work than with a big, beautiful purse.

The perfect not-too-cropped motorcrossy leather jacket

because "winter" in Cincinnati means "windy and 30 degrees", which means a puffy Columbia coat is just silly.

An ipod that will make running through the park slightly more motivating
because my regular ipod requires a arm-strap holder for workouts that leaves a very odd tan line of my left bicep.

For Noah:  a laptop of his own.  For me: not having to share my laptop when I want to watch "Gossip Girl" and he wants to work on silly things like finishing his Master's.

A pretty, pretty dress from French Connection
because IT'S NOT BLACK!

I still do not have a new camera.
because I'd love to put more photos of the cat on the internet.

The Allumonde ring (hint!  only $35!)
because my current ring flies off when I gesture too grandly.  Also, oooh, shiny.

Grey Citizens of Humanity jeans
because high-rise pants = happy girl.

Things to put in my stocking include:
Jay-Z's latest
Anything in which Gael wears a dress
The exhibition catalogue for "Diane Arbus:  Revelations"

Booze, please.

Warm (sexy) socks

Yummy and not-cloying lotion



Monday December 3, 2007

PWNED, bitches.
I've been lusting after this over-the-knee flat boot for a few weeks now, but although DSW had it on sale in my size (godDAMN you, DSW, why must you rock so hard?), they only stocked it in black and brown.
Do I need yet another pair of black boots for $90?  Of course not.  But grey- I totally could justify shelling out for grey boots.  The Chinese Laundry website indicated that they'd be available after December 7th in grey, but just because I'm picky and rather anal-retentive, I've been checking their website each day just to make sure they didn't come in early.
And today!  I click over to the boots, and although there is no photo as of yet, the pretty sexy slouchy suede boots were there, in grey, in my size!  No deliberations necessary- those boots are en route.  And I am nervously checking my bank balance, as student loans will run out very soon, and yet I'm still mid-stalk of another Kara Janx wrap dress on ebay, along with a new listing for the Marc Jacobs cuff watch snapped out of my clutches last week at the final moment.
kj & mj
Yeah, I might starve to death, but I'll look faaaaabulous doing it.  I have priorities.

I'm in no real danger of starving to death, frankly- I've consumed a year's worth of sausage and other assorted pork products over the last four days, topped off by my white-trashy special beer cheese soup (Velveeta + cream of mushroom + beer + worcestershire sauce) last night, followed by what might have been an entire six-pack of beer at C's.  I swear, I got up from her couch, and in the process of standing, I knocked over four empty beer bottles that had migrated to my feet.  Oops.  Forgot I'd drank all those already.
Ostensibly, I've decided to forego the rest of the bacon and the leftover Velveeta and the butter in the fridge and choose to eat foods that do not leave grease stains on my pants.  I say "ostensibly", because I have a Stats final on Thursday night, and while making flashcards tonight (how very middle-school of me) I unthinkingly ate half a giant bag o chips.  And inevitably, there will be post-final celebratory drinking from Thursday night on through the next week.  I'm going to have to start running far more than three miles at a time if I plan to be able to zip any jeans by my birthday.
(But shoes:  I will never get too chubby for shoes.  Shoes are
forgiving like that.)


Friday November 30, 2007

You know what all my stop-dressing-like-an-undergrad outfits have in common?  Psychotic embrace of all neutral colors, that's what.  And today is no exception:

Navy blue cardigan, brown tweed dress, grey tights, honey-brown cowboy boots.

Perhaps tomorrow, I'll branch out and wear a color.  But only one.  Wouldn't want to be hasty.  That could cause me to break out in hives.

The lovely freakshow of The Smoking Gun has no qualms about dressing for the occasion, especially when the occasion is arrest and booking.  Who regrets their ironic t-shirt NOW, Mr. Pervy Uncle #8? 


Thursday November 29, 2007

S.D.L.A.U. for today:
SANY0138 SANY0139
Bronze flats, skinny jeans, long baby-blue tank, grey v-neck, new navy blue cardigan, necklace made of a bunch of old earrings I looped onto a turquoise necklace I never wore.

Random:  the crying needs to stop.  Right fucking now.  I have never been a box of hormones, but the birth control pill I'm on right now seems to put an exorbitant amount of estrogen into my system, as I've started weeping at nothing lately.
Kay Jewelry commercials on the treadmill make me tear up.
Hell, I even got misty over NPR's revisted commentary of A FOOTBALL GAME, for chrissakes.  I swear, this week I'll probably see a little kid trip on the sidewalk and burst into wails.  I would like my dry, cold, empty tear ducts back, please.


Wednesday November 28, 2007

Stop Dressing Like An Undergrad, you're almost done with your first quarter of grad school!

Maryjanes with patent-leather cap toes, my favorite jeans (even though they fall over my hips when they stretch out- I'm forgiving like that), Libertine t-shirt, grey cashmere cardigan, pearls.

Pearls? Or rather, the plastic beaded necklace I got for $3.80 at some horrific teenybopper store that I put on today in an effort to be "ladylike".

(oh, and that tentacle grabbing my left breast is not a bodysnatcher.  It's the tree print on this Libertine t-shirt.)

Wednesday November 28, 2007

Noah's translation of the following Cute Fight:


Panda A- "I am so furry!"
Panda B- "I also have lots of fur!"
Panda A- "I will roll upon you in a cute manner."
Panda B- "I have poorly developed motor skills."
Panda A- "I have not really learned to stand yet."
Panda B- "I would just like to cuddle."


Monday November 26, 2007

Last night, I was beat out by ONE MEASLY SECOND on ebay for a particular Marc Jacobs watch I've been stalking.  As a consolation prize, I've decided that I don't have enough shoes.  (What?  They all still fit in my closet, and it's a small closet!)

I've gazed adoringly at over-the-knee flat boots for a few years now, and although I'm certain that thigh-high suede is not the most practical late-November footwear, look!  They're on sale!  And they're over-the-knee boots that no self-respecting hooker would wear!

And wait a minute, I don't own any grey boots!  I can totally fix that!

It's not an addiction, it's a hobby.  I swear.


Sunday November 25, 2007

Five... more... days...

Although last year's effort at NaBloPoMo did generate a few things that I'd consider worthwhile (generally aided by lots of coffee and free time at work "composing emails" / writing that day's entry on the sly), this year seems to be a plodding series of thirty useless, barely strung-together sentences of no real value.  Be prepared for more of the same in the next five days, as it's definitely past time for a creative breakthrough.

Good Intentions Fail at Mile Two:
I've started running with a little bit of effort once again.  It's saddening and frustrating at this point, because when I hit that second mile or that first small hill, my body starts whining "noooooo, this is too haaaaaard!" and my breath control goes all wonky and my ankles start to hurt a bit and too often, I just slow down to a walk.  Ok, I know I haven't run with any regularity since about 2002, and that I hit my running peak in 2000/2001, but:  from someone who once wound down after a day at work with a five-mile run along the Mississippi and who looked forward to the seven-and-a-half mile weekend runs, this sucks.  And this frustrates me, and the anticipation of my frustration makes me want to not run, which is a lovely self-defeating loop.  Maybe new running shoes could be the incentive I need to get out of the apartment and take a loop around the park before class a few times a week?

There's a reason that the box of chocolatey calcium chews warns against eating more than four each day.  An uncomfortable, unable-to-poop reason.


Saturday November 24, 2007

A few weeks ago, my parents visited Cincinnati for the first time.  While traversing the city, a sample conversation went like this:

Dad:  So, what are the major industries of Cincinnati?
Me:  I have no idea.

Mom:  Is McMillan Road named after someone?  A senator?  A mayor?
Me:  I have no idea.

Dad:  What's the metro-area population of Cincinnati?
Me:  I have no idea.

Mom:  When was Clifton incorporated into Cincinnati?
Me:  I haven't the slightest idea.

Dad:  How many square acres is Burnet Woods?


Friday November 23, 2007

Although I know it's Buy-Nothing Day:

Apple has a sale
American Apparel has a sale
hipster paradise.  (ooooh, thigh-high socks!)

Sorry, Reverend Billy.


Thursday November 22, 2007

Cipollini onion and blue cheese tart

Nutmeg, ginger, and cranberry tart

...well, YOU try to have only one serving.


Wednesday November 21, 2007

Possibly the most inappropriate thing ever for a gynecologist to say, immediately after removing a speculum from my catbag:

"well, that was quick!  Wham, bam, thank you ma'am!"

... if she were anything but a youngish female gyno, I'd be so weirded out.


Tuesday November 20, 2007

Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy, for giving me permission to post about shoes when my brain is too fried from 1) bourbon at the bar on Monday, 2) waking up at 7 a.m. on Tuesday, and 3) fourteen hours of work today to write anything interesting, witty, or useful.

So, today:
Black chucks, to make up for the sixteen hours of running around in boots with 4" heels (badly in need of re-heeling) on Monday.  Feet say "THANK YOU!", even though I look in the mirror today with my stretched-out jeans, my dirty hair that smells of smoke, and my ratty black sweater, and say "wow, time to start posting your Stop Dressing Like An Undergrad* photos again to get your ass back in presentable form".

*although I did not actually wear chucks in undergrad.  They're a recent acquisition, but something about them make me feel 17 and high school-y.


Monday November 19, 2007

At 9:45 this morning, with a 1:00 presentation looming, Courtney and I decided that adding a video in to the powerpoint could not be that hard, right?

At 11:00 this morning, we realized that neither of us has ever used Final Cut Pro.

At 11:45 this morning, I managed to edit and insert a video clipette into our presentation.

At 12:00, the video clipette plays perfectly in the Mac lab.

And at 1:15, the video steadfastly refuses to play mid-presentation, despite having worked a mere seventy-five minutes prior, on a Mac, in the same building.

Then a lectern came crashing down on my right shin, and I cursed really loudly to divert everyone's attention from the Great Video Failure of 2007.

We'd so best get an 'A'.


Sunday November 18, 2007

This weekend, Noah discovered our oven.  And, for the first time in his life, he baked.  And not in a half-assed way, oh no:  I came home from "Wonderful Town" last night to a freshly baked red pepper and romano quiche and a cherry pie (topped with a brown sugar egg wash, and served with real whipped cream, no less!).
This morning, he made popovers.  From scratch.

This kind of thing might be why the scale says I gained 13 pounds in the last two weeks.  Or, the scale might just be evil and wrong, and I will be able to eat four popovers with jam for breakfast every day without consequence!  I vote for Option B.


Saturday November 17, 2007

Today, I am steadfastly refusing to Stop Dressing Like An Undergrad- until I head out for a show this evening.

In the interim, it's gold leather Chucks (about as glam-rock as sneakers can be, I suppose), jeans, a navy v-neck from Old Navy ($10, suckas!), and a thick grey cardigan stolen from Noah.  And unwashed hair.  Man, I look goooood.
(Before going to see "Wonderful Town" tonight, I'll be sure to put on something a bit more... pretty, and less "yes, I'm a college sophomore.")

Favorite quote of the day, from my boss:
"Dot org?  That's bullshit!  Dot org is the poor man's dot com!"


Friday November 16, 2007

Have you seen the Victoria's Secret air-Angels-bra commercial?  Where the brunette in a faux accent does a limerick about her tits?

Yeah, the one where they rhyme "lighter than air" with "filled with air".  Would it be so hard to have changed a portion of that rhyme to "boys will stare" or "anti-glare"?

P.S.- how is it even probable that doing my nails at 11 pm last night and then doing nothing more strenuous than reading a book before bed caused me to wake up this morning with heavily chipped nail polish?  Did I sabotage myself by punching the wall in my sleep, or what?


Thursday November 15, 2007

Last night, between getting flour all over myself and "homework"/gossip at Courtney's, I bitched to her that my Cardigan Quest was thwarted.  Not a single crewneck cardigan in the world for me, I moaned!
Not one to admit shopping defeat, Courtney then brought up the Old Navy website to prove to me that yes, there are lovely button-up sweaters out there, just waiting for me.  Also, the Gap has heard my plea and sold me this cardigan today (it is cropped, but not obnoxiously so, and especially for layering, this could turn out to be a good idea).  Old Navy provided me a black v-neck ribbed cardigan, which I wish were navy blue, but I supposed navy isn't much more of a "real color" than black is.  At least I'm wearing more grey this fall:  baby steps, friends.

Motherfucking deliciousness:

cranberryum          cipollini_recipe
I plan to make both a bastard version of this cranberry Martha tart (bastardized with ginger and nutmeg over cinnamon, as cinnamon and I are mortal enemies), and Lucques' cipollini and blue cheese tart for Thanksgiving.  And nothing else.  Pastry adventures, ahoy!


Wednesday November 14, 2007

It's 60 degrees and pleasant here.  In the middle of November.  Well, I suppose Cincinnati isn't all bad, then.
Grey 3/4 sleeve tshirt (which was hip-length and long-sleeved when I bought it, but apparently decided that the dryer is a mortal enemy), sparkly navy blue sweater dress bunched up as tunic (yeah, neither the "sparkle" nor the "navy blue" are really discernible in this photo, but trust me, they're there- and I'm totally planning to wear this over dark grey tights as a dress with some serious boots), high-rise jeans, gold peep-toe flats.

The sweater tunic/dress was a recent Forever 21 purchase, and after shopping that day, I felt uncomfortably first-world.  I'd gone to MAC to get more eyeliner and foundation, and to Sephora for mascara, and by the time I left the mall, I realized I'd just spent over $100 on disposable, unnecessary things without really considering it.  In what situation is it REALLY necessary for me to shell out $30 for foundation?  Or $20 for mascara?  At what point did the 99-cent drugstore brand eyeliner stop being 'good enough' for me?
And why do I feel like these are normal purchases?  I know that the rest of the world does not have the luxury to go drop $75 at a makeup counter (well, yes, I know that "the rest of the (third) world" does not even have $75 in disposable income), and to do so, even on a grad-loans budget, makes me feel a little uncomfortably squishy in the moral area. 
(The Moral Area is found next to the kidneys.)

Some of this is residual guilt from the weekend:  parents visiting means that I have the opportunity to eat really well and get fancy groceries.  And I'm old enough now that what was once a lovely generous impulse towards their college-age kids now seems to make me... well, spoiled.  And I've never felt spoiled before, but now, it seems that I should be beyond the age of accepting rather extravagant "help" from the family without some consternation. 

This doesn't mean that I'm going to return the bottles of cava, mind you, but perhaps that I'm going to be very aware of the fact that I'm extremely lucky and remind myself to send more letters to my parents.


Tuesday November 13, 2007

Wanted:  perfect slim, crewneck, washable cardigans in black, dark grey, and navy blue.

For such a preppy staple, it's insanely and inexplicably hard to procure.  Banana Republic?  Gap?  J Crew?  The Limited?  Target?  (oh, and I know that there are cashmere cardigans out in the world, but the point is to not spend $200 on a sweater that I've got to shell out to dryclean as well.)

Everyone seems to make a cardigan... with sparkly buttons and a v-neck and leopard print.  I'm going to park myself in Mustardseed after class tomorrow until someone comes in with a stack of perfect cotton/wool blend sweaters.  And then I will sucker-punch them and run off with an armful of cardigans.


Monday November 12, 2007

One should not really bitch about the wifi that one "borrows" from a neighbor generous enough to unwillingly leave their connection unsecured, but goddamn, it's going to be a pain to get through NaBloPoMo with any sort of certainty if the internet connection keeps dying at the exact moment I say "shit!  I haven't blogged yet today!".

this makes it really hard to watch streaming episodes of "Gossip Girl" and figure out how to acheive perfect Blair Waldorf Lips.



Sunday November 11, 2007

Possbily the number one thing that theatre staff should never, ever say when describing a re-interpretation/adaptation/staging of "A Christmas Carol": 

"well, it ain't your daddy's Dickens!"


Saturday November 10, 2007

Parents in town.  Free food.  Thorougly distended gastrointestinal system.


Holy sausages, batman.  We're just back from the Meat-Fest that is Boi Na Braza, and though I was not able to eat more than two pounds of steak, sausage, cured ham, and bacon-wrapped whatnots, I will say that it was well worth it.  While waiting for the parents to join us at the bar, I figured that splurging on a nice glass of champagne would be acceptable, as we would not be picking up the dinner tab. 

A) you know it's trouble when they don't give you a wine list, it's just verbalized
B) since when does a 187 ml of champagne cost $18, especially a brand I can easily pick up at the liquor store?
C) whatever, worth it.

It's 9:30 on a Saturday night and I'm going to lie down in a parmesan-encrusted pork loin coma now.


Friday November 9, 2007

Our apartment building has a mini-gym of sorts in the basement.  It's super-convenient, except that mostly, when I get home at the end of my day, I do not feel like putting on a sports bra and clomping downstairs to spend quality time with the elliptical machine.

I did not feel motivated, that is, until I realized that the workout room has a tv positioned in front of the treadmill.  And on tv, one can find Law & Order SVU, CSI NY, and other gory programs of delight. 

If it's 10 pm, you can find me jogging my little heart out, engrossed in this week's serial killer stories.  Which is a little counterproductive, really, since the basement is kind of creepy and then I freak out a little about being the person in this week's L&O to find the dead body splayed across the basement window.


Thursday November 8, 2007

I got my hair cut today (for the first time since June, regrettably), and once again, I look like myself.  Because myself's hair is the lovechild of Anna Mae Wong, Louise Brooks, and Anna Wintour, and to pretend otherwise only leads to ill-advised styling accidents.
(while the salon guy was working on me, he made the comment that I have "a baby's hair".  Yes, I do have straight, fine hair.  But is "baby hair" a compliment or an insult?)

I came home, and with the blondish tips (damn you, summer sunlight on Lake Michigan!) removed, the roots of my normal hair vs. summer sun exposure hair were damnably obvious.  So, as any logical girl that lives next to a CVS would do, I went and purchased some dye.

Except Garnier's "dark brown" seems to have becomes "jesus christ that's pitch-fucking-black!", aka "you are now Snow White's stand-in".


Hey, what's up with the gloves, you say?
I saw this gorgeous shot on LadyLessons and decided to dedicate my week to stalking ebay for elbow-length leather gloves.  And oh, the packages I got this week!
(grey v-neck sweater over long black tank, leather gloves, jeans, and unseen black leather stiletto boots.)

Today's outfit does not live up to the awesomeness of the gloves, I'm afraid, but I plan to rock them out with a vintage silk dress in the very near future.  And gesture wildly all night while doing so.


Wednesday November 7, 2007

Why the hell was Tuesday's font so small?  Only RichText Editor knows, and he isn't talking.  Sigh.

Today:  NaBloShoeMo!

New favorite brown patent-leather mary janes with light blue socks, because it is cold out, and because the blue socks match the headscarf match the blue mascara.  When I wear a "real color", I wear that color to death.


Tuesday November 6, 2007

I completely misread this AP headline as “Italy Breaks Up With European Terror Cell”.
What, did the terrorists forget your birthday?  Were they rude to your mom?  Ohmygod, Chem class is going to be soooo awkward now that The Terrorists aren’t dating Italy any more.  Are we going to have to choose new lab partners so they don’t have to work on the inert gases project together?
Hey, you know what I did not miss at all about being in school?  The midnight freakouts of ‘I’m going to get a C in this class and then my GPA will go down and then I will lose my scholarships and then I will have to drop out of school and then my life will be ruined and I’ll just be a secretary/waitress/prostitute for the rest of my life’.  Especially now that those freakouts are accompanied by the knowledge that I will be taking math-heavy classes for the next seven quarters to get this damn MBA, and that each and every quarter I will be holding my breath when grades are posted, hoping that I will both pass the class and keep my scholarship.  Wow, that’s fun.  I must be really pleasant to live with.  Sorry, Noah.
There are some things in my life that do not cause hyperventilation and slamming down of heavy textbooks that send the cat careening under the bed, and chief among those things are:
Friday night’s opening party at the CAC.  In light of last weekend’s utterly shit gallery opening, I am politely requesting that the Odita opening kick major ass to make up for my art-opening disappointments.  Also, it is an excuse to wear a pretty pretty dress and pretend to be important.
Saturday night’s dinner reservation w the parents at Boi Na Braza.  Yes, I know it’s a chain, and yes, I know it’s a glorified buffet.  However, the words “all you can eat chorizo” are magic words.

Tuesday November 6, 2007

I completely misread this AP headline as “Italy Breaks Up With European Terror Cell”.
What, did the terrorists forget your birthday?  Were they rude to your mom?  Ohmygod, Chem class is going to be soooo awkward now that The Terrorists aren’t dating Italy any more.  Are we going to have to choose new lab partners so they don’t have to work on the inert gases project together?
Hey, you know what I did not miss at all about being in school?  The midnight freakouts of ‘I’m going to get a C in this class and then my GPA will go down and then I will lose my scholarships and then I will have to drop out of school and then my life will be ruined and I’ll just be a secretary/waitress/prostitute for the rest of my life’.  Especially now that those freakouts are accompanied by the knowledge that I will be taking math-heavy classes for the next seven quarters to get this damn MBA, and that each and every quarter I will be holding my breath when grades are posted, hoping that I will both pass the class and keep my scholarship.  Wow, that’s fun.  I must be really pleasant to live with.  Sorry, Noah.
There are some things in my life that do not cause hyperventilation and slamming down of heavy textbooks that send the cat careening under the bed, and chief among those things are:
Friday night’s opening party at the CAC.  In light of last weekend’s utterly shit gallery opening, I am politely requesting that the Odita opening kick major ass to make up for my art-opening disappointments.  Also, it is an excuse to wear a pretty pretty dress and pretend to be important.
Saturday night’s dinner reservation w the parents at Boi Na Braza.  Yes, I know it’s a chain, and yes, I know it’s a glorified buffet.  However, the words “all you can eat chorizo” are magic words.


Monday November 5, 2007


Black cardigan, black crew-neck t-shirt, tweed side-button skirt, black tights, red patent-leather boots.  Yes, the tights do make this a bit less pretty, but my 6:00 art history lecture is always freezing, and I'm not about to sit there in misery for three hours. 
Need: many more soft cashmere cardigans, as I've taken to wearing the hell out of this black one.  Also very much need a haircut, as my bangs are nearly down to my nose (they are currently in a semipermanent state of being pulled back with a bobby pin, which really does not look good on me), and my hair is nearly hitting my shoulders.


Sunday November 4, 2007

It's been a while since I've had a Bus Tale of my own (what with the owning of a car now), but I generally take the 17 to work about 3 days a week in Cincinnati.
This week, while en route to the Contemporary Arts Center, my bus driver decided to display her OCD (which would seem to be an impediment to BEING A BUS DRIVER, what with the uncleanliness and the general mis-rule of the public transit system in Cincinnati) by following the entry of each passenger by her copious spraying of Febreeze onto the entry terminal.  Worse yet, the Febreeze was not unscented, but Fresh Raspberry Meadow Hellhole Febreeze, or something equally faux-fruitful.
I debated exiting the bus seventeen blocks early and just walking to work from there to escape the overpowering berry-ness.

P.S.:  Febreeze does not disinfect anything, dumbass.  It just makes my scarf smell like cheap synthetic fruit all day long, and does nothing to prevent your acquisition of MRSA or other scary superbugs that I will not choose to think about when using the presumably infected elliptical trainer in our basement workout room.


Saturday November 3, 2007

Worn today for a few hours of development work at Know, then on to the WORST GALLERY OPENING EVER.  (Tiny, awkward space?  yes.  Four gallery attendees?  yes.  "Art" was really the scrawled robot drawings of a homeless guy who pestered the gallery for a show?  yes.  Refreshments?  NO.)


Black v-neck sweater (not navy blue, despite the first photo) over long grey tank, skinny jeans, black patent-leather cap-toe mary janes, orange Jelly Kelly bag that was my "it's my birthday and I'm buying it!" present four years ago.  Rumpling done by my uncomfortable desk at work.


Friday November 2, 2007

Lesson learned today:
when wearing a too-big skirt over a satin slip, make sure to wear a trench coat over your ensemble. It will camouflage the fact that with each step you take, your skirt comes closer and closer to falling off.

Friday November 2, 2007

Because I'm at work from 9 am-11 pm today, I'm slacking off and simply linking to an exhibition I'm très excited for. 


FLOW by Odili Donald Odita (at the CAC) opens Nov 9, and I am all anticipatory for the opening-night party. The lobby is currently in the process of becoming amazing and fabulous (see?).
Also, due to my internship, I now get invites for art openings around town.  It's amazing how easy it is to fool people into thinking that you're at all of importance.


Thursday November 1, 2007

Happy NaBloPoMo, bitches. 

I believe that tonight, midterm grades for Stats will be announced.  In order to deal with this, I felt it necessary to bring out the lam
é pants.  Yes, I know they're leggings, but if I keep calling them 'pants', I'll feel better about wearing them to a three-hour math lecture tonight.

SANY0093  SANY0095
(I don't know how the photo on the right got all washed out and angsty.  I'm not that emo, I swear.)

Black bubble-dress hoodie (thanks for the Mike & Chris knockoff, Old Navy!), long black v-neck tshirt, black lam
é leggings, black patent flats.

Clean and shiny floors courtesy Noah, who I convinced to clean.  Score.


Wednesday October 31, 2007

I think it's been established that I love shoes.
I also like to take care of my shoes (re-soling, rubberizing, re-heeling, winterizing, etc.), and will pledge my undying love to the shoe guy at Field's basement in Minneapolis for taking care of all those needs.
However, Cincinnati Citysearch is quite vague about their shoe guys.  I found a listing of two dozen cobblers, and they all share the same four-star rating and no customer reviews.
Help a lady out- if you have a wonderful Cincinnati cobbler to recommend to me, my boots will be quite pleased.

Wednesday October 31, 2007

I managed to not dress like an undergrad today, despite my 7 am preference for comfy jeans and a hoodie.  7 am will tell you warm things, but not necessarily matching things.

In lieu of a ratty sweatshirt, I wore three layers of cotton jersey.

Medium-grey long-sleeved cotton jersey t-shirt under navy blue American Apparel jersey dress, dark grey jersey tights, brown vintage boots.

My new ebay-stalking-in-process item:  long vintage leather gloves.  I want some glamazon cold-weather accessories, and what better than elbow- or opera-length gloves?

Aaah!  NaBloPoMo starts tomorrow!  Ready yourselves for drivel.  And maybe for angry photos of my cat.

Wednesday October 31, 2007

I would refer to this as a link dump, except it's not so much "dumping" as skimming the top layer of useless information off the top of my brain so I can squeeze some much-needed but little-wanted Statisical Analysis knowledge in there before the fucking risk analysis project is due on Thursday.
And after class on Thursday, what will I be doing?  That's right, forgetting everything I've learned in the past six weeks, because our prof won't be a bastard and make the final cumulative, will he?  Will he?

So:  NYT, get over your trendy selves.  Va-jay-jay?  Lame.  All the cool kids are calling it a cuntaroo.  Or an axe wound. 

Also from Sunday's Times:  I cannot believe that in real life, someone who presumably manages to make decisions each day that prevent them from getting hit by a bus/ electrocuted by their hair dryer/ deported could possibly think that saying something as asinine as
“Obama sounds too much like Osama. When he says his name, I am like, ‘I am not voting for a Muslim!’ ”  in front of a reporter with a tape recorder will not somehow, somewhere, be a bad idea.  Thanks, Kayla Nickel(Yes, I linked that.  You're dumb enough to say something like that AND have your home contact information publicly available via Google?  You can't possibly be surprised if you start to get angry letters.)
My faith in the possibility of intelligent life within the lower midwest may have just been destroyed.


Sunday October 28, 2007

I swear, I did not mean to go out and buy another pair of shoes.  It's just, well, I was walking to the bar on Thursday night post-midterms, and I passed by this vintage store, and my friends weren't at the bar yet, and... there were these brown patent-leather button-closure mary janes in a size 9 narrow, and you can never find a 9 narrow anymore.  I walked away without the shoes on Thursday, because I thought I could live without them. 

I was wrong.  They kept boucing around in my brain all day on Friday, and yesterday, en route to pick up a half gallon of milk, I took a little detour to the Mustard Seed boutique.  There were the shoes, all shiny and on sale, and hey, they perfectly matched what I was wearing that day!  I ended up purchasing both the carton of milk and the shoes.
(the scuffiness on the left strap is barely visible in person, because you are already blinded by their awesomeness.)

Operation Stop Dressing Like an Undergrad for Saturday became:

 orange & white vintage headscarf
 long brown hoodie tunic sweater
 jeans that are sliiiiightly too small if I over-indulge, to remind me that I do not need the entire bag of Doritos in addition to a sandwich for lunch
 awesome vintage mary janes (Arabella)
 + lots of cat hair, courtesy Yitzak


Friday October 26, 2007

I could probably put together much more interesting choices in my life (wardrobe, breakfast items, conversational topics gleaned from the morning paper) if only I'd wake up earlier.  After twenty-five years of having to be physically roused from bed if the clock has not yet hit 1 pm, I'm fairly certain that the magical ability to use the morning productively will never occur in my life. 

Operation Stop Dressing Like an Undergrad for Thursday (day of Stats midterm, day of much fretting and cramming and perhaps passing the damn test):

Definitely concered with the comfy factor here:  comfy red wedge boots, comfy jeans (ehr, so comfy that the waistband kept slipping down over my hips.  Oops, propriety.), snuggly grey long-sleeved t-shirt, and deceptively adult looking blazer that is actually made out of cozy fleece. 
The possible I'm-going-to-the-midterm-but-still-look-good factor was completely neutralized by my giant black messenger bag full of useless statistics notes, though.

Today:  woke up and immediately went back to bed after consuming a handful of painkillers.  I have never woken up with a headache (mini-migraine) that has laid me flat out at 8 am before, but it seems that there's a first time for all ailments.  (I have been battling some severe headache demons this month, which is highly unusual for a girl who has, prior to this, generally suffered through only one minor headache every six weeks or so.  My guess is brain tumor.  If I can ever get an appointment with the UC Health Center, I will let them prove me wrong about the tumor if it might include a heavy-duty sedative prescription.)

Well, aside from all that, I did eventually have to get dressed.  Much like Thursday, in the volume-on-the-bottom / cropped jacket on top:

Black cap-toe mary janes, charcoal wide-legged pants, long black tshirt, mustard cropped jackette.  Generally worn with giant sunglasses this afternoon to stop the sunshine from entering my delicate brain.

(also:  I suck at doing mirror photographs.  And this super low-end Sanyo isn't doing me any favors.  Need pretty shiny camera.)