Tuesday August 28, 2007

It is August 28th, and my September Vogue has not arrived.

I believe that it may have fallen on my mailman and killed him.

Tuesday August 28, 2007

Went to Chicago yesterday for pre-moving shopping:  rather than the gorgeous, $129 mirror from CB2 that I'd lusted over online, I spied a conglomeration of sticky square mirrors at Ikea for $2 each that require no special hanging, and which ended up being about 1/5 the price of the CB2 mirror for sixteen 12x12" squares.
I'm so excited to have a full-length mirror in our new apartment, as never in my life have I had one.  Never ever.  I used to stand on the edge of the tub and lean over to get a 3/4 length glimpse of what I was wearing, and now, for the first time, I'll be able to check and see if what I'm wearing in public might actually match.  Whee!

My pretty, rather shiny Honda Civic has acquired several scratches and nicks over the past three months.  The Car Owner part of my brain (a part of my brain that still makes me rather uncomfortable- what in god's name am I doing, owning a car?) was upset that a very new car now bears a deep scratch on the front right fender and assorted nicks along the back bumper, but the Rational part of my brain says "eh, it's what happens when you park on the street and drive in the city."  Those car owners with an attached three-car garage and parking ramp membership and regular trips to the car waxer are exempt from these sorts of hassles, I suppose, but I just see it as an inevitable part of driving in the city.  Would it really be reasonable to assume that over the course of four parallel-parks per day on busy streets and frequent freeway trips (complete with careening pebbles and such), my Civic would sustain no cosmetic damage?  Not really, and as long as no major scratches or dents occur, I'm pretty happy to tease Noah by threatening to "fix" these nicks with pewter-colored nail polish.  You should see how offended he looks when I offer to touch up the car with Orly's "Quicksilver".


Friday August 24, 2007

Today, I saw a woman crossing North Avenue in a monochrome cream nightmare.  Allow me to elaborate:  cream button-up, cream suit jacket, cream cropped pants (mid-calf, the most awkward possible length), cream matte pantyhose, cream slingbacks.
Oh, and she was wearing a banana clip in her hair.

Normally I'd just gawk at that milk-colored spectacle, but since I've snacked on some prosciutto and am feeling rather generous toward humanity, here's what I'd suggest gently to her.
If you have to wear a suit, or something close to it:  replace the button-up with a silk shell, maybe in a nice muted green or blue.  Sleeveless, for christ's sake, it's August.  Replace the suit jacket with a dark grey, brown, or black lightweight cashmere cardigan or a cropped swingy jacket, because your office is probably air-conditioned to death and you'll need it. 
If you don't need to be full-on suited, get rid of the button-up for a cap-sleeved knit top in pretty much any muted color other than cream.  Blue, violet, grey... go nuts, lady.
If you MUST have the cropped, ill-fitting pants, at least ditch the hose.  Matte off-white hose makes no one's legs looks appealing.  Again, it's AUGUST- if your office is that formal, just wear regular-length pants and no one will know you're not sweating through another layer of needless rayon.
Cream sling-backs should become a closed-toe pump in a darker color than the pants.  Deep brown, grey snakeskin, or black (with some lighter detailing so they don't look too wintry).
As for the banana clip, just throw it away.  I bet that anyone who witnesses you doing so will applaud.

I'm currently reading "Atonement" by Ian McEwan, which took me quite a while to get into but finally grabbed me by the balls last night.  (Or by the "ovs", as Natalya used to say.)  It's sort of Virginia Woolf-y, and though I'm only about halfway through, I think it's a safe recommendation.  "Saturday" by McEwan is another amazing read, and that one will absorb you from the first.  Get thee to a bookstore.


Wednesday August 22, 2007

It's raining (again/still), and the spattering on the living room windowpanes sounds uncannily like someone chomping on a jawbreaker while pressing their mouth to the glass.  God, I want a jawbreaker.  Or candy.  Or something junk-foody. 
How much do I want something noshy and disgusting?  So much that I consumed half a bag of kettle chips tonight.  If you've ever eaten a meal with me, the topic of my hatred for all potato products will inevitably arise.  Fries, mashed potatoes, hashbrowns, latkes, potato chips:  all are gross to me.  Until I got my period today and Noah had a half-eaten bag of yogurt & green onion kettle chips on the fridge, at which point my desperate need to consume 5000 grams of salt in one day arose.
God, next thing you know, I'll eat ketchup.

Helllooooooooooo, hiring committee at the Walker.  Could you just wait about two years and then give me a call?  I'd be delighted to run your charming little institution.

I caved and bought the Garnier Sleek & Shine set, and oh my god.  I used it today, (without using up the still rather full other, non-sleek shampoo in the shower!  scandal!) and despite being 88 degress and ultra-humid outside, my air-dried hair is rather, well, sleek.  $3.99 well spent. 

I have been alerted to a seriously kick-ass clearance website (Chole!  DVF!  Marc!), on which I plan to spend a lot of money that I'm pretending to have.  If I link to it, promise you won't buy the last DVF green gingko wrap dress in size 8?  Ok.  Because that dress is MINE.  Hands off.


Tuesday August 21, 2007

Proof that my ovaries or other womanly things may indeed be functional:  I read this story today and teared up.  Sometimes, shit like this gets into my head and I freak out about the possibility of Noah dying and then I have to go and make sure he's alive and well by basically wrapping myself around him.
I think I'll make us both pina coladas now.
(why no option for an accent over the "n", TextEditor?  This is going to drive me nuts.)

Things I cannot live without, today:
Trader Joe's Cream Shave.  Like the fancy Alba stuff, but way cheaper.  And it doesn't promise to sparkle or smell like Raspberry Riot or anything offensive, which makes me happy.

Alba lip balm, as recommended by Chaptastic.  Yes, it's $3.50 a tube, and I go through a tube in a matter of weeks, but this stuff kicks ass.  Plus, it's not waxy or glossy, so it's basically Magic Invisible Lip Stuff.

Last night, to top off the giant Indian buffet lunch we had with Nic, Noah and I went to Trocadero for $5 mojitos and snacks.  And when snacks included pate (SEE?  see what I mean about the ability to do accents?!?), my love for all meat products increased greatly.  Oh god, why did I go vegetarian for ten years and deprive myself of the goodness of pate with chutney and caperberries and french bread?  I've got a lot of duck liver eating to do to make up for lost time on this.

And today, following upon yesterday's Indian excesses and the brie and pate platter, when I woke up already full, I felt it necessary to get some cannoli*.  Sciortino's, I am in awe of your mascarpone skills.

*Cannoli in Milwaukee rules.  I've never had a bad cannoli here.  And for some reason, they're crazy-cheap.  If you're ever in town, you owe it to yourself to A: imbibe as much cheap beer as possible, and B:  stuff yourself full of cannoli the next day.


Friday August 17, 2007

The camera has died.  The tiny, chic, silvery, superflat camera used to document graffiti and cake and shoes was dropped from a moderate height onto asphalt, and did not make a full recovery.  In fact, the recovery was pretty much equivalent to a medically-induced coma with little change of regaining consciousness independently.
So, I mourn the loss of the pretty little Nikon, and browse longingly on amazon for its replacement. 
And then I look at my bill for fall classes, unpaid until my students loans are processed already get on that US Bank, and then I turn away from the screen to shed a single, tiny, unphotographed tear.

Speaking of loss and recovery, I still have not found my dearly loved, much-missed sunglasses.  Ebay has, however, found me some very enticing replacements.  The baby blue & red combo is totally not like me, but I find it very appealing.  Blue & red?  Classic tortoise?  Black & white mod?  Orange?  Please advise.
blue brown bw orange

I have this odd aversion to throwing out something that I bought and do not like.  For example, my old shampoo (Garnier, which is cheap and wonderful) was "formulated for normal hair". 
Yes, generally, my hair is normal.  Fine and thin, but generally normal and un-neurotic.  Then I move to Milwaukee, where it is ever-so-slightly more humid, and the hair begins to frizz.  Now, Garnier also makes a fine-hair-version of their anti-frizz shampoo/conditioner set, which would seem to be my solution. 
BUT!  I have 1/3 a bottle left of my current, frizz-making shampoo, and although the rational part of my brain reminds me that the whole jumbo bottle cost less than $3 and I'm throwing away less than the monetary equivalent of a US Weekly if I just chuck it and go for the frizz-and-fine-hair specific combo, I cannot make myself chuck it out.  I am compelled to use every last drop of the shampoo before I can let myself buy the new kind, and also compelled to sigh dramatically as I look at my hair in the mirror each day and remember its former, non-fuzzed-out state.

(and I am totally overprepared for future hair issues in Cincinnati, as I took it upon myself to look up the relative humidity for Minneapolis, Milwaukee, and Cincinnati for comparison's sake.  I thought about putting these things in a spreadsheet, but then Noah stopped me before I began alphabetizing things again.)


Thursday August 16, 2007

Sweet christ, I miss my regular 5x weekly yoga classes.  During yoga?  Able to pick up and move moderately heavy things, also able to a handful of pushups.
Now, two months post-yoga studio subscription?  Yes, I have the upper-body strength of an emaciated kitten.  I tried to lift a 40 lb. bucket of molasses (well, I was making granola bars at work!) and failed miserably. 
Hello there, strapping young man, would you mind lifting this object (which is slightly heavier than my cat) for me, as I cannot accomplish it myself?

We're moving in fifteen days.  AAAIIIEEEEEEEEE!  Must pack boxes!  Change address!  Convince cat to go in carrier! 
Browse online for things for the new apartment that we can in no way afford! 
(as seen on ladylessons, who I have a total thing for.)


Tuesday August 14, 2007

I want a gaudy-fabulous cocktail pinky ring.  Is that so much to ask?

It seems that yes, it is, when one's pinky ring size is 4 1/2, a size generally reserved for children.  Ebay does have rings in that size, but they tend to feature teddy bears and cherubs. 
I'm thinking more:  ring and less: kr   *sigh*

Thanks, Grandma, for your super-easy peach pie recipe.  It is quick, pretty, and ohmygod the crust is so damn delicious I could eat it alone, with a fork, for every meal. 

The shoe-storage dilemma continues!  My current idea is to go to Ikea and buy a bookshelf like the Lack model, as well as four matching Lack shelves. 
(The shelves, inexplicably, are not the same width as the bookshelf, despite being the same line of products, which will necessitate using a bandsaw to make things fit.)
bookcase+shelf = solution?

If one 40" wide bookcase with four shelves can reasonably store sixteen pairs of shoes, and I add in an additional four shelves, I can get a good thirty-two pairs of shoes off the floor. 
However, I have more than thirty-two pairs of shoes, so I'll either have to do this to two bookcases (meaning a $378 set of shoe racks), or find a much, much cheaper bookcase and "replacement shelves" elsewhere.  And remember, this possible solution entails spending about $190 for one unit which will not hold all my footwear, plus shearing down the shelves to the proper width and drilling them into place.  And what I really want is not a giant vertical ad-hoc shoe rack, but a nice, horizontal storage system that ideally is no more than three feet high.

And then, what to do about storing boots?  I have four pairs of knee-high boots (um, currently.  I'm hoping to snag a pair of flat boots for fall, and you know I'll never snub a thrift-store pair of cowboy boots... so let's plan for six pairs of boots, just to be safe), which each need a shelf at least 11" wide and 23" high.  Ideally, Ikea would make a six-paned bookshelf 36" wide and 50" high to solve this problem, but they do not.  Bastards.

So, anyone know of a cheap custom cabinet maker that will build me the shoe rack of my dreams and desires?


Monday August 13, 2007


When boyfriend brings the Sunday Times and a caramel frappuccino to me, the correct response is not "um, did you get this with diet frappuccino mix?".

I need a better system of shoe storage for the new apartment.  Currently, I have an ugly beige fabric over-the-door holder that contains 18 pairs of shoes, plus a big pile of ballet flats on the windowsill, a line of running shoes and flip-flops by the front door, an unsightly rubbermaid tote full of boots, and a small suitcase of wintry shoes.  As we're moving into a studio apartment, where everything will be on display at all times, I need something that is space-efficient and also not horrendously ugly.  Suggestions?


Sunday August 12, 2007

Thing I like about Milwaukee:
that channel 12 is sometimes, randomly, in Spanish. 
"Mean Girls" en espanol, ole!

(One) thing I miss about Minneapolis:
the chorizo bocadillos at Solera.  Best drinking snacks ever created.

Sunday August 12, 2007

Last night, despite my 8 a.m. Sunday work schedule, Noah and I went out to hear some music and have a drink or three.  (Note:  when the "house special martini" involves both blue curacao and chambord in disturbingly large quantities, and is topped with Sprite, your teeth will feel as if they are wearing sweaters.  Better to order a standard martini and eschew the sugar rush.)  Across the bar, a loud, portly, over-served patron kept shouting at her friends: "no, it's, like, more a question of postmodernism!".  No, ma'am, it is not a question of postmodernism.  It is a question of whether you will puke all over yourself at the bar, or in the car on the drive home. 

Unhappy footwear:  crocs.  (well, my feet are certainly more happy after being at work all day, but my brain weeps when I put them on.  Damn you, high arches.)

Happy footwear:  new ballet flats from Target!  (and yes, I did get them in, uh, four colors.  But they were on sale!)

At work in the bakery, the temperature generally hovers between 78 and 92 degrees.  Therefore, my work attire is generally running shorts and a t-shirt.  Today, one of my (obvs) male co-workers alerted me to the fact that my black shorts had flour on them by saying "you have flour on your ass.  Both cheeks" - and, when I turned around, he held out his palms in an imaginary grabbing.  I shot daggers at him and thanked him for being so observant.  If it were less hellishly hot in there, I'd wear sweatpants if I thought it'd stop certain co-workers from molesting with their eyes.

Viewed from the front while she is lying down, my cat resembles nothing so much as an overstuffed cream puff with whiskers.

Small victory:  it was brought to my attention this week that an old college acquaintance, one who I have disliked since the day we met, does not have the needlessly fancy-princessy-precious first name that she claims.  Her real name is something much, much plainer, and though I won't divulge the actual names involved, imagine someone calling herself "Graziella" really being named "Mary". 

Nicking underarm while shaving:  oh, ouch!
Applying brisk, herbal deodorant post-shower onto those nicks: sweet jesus mooooootherfuuuuuucker!


Wednesday August 8, 2007


either this gorgeous rug from CB2 (which actually caused me to gasp when I saw it),

or this orange rug from Ikea. 

Both expensive, both will totally not match any of our (admittedly already haphazardly mismatched) furniture to be crammed into a studio apartment in three weeks.  Goddamn.


Monday August 6, 2007

Listening:  Fatboy Slim's "Because We Can", the only song that can force me to sprint for 3 minutes and 27 seconds.


Friday August 3, 2007

I've worked at Alterra for three days.  In that time, I've consumed half a dozen croissants, a fabulous cranberry-date bar, multiple brownies, a fruit tart, and a handful of truffles.
It is time to either stop with the croissants (why oh why did I decide to eat two croissants for lunch today after spending 20 minutes working four and a half pounds of butter into each batch of dough?), or start buying pants in larger sizes.  I believe that the former course of action will be cheaper.

I'm having what passes for an existential crisis in my vapid little life, which has been brought on by work and my lack of proper footwear for said job.  See, the bakery gig means standing for 8 hours at a stretch, while lifting trays of dough and working on a sometimes slippery floor.  I've been wearing an old pair of Pumas for this, but even with arch supports, my feet hurt like a bitch.  The under-$40 solution, I am told, is.... Crocs.  The "shoe" that makes my brain bleed.  The footwear that should only be worn by nurses and grandmas working in their gardens.  However, I know that if I continue to wear these running shoes to work, I'll fuck up my knees and back in new and unusual ways, due to the pain of standing.  So, I forced myself to look at Crocs tonight, and well, if you were to be forced to wear something so ugly, I think that one of the following is the lesser-of-the-evils option.  (I still hate Crocs.)
The Mary Jane:  ugh, backstraps and perforated detail.  *sigh*  They were kind of awesomely comfortable, though.

The ballet flat:  the least ugly of all the styles.  Less breathable, though, being made of essentially solid plasticine.

You know what scares me the most about these shoes?  Let me quote from a few raving amazon.com reviews.
I wear my mary janes every where, even church."
"I think the Mary Janes look a little more "respectable" than some of the other styles so I pair them with cute socks and wear them to work."
"Great shoe if you are pregnant!!"

Dear god.