Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Monday, June 17, 2013
In My DREAMS
This is fun! And feeds my delusions! Twofer!
from "Sartorial Splendor in a Small Town" and "You're Not Doing That Right"
from "Have Yourself a Scary Little Christmas"
from "Two Weeks in Texas"
from "Say My Name"
from "Sartorial Splendor in a Small Town" and "You're Not Doing That Right"
from "Have Yourself a Scary Little Christmas"
from "Two Weeks in Texas"
from "Say My Name"
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Sartorial Splendor in a Small Town
I recently attended my nephew's high school graduation in East Texas. There were 70-some odd graduates and lawd, I love a small class. But that's neither here nor there. The graduates mostly wore gowns, of course, so this is not about their clothing choices (although, honey, that ankle-length ruffly whatever-that-was under that gown did you no favors—burn it).
But, people, really. Let's start with the painfully obvious. Get dressed. You are not going to the city pool or a backyard barbecue—do not wear shorts and t-shirts and flip-flops. You should not need to be told this. Stop being a dick. Show some respect or stay home.
Also, that sundress with cowboy boots thing isn't as cute as you think it is. That might work if you took two seconds and tried to actually match them somehow, but since the common wisdom seems to be to throw any old boot at any old dress, there was a constant chorus of rejection buzzers going off in my head. If you insist on sticking with this look, let's try to keep it to spring and fall—by the weather, not the calendar. Leather shoes in general and boots in particular are not summer-friendly footwear. All I could think when I saw the girl in the micro-mini and the over-the-knee boots was, "Stank foot! Stank foot! Girl's got serious stank foot!" and then, "Oh, we're going to see her butt soon."
In other footwear news, six-inch glittery stiletto platform pumps are not appropriate for an afternoon graduation. They're not appropriate for anything, really, that doesn't involve a stripper pole. And here's some more really basic advice—if you can't walk in them, leave them in the store. I never saw so much ridiculous hobbling in my life. That's not hot, ladies, that's stupid. I'm only sorry that I spied the worst offender on this front in the lobby instead of getting to witness her attempt to walk down the sloped auditorium aisle.
On another note, the appropriate undergarment choice for a white, backless, eyelet dress is not a regular-backed black bra. And a word to the wise: side cut-outs are friendly to very few. Approach with extreme caution and be ready to run.
And don't think you're getting out of this, guys. I'm going to give you a pass on the khakis and boots; it is small-town East Texas—that is the acceptable dress code. But you lost me with the turquoise and yellow Under Armour shirt. You looked in the mirror and thought that was working for you? Oh, who am I kidding? You didn't get anywhere near a mirror.
Okay, folks, let's work on these few points, and next time I'm in town, we'll have some other gathering of some sort and I'll get the chance to judge you again. I hope you're looking forward to it as much as I am. Please don't hit me.
But, people, really. Let's start with the painfully obvious. Get dressed. You are not going to the city pool or a backyard barbecue—do not wear shorts and t-shirts and flip-flops. You should not need to be told this. Stop being a dick. Show some respect or stay home.
Also, that sundress with cowboy boots thing isn't as cute as you think it is. That might work if you took two seconds and tried to actually match them somehow, but since the common wisdom seems to be to throw any old boot at any old dress, there was a constant chorus of rejection buzzers going off in my head. If you insist on sticking with this look, let's try to keep it to spring and fall—by the weather, not the calendar. Leather shoes in general and boots in particular are not summer-friendly footwear. All I could think when I saw the girl in the micro-mini and the over-the-knee boots was, "Stank foot! Stank foot! Girl's got serious stank foot!" and then, "Oh, we're going to see her butt soon."
In other footwear news, six-inch glittery stiletto platform pumps are not appropriate for an afternoon graduation. They're not appropriate for anything, really, that doesn't involve a stripper pole. And here's some more really basic advice—if you can't walk in them, leave them in the store. I never saw so much ridiculous hobbling in my life. That's not hot, ladies, that's stupid. I'm only sorry that I spied the worst offender on this front in the lobby instead of getting to witness her attempt to walk down the sloped auditorium aisle.
On another note, the appropriate undergarment choice for a white, backless, eyelet dress is not a regular-backed black bra. And a word to the wise: side cut-outs are friendly to very few. Approach with extreme caution and be ready to run.
Okay, folks, let's work on these few points, and next time I'm in town, we'll have some other gathering of some sort and I'll get the chance to judge you again. I hope you're looking forward to it as much as I am. Please don't hit me.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Hey, Blowhard! Fact-Check Your Mouth!
Ages ago, for obvious reasons, I blocked a blowhard know-it-all on Facebook. Since then, through a series of unfortunate events, he has been hired in my office. Now I am forced to listen in person to all the same erroneous information he used to spew online. His voice carries. He will never admit when he is mistaken and just continues to compound his original errors and sometimes just introduces new and also completely untrue facts into the conversation. (His wife, however, is delightful. How does that happen?)
Last week, he announced, "Oregon isn't really big on Indian place names." Really? You are sitting in a town and a county with an Indian place name. I don't have to go ten miles to come up with a dozen more. Where shall we start? Multmomah, Willamette, Clackamas, Scappoose, Clatskanie, Clatsop, Ecola, Nehalem, Kilchis, Neah-kah-nie, Netarts, Nestucca, Klamath. Shall I go on? Enh, check a map. I'm tired of this game.
Today's pronouncement: "I don't think there's a million dollars in this county." You, sir, are an idiot. Yes, there are a lot of blue-collar, working-class families in this rural county. There are also 75 miles of coastline. And a handful of large company headquarters.
So, yes, blowhard. It is well past time for you to fact-check your mouth. I need you to shut up. Like, yesterday.
Last week, he announced, "Oregon isn't really big on Indian place names." Really? You are sitting in a town and a county with an Indian place name. I don't have to go ten miles to come up with a dozen more. Where shall we start? Multmomah, Willamette, Clackamas, Scappoose, Clatskanie, Clatsop, Ecola, Nehalem, Kilchis, Neah-kah-nie, Netarts, Nestucca, Klamath. Shall I go on? Enh, check a map. I'm tired of this game.
Today's pronouncement: "I don't think there's a million dollars in this county." You, sir, are an idiot. Yes, there are a lot of blue-collar, working-class families in this rural county. There are also 75 miles of coastline. And a handful of large company headquarters.
So, yes, blowhard. It is well past time for you to fact-check your mouth. I need you to shut up. Like, yesterday.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Songs I Like Better My Way, Vol. III
(with apologies to Toys R Us)
I don’t wanna be here,
I’m a misplaced heiress.
I want a million toys that should be mine that I can play with.
I don’t wanna be here,
I’m a misplaced heiress.
Give me the best and all the rest, no need to feel embarrassed.
From homes to planes to video games,
It’s the best fantasy there is (gee whiz)!
I don't wanna be here and maybe if I weren’t,
I wouldn't feel so completely burnt.
(More stress, more woes, oh noez!)
I wanna be an heiress for realz!
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Long Time, No Blog
Oh, hi. Um, ya know, life. Busy. Tired. Post every fleeting thought on Facebook or Twitter, so nothing left for here. I would never have thought that I'd ever be without something to say, but...
Went to homeland for Christmas. Time with family was very, very nice, but didn't sleep well while there and came back exhausted. Flights were so awful and we were treated with such contempt by staff that not only do I never want to fly United again, but I never want to fly again. I'd take the train, but it would take all of my vacation time just to get there. Another notch in the pro column for moving back closer to family.
Saw Book of Mormon last night and enjoyed it immensely. Will be singing and posting lyrics for weeks. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry.
This is the world's most boring post ever in the history of the universe ever. Essentially, it's a placeholder so I can pretend like I still write a few paragraphs every now and then. Oh, look! Four paragraphs! That'll do. Current delusion accepted. Carry on.
Went to homeland for Christmas. Time with family was very, very nice, but didn't sleep well while there and came back exhausted. Flights were so awful and we were treated with such contempt by staff that not only do I never want to fly United again, but I never want to fly again. I'd take the train, but it would take all of my vacation time just to get there. Another notch in the pro column for moving back closer to family.
Saw Book of Mormon last night and enjoyed it immensely. Will be singing and posting lyrics for weeks. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry.
This is the world's most boring post ever in the history of the universe ever. Essentially, it's a placeholder so I can pretend like I still write a few paragraphs every now and then. Oh, look! Four paragraphs! That'll do. Current delusion accepted. Carry on.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
No Chikin, No Cry
I would not normally wade into such a fray, but since I publicly proclaimed my love for Chik-fil-A previously, I now feel obligated to publicly withdraw it. Done. The day I put a chicken sandwich before the rights of my fellow citizens is the day you can revoke my humanity card. I still have a soul, so I'm gonna pass on the sandwich.
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