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Time for some fluff

14 Mar

No really, fluff! Check out these faux-furry bad boys:

What do we all think of these boots? I know, I know, they look kinda like Uggs (which, from what I hear, are not waterproof and become stinky after a while), BUT, these are waterproof and snowproof. YES!

I am in need of some rain/snowproof boots because I LIVE IN PORTLAND and the cuffs of my pants are pretty much always soaked. Not to mention my feet. Plus they just look sooooo cozy. ZOMG cozy. I would put them on and feel like a warm furry bear with opposable thumbs in a cozy bear cave next to a roaring bear fireplace drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream and teeny tiny marshmallows. It would be magnificent.

Special ladyfriend bought me a proper pair of wellies a couple of Christamasses ago but they don’t fit right and we forgot to exchange them. These are waterproof AND cute, right? Or do we think the faux fur thing is going to go out of fashion really really soon? Or do we hate it in general? Clearly I need your sartorial guidance, internet. So tell me, should I get the bear boots or will I look like a giant dork? (Ha, as if I could help that. I was a mathlete, after all, dorkdom marches through my veins like radioactive rubber pants.)*

*Bonus points if you can name that quote.

20 ways in which I am not an adult

18 Nov
It was too hard to find a picture
of a girl child in a business suit.
This saddens me.
  1. I sometimes replace an entire day of meals with cookies.
  2. Right before I bought my car, I wandered around the house, cash in hand, yelling “Who wants to dance for me?! I want to make it rain! Dance for me, minions! DANCE!”*
  3. I wear contacts, but don’t carry solution with me. The space in my purse that could have solution in it instead has leftover gum wrappers, three pairs of defunct iPhone headphones, an empty prescription bottle, and various types of identification the government recommends you don’t carry with you.
  4. I have a mobile mini-bar. (It could be argued that this belongs on The Ways in which I am an Adult list.)
  5. I still think getting 6 or fewer hours of sleep per night is a perfectly acceptable way to Get More Done.
  6. I think diet rock star is delicious. This is probably related to No. 5.
  7. Novelty candy-infused alcohol amuses me.
  8. I force people to make a big deal out of my birthday.
  9. I once replaced dinner with four martinis. OK, more than once.
  10. I own several pairs of impractical shoes.
  11. I refuse to purchase one of those douchebaggy bluetooth things, even though the headphone bit that comes with my phone keeps breaking, and my favorite time to talk on the phone is while driving.
  12. I forget about produce I have in the fridge, until it spoils.
  13. It takes me an inordinate amount of time to get around to making doctor’s appointments.
  14. I think a trip on a Green Tortoise bus would be deeply entertaining.
  15. I play sophomoric party games.
  16. I cannot perform amortization calculations accurately, even when presented with a handy chart.
  17. I am a terrible single-tasker.
  18. I feel it is entirely reasonable to blow huge wads of cash on theme parties.
  19. I think dead baby jokes are funny. I know they’re not, but they totally are.
  20. My filing cabinet is very disorganized. And contains craft supplies.

In what ways are you still a kid/teenager/generally irresponsible?

    * No takers, sadly.

    Footwear as political salve

    19 Oct

    Domestic violence is legal in Topeka. Men hate you. Women hate you. Journalists hate you. And your neighbors probably have more pumpkins than you.

    What’s a girl in the world to do in order to deal with this sorry state of affairs? Distract herself with impractical footwear, of course! I’m nothing if not sartorially aspirational, and it’s my favorite fashion season – boots, Oxfords, scarves and sweaters for everyone! I never met an Oxford I didn’t like, and I’m on a genuine mission to replenish my boot collection after the Infamous Cat Pee Incident of ’07.

    So without further ado, here is some of the footwear I’ve admired this week while distracting myself from Serious Social Ills:

    These are lovely. I can imagine wearing them with a nice grey, belted sweaterdress. Which is something I would probably never be confident enough to wear. But something someone a LOT cooler than I am would totally rock. Tragically, the boot “shaft” (heh. shaft.) is too big.

    These, while very similar to the first boot, supposedly have an edge as sources say the 1/2” platform would make them comfier to walk in. I remain unconvinced, however, that platforms ever deserved any legitimacy as a trend. Given enough time, I may come around on the whole leggings thing, but platforms, not so much.

    I love these. I want them terribly. I want to save the picture of them as my home page and screen saver. I want to cut out several pictures of them, glue them to the ends of some pencils, and put on little miniature shoe-plays. All the characters in my shoe-play would drink tea and have monocles and wear tweed jackets with elbow pads. They’d be like Giles in Buffy. Or Wesley in season five of Angel. Only, you know, shoes. Shoes that do whatever I say!

    I know, I know. I just went on a rant against platforms. But these are HIDDEN platforms, darn it. Kinda. And they’d make all kinds of super-long pants wearable. And they’re beige. I need some beige shoes, ‘cuz I don’t have any. OK, I do, but they’re open-toed mules and those are only really wearable one week out of the year because it rains all other 51 weeks here.

    What kinds of frivolous daydreams do you engage in when hiding from bleak reality?

    Weekend Open Thread: X-Files Edition

    23 Jul

    Super-late Friday post due to me being pooped earlier. That’s what happens when you get up at 4 a.m., but can’t tear yourself away from the X-Files at night early enough to get a decent night’s sleep.

    Yes, that’s right. The X-Files. I never watched the full series before so I’m watching them now in the name of pop culture edumucation. And hoooooboy is there some serious stuff wrong with that show. For one, why does Mulder always drive? But I use my magic patriarchy-filtering, laser-beam shooting eye shields to screen all that out, because Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny are both smokin’.

    Ahem. Anyway, to distract you from that disturbing little overshare, here’s some Friday adorableness!

    You know the drill, folks! Talk amongst yourselves in the comments, and feel free to scold me on any number of items, including but not limited to how I haven’t gotten to your reader request yet. (Refer to above “pooped” excuse.)

    Today’s questions-to-get-you-started are X-Files related:

    • What’s your guilty pop-culture pleasure? I have too many to list. It’s truly horrifying. I’ll make a list soon so you can feel superior, I promise.
    • What’s your guilty “harm-reduction/patriarchy-indulgence” thing? You know what I mean – like wearing makeup/shaving your legs/walking around in stilettos or getting strapping young men to help you move heavy things. Or if you’re a straight man, do you do anything that goes against your nature to conform to society’s expectation of dudeliness?

    Expound in the comments, dearies. Dooo eeet! The unicorn award goes to the bestest comment of the weekend. What’s the unicorn award, you ask? There’s only one way to find out.

    Mindless sartorial waffling

    27 May

    We all remember the ridiculous black pumps I bought back in March, right? Well, now the exact same type is on sale, but this time in blue and canary yellow:

    If I were the sort of person who could use bright colors with reckless abandon, I would hurry to purchase these fun fun shoes in a panoply of colors. But honestly, my palette is somewhat limited to black, grey, and various earthy browns and greens. I’m pretty sure these would match absolutely nothing that I own, and even with them on sale, sale, SALE! I simply can’t justify the expense.

    Meanwhile, I’ve worn my black pair of Carrie pumps today for the occasion of SATC2, which I am off to see with a gaggle of ladies after work, to my great and public shame. I suspect it will be a horrendous vehicle for faux-couture advertisements, but nevertheless, I will shell out my $10.75 out of some sense of solidarity and/or obligation.

    Black Pump Confidential

    17 Mar

    My desire to perform femininity properly runs deep, and is tied directly to an irrational love of footwear. It runs in my family — one of my favorite anecdotes about my grandmother’s later years involves her declining ability to say words correctly, and the resulting bittersweet hilarity when all her stories about shoes became stories about shees.

    But the truth is, footwear fetishes are common to my entire gender. It’s bred into us from the first moment we clomp around in our mother’s high heels, if not earlier. Shoes are an integral part of mainstream femininity, and performing femininity correctly means many shoes, impractical shoes, shiny shoes, shoes we can’t run or even stand comfortably in. Shoes like the ones I bought yesterday:
    I love them, but I hate what they say about me and my desire to conform. One can only resist the evil one-two punch of capitalism and femininity for so long. And since I’ve worked across the street from a giant she-she mall for the last 18 months without blowing a wad of dough on something overpriced that represents everything I hate about the world, I figured I was about due.

    I love the addition to my black pump collection som’n fierce, and have dubbed them my Irony Kicks. I could blame the purchase on simple peer pressure since my trip to the mall was engendered by two coworkers’ needs for makeup and vacation sandals, respectively. When surrounded by women who blow-dry and straighten daily, know how to blend cream foundation and properly layer eyeshadow, I ask you: What choice do I have but to purchase pumps?

    But in truth, I have a long and storied history of shoe-love, with a focus on the black pump oeuvre:

    This collection is pared down, and arranged chronologically from left to right. I could tell you exactly when, where and why I bought each pair. Meticulous? Yes. Unusual? No. Sick? Only insofar as society’s made me. My shoes may be a tool of the patriarchy, but that doesn’t mean I am. I hereby absolve myself of all shoe-related guilt.




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