10.31.2007

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.
SANY0087

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.

10.28.2007

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.
SANY0084
(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:

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 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

10.26.2007

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):

SANY0074
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:

SANY0077
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.)

10.24.2007

Wednesday October 24, 2007

Operation Stop Dressing Like I'm An Undergrad is well underway.  Monday's grown-up outfit was ruined by a torrential downpour, hence the absence of photographic evidence.

Tuesday's (blurry) effort:
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Today I got to swan about in my new (thanks, ebay!) Kara Janx wrap dress.  If I had to pick one thing to wear for every possible occasion in my life, I might grab this dress- appropriate for class, work, cocktail party, dancing... I think I might even be able to comfortably do a 45-minute session on the elliptical trainer in this dress, should it come to that.  I'd probably eschew the patent-leather peep-toes for that activity, however.

10.21.2007

Sunday October 21, 2007

The other day I turned to Noah and complained that I felt like I had regressed to 2001 with my clothing choices.  Same slightly-too-baggy jeans from sophomore year, same faded and boxy black t-shirt, same black tennis shoes. 
This dissatisfaction begat a new project:  Operation Stop Dressing Like I'm An Undergrad.

Exhibit A:
SANY0054
new knee-high 3" wedge red patent-leather boots.  Worn to work with a black canvas sailor-buttoned skirt and black long-sleeved tshirt.  (Neither of which photographed well, so I cropped just for the shoes.)  These boots made me four new friends, one of which was a random woman crossing the street in a slightly sketchy neighborhood rather late at night who came up to ask where I got them. 
N.B.: red patent-leather knee-high boots might not be the greatest wardrobe choice when one is standing on an unsavory street corner at 11 pm, waiting for one's ride home from work.

Now, it's one thing to step the wardrobe up a bit for work.  Quite another to wake up late on a Sunday and scamper to an emergency Statistics study group meeting.  Normally, my default outfit would be jeans, Chucks, and a plain t-shirt.  But today, with
Operation Stop Dressing Like I'm An Undergrad in mind, I tried to make an effort to differentiate myself from the 19-year-old hungover hordes.

Exhibit B:
SANY0058
Violet cowl-neck tunic dress over skinny jeans with gold peep-toe flats.  Still extra-comfy, still practical for the uphill walk to campus, but less "I just woke up and haven't done laundry in three weeks" and more "I look better than I should at 10 am".

We'll see if this project holds up later this week, when my brain will be consumed by the impending Statistics midterm and my desperate need not only to pass, but to get an A for the class.

10.18.2007

Thursday October 18, 2007

128347587844687500fail

Why is our cat the only feline alive who is not interested in chasing a laser pointer?  I can squiggle it around the floor to my heart's content, but she'll just look directly to my hand holding the little laser pen.
Why did she have to go and learn abstract concepts when it would be so much easier just to make her chase the little red dot?

Thursday October 18, 2007

128347587844687500fail

Why is our cat the only feline alive who is not interested in chasing a laser pointer?  I can squiggle it around the floor to my heart's content, but she'll just look directly to my hand holding the little laser pen.
Why did she have to go and learn abstract concepts when it would be so much easier just to make her chase the little red dot?

10.17.2007

Wednesday October 17, 2007

I would claim that I've been sick as hell for the past five days, except I was more achy/weak/congested/runny/exhausted, and that might mean I was miserable as hell for the past five days, but doesn't mean that I wasn't going to class + internship.  I can feel the restorative power of a good workout and a grilled cheese sandwich seeping into my body, however, so it appears that things will be back to normal soon.


Hey, what's a bitch when you're sick? 
Going to the doctor at 9 a.m. for an unrelated ailment.  Monday morning, I gave up three extra hours of sleep to schlep my bedraggled self to campus for my annual gyno exam.  The UC ladydoctor was nice and all, but I'd really rather not chat about your children and my internship while her hand was up in the uteral area.  Just put your hand in my cooch and get it over with- this is not a first date, you do not have to make idle chatter before getting me to take off my pants.  I came here to take off my pants, and I would like to put them back on very soon, because the things poking me are cold and awkward.
She did discuss Gardasil, the wonder vaccine, with me, and I was all ready to sign up for it.  (Gardasil, btw, is as close to a cancer vaccine as the world has yet come.  It prevents cervical cancer, cervical lesions, and some other lesion-y things that could befall a vagina.  It's a three-shot series, and to fall within their eligible age range, I'd have to start the series no longer than seven months from today.)
Until she mentioned that the vaccine is not covered by insurance.  And that EACH SHOT costs about $140, plus the cost of the office visit.
Rationally, I know that getting cancer costs far more than $500.  And that I have every single risk factor checked off in a neat little row, so no one is more a perfect candidate for Gardasil than me.
But:  I'm living on student loans, and the cost of the shots alone is more than my rent.  It would take the length of my entire grad school career plus six months or so to be able to save up $420 by cutting out trips to Starbucks and Graeter's.  I do have pretty clothes budgeted into these loans, so yes, I could stop buying shiny shoes and take care of my health.  And should.  But- $500ish for something I hope I will never need?  Argh. 
And hey, UC Insurance Provider:  WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, NOT COVERING A PREVENTATIVE VACCINE FOR CANCER?  Obviously, no one on your advisory committee has ever been near a uterus. 

PS:  ok, Bush, we get it.  You hate women, science, logic, and now birth control.  Seriously, if my uterus is causing YOU more discomfort than it's currently providing ME (thanks, cramps!), you can have it.  I'm not using it anyhow.

10.14.2007

Sunday October 14, 2007

further signs that god hates me:

Saturday's "hangover" became runny nose + cough + sore throat + achy back + blisters on both ankles, but no sympathy can be garnered because it started out as a hangover and that's my own fault.
I may have broken my pinky toe today by being clumsy while in the vicinity of furniture.
Three cookie racks and one sheet pan fell on my head today while I was putting away clean dishes.  None of the cookie racks or the sheet pan were among those clean dishes.
CVS is closed, and I really want some happy go-to-sleep couch medicine.
My favorite jeans were too tight in the waist today, and then yoga class was cancelled despite my need for boat pose ass-kicking.

I cannot find any goddamn tranquilizers.

10.13.2007

Saturday October 13, 2007

it's not Halloween where you are?  God, what kind of lame calendar system are YOU on? 
Last night was two of my profs' infamous Halloween party. 
(Today was just as infamously miserable, but that's because after making a manhattan I was seduced by the siren song of the pina colada machine.  It sounded like a good idea at the time.  So did the jello shots.  And the test-tube Jaeg bombs.  Wow, I'm classy.)

Here I am in Steven & Chet's kitchen, being surly.  You'd be surly, too, if your eyeliner was so heavy you could barely blink.
SANY0045

full-body shot:  after seven hours, the wig is still going strong.  All 11" of beehive
are intact!
SANY0052

Left:  Courtney in a toddler's bumblebee costume.  Center:  my boss' husband, whose name I cannot recall.  I think we talked about my love for Liquid Smoke, and possibly discussed strip clubs.  Oops.
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10.11.2007

Thursday October 11, 2007

The pants.
SANY0040
They are skintight, shiny, and still do have the tags on, so:  to return and recoup $40, or to keep and strut about in?
SANY0041
Opinions, please:  this means you, Emmo, Spencer, Tara, M'liss, Laya.

10.10.2007

Wednesday October 10, 2007

I walked into Macy's last week (October 5th, if you're keeping score), and all the holiday decor was up.  No, not over-accessorized skeletons and witches swaddled in cashmere scarves- the christmas decor.  Big, gaudy christmas tree ornaments, and glittery red signs proclaiming "Macy's for the Holidays!" or some shit.  IT WAS EARLY OCTOBER.  I know people who still haven't throught about their Halloween costumes at this point.  And Macy's is all "don't you need to start shopping for late December right now?"  No, Macy's, I don't.  And PS, your store brands suck balls.  The Marshall Field's store brands were fabulous (oh, how I miss the giant stacks of Gene Meyer cashmere sweaters!), and yours are simply tacky and generic. 

Post- Contemporary Arts Center internship on Tuesday, I had a meeting with the director of Know Theatre.  Naturally, I put down all the Know info in my phone, and then left the phone sitting on my desk at home that morning.  This leads to me walking about Over-the-Rhine that afternoon, completely lost, and more worried about being late for this meeting than disturbed by the police-taped-off block and witness interviews to what I surmise was an altercation involving a knife and some dude on the receiving end of that knife.  Do I care about the vaguely hostile looks I'm getting on the street?  Not as much as I care about the possibility of being late.  Priorities.
I did get offered a development internship + box office position with Know, which will help lessen my pangs of missing the boxie life.  And, as there's a stipend attached to this gig, the job will help provide me with the needlessly sexy wedge boots I've been stalking online for a few weeks now.  So: red patent leather, which will really only go with black or grey things, or black patent leather, which will take my grand total of black knee-high boots to four pairs, but will match pretty much everything I own?

On with the slut-esque clothing:  I did buy those faux-leather leggings from American Apparel.  I got them home and was less convinced that they are a necessity, but I will take a proper photo of me in them and put them up for debate.

10.08.2007

Monday October 8, 2007

Stay classy, St. Paul.
I nearly choked on my tea this weekend when I read the third paragraph, prompting Noah to ask whether or not it was a Bolshevik Landscapers' Throwdown.  Because who has a sickle lying around?  And rarely does a lawnmower start on the first pull, so some brawler was clearly so adamant in his choice of weapon that he probably gave it a good five pulls before the throttle caught.

10.06.2007

Saturday October 6, 2007

ok, is it a superfluous purchase if I might eventually need a flash drive for school purposes?
The fact that it looks like a fucked-up anime toy is a bonus.flashdrive

Saturday October 6, 2007

You know what soothes the lingering effects of one too many drinks?  Trashy tv.
I'm newly obsessed with a brain-meltingly vapid show (Gossip Girl) and thank god that full episodes are available online.  I would be tempted to buy a tv just for the purpose of Wednesday nights:  Top Model plus Gossip Girl.  This is how bad-good this show is:  in the 40-minute pilot, we get attempted suicide, alcoholism, class war, a shiny paillette dress, 90s math rock, attempted date rape, a fistfight, and Shannon Doherty v. 2.0 and her perfect, perfect lipstick.  This could convince me to do high school over again just for the catfights. 
And yes, I am fully aware of how pathetic this all is, but OMG LOOK PRETTY DRESSES ON THE T-V.

Despite my vaguely hungover morning, we went to the Findlay Farmers' Market today, and it may have singlehandedly convinced me that Cincinnati is a worthy place to settle (temporarily).  The Asian grocery yielded some esoteric Japanese condiments that I'd scoured Minneapolis for without success, and the Italian deli sells Nutella sandwich cookies.  NUTELLA.  PLUS COOKIES.  The meat vendors seem to disregard normal, jacked-up pricing standards and just figure that your steak is $5/lb and sure, we'll trim that for you.  And the cream puffs.  Oh, lord, the cream puffs.  I must always try to wear my smallest jeans to the Findlay Market, otherwise I will inhale the entire puffy, sugary tray of pastry goodness. 


With money I don't have, I'm debating:  hot wedge boots (on sale!  $135! down from $180! this makes it a deal.... right?) vs. the faux-leather leggings which I tried on and was totally converted by (but is the hotness that I will probably only wear for a year worth $40?) vs. the iPod shuffle ($80).  My current (old, comparatively bulky) iPod works perfectly fine, but the shuffle is so tiny and so light, and I like to think that it would make me go running more often. 
The leggings = half a shuffle.  Two shuffles = new boots.   Is this rhetoric designed specifically to justify the purchase of things I don't really need?  Yes.  Does this make me want red shiny wedge boots any less?  Of course not.

10.03.2007

Wednesday October 3, 2007

I cannot explain my sudden change of heart towards an old enemy.  For reasons unknown, and despite my prior protestations ("if you can remember wearing it the first time*, you should not wear a trend** a second time!"), I kind of really, really want a pair of leather or leather-like leggings.

I do realize that if I purchase them, I will not look one bit like Julia Restoin Roitfeld:
jrr leggings
(in a ultra-hot shot for Paper magazine)

but I will also remind myself to wear a top, thus preventing this porn-tastic look.
matte black leggings

I did not quite have the courage of my convictions today (plus, I just scarfed half a family-sized bag of Trader Joe's spicy thai cashews, and that will do me no dressing-room favors) to get up to American Apparel and try them on. 
The above pair is "matte black", but "black eel" is also an option.  A super-shiny option, I assume.  I do fear that there may be a crotchally-awkward front seam on the AA pair, creating a pair of quasi-pants that say both "I should not have eaten that dozen cupcakes" and "CAMELTOE HERE".

*the first time:  elementary school, when I hated jeans and refused to wear any pants that were not either sweats or leggings.  Man, I was so ahead of those Jersey Shore strippers on this.
**the second time: high school.  A friend (who was a few sizes larger than me) went to Europe and came back with pleather pants.  The waist was far too large, and the legs were simultaneously too baggy and too short, but I did not care.  These were EUROPE PANTS, and I had to borrow them and strut/flail through the KHS halls in my PVC fabulousness.  Thank god no one took any photos of me wearing those cheap-ass pleather jeans.

10.01.2007

Monday October 1, 2007

omgboot
Aerosoles?  Really?  In red, knee-high patent leather?
Time to get to a suburban shopping center, methinks.

Monday October 1, 2007

Dude, NO.  Mr. Safire, unless you are willing to commit to reading your article on "what the kids these days are saying" out loud to me, in your presumably extra-crotchety and inexplicably British voice (that's how I like to imagine you, Willie.), you have no reason to pretend to pontificate about such newfangled words as "sketchy" and "ginormous".  Goodness, what will those crazy co-eds say next!