it is not cute when you use the wrong word

I can't believe I even have to clarify this, but I swear to god I heard a grown-ass adult refer to these:

sprinkles! or, if you're from Wisconsin and insist on being difficult, "jimmies"

... as "sparkles".

No.
Sparkles are for drag queen lip gloss and homemade valentines and for teenage me to mix into hair gel to really rock the David Bowie look. (Yes, there are photos of that. I maintain that I looked awesome as a femme-Bowie, though.)

These:

(photo from Ate Your Kangaroo via DeviantArt)

are sparkles.

Different, yes? One is edible and the natural topper for soft-serve, and one is made of metallic shreds that you really shouldn't chew on.

You're on your own with the silver dragees, though. I still insist on eating them, potential health hazards be damned.

comfort

Sometimes, you just want a hoodie, y'know?

This is a total nostalgia piece for me. I bought it at a Salvation Army in Lincoln, NE in 1999, and I think I've likely worn it once weekly for the past eleven years.
The cuffs have unraveled several times, there's a hole worn through the right elbow, the zipper is hanging halfway off, and I've tacked down the rainbow sleeve tape countless times. It's relentlessly awesome, and I will wear this until it disintegrates off my body.

lemon fresh scent

Earlier this week, I decided to take myself off the grid for a few days to actually get real-life things done after traveling for what was essentially three weeks of nonstop running around the eastern seaboard and the upper midwest.
(Yes, I noted this via Twitter. Shaddup.)

I should not even be online right now, but I wanted you all to know that one of those real-life tasks has broken down as follows:

go grocery shopping
find huge bin of Meyer lemons on sale for 99 cents/lb
buy something like six pounds of Meyer lemons
take microplane, zest all six pounds of lemons
freeze zest for future awesomeness
juice all six fucking pounds of lemons by hand, because I do not own a fancy automatic juicer

go grocery shopping again
buy a huge bag of limes
juice all limes by hand, again, noting reasoning above

mix lemon and lime juices
mix in simple syrup
create baddest-ass homemade sour mix known to man (2 parts simple syrup: 2 parts lemon juice: 1 part lime juice)
kiss a glass of bourbon with said sour mix

die happy.

interstate errands

I love that Kate is going to see this and will go "ooh, you wore that to brunch!"

Dress, Target; flats, Steve Madden; trench, Tulle.

Immediately following brunch, I got in my car and drove 8 hours to Minnesota. I must remember to pick up a case of Grain Belt Premium this time; I've already obtained a half-pint of berber spice at The Wedge and pretty much every Rhymesayers release from the past four months at Fifth Element.

convoy

The best things about packing for a long weekend via car instead of via plane:

1) I scoff at your 3.4 oz. liquids-and-gels limit. (Two years ago, a TSA agent tried to take away my mascara, claiming it was a liquid. I nearly caused a breach of national security while defending my right to feathery lashes.)
2) I can pack four pairs of shoes for three days, and no one will roll their eyes at me when I have to check a bag due to my extravagant footwear needs.

blue suede shoes

Susie Bubble got to hang out in Nicholas Kirkwood's showroom.

Yeah, I died at that thought. Swoon.

Also killing me:

All images from Style Bubble

I do think it's worth noting that I don't currently own any blue shoes. This should be remedied, yes?

foiled again

What's that?

Eh?

Pardon?

Speak up, please.

Sorry, my nails were SO LOUD I had trouble hearing you.

(sadly, the salon was out of the metallic leopard-print design. Next time!)