Smile. Step. Repeat.

Welcome, welcome. I've created this lovely little post of pictures and captions. Prepare to be blown away by my photography skills ability to press that big button (not to be confused by the power button)!

Let's begin!

In the beginning of August, the Blue Angels came to Seattle and ripped through our bright blue sky. They did breathtaking moves, like the one where five planes went whooosh, then piaaaaoooww! I captured this moment perfectly. Behold, the Blue Angels!

Wrong picture.

Behold, the Blue Angels!

I meant Angel, actually, not angels.

The next picture's location is Nordstrom in downtown Seattle. Rachel Zoe came for a visit and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to see how teeny tiny she is her. By the way, the only differences between a soon-to-be mosh pit at a club show and an "informal presentation of Rachel Zoe's Fall Collection," are the number of designer handbags and style blog-ready cameras. I tell ya, everyone came dressed up ready to get papped... except you, yes, the one in the baseball cap and sweats. Anyway, here is my crystal clear photo of Rachel Zoe:

Moving on.

I attended a Miss Gay Philippines Pageant at our Community Center earlier this month. My friend competed and though I wasn't able to make her a big-ass poster, I was in full-on support/cheering mode. Sadly, some contestants backed out and it seemed like the little production numbers were stretched longer than the actual pageant program. Thankfully, Aleksa Manila did an amazing Whitney Houston medley that brought the house down. Here's a glimpse:

Did you see her fabulous hair? No? It was big, really big. How about her fitted gown, did you see it? No? It was orange and had zigzag stripes. Did you see her... what? Okay, you only see that man with the gray hair? All right. Fair enough, fair enough.

So there you have it, my super fabulous August photo album. Remember to hit me up for useful tips such as how to efficiently cover the flash with your finger, take shots of fast moving objects, create a meal plan with instagram, get stuck in the Nathan Adrian tumblr tag, and capture that perfect angle where your subject looks like a bobbleheaded weirdo!

Toodles!

Shopping Misguide: Summer 2012 Edition

All right then. Summer has officially begun. Yet, you wouldn't know it if you were me, typing, with a dazzling grey view outside my window. All this rain is making me gloomy that I want to start writing a new version of Cinderella. It will have a tragic ending, have more villains than heroes, and will only be 200 words. The title? Gingerella. The stepmother? Vicky Pollard.

Let's get down to business. Let's pretend it's sunny out. Hot and sticky. What woman would not want to have a tank top on? I am not talking about an ordinary tank top. I'm talking about maximum ventilation. Low neckline. Massive armholes. I mean, we're talking apron coverage here, suspenders, even. But what am I to wear them with, you might ask. Worry not. I have just the thing. You want to create a play with volume, right? So we have a very loose top. Then you get your tightest shorts. You know, that pair you had from when you were young. And I don't mean your teen years. I mean before that. Enjoy.




If you read gossip magazines, the ones with headlines like Celebs: They're Normal Too! You might notice the strong showing of floral/printed/pastel-colored jeans. Yummers! They are so cute that they're QUTE, with a Q. Here's the thing: if you want to wear them but you're afraid the attention your thighs will get won't be enough, then that's a problem. I have a solution. Why stop at printed pants? Why not head over to Home Depot. Buy some wallpaper. Simply cut holes for your eyes, nose, mouth, arms, and feet. Voila!

It's... Miley! Kids, there's no denying it. Miley Cyrus is well fit these days. So let's take page from her book of no-style with...crop tops! The croppier, the better! I'm not talking about a slice of midriff showing in between your bralet and your waist band. Here's the rule of thumb, if the flesh showing is as small as the length of your thumb, then don't even bother. What's a little underboob exposure, right? What's a little panty showing, right? I mean, who cares if your rolls are hanging out? And this goes both ways, so I should also say: who cares if your ribs are hanging out? Like Gingerella would say, a bag of coal is better than none!




Finally, a note about hairstyles. I only have one word for you. Top-knots. Top-knots are top notch this summer. I'm sure you've seen them, just go up to Nordstrom's BP, or down, depending on which location, and you'll see them everywhere. Girls walking around as if some photog will pap them at any time and attach a caption saying what's hot now, or style spotting at 5th and Pine, or messy chic, or how to wear a top-knot. I'm not talking about a neat, salon-level updo. There's no room for that here. I'm talking about it's a Saturday, I'm hungover but I need to do laundry and Im'ma tie my hair up and around . I'm talking about a top-knot that is so disheveled the only accessory you need to look like a hot mess is a pair of fake prescription glasses and at least two denim pieces on your outfit.

So go ahead shoppers, enjoy yourselves! Like Gingerella would say, F**k off I've got shit to shovel!

Super Lekker!

Um, what just happened? I'm already rusty, and don't know what to write, then Blogger suddenly has this new look. Well, Blogger, guess what? I can do a new look as well. As we speak, I'm doing my best triangle face with my eyes wide open, and my nostrils flared.

Okay. Normal face.

I took a trip, you guys. On the last week of April I flew to Holland to meet one of my childhood friends. Which explains the Lekker title. I heard it a lot on the radio and on TV commercials. My friend and I, we grew up a few houses away from each other in a street called Paris, where skinned knobby knees were badges of honor, news of fighting adults traveled quickly, and parents finding neighbor children in their homes, any time of day, was normal.

Aside from catching up, reminiscing, LOL-ing with tears in our eyes, and wondering about other characters from our childhood, we got to see a little bit of everything, such as:

Rain, sun, wind, and hail, all during an hour-long lunch of savory pannaku... GOOGLE BREAK... Pannakoeken!

Amazing buildings, and weird sinking ones. As in, sinking forward, back, in the middle, on one side...

An eye-popping Turkish market at The Hague with vegetables, meat, fish, cheese, jewelry, socks, bread, watches, and so on. I loved it! If you're a shopper, and are willing to brave hordes of Grandma-to-grandkid-sized groups, tricked-out strollers mauling your foot, and the interesting smell you will have on you after you shop, then this is the place. There are many treasures to be found...except fresh herring. I could only hold down one bite. I'm sorry. I know it's like a national delicacy of sorts but I need some acid on my raw fish, and white onions don't cut it. P.S. Nagtitinda sila ng malunggay!

A very enthusiastic after-work crowd in bars and pubs, and their outdoor tables. Even if it was cold. AND IT WAS COLD, I TELL YA!

A chip-in, chip-out train/bus card system, combined with stern drivers, that will have you obsessing about whether your ov-chipkaart is in your person at any given moment. No, sorry forgot my Orca card today excuse.

One of the best dinners ever at a tiny Italian restaurant called Giuliano's, run by an Italian father-son tandem. My friend ran into a pair of co-workers, one Dutch, one from Southern Italy, and we all decided to have dinner together. Some of Mr. Italy's recurring, wine-induced lines of the evening were SHHH, don't talk, this Paolo Conte song means a lot to me. Also: Seattle? Seattle? You stay here. Your life is changed. We capped off our delicious meal with these yummy little cakes soaked in, gosh, I don't know, something as strong as jet fuel I guess, and limoncello. Oh, and this was followed by a ride. In a car. To a casino. With a horrendous Limp Bizkit song playing in high volume. I don't know how this happened.

The best-treated cyclists. And I thought Seattle peeps were doing great, but no, the Dutch are doing a lot for their bicycle riders. They have their own lane - everywhere - and if a pedestrian dares to wander off into their path, you'll hear a yell and a honk.

Stunning works of art at the Rijksmuseum. It was heart-warming to see the line of people snake around the building.

The Red Light District. Looks like the on-trend attire is that onesie style Borat favors, but worn with a pair of glasses. Interesting how the farther away from the center you are the less, um, fit, the women in the windows get.

A gorgeous day that just happened to be Queen's Day. Everyone was in a great mood. We walked over to this area called The Fred where stores, and just about anyone could have a little spot in the sidewalk to sell goods. And by goods, I mean this loosely. I mean, there were kids selling suspicious, homemade juice in plastic cups. Some were singing, or playing instruments. For charity they would say, but it kinda looked like by charity, they meant themselves.

Finally, a collection of words/phrases for you to string together as you please: Queen's Night. Tourist. Party. Legal.

Pineapple Tidbits (In Syrup)

You guys, the other day, I was waiting to cross the street. Then, from the corner of my eye I see a flash of white-blond hair, a big, red belted coat, and booted feet. I thought to myself: Santa Claus, is dat chu???

No. It wasn't. It was just a lady in a red coat and black boots, with blond hair. So disappointing.

I worked out the other week. My first one in ages. I was so pumped after. Super high energy! Excited! Feeling firm and toned. Then I look down, and my stomach's still jiggly. Wonk wonk wonk.

You know what I'd love right now? A bag of money. Just kidding. Maybe a bag of green mangoes. Just kidding. A bag. With a removable chain strap, small size for when you're walking around, shopping.

Hey. Who's watching The Voice? What is up with James Massone? He's like this vortex of cuteness. What, he thinks he can just go on stage and sing, don't know why, don't know why???

Yes. Yes, he can.

You guys, I don't know how, but I got sucked into watching Monte Carlo on HBO. Right now. This guy named Luke Bracey's in it. Check him out. Catherine Tate's in it too. THIS IS NOT MY SANDWICH.

Oh no. With Spring here, we're going to see a lot more capris. Pedal pushers. Clam diggers. Calves. Ankles. Cankles.

Is there anything worse than counting down the days until your vacation starts? This morning, as I got ready for work I started daydreaming about the end of my work day.

Sometimes I just feel like blurting out: MANNEQUIN 2: ON THE MOVE.

House of Marni Xtravaganza Escandalo

Why do I never learn? I once underestimated the Seattle and E-bay response to designer collaborations, and paid dearly for it. And I did it again. I got in line for Marni at H&M at say, 7:20 this morning. By then the time slot I got for the 15-minute shopping allotment was for 8:45, which meant that two other groups will have shopped before my group. And I have to say, I felt a twinge of pain as the merchandise began to disappear before my eyes, and the eyes of my fellow 8:45 peeps.

I did not get that stupid sequined collar or those annoying earrings that were already embedded in my brain. I did not get any of the brocade tops or pants which I would not wear anyway. But, I did get two bracelets. I almost got a striped men's sweater, before the voice of reason, aka, the voice of my bank account said, striped sweater, again? To join the other striped sweaters in your closet? So they can have a stripe party and drink stripe cocktails? And make this new one the queen of stripes I also, almost got those flat black sandals but in a size smaller than my actual size. I put it down when I heard the voice of Shangela LaQuifa Wadley saying cliffhanger! Reverse Cliffhanger alert!



So yes. Yes. I stood in line, my toes almost froze, my coffee turned lukewarm, and I needed to pee, all for two bracelets! Thankfully, they were fabulous.

Not so fabulous? All that interesting behavior that waiting in line for a designer collab brings out in people. Take, The Fashion Insider. There she waits, with her fellow Fashion Insider friends, proselytizing on the wisdom of buying everything you can get your hands on. After all, the prices are mere shillings compared to clothes from the designer's main line. Yes, shillings are still the preferred currency in H&M and such places. She will also whip out her smart phone and pull up pictures of the Prada handbag she has on her wish list. Also on her wish list? New conditioner for her thirsty, crunchy hair ends. Just kidding (but not really).

And then we have the Busy Working Woman. Busy, yet still somewhat cares about fashion. Look at her, giving cellulite realness in her leggings and puffy jacket. I don't really care. But I want to care. I do care. No, not really. I'm busy. Not that busy to wake up at 5am and wait in line. But no, I have better things to do.

Last, but not least, we have the most dangerous kind. The E-bay gang with their baggy jeans and hefty biceps. See them flex their muscles. They're warming up now. Third in line after the super fans. They know the drill by heart -- wear a hat while waiting outside, no more than 2 per item, stand by the gate as sales associates hand merch back into the floor from the fitting rooms or cash registers.

There you have it. Another H&M fail for me. Another lesson to be learned. Namely: Get in line before the E-bay gang. Flex your muscles. Pee before waiting. Don't hit snooze on your alarm clock more than twice. Eat breakfast. Cellulite Realness is a no-no unless you're Jiggly Caliente. And finally, skip everything else except hair conditioner!

Sad Face

I'm not sure what brought it on, but I was feeling down the other day. I mean, is there anything more sad than finally giving in to a two-day brownie craving, only to realize there aren't enough eggs in the fridge? Like my co-worker said, the day after a crying jag triggered by Nacho Fries, me crazy... WHAaaat?

I think it's this winter business. Isn't there always a point where you're so tired of getting dressed in layers, of having your skin break out in angry red patches (good job, lotion, you're dead in my book, remember that), of having to arrange your comforter so that no edge is open to chilly air? One moment you're changing clothes, trying to un-Isadora Duncan your scarf from your neck, then it's my double chin is holding me back, then it's FML!

So, to take a page from the music-loving Mind Full Eyes Peeled, here's my very own Feel-Depressed playlist, designed to put a chill in your chest and a knife in your gut. Enjoy. I hope you'll feel as miserable as I do.

Skinny Love - Bon Iver (how appropriate)



I'm in Here - Sia

Dirt - Alice in Chains

I Got Shit - Pearl Jam



I Saw You Walk Away - Badly Drawn Boy

Bronte - Gotye

The Blower's Daughter (and pretty much all of 'O')- Damien Rice

So Low - Self

Simple Math - Manchester Orchestra

Black Winged Bird - The Cake Sale

New Year New Shoes Cadillac

Ignore the title. This song with Cadillac in the lyrics was in my mind. But I do mean the New Year part. And all right, the new shoes too.

You may notice that I changed my profile picture. There's nothing like being surrounded by jewels. Because when I die, old, hopefully, and crusty (I hope not), I wish to be be hugged by cold jewelry. Bwahahahaha. Just kidding. The worms will probably be better for warmth. And the soil, too.

I meant to write here sooner. But I was, and still am, held hostage by awards season. I normally spend a lot of hours in front of the computer, writing part time. But this month, every time I think, oh, time for a break! There seems to be another event to write about. Just take the Golden Globes, for instance. For every gown I made time for, there were two more gowns I couldn't even write about. Like her:


Photo Credit: Mrs. Grapevine

What a sunny color! Paula Patton has such a lovely face. I wish she would stop posing as if she was gasping for air.

Photo Credit: So Feminine UK

Oh, hello, Laura Linney! One night I might dream of her, in her lace sheath dress, introducing Downton Abbey. Except she would be referring to Donkey Alley. And I am the kitchen maid serving in the household of Lady Graham, heiress to pie crusts and teddy bear cookie cutters.

Photo Credit: Grunge Report

Um, hi. I'd like to introduce myself as your next wife. Can we get rid of her, now? Just kidding (but not really).

Photo Credit: Nollywood Gossip

Ozzie. Ozzieozzieozzie. OZZIE?!?!