Wednesday February 27, 2008

"I need fancy food in a cut-glass bowl like the Fancy Feast promises me.  Unless you don't love me enough for a fancy bowl and fancy wet food."

"What's outside this door?  The door that you go through in the morning and you don't come right back and pet me afterwards and sometimes oh god you're not even back after I nap.  I want to go through that door!  It's a magic door!"

"You don't seem to understand that that edge is your side of the bed, and that this quadrant is mine.  Now move over."

"I don't care if that's your dry-clean-only section, it's where I will perch in your closet."

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you reading that?  I'm going to lay on it now."

Truthfully, if we were able to teach her just one word, I'd teach her to say "LOL".  Endless hours of joy would result.


Monday February 25, 2008

Yeah, I know he's a total sleazeball, and the ads have gone from soft-focus arty-sexy to full-on misogynistic porn, but...
as I mentioned to A Lady, I have a bit of a dependence on American Apparel. 
For further evidence:
Black AA hoodie over black AA v-neck t-shirt, grey high-waisted AA pencil skirt, black cable-knit thigh-high AA socks, black flat boots via DSW, NOT FROM AMERICAN APPAREL OH MY GOD.


Saturday February 23, 2008

My taxi home tonight was playing Pearl Jam's Greatest Hits.  What is it with me and random taxi music, anyway?


Friday February 22, 2008

How I got dressed for tonight's Libeskind/LeWitt/Space is the Place opening at the CAC:
1. play the Rolling Stone's Some Girls
2. have cocktail
3. rock out with self-timer on camera
4. put a prim sweater over the halter dress because jesus, that's too much tit to show to people who may one day hire me
P1000140 P1000138
grey cashmere sweater over jersey halter dress with extremely looooow neckline, red knee-high wedge boots)


Tuesday February 19, 2008

Ümläüts and lingonberries and shiny housewares, how I have missed you.
Thankfully, I can get rid of my withdrawal in late March when an Ikea finally opens in a suburb of Cincinnati:  more mirror squares for the wall!  a bathroom rug that was not shredded by the washing machine!*  adorable little pots with which to create a makeshift herb garden on the fire escape!  and pearl sugar for making fancy things with pearl sugar!

And most wonderfully of all, the end of my frustration with our silverware.  "Silverware" is a misleading term, actually, as it's composed of painted plastic, glue, and what I think is probably cheap aluminum dipped in lead for extra poisoning benefits.  Of course, none of it matches:  eight years on, the original box of K-Mart (shut up, yes, K-Mart) "dinnerware" has been augmented with random forks stolen from the dorm dining service, old roommates' left-behind collections of grapefruit spoons, and one oddly small dessert fork that just appeared one day after we moved to Ohio.
I long for the day when I will no longer be doing dishes and pull the base of the fork off the head of the fork every time I try to scrub the tines.  I pine for the occasion on which we will have friends over for dinner and not have to hope that they don't care that not a single utensil on the table matches any other utensil.
Ikea, you and your cheap stainless steel flatware will make me a happy girl.
ikea 1ikea 2
(I can hardly choose between them!  DEAR GOD THE EXCITEMENT OF FUNCTIONAL FLATWARE!)

These are the types of things that inspire consumer lust in housewives with too much time on their hands, aren't they?  I fear that I'm becoming a crazy-eyed middle-aged woman.

*We also lost a somewhat luxurious fitted sheet for our bed to a laundry disaster last night:  liquid bleach ate away the corner of our nice 600 thread count soft white fitted sheet and made it all yellow and holey and prone to disintegrating when touched.  Now I've got to run to the housewares hell of Bed Bath & Beyond (I really, really want to put commas in their store name, but that is not how their Corporate Overlords have branded the name) to find a single full-sized fitted sheet, when I know that they will make the purchase as hard as possible by insisting upon bundling all their bed linens with flat sheets, pillowcases, etc.  I JUST WANT ONE SHEET.  ONE. THING. NOT THE WHOLE DAMN SET.
I could probably get a single fitted sheet at Ikea, but their thread count doesn't seem to rise above 300, and well, I'm a princess.


Sunday February 17, 2008

Wondering the following:

Is there photographic evidence of my dancing from last night?  If so, I may need to hide for a few weeks.
The waterproofing I had put on my suede boots functions as vodka-proofing as well, right?
How annoyed are my professors that I keep referring to them as "duuuude"?
Why the fuck does the Mt. Adams Wine Cellar think that proclaiming themselves a "yacht club" is either acceptable or cool?
Why do cheese grits have to be simultaneously so tasty and so bad at helping me button my jeans?
If I magically weaned myself off the habit of sleeping 10 hours per night, would I actually go running in the morning, or just spend longer on Jezebel?

Also:  why would anyone decide to market a swimsuit that essentially functions as a billboard announcing I HAVE CRABS!


Wednesday February 13, 2008

Frankly, I have been Dressing Like An Undergrad too frequently.  And this probably doesn't count as an improvement (as Chucks and an 80's rock t-shirt do not exactly equal "grown-up", no matter what Neal Pollack has to say about it), but I have my last midterm tomorrow morning, followed close upon by alumni reunion committee meetings, a nonprofit financial analysis presentation, and interminable goddamn MBA night classes that I hate, hate, hate.

Ahem.  Anyway.
(Pat Benatar "Seven the Hard Way" tour t-shirt, grey cardigan from the Gap, grey Hepburn-y trousers with cuffs that I tend to trip over although I looooove cuffed trousers, metallic gold Chuck Taylors, + my normal assortment of jewelry.  What you don't see are my red-red nails, as I came home last night from an Econ midterm that I pretty much bombed and decided that the best use of my time was pouting, eating a bacon & mayo & cheese sandwich, and doing my nails.)


Monday February 11, 2008

As it's been an unpleasant week or so here (with the midterms and the disillusionment and the oversleeping and the generally being unhappy with Cincinnati), I was going to sit down at the laptop and pout about how much better things are in Minneapolis, and how I still cannot see much to love about Cincinnati.

And then I got an email from the prof who had a midterm scheduled for tomorrow at 10 am:  "due to weather, I'm pre-emptively cancelling class on Tuesday and postponing our midterm until Thursday morning".

Tuesday's weather forecast:
"Total possible snow accumulations of 5-9" with the possibility of less then 1/10" of freezing rain, high of 38 degrees."

...which is to say, a regular winter afternoon anywhere but here.  PUSSIES.


Wednesday February 6, 2008

Midterms are next week; I really don't have time to click through the Fashion Week slideshows for every designer I want to see.  But once I saw the peacock trim on this gorgeous dress,
you can damn well bet I clicked through the entire Monique Lhuillier collection a few times, pausing to blot the drool from my chin. 
I now must go out and amass a barrel of peacock feathers and a hot glue gun to repurpose everything I own into a be-feathered gown.

Wednesday February 6, 2008

Yes, Tuesday was a truly crap day.  I thought I was too old for those old once-a-quarter freakouts of "I'm going to FAIL EVERYTHING and EVERYONE WILL KNOW I'M A FAILURE" dramatics, but no, apparently not.

Today is quite a bit better, not least of all because I stopped at Staggerlee's (best. liquor store. name. ever.) and splurged on some scotch.  Smoky, peaty, Islay single-malt will drown my cares in its liquorriffic goodness.
And, as Emmo put it, when you feel bad is when you have to look good, so I pulled on this portrait-neckline wool tinycoat, because it was 55 degrees today and that means I didn't have to cover up my jackette with another jacket.
I was also intentionally heavy-handed with the liquid liner today, because if I knew I was wearing wingy, dramatic eye makeup, that would make me think twice about bursting into tears of frustration while re-doing my Finance test.
(Black wool 3/4 sleeve portrait-collar coat over black tank, skinny jeans, black patent cap-toe mary janes, black lizard cuff watch.  Also, my hair gets wavy now when it rains- odd.  It never used to do that.)


Tuesday February 5, 2008

You bet your ass I feel like a fraud sometimes, Benedict Carey.

For example, I'm in an MBA/MA program for Arts Admin right now, which involves many classes in economics, finance, stats, and such.  Cincinnati's MBA program is not exactly top-tier, and yet all these numbers and math classes are causing me trouble.  To the point that I'm worried about failing the MBA classes and losing my scholarship.  And this makes me feel like such an impostor:  I have this paralyzing fear that although I've been "smart" my entire life (smart in the liberal arts way of reading and thinking and ideas), I'm just posing as someone who is truly capable of getting good/passing grades in a Real Degree Program and that I'm not able to do this on my own.  It's extremely humiliating to constantly ask classmates for informal tutoring and help and clarification in the finance class, especially since I've never, ever had to ask for academic help from anyone.  And since it's becoming clear that all the good-at-math kids are really sick of saving my ass on every test, I feel like I'm verging on having to find out exactly how little capability I actually have.
Of course, I still have to present myself as Ms. Take-Charge-and-Kick-Ass, which feels like it'll set of a big flashing neon sign of "FRAUD ALERT!" over my head.

So YES, Mr. Carey, I feel like an impostor.  Thanks for reminding me.


Monday February 4, 2008

I'd forgotten that TODAY was the last day to register as a new Ohio voter for the 2008 elections.  Thankfully, I stopped by the library to grab my tax forms, and the helpful librarian asked if I wanted a voter registration form as well:  their form of "would you like the combo meal?", I suppose.
Just doing my part to help turn Ohio blue in 2008.


Sunday February 3, 2008

I need a new coat.
I don't need a new winter coat due to any especially "wintry" weather in Cincinnati (helloooo, 45 degrees.  I love you too.  Especially in February.), but when Noah shakes his head disapprovingly at me when I toss on my regular black wool coat, it's time to start obsessively going through Bluefly.  The current coat is: 
1) boring black wool
2) boxy and shapeless and unflattering
3) not that warm, really
4) far too short in the arms- it hits 3" above my wrists, which = cold air chapping my delicate forearms
5) eight years old
6) lined in the most beautiful, irridescent, vivid cobalt blue satin lining in the world

Of course, when I move out of the south, I'll also need to purchase a lovely down coat with hood (like this one, which I think C got in black for Christmas, and looks incredibly soft and warm and far too arctic-ready for Cincinnati temperatures).  For now, though, I'm still planning for another winter in Cincinnati, and my old coat really does have to go.  Things I would very much enjoy in a new coat:
1) single-breasted, please.  I feel that anything double-breasted (other than a trenchcoat) makes me look square and awkward.
2) high-collared, preferably funnel-necked
3) wool or wool/cashmere blend, ideally with some serious insulated lining
4) rather nipped in at the waist, but without having to fumble with a belt
5) gorgeous lining, obviously

Some early contenders:

This Mackage coat- on sale!

A single-breasted peacoat style:  nearly impossible to find.

Probably too trendy, but oooh, buckles!

It's boring, but well-insulated...

This one's only photograped in white, but oooh, eggplant is the other option.

Votes?  Recommendations?  Dear-god-don't-buy-that warnings?


Friday February 1, 2008

It's a bad feeling when, immediately upon walking out of my Finance exam on Thursday night, the first song that shuffles through when I hit "play" on the iPod sings to me:  "Don't let a little failure get you down!"