I made a point to stay away from the siren of my bed this weekend, only hitting it when needed and omitting the whole Saturday afternoon loll from my weekend. It was cool. I cleaned up a bunch and even ventured into the devil's closet space called my attic.
My attic is the place clothing goes to rest, either from being outgrown, outseasoned or both at once. Climbing through the mess up there showed me a couple things:
Point 1: I have a core dressing style.
I love and apparently have loved the past 10 years textile pattern prints, A-line skirts, corduroy, American Eagle Outfitters, the Gap and Banana Republic. I like skirts, dresses, cropped pants and lots of the same button up blouses and shirts in white or black.
Point 2: I spend A LOT of money on clothing.
Each article of clothing was purchased at an average of $30 per piece. I pulled about 50 items out of the attic bound for charity just tonight. Considering I always buy the same type of items, it seems kinda silly. More economical for me to just slim down a little and go shopping in my attic than online.
Point 3: I have a TON of stuff up there.
Enough said.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Oh HELL No
I was flipping channels tonight because I am one of those people who can't bear more than 5 minutes of silence (duh) and stumbled across what may be the 3rd or 4th most ridiculous train wreck of a television show idea.
But first, might I just say, considering my cable bill is healthy while my vacation fund suffers from the recession, WHY IS THERE NOTHING ON TELEVISION EVER?? Except for the wee hours when Oblongs and Chowder make an appearance, or maybe I catch a sleepy glimpse of Murder She Wrote, my choices are the equivalent of nothing but healthy snacks in the vending machine. "Unscripted shows" are ok with me, but dang, must you show the same episodes 4 times in a row??? Can't you fire a camera man and produce more? It's not like you pay writers or anything.
Anyways, the show I landed on simply because of its sheer audacity was some piece of interesting wreckage called "More to Love". You see where this is headed...
First, the bachelor's suit was too tight. I assume to call attention to the fact that he was 330 lbs, which I learned whenever they had a "confessional"-type interview with him and flashed it on the screen. Worse was that for every bachelorette date-candidate, they felt compelled to put their stats up as well while they were sharing their hopes and dreams with the production team. I mean, really! I'm gonna sit and tell you how I feel about being in my 20s and having never gone on a single date and you post "Jezebel Smith, 5'2" 340 lbs" over my chest area??
And then, at the promise ring ceremony, every woman to a woman was not wearing a dress with sleeves. Every plump woman I know avoids arm cleavage to the point of obsession, yet here are 30 insecure, blubbering women with nary a shawl, wrap, sleeve between them.
OK, past that, the tears and complete disillusionment and suffering the rejectees showed to the camera (and thereby the world) was simply embarassing. I mean, just because you're fat does not mean you will never get a man. Let's be real: plenty of skinny women don't get men either. One thing has nothing to do with the other.
So I am wondering if this is going to air another episode. I wonder who is watching this and what they are thinking...
But first, might I just say, considering my cable bill is healthy while my vacation fund suffers from the recession, WHY IS THERE NOTHING ON TELEVISION EVER?? Except for the wee hours when Oblongs and Chowder make an appearance, or maybe I catch a sleepy glimpse of Murder She Wrote, my choices are the equivalent of nothing but healthy snacks in the vending machine. "Unscripted shows" are ok with me, but dang, must you show the same episodes 4 times in a row??? Can't you fire a camera man and produce more? It's not like you pay writers or anything.
Anyways, the show I landed on simply because of its sheer audacity was some piece of interesting wreckage called "More to Love". You see where this is headed...
First, the bachelor's suit was too tight. I assume to call attention to the fact that he was 330 lbs, which I learned whenever they had a "confessional"-type interview with him and flashed it on the screen. Worse was that for every bachelorette date-candidate, they felt compelled to put their stats up as well while they were sharing their hopes and dreams with the production team. I mean, really! I'm gonna sit and tell you how I feel about being in my 20s and having never gone on a single date and you post "Jezebel Smith, 5'2" 340 lbs" over my chest area??
And then, at the promise ring ceremony, every woman to a woman was not wearing a dress with sleeves. Every plump woman I know avoids arm cleavage to the point of obsession, yet here are 30 insecure, blubbering women with nary a shawl, wrap, sleeve between them.
OK, past that, the tears and complete disillusionment and suffering the rejectees showed to the camera (and thereby the world) was simply embarassing. I mean, just because you're fat does not mean you will never get a man. Let's be real: plenty of skinny women don't get men either. One thing has nothing to do with the other.
So I am wondering if this is going to air another episode. I wonder who is watching this and what they are thinking...
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Nick Hornby
Nick Hornby is an artist, even though every time I type his name I somehow leave off the B (time for some attention to my personal life, I guess)...
I ordered Slam by mistake on my Recorded Books subscription, thinking it would be an adult novel, and actually, it is, though it's marketed for teens. Brilliant writing, I went back for more and recently finished A Long Way Down. Amazing. Especially if you ever thought offing yourself was a reasonable course of action. The best part of the book (if I could dare rank) is how reasonably most of the characters process their predicaments.
Read it.
I ordered Slam by mistake on my Recorded Books subscription, thinking it would be an adult novel, and actually, it is, though it's marketed for teens. Brilliant writing, I went back for more and recently finished A Long Way Down. Amazing. Especially if you ever thought offing yourself was a reasonable course of action. The best part of the book (if I could dare rank) is how reasonably most of the characters process their predicaments.
Read it.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Um, Corporal Punishment in the natural world
My bird, a feisty little green bastard, bit me the hardest yet today when I tried to put him back in the little mcMansion he has in the dining room. First I was irritated, then I was plain pissed. I mean, I don't resort to violence when he does something I don't like, so where does this make sense that he tweaks my skin with his little beak when he's angry?
When moms give bad kids the slap in the grocery store, we all shoot her evil looks, I mean, really! Teaching a kid what not to do by hitting it is really failing the logic test. But maybe it's instinctual after all. I mean, angry=violence, looks like, in its simplest chain. My bird has a brain the size of an almond and weighs less than five sheets of notebook paper and yet, instead of flying away when he's pissed at me, he reaches out and in no uncertain action PINCHES me.
I don't know what this means, but it is quite possibly profound.
When moms give bad kids the slap in the grocery store, we all shoot her evil looks, I mean, really! Teaching a kid what not to do by hitting it is really failing the logic test. But maybe it's instinctual after all. I mean, angry=violence, looks like, in its simplest chain. My bird has a brain the size of an almond and weighs less than five sheets of notebook paper and yet, instead of flying away when he's pissed at me, he reaches out and in no uncertain action PINCHES me.
I don't know what this means, but it is quite possibly profound.
No Shirt No Service Dogs
I had the most satisfying lunch today with an old friend graduating from nursing school in December and her study buddy, a jewish guy with a blind-guide-puppy-in-training.
At first, I was momentarily disappointed that we were not going to truck it to Radial Cafe, where I was planning to kick back on the patio with some decaf coffee, an omelette and a plain bagel with sour cream and a slice of tomato (omg, i still want that meal!), but Ru San's was almost as good. I had sushi from the buffet, great conversation about all the ick that is the final stages of nursing school, and a great dog in a vest at my feet.
Apparently, the poor dog spends his days at the local prison, then on the weekends gets exposed to everything imaginable by foster parent/trainers. I have to admit, I felt bad for the dog, his regimen is soooo structured. Literally, the dog can only pee on the pavement and on command.
We talked of this and that and normal brunch convo like circumcision and female genital mutilation, Don't Ask Don't Tell, unisex bathrooms (including a detour into the mechanics of splashing while males urinate), and jewish mutilation of the body being against the law. Stimulating. No, really.
It's a gorgeous day here in Atlanta and I'd like to see it again, but got sidetracked with the mother of all projects -- returning things to stores that I had no business purchasing in the first place. I mean, I had a pretty good excuse, but all told there are over $700 worth of items on my bed this very moment that need heading back to the stores from whence they came. And no, I don't believe in wearing things then returning them, I just approach shopping the same way I approach a menu at a pancake restaurant: I want EVERYTHING. And I think everything will fit :)
At first, I was momentarily disappointed that we were not going to truck it to Radial Cafe, where I was planning to kick back on the patio with some decaf coffee, an omelette and a plain bagel with sour cream and a slice of tomato (omg, i still want that meal!), but Ru San's was almost as good. I had sushi from the buffet, great conversation about all the ick that is the final stages of nursing school, and a great dog in a vest at my feet.
Apparently, the poor dog spends his days at the local prison, then on the weekends gets exposed to everything imaginable by foster parent/trainers. I have to admit, I felt bad for the dog, his regimen is soooo structured. Literally, the dog can only pee on the pavement and on command.
We talked of this and that and normal brunch convo like circumcision and female genital mutilation, Don't Ask Don't Tell, unisex bathrooms (including a detour into the mechanics of splashing while males urinate), and jewish mutilation of the body being against the law. Stimulating. No, really.
It's a gorgeous day here in Atlanta and I'd like to see it again, but got sidetracked with the mother of all projects -- returning things to stores that I had no business purchasing in the first place. I mean, I had a pretty good excuse, but all told there are over $700 worth of items on my bed this very moment that need heading back to the stores from whence they came. And no, I don't believe in wearing things then returning them, I just approach shopping the same way I approach a menu at a pancake restaurant: I want EVERYTHING. And I think everything will fit :)
been a year? My!
Blogging is supposed to be good for the soul, and leave it to me to refuse soul-nurturing activities... Especially with Facebook around, makes it really easy to live via status messages...
So, what has changed over the last year? A lot. I got a new job in October for better or worse. And. That's kind of it. I mean, the normal biweekly adventures ensue, but I mean, at my age, is that actually interesting anymore?
My little sister is moving back to town. That's exciting. I hope she finds more balance here and pumps the brakes on her fast track to chain-smoking middle aged woman burnout.
I've gotten closer to purging some friends. That's cool since I'm the most sentimental bastard out there and some of my former buddies' have outlived their reciprocal value.
So, what has changed over the last year? A lot. I got a new job in October for better or worse. And. That's kind of it. I mean, the normal biweekly adventures ensue, but I mean, at my age, is that actually interesting anymore?
My little sister is moving back to town. That's exciting. I hope she finds more balance here and pumps the brakes on her fast track to chain-smoking middle aged woman burnout.
I've gotten closer to purging some friends. That's cool since I'm the most sentimental bastard out there and some of my former buddies' have outlived their reciprocal value.
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