Tuesday July 31, 2007

employment!  fuck yeaaaaaah!

I start tomorrow at Alterra as a first-shift production baker.  8 hours each day of playing with pastry toys, and I can walk there in 10 minutes from my front door.  Plus, baking job = wearing shorts and no makeup. 

And, um, it's not like I ran to Old Navy to buy this knockoff on
of the lovely, unaffordable Mike & Chris hoodie dress
the moment I got the job because now I will have paychecks.  Not at all.
($34.50 for the knockoff, or $308 for the real deal)


Monday July 30, 2007

I definitely read this article on preparing to take on an executive directorship (in Sunday's Times) with a bit closer attention than usual; can you please reprint the list of arts organizations with open directorships, in about, say, two years, when I'm done with my arts admin master's?  Thanks.

(Also, the profile of the Met's director is jump-starting the part of my brain that thinks an art history degree would be a fabulous idea.)

In which I realize I can no longer pass for an undergrad:

While debating whether or not to pair a yellow cropped jacket with a black dress, I wonder aloud to my 19-year-old roommate whether or not it's "too Blind Melon". 
She gives me a blank stare.


Sunday July 29, 2007

I'm fully aware that this is going to make me sound like a total twit, but:  I got to model this weekend, and it was the best thing to happen to me all month. 
Quick summary of how it went down:  I was window-shopping on Brady St. before meeting Smoo for lunch, and fell in love with a silk nightgown I could not afford or justify in any manner.  As I'm haggling with the shopgirl over possible extra discounts, I see the sign that says "model needed for Sat fashion show", and offer up my (admittedly meager) services.  Shopgirl is way more enthusiastic than I'd predicted, and offers the nightgown in trade. 
So, Saturday, I'm to head to the hair & makeup tent
at noon, get all, ahem, dolled up

(why did the awful makeup artist have to do my eyes in pink stripes?  why?!?),
and put on this gorgeous geisha-esque dress that unfortunately, I have no photos of, as the camera's battery died immediately after taking the surly I-hate-this-shitty-makeup photo. 

So, yes, my model dreams were satisfied by my 30-second turn on the catwalk (strut! pose! go right! pose! look fierce! go left! ignore the crazy guy at the end of the catwalk! strut! all done!), and it made me feel fucking awesome
And, even better for my ego, I got asked back to do it next year if I'm somehow in Milwaukee during the Brady Street Festival. 

I love that my plans for the weekend were modeling on Saturday, and then bacon-gorging on Sunday at Comet Cafe.  I lead a balanced life.


Wednesday July 25, 2007

Being that I am still currently unemployed, I get to spend hours every day perusing the delights of the internet.  This often involves a few hours of fashion blogs, which leads to shopping, which leads to me smacking my head onto my laptop to remind myself that I have no income at this time.
There are shoes, and they are practical, and they are adorable, and they are fifteen fucking dollars.  And when a girl is less-than-happy with the current state of affairs (getting lost all the goddamn time in a new city, not having a job, rapidly losing upper-arm strength due to lack of yoga studio, formerly pin-straight and rather sleek hair frizzing out unexplainably), few things are more therapeutic than planning new outfits around her new shoes.

As I already own satin flats in black and light silver, those same colors in patent leather (however shiny!) should really be purchased once they go on sale. 

So, my dilemma is:

Bronzebronzeor pewterpewteror gold?gold

And should I decide to spend $45 for the trio, what should I cut out of my life for a month:  booze, makeup, or books?


Tuesday July 24, 2007

You have seen the lookbook for the Libertine for Target line, yes?  You, like everyone else, want the side-printed tree t-shirt, I know.  Well, so do I. 
Perhaps I was spoiled, living in Minneapolis, where Targets are as prolific as Starbucks, and where every Target carries the GO: International line in its entirety.  A land where stopping by Target to pick up said tee
and perhaps the black crepe dress
is as mundane as buying toothpaste.

While at the parents', whose house is mere blocks from a rather large Target, I decide to stop by and grab a couple Libertine pieces.  Denied!  That particular Target doesn't carry ANY of the line. 
Then, while driving through the rest of Nebraska, Iowa, Illinois, and Wisconsin on the way back home, I decide that the Honda brakes every time an Interstate-convenient Target is spotted.  The Target in Omaha?  No Libertine.  Council Bluffs?  No.  Des Moines Target #1 and #2?  No luck.  Des Moines Super Target, the SIXTH Target store visited if you're keeping track, the one I almost drove by and just gave up on, finally did not disappoint.  Granted, the crepe dress wasn't in my size, but I mitigated my disappointment by convincing myself that it would be a foolish $40 purchase, and not necessarily grad-school-ready.  The t-shirt was finally, finally procured, albeit in XS.  It will stretch; I will force it to stretch. 

(Now, two days later, I'm completely second-guessing my decision to pass by the crepe dress.  Should I get it online before it's gone, even though it really is $40 I shouldn't spend on frivolous, lacy, lovely things?  Or should I hold out for something of higher quality and spend a bit more?  Or just shut up and go to Whole Foods for more eggs, already?)

Unlike the rest of America, I'd never seen the all-sex-offenders-all-the-time Dateline presentation of "To Catch a Predator".  (It does seem to be its own channel now- want to see pedophiles get busted on Tuesday at 4 pm?  OK!  3 am on Sunday?  Sure!  It's the 24-hour Predator-a-Thon!)  Unfortunately, the first time I saw this show air, I was sitting with Noah's parents in their living room. 
Awkward is:  the voiceover asking "r u into anal?" booming through the room while you avoid eye contact with your boyfriend's family at all costs.


Monday July 23, 2007

Mark Bittman, how do I love you?  Let me count all 101 ways, most involving directions such as "top with a six-minute egg" or "serve with prosciutto" or "brown a stick of butter with a cup of pine nuts". 

I wore this dress for the first time today, and though it's short! short! short! and I am generally not one for minidresses, I came to the conclusion that others will only think it is too short if I walk like it is too short.  Out with the hunching over and the self-conscious pulling down of the back hem, and in with the strut.  Damn right I'm going to the head of the line at the bank today, boys.
(yes, I left the date stamp half-on: just too lazy to properly edit after cropping.)

So, last Tuesday Noah and I left to do a gigantic road trip of family visiting.  We were to spend Tuesday, Wednesday, and part of Thursday with his parents in Rochester (who I'd never met, by the way- this was to be the initial meeting after almost five years, compounded with "it's nice to meet you, we'll be staying at your house for a few days"), drive to my parents' in Nebraska for Friday and Saturday with them, and then add in a lunch with my grandparents on Saturday afternoon.  Whew.
Well, thankfully his parents are very gracious and welcoming, and pretty much exactly as described to me, so I was fairly well prepared.  His mother, to her eternal credit, was able to show me around the house and say "and this is the bedroom where you two will sleep while you're here" without even blushing.  His dad even took it upon himself to change the oil in our car before we drove off on Thursday afternoon, something that I'd have not done myself.

My parents, though still very adamant about separate bedrooms (and I am how old?), were thrilled to see Noah.  Now, he'd never been to Kearney before, and his first words upon entering the house were "it's SO CLEAN!  I'm going to mess something up if I walk on the floor!"- which, if you've met my mother, will come as zero surprise.  'Museum-like air of spotlessness' doesn't even begin to describe the level of sanitization of their home.
At lunch with the grandparents (which included the most amazing fresh peach pie ever to be created, courtesy Grandma), Noah got to see where a bit of my macabre side comes from, as Grandma sat down at the table and asked if we'd heard about the boy who was trapped in a microwave and died.  No, we hadn't, so then we asked her for all the details of said death.  This then segued into a discussion of a distantly related great-aunt-once-removed or somesuch, and how she's kept her son shackled to her for thirty years and won't let him hold a job, have a driver's license, and leave the house without her.  Yes, Noah, I am related to a reclusive potential sociopath with mommy issues.  Have fun.

On-the-road purchase to be returned at the first opportunity:  a Belkin FM transmitter for my iPod.  Worthless, worthless piece of $20 plastic.  Guess I'll have to spring the extra $40 for a Kensington transmitter in order to be able to hear anything Ira Glass is saying.


Monday July 16, 2007

If I can't have constant Top Model reruns this summer (television?  really?  you have that here in Milwaukee?  I'm confused by all this technology!), the next best thing is apparently Their Becksness' "Coming to America".  Despite her shockingly emaciated limbs and heavy hand with the eyeliner, I kind of love Victoria Beckham.  Especially when she buys a blow-up doll to be her body double.
Also, I'm going to have to find a tv schedule somewhere around and figure out when the Tyra show is on, just to get my fix of "fierce"ness.  Rawr.

Things purchased over last weekend that shouldn't have been:

Skyline Chili dog
American Apparel dress(es)
teeny workout shorts
fried eggplant
caramel cone crunch ice cream
bourbon & soda

(or rather, to be able to wear the aforementioned dresses and ass-shorts with utter confidence, the nachos and the fried eggplant and the ice cream and the chili dog and the sugary icy delight are not doing me any favors.)

Cincy update:  apartment has been most likely found.  It's in the Roanoke (= cool grad student building), a gorgeously refinished studio w central heat and air and two ginormous closets and a decorative fireplace.  It also has a very ugly set of kitchen appliances, but for just over $400, I can deal with that.  Additionally, I've been assured that there are no bats.
I've applied for the apartment, and now just have to wait and see if the lease is approved (um, don't look at my checking account balance, please!) and then plan to load up all our worldly possessions into a rental truck once more, and make another seven-hour drive while neurotically checking on the security of the roll-door
of said truck.

Jobs obtained this week:  0
Long trips to both sets of parents' homes later this week, involving at least $100 of gas:  1
Credit cards used to pay for the above:  2


Wednesday July 11, 2007

Names of Things You Didn't Know Had Names.

For the record, I knew the names of numbers 5, 7, 15, 17, 22, and 31.  Though #20 is bullshit:  everyone knows that it's the "pound sign", not some fancy-ass "octothorpe".  When was the last time your tech-support call prompted you to press "octothorpe 7" for setup information?

Wednesday July 11, 2007

job interviews scheduled for this week:  8
job offers thus far:  0
get ON THAT, Milwaukee.  A girl needs pretty sundresses and sandals and beer and more cheese in the fridge, and being unemployed is not making that happen yet.

This weekend, Noah and I are driving to Cincinnati (which means I need that iTrip, now!) to look at apartments on Friday and Saturday afternoon, then on to Chicago for a day and a half of mucking around with Roubal, lying blissfully in the grass at Grant Park, and making too-frequent trips to Joy Yee for another round of the BEST BUBBLE TEA EVER.  (Seriously, if you're in Chicago, take the El to Chinatown and find Joy Yee in the strip mall.  The line will be down the street no matter what time you arrive, but omfg the red bean bubble tea is worth the wait.)

Things about Milwaukee and its attendant suburbs:  no one believes in street signs here.  While driving to an interview this morning and looking to turn left on Bluemound Road, I scanned all major intersections in vain looking for some sort of hidden signage.  There simply isn't any.  I had to call Noah for directions- again- and ask where the hell this major thoroughfare was concealed. 
Also, with all the tearing down of I-94, the exit numbers that Google Maps provide with directions tend not to exist any longer.  Once again, I was spit out at the Port of Milwaukee, searching for exit #1H.  Doesn't exist.  I took a long-ass detour though the South Side (and by "detour", I mean I was fucking lost) before seeing a bus that said "downtown" and simply following it for miles until I figured out where the hell I was.

First thing to do in Cincinnati:  buy a map of the city.


Monday July 9, 2007

aaah, the bleeding in my brain seems to have abated.

Could this be due to the five (!) interviews I have scheduled this week?  Perhaps.  My black wool Banana Republic dress will be getting a lot of wear this week, as will my lone pair of under-3 1/2"-heels. 
Thankfully, I did not pack up my drycleaning in one of the many un-labeled boxes before schlepping to WI, so I was able to grab an interview-appropriate outfit this afternoon for the first interview without tearing through random boxes in a panic. 
Perhaps I should take black thread and embroider 'HIRE ME', tone-on-tone, on the black dress.


Sunday July 8, 2007

Reason #39452 I love Noah:

yesterday's lunch.

Lamb burgers with fresh roasted red peppers and yogurt-mint-cilantro sauce, a green salad, and cold bottle of ro

If being unemployed means that he'll cook things like this for me every day (and it has, thus far), then suddenly acquiring gainful employment looks a little less enticing.  Til I get my Discover bill, that is.


Tuesday July 3, 2007

If you love me lots, you'll buy me:
mj or mj2
Because I can't fucking find my tortiseshell ones ANYWHERE.

I have a new favorite blogger, and not only does she have a list of three degrees after her name, she's getting a Ph.D and watching Funny Face.  You know I'm obsessed when I start going through the archives on her page.


Monday July 2, 2007

Holy shit, I live in Milwaukee now.  I even got mail here today, so yes, it's official.  Welcome to America's Dairyland.

Things so far:  it is approximately 10 degrees (why isn't there a little degree symbol on the computer?  It's not as if temperature is a recent innovation!) cooler here than in Mpls, in no small part due to the proximity to Lake Michigan.  Four blocks from me is this gorgeous expanse of blueness, which has also taught me the lesson that it is damn hard to run on sand.  I went for a quick run the other morning, and while the trails treat me well, I only got about 40 yards down the beach before my quads started screaming "GET BACK ON THE GRASS, BITCH!", and I veered a sharp right back to where normal, un-masochistic people jog.

I am still unemployed.
I went to a half-dozen temp agencies today with my best smile on and my resume outstretched, so hopefully by next Monday I'll be employable by someone, somewhere.  If not, well, there's always Alterra!  (I refuse to try the Starbucks on the corner for employment, as the mandatory cult initiation turns me off.)

I've unpacked a bunch of things, and put the rest into the storage room, crossing my fingers that I won't have a sudden need for a crockpot until September.

Milwaukee tap water is nasty and gag-inducing; I will continue to be a princess about my Brita pitcher.

I lost my favorite pair of sunglasses (the lovely brown Marc Jacobs shades I splurged on, thinking "I won't lose expensive sunglasses!  I'll take good care of these, because they cost more than my jeans!") somewhere between the Wisconsin Dells and Noah's bedroom, and this causes my brain to cry.  Yes, I have three other pairs of sunglasses, but they're not the same.