Working with women, as far as their wardrobes go, some of the things I always hear is:
I'm not wearing the right underwear.
I'm not wearing the right bra.
I need Spanx.
I have a donut here (points to belly button area).
You can see my muffin top.
I need to lose 4.3lbs.
I look like Spongebob (to which I ask if they'd rather be Spongebob-shaped or Patrick-shaped, take your pick).
Just kidding about that last one.
In any case, we all have those days when the bloat is just too strong to fight. Days when the thought of control undies make a single tear roll down your eye. I know I have those moments. In fact, I think a big chunk of my closet is dedicated to drapey, flowy clothes half a size too big. Just for those days when sucking in my gut all day at work is not an option.
So here's a little something I put together. The star is the elastic waistband of course. And the sandals are for when you've reached your quota of hours on heels.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Observations from an Exercise Bike
I have not been inside a gym for years. Until yesterday. My sister and I took a spin class at her gym, one of those fancy places with hotel style locker rooms and chandeliers (yes, chandeliers). Oh, you know, nothing like the sound of crystals tinkling and vibrating under a studio full of jumping, zumba-ing, kickboxing people. Now, I understand that the gym is not the place to bother with color coordinating outfits, perfect little tops, and aesthetically pleasing shoes. There's not a Workout Style Guide that everyone automatically knows. But, man, oh man. I mean, everywhere I looked I saw panty lines screaming at me. I am not even kidding. It was like, bam! Check out the deep line that divides my ass into this part, and this part. Wow! Now, I am not saying that I have never set foot inside the gym wearing underwear with seams that dig into my buttocks, but on those occasions, I would at least wear a shirt that's a bit longer. And how about them sweat pants? If there is a hole, and if you're no longer sure what color they were originally, may I suggest just wearing them at home and not outside? Again, I know you've already made the effort to go to the gym and power through a workout, I applaud that. But just between us goyles...won't a little style adjustment help us get into the spirit of things more?
Here, I made a thing, of the active wear pieces I would gather if I were to go to a gym regularly (no panty line panties included).
Workout wear aside, the spin class was a good challenge. I have questions, though. How does anyone sit on a bike comfortably? Is it normal that I think my butt bone is bruised? When the instructor says to PUSH HARDER and REACH DOWN AND ADJUST YOUR GEAR TO 90%, do thoughts like, I will kiiill you, and sira ka ba?! run through your mind? Is it good workout practice to visualize your dinner while pedaling? Okay, how about dessert?
Here, I made a thing, of the active wear pieces I would gather if I were to go to a gym regularly (no panty line panties included).
Workout wear aside, the spin class was a good challenge. I have questions, though. How does anyone sit on a bike comfortably? Is it normal that I think my butt bone is bruised? When the instructor says to PUSH HARDER and REACH DOWN AND ADJUST YOUR GEAR TO 90%, do thoughts like, I will kiiill you, and sira ka ba?! run through your mind? Is it good workout practice to visualize your dinner while pedaling? Okay, how about dessert?
Monday, June 3, 2013
Summerish
What is it about summer that makes my hand-to-wallet speed much faster? It's as if the breezier fabrics and sleek sandals switch something on in my brain that says, it's okay, buy me. I'm such a good deal. Really, this is not a joke. Thankfully, my cheapness, which is a weakness, is also a strength.
And because I want to share this, ah, illness. I put together a little something to get you in the mood for a mini, affordable, summer shopping spree.
Did you click to see the rest of it? If you did, yes, I like neutrals. If Macy's still has their shoe sale going on, the sandals are under $40.00! If I use utensils, avoid potato chips, and have no sticker price tags to scrape off, I'd still have that red nail polish on until, say, Wednesday.
Happy shopping!
And because I want to share this, ah, illness. I put together a little something to get you in the mood for a mini, affordable, summer shopping spree.
Did you click to see the rest of it? If you did, yes, I like neutrals. If Macy's still has their shoe sale going on, the sandals are under $40.00! If I use utensils, avoid potato chips, and have no sticker price tags to scrape off, I'd still have that red nail polish on until, say, Wednesday.
Happy shopping!
Monday, April 29, 2013
Shopping Misguide Spring/Summer 2013 Edition
With April on fast forward, and September just around the corner, this edition of Shopping Misguide is long overdue. So I'll just jump right into it.
Must Have No. 1: Black and White
All you need to do is think of certain images to bring this trend to life. Close your eyes and think: Piano keys. Hamburglar on heels. Referee chic. Chess couture. Mime Fashion Week. One of Michael Jackson's biggest songs ever. Eyeballs. A healthy tooth beside a cavity-ridden one.
This shouldn't even be a "trend." We all have black and white in our closets. The key is to really zebra it up and play with that contrast. And get your friends in on it with a day of themed dressing in the vein of Spy Vs. Spy Meets Oreos.
Must Have No. 2: Ruffles
Preferably sour cream and onion with chilled ranch dip. Just kidding. Ruffles are tricky. I think we women have a love-hate relationship with anything that's overly feminine. Which is why when wearing ruffles it is advisable to temper the sweet detail with something sharp and edgy. A knife necklace, perhaps. I am also drawn to the idea of a mustache, the more natural the better, so no waxing ladies!
Must Have No. 3: Sheer
And I don't mean L'Eggs! Hey, remember your mom's pantyhose? The ones that came in a little egg-shaped receptacle? We're not talking about that. We're talking about a look at me/no, don't look at me approach. This calls for the most revealing outfit you have ever owned but with an overlay of swishy, sheer details. But why stop there? I propose taking this a step further. For instance, over your most streamlined summer sandal, wear a pair of clogs. Have a pair of creepy little shades? Layer that underneath your oversized sunglasses! Wearing a bandaid from a paper cut? Add a cast.
Must Have No. 4: Rainbow Brite
I'm sure you've seen this everywhere. Those bold, bright lipstick shades that look like they're fresh out of your box of crayons. I am not brave enough to wear those colors. I am not brave enough to wear lipstick, period. Why? All I know is that my lips are so dry that by the end of the day they'll be cracking and looking like a mosaic. But, if I could, I would definitely try all those reds and pinks and Rihanna purples and my fave, The Alaska:
Must Have No. 1: Black and White
All you need to do is think of certain images to bring this trend to life. Close your eyes and think: Piano keys. Hamburglar on heels. Referee chic. Chess couture. Mime Fashion Week. One of Michael Jackson's biggest songs ever. Eyeballs. A healthy tooth beside a cavity-ridden one.
This shouldn't even be a "trend." We all have black and white in our closets. The key is to really zebra it up and play with that contrast. And get your friends in on it with a day of themed dressing in the vein of Spy Vs. Spy Meets Oreos.
Must Have No. 2: Ruffles
Preferably sour cream and onion with chilled ranch dip. Just kidding. Ruffles are tricky. I think we women have a love-hate relationship with anything that's overly feminine. Which is why when wearing ruffles it is advisable to temper the sweet detail with something sharp and edgy. A knife necklace, perhaps. I am also drawn to the idea of a mustache, the more natural the better, so no waxing ladies!
Must Have No. 3: Sheer
And I don't mean L'Eggs! Hey, remember your mom's pantyhose? The ones that came in a little egg-shaped receptacle? We're not talking about that. We're talking about a look at me/no, don't look at me approach. This calls for the most revealing outfit you have ever owned but with an overlay of swishy, sheer details. But why stop there? I propose taking this a step further. For instance, over your most streamlined summer sandal, wear a pair of clogs. Have a pair of creepy little shades? Layer that underneath your oversized sunglasses! Wearing a bandaid from a paper cut? Add a cast.
Must Have No. 4: Rainbow Brite
I'm sure you've seen this everywhere. Those bold, bright lipstick shades that look like they're fresh out of your box of crayons. I am not brave enough to wear those colors. I am not brave enough to wear lipstick, period. Why? All I know is that my lips are so dry that by the end of the day they'll be cracking and looking like a mosaic. But, if I could, I would definitely try all those reds and pinks and Rihanna purples and my fave, The Alaska:
Friday, February 1, 2013
Plans for Plans
Here we are, in the second month of the year. I am happy to report that I did at least one new thing. I got my hair colored. For the first time, not counting that one time in high school. This one was done professionally. Chop included. I am also happy to say, that right on that day I done had herses I already managed to turn one guy's head. Yes, he was a toddler. And he was fascinated by the foils on my head, so what?
Another thing I did? My first two workouts of the year...check! Except, tell me I am not alone in this: when you do one workout in who knows how many months, and right before you look in the mirror you think, I'm so excited, I am so toned, and then you look at your reflection and wonder why you don't have abs yet. You're all, but I worked hard for 43 minutes. I'm super sore. Where is the muscle definition? Granted, a shower of food crumbs exploded as I unrolled my yoga mat but, whatever.
One day at work we got to talking about resolutions and if we make them, or keep them, or step on them, or put them in a box and throw them away. And I realized, I have not made a resolution in ages. Probably the only resolution I have been making, is a reminder to myself that reaching for the credit card in my wallet is not like winning a gunfight in a Western. I mean, really, hand, slow down, think about it for a minute. Which is why I have not shopped for a single item of on sale clothing (my weakness) in, um, well, whenever that last time was. It's been a while, I promise.
That train of thought got me thinking about whether or not I should make resolutions. Or, at least plans. Because, I tell ya, I am probably the laziest Virgo ever. And I don't want to depress anyone who is in the bud of youth, looking at the world with rose-colored pink eye, I mean contacts but, guess what darling? It's hard. Fantine said it best when she sang in that dark room while nursing a toothache. All right, just kidding (but not really). The point I am trying to make, and this is mostly to myself, is that there are ways out of all manner of ruts yet, especially ones you created yourself. So, let's make a deal, children, I'm going to lay off my overthinking, rejuvenate my lazy bones, maybe put a friendlier smile on in the morning, and you can keep your rosy contacts on.
Deal?
Here's a cheery song to keep us in a happy mood!
Another thing I did? My first two workouts of the year...check! Except, tell me I am not alone in this: when you do one workout in who knows how many months, and right before you look in the mirror you think, I'm so excited, I am so toned, and then you look at your reflection and wonder why you don't have abs yet. You're all, but I worked hard for 43 minutes. I'm super sore. Where is the muscle definition? Granted, a shower of food crumbs exploded as I unrolled my yoga mat but, whatever.
One day at work we got to talking about resolutions and if we make them, or keep them, or step on them, or put them in a box and throw them away. And I realized, I have not made a resolution in ages. Probably the only resolution I have been making, is a reminder to myself that reaching for the credit card in my wallet is not like winning a gunfight in a Western. I mean, really, hand, slow down, think about it for a minute. Which is why I have not shopped for a single item of on sale clothing (my weakness) in, um, well, whenever that last time was. It's been a while, I promise.
That train of thought got me thinking about whether or not I should make resolutions. Or, at least plans. Because, I tell ya, I am probably the laziest Virgo ever. And I don't want to depress anyone who is in the bud of youth, looking at the world with rose-colored pink eye, I mean contacts but, guess what darling? It's hard. Fantine said it best when she sang in that dark room while nursing a toothache. All right, just kidding (but not really). The point I am trying to make, and this is mostly to myself, is that there are ways out of all manner of ruts yet, especially ones you created yourself. So, let's make a deal, children, I'm going to lay off my overthinking, rejuvenate my lazy bones, maybe put a friendlier smile on in the morning, and you can keep your rosy contacts on.
Deal?
Here's a cheery song to keep us in a happy mood!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
August, September, Octvecember, January
You know how you put something off until too much time has passed and then it's what's the point? That's kind of what happened between my last post and today. Of course now we are into the 2nd day of 2013 and it seems wrong to look back because everyone knows a new year means looking forward, not back, or sideways, unless getting cross-eyed is the goal. Which brings me to this super abridged, one paragraph version of what has happened in October, November, and December. (Octvecember? Get it? Get it?)
Deep breath:
Went to Hong Kong with my sister. Visited our 2nd Mom and her beautiful family. Ate dimsum, Italian, Vietnamese, turon, etc. Met her adorable grand daughter who fed us wooden sushi and wooden cakes. Flew to Manila. Freaked out cab driver who drove us home when three sisters who haven't seen each other in 3 years start screaming in the rain. Three words: Lechon Manok, Kangkong. Lots of bonding with our now 13-year-old nephew whom we embarrassed by laughing and talking loudly and allegedly ignoring 'don't step on grass' signs for the sake of nice pictures. Karaoke, selfies, drinks, and whispered late night chitchat with my BFF. Beach weekend. Expired tanning oil. Zebra stripes. Cholesterol, Granny Goose, sodium, fried bread with condensed milk. Meet with friends for lunch, which stretched to dessert, and stretched to dinner. Greenbelt night observations over beer while making up stories. Manicure, pedicure, massage. Traffic, billboards, SM, Intramuros, Ayala, Christmas lights. GucciLouisPrada 'Ate pengeng barya.' Sarsi, Shakey's, chicharon, isaw, buffet. Talk, talk, talk. We don't want to leave, but we have to go.
The end.
Wait, I lied. That paragraph did not include December, which went like this:
Back to work. Deck the Hall Ball. Thank you Awolnation I did not expect that. How do I know all these words to The Killers' songs? Did I just spend $9 for a cup of beer? Work. Don't judge me. Thanks to my friend who wouldn't shut up about it, I am now addicted to Lee Min-ho kdramas. I said don't laugh, he's abnormally cute. Christmas shopping in Portland. Will not get distracted. Got distracted. Rain, go away. Christmas cooking and baking. What? It's over. Ten of Swords card. Oh shit. New Year's Eve festivites.You, yes you, you did it, we're proud of you!
And that's the real end. Thank you. Happy New Year!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
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 seehow 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!
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
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!
Friday, June 22, 2012
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!
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!
Thursday, May 17, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, April 16, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
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!
Friday, February 3, 2012
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
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
Thursday, January 26, 2012
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?!?!
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. GrapevineWhat 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 UKOh, 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 ReportUm, 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 GossipOzzie. Ozzieozzieozzie. OZZIE?!?!
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Maligayang Pasko
Christmas is coming! I just wrapped some presents this afternoon. It took longer than I thought it would, but I am hoping that wrapping presents now will save me from that dreaded '2 hours before heading out to Christmas dinner' time crunch, where somehow, you're still taping gift wrapper and finding another way to say 'Merry Christmas' on the little card. Years past have seen, Have a fabulous Christmas, have a blessed Christmas, a meaningful Christmas, good luck on your diet this Christmas. Just kidding.
While I was wrapping presents, I got to thinking about previous Christmases. I'm not sure why, but in our culture, it seems like Christmas eve always overshadows actual Christmas Day. When we were kids we'd head over to our mother's side of the family. There would be an elaborate program of song and dance numbers, both from the adults and the kids. I remember a fashion show one year. And then an over-the-top Madonna dance number another year. And if we were lucky we'd get a full-on drag performance courtesy of my Uncle and his friends.
Look, it got pretty crazy. We had to be dragged home because guess what? On Christmas Day, all that indulgent fun had to be balanced out with morning Mass. Not that Mass was particularly solemn. The manger scene was tricked out. There may be a baby figure swooping from the ceiling down to his crib. Who knows what the choir came up with, not to mention what the church's electric bill looks like.
And then after Mass, we would go to my father's side of the family. There would be more eating, but not that much entertainment. And of course it couldn't go on that way forever. When the relatives started leaving for abroad, we all just tried to have our own thing at home. Which meant my mom would have to cook. And she would make this complicated chicken relleno dish which involved deboning it, getting the meat, mixing it with vegetables, stuffing the meat back in, boiling the whole thing in cheese cloth, blah blah, blah. That was not a recipe. Do not follow that word for word. It is so delicious, you guys. The best part is she makes chicken liver gravy which makes my mouth water as I type the words.
Fast forward to years later. We left the Philippines too. And not even the whole family moved. But we managed. We were reunited with my mom's side of the family. My grandmother, when she was still alive, absolutely enjoyed having everyone around her sing Christmas songs on karaoke. Just make sure to hand her the microphone when Feliz Navidad came on. Now, there is a bit of shame as I say this, but yes. There were still dance numbers. There was even a contest for best costume. I will have you know I came as a Macy's shopping bag, with presents inside... and I won, but it was a tie with my sister who was a parol. I mean, literally. She wore a contraption that looked like one, and if we hadn't stopped her, she would have attached lights to it and plugged herself in.
So, what is the point of all this reminiscing? Well, here's my emo paragraph of the year. I'm just saying, amdist all the celebration, the presents, the food, the elastic waistband pants and ponchos, the Christmas shopping pressure, there is only one thing I cannot imagine being without on Christmas, and that is family.
Merry Christmas y'all!
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Shopping (Mis)guide: Winter 2011 Edition
Item no. 1. Prints. Lots of it. Layer a windowpane checked vest over a floral dress, under dotted tights, top with a paisley scarf, and no shoes. The idea is to make an entrance. Nowadays, just one print is no longer enough. Enter with a bang and not a whimper. You want to step into a room and have people think: Wow. That chick is crazy. Follow the basic rule: P-R-I-N-T. Polka dots, Ribbons, Ikat, Nubby knits, Tartan. Or, Poop stain, Rainbows, Igloos, Nets, Tigers. You may also substitute, Pickles, Rickles, Ickles, Nickels, Tickles.
This winter, every woman needs a pair of glitter heels. Forget Dorothy and her ruby slippers. Take it up a notch. Take it up ten notches. Don't settle for mere sparkles and glitters. Think jewels. If you need to stab your foot with a dozen brooches for a completely bejeweled look, if you need to wrap your ankles with your mother's pearls and granny's chains, then that's what you need to do.
Okay ladies, with even colder months ahead, we need to go LONG. Thank God for that. I mean, no one wants to see anyone's winter wonderland leg hair under semi sheer pantyhose, right? And we've had enough of those stupid shorts over tights too. This season we want trousers with wedding gown trains. Skirts so long you'll need a ladder to reach the zipper. Coats that trail the ground dragging small neighborhoods as you walk. You want your shirt to be long too, as in the tails are peeking from under the hem of your pencil skirt.
One word: PLEATS. This is serious. I have been looking for a pleated skirt for months. Too long and I look like a middle aged school principal. Too short and I look like I'm trying to be on J Pop America Fun Time Now! Too soft and my hips look like shelving. Too stiff and I look like I've regressed to my schooling days. What am I to do? Should I just give up and accept that pleats are not for me? Or should I stand proud and wear what I wish, without a care for bookshelf hips or age-appropriate lengths. Must I be fettered by concerns such as floaty skirt fabric up my butt crack and a waistband around no waist?!? This is 2011 ladies and gentlemen. And next year it is 2012. The time is now. The place is here. Tomorrow is a Friday. Friday. Gotta get down on Friday.
Wow, I'm exhausted. Seriously. What were we talking about again?
This winter, every woman needs a pair of glitter heels. Forget Dorothy and her ruby slippers. Take it up a notch. Take it up ten notches. Don't settle for mere sparkles and glitters. Think jewels. If you need to stab your foot with a dozen brooches for a completely bejeweled look, if you need to wrap your ankles with your mother's pearls and granny's chains, then that's what you need to do.
Okay ladies, with even colder months ahead, we need to go LONG. Thank God for that. I mean, no one wants to see anyone's winter wonderland leg hair under semi sheer pantyhose, right? And we've had enough of those stupid shorts over tights too. This season we want trousers with wedding gown trains. Skirts so long you'll need a ladder to reach the zipper. Coats that trail the ground dragging small neighborhoods as you walk. You want your shirt to be long too, as in the tails are peeking from under the hem of your pencil skirt.
One word: PLEATS. This is serious. I have been looking for a pleated skirt for months. Too long and I look like a middle aged school principal. Too short and I look like I'm trying to be on J Pop America Fun Time Now! Too soft and my hips look like shelving. Too stiff and I look like I've regressed to my schooling days. What am I to do? Should I just give up and accept that pleats are not for me? Or should I stand proud and wear what I wish, without a care for bookshelf hips or age-appropriate lengths. Must I be fettered by concerns such as floaty skirt fabric up my butt crack and a waistband around no waist?!? This is 2011 ladies and gentlemen. And next year it is 2012. The time is now. The place is here. Tomorrow is a Friday. Friday. Gotta get down on Friday.
Wow, I'm exhausted. Seriously. What were we talking about again?
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
I Lied
I may just have broken some mini fashion rules I set for myself. This was over the summer, which now seems like ages ago, you'll know because my hands are dry from the cold. And I mean DRY. You can etch some designs on my skin with a fingernail, but first admire the criss-cross, paper-thin patterned skin. Also, my playlists are filling up with Christmas songs (hello, Michael Buble).
Remember how I lamented my odd-shaped skull and how I can't seem to find any hats that fit? Well, for the past however-many months, my facial skin decided to go rogue. And by rogue I mean rebel. And by rebel I mean there's a redness problem. And by redness I mean blemishes. In any case, I made it my mission to find myself a brimmed hat to protect my face during the summer months. I found a paper straw number from J. Crew that was well within my moderate budget. And by moderate I mean fair. And by fair I mean small. And by small I mean inexpensive. And by that I mean under $20. I found that putting my hair in a bun and tucking it under the hat made it fit.
The hat also came in handy during the Florida vacation. I kept my skin protected with sunglasses that covered half my face and of course, the hat. This resulted in the most glamorous ombre' tan you have ever seen. Imagine: pale eye and cheek area, reddish jawline, somewhat tanned chest and shoulders, brown stomach, and boom! Burnt legs and ashy feet. Basically, if I were a jigsaw puzzle, I couldn't be put back together because the coloring doesn't match.
A while back, I tried a pair of harem pants which resulted in visions of loincloths and diapers. I wandered into a Gap store because I was waiting for something-or-the-other. Or maybe they had one of those additional 30% off things, who knows? My memory is foggy. In any case, I picked a slouchy pair of black pants off a rack. It spoke of promises like, no need to hold your gut, and, I will make your VPL worries disappear. So I tried it on. And I loved it. It sat low on my waist. I could tuck my shirt in. I could roll the cuff a bit and make it ankle-length.
So I head to the cashier and hand my purchase over. And guess what the cashier says? She opens her mouth and the words EVERYONE NEEDS A PAIR OF HAREM PANTS come out.
Oh shit.
The pants were kind of harem-ish. The crotch was a bit lower. The legs were kind of roomy. She really shut me up. I was so against the idea of harem pants I didn't even notice that I just tried a pair on and actually loved it.
I also started using hairspray. There I said it. If you ever ride the #28 in the morning and catch a whiff of fragrance-covered chemicals, that was me. Sorry, I have a problem controling the spray button thing. You want more confessions? I gave Insidious a second viewing and I don't want to look at reflective surfaces for now because I might see that old lady parasite with dead fingernails. Here's another one: I know someone who loves her chunky boots. And by chunky I mean Bride of Chucky/Herman Munster. I want to help her but there's no way I'm commenting on anyone's fashion choices to their face, especially since we're not that close. Instead I'll just judge her silently. Just kidding (but not really)! No really, I'm just kidding. It's Christmas - the season of giving. And I'm sure by giving, they didn't mean giving insults.
Last confession: I'm crazy about American Horror Story and I think I'm developing a highly inappropriate TV crush on Tate. I can't help it. I think it's because *SPOILER ALERT* he's dead.
Remember how I lamented my odd-shaped skull and how I can't seem to find any hats that fit? Well, for the past however-many months, my facial skin decided to go rogue. And by rogue I mean rebel. And by rebel I mean there's a redness problem. And by redness I mean blemishes. In any case, I made it my mission to find myself a brimmed hat to protect my face during the summer months. I found a paper straw number from J. Crew that was well within my moderate budget. And by moderate I mean fair. And by fair I mean small. And by small I mean inexpensive. And by that I mean under $20. I found that putting my hair in a bun and tucking it under the hat made it fit.
The hat also came in handy during the Florida vacation. I kept my skin protected with sunglasses that covered half my face and of course, the hat. This resulted in the most glamorous ombre' tan you have ever seen. Imagine: pale eye and cheek area, reddish jawline, somewhat tanned chest and shoulders, brown stomach, and boom! Burnt legs and ashy feet. Basically, if I were a jigsaw puzzle, I couldn't be put back together because the coloring doesn't match.
A while back, I tried a pair of harem pants which resulted in visions of loincloths and diapers. I wandered into a Gap store because I was waiting for something-or-the-other. Or maybe they had one of those additional 30% off things, who knows? My memory is foggy. In any case, I picked a slouchy pair of black pants off a rack. It spoke of promises like, no need to hold your gut, and, I will make your VPL worries disappear. So I tried it on. And I loved it. It sat low on my waist. I could tuck my shirt in. I could roll the cuff a bit and make it ankle-length.
So I head to the cashier and hand my purchase over. And guess what the cashier says? She opens her mouth and the words EVERYONE NEEDS A PAIR OF HAREM PANTS come out.
Oh shit.
The pants were kind of harem-ish. The crotch was a bit lower. The legs were kind of roomy. She really shut me up. I was so against the idea of harem pants I didn't even notice that I just tried a pair on and actually loved it.
I also started using hairspray. There I said it. If you ever ride the #28 in the morning and catch a whiff of fragrance-covered chemicals, that was me. Sorry, I have a problem controling the spray button thing. You want more confessions? I gave Insidious a second viewing and I don't want to look at reflective surfaces for now because I might see that old lady parasite with dead fingernails. Here's another one: I know someone who loves her chunky boots. And by chunky I mean Bride of Chucky/Herman Munster. I want to help her but there's no way I'm commenting on anyone's fashion choices to their face, especially since we're not that close. Instead I'll just judge her silently. Just kidding (but not really)! No really, I'm just kidding. It's Christmas - the season of giving. And I'm sure by giving, they didn't mean giving insults.
Last confession: I'm crazy about American Horror Story and I think I'm developing a highly inappropriate TV crush on Tate. I can't help it. I think it's because *SPOILER ALERT* he's dead.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Tulle Bulldozer
You know how you feel like you've been talking about an upcoming event for forever? How items on your to-do list, related to said event trickle in one by one? And the months pass and it still isn't that close but it is getting closer? And then BOOM. You're three weeks away. One week away. And you feel like a bulldozer sort of ran over your life.
Except this bulldozer was a wedding party bulldozer with a veil on its roof, cocktails on the dashboard, bridesmaids dresses hanging off the blade, rented suits off the exhaust pipe, foot-killing shoes hooked on the steering wheel, bridal shower tea sandwiches on the cab's floor,the bride's stunning, 15-pound custom-design wedding gown is in the driver's seat (and is actually driving the bulldozer).
It has been fun. Our bride was super chill... until the night before the wedding when someone forgot to bring her bag of photo booth props to the venue. At that point, we saw a glimmer in her eye. A glimmer of poison-tipped, serrated edge daggers. But she quickly shoved the look back into her eyeballs after her beyond-trustworthy Maid of Honor/sister promised to get the bag to the venue.
Of course, where family is involved we also had our share of drama. Please don't ask me how a pair of earrings snowballed into the most ridiculous argument.
To make a long story short:
all the bridesmaids survived those shoes I mentioned in a previous entry - no sprained ankles or broken toes
the ceremony was solemn and heartfelt
the bride's plan to have guests blow bubbles outside the church came to fruition
it was sunny SUNNY?!!?!?!?!*%!!
the cocktail hour was fabulous, no glass was empty at any point, which also meant there were a lot of buzzed guests which...
made for a happy reception filled with toasting, glass-clinking, lots of family love and new-family love, bride-and-groom kissing, dancing, photo booth shenanigans, empty dinner plates, more dancing, more filled glasses.
And finally, a drunken, midnight wedding party trip to Chinatown for fried rice, noodles, shrimp, and fortune cookies.
Oy, if you spot the wedding-gown-driven bulldozer in your neighborhood, kindly let us know.
Except this bulldozer was a wedding party bulldozer with a veil on its roof, cocktails on the dashboard, bridesmaids dresses hanging off the blade, rented suits off the exhaust pipe, foot-killing shoes hooked on the steering wheel, bridal shower tea sandwiches on the cab's floor,the bride's stunning, 15-pound custom-design wedding gown is in the driver's seat (and is actually driving the bulldozer).
It has been fun. Our bride was super chill... until the night before the wedding when someone forgot to bring her bag of photo booth props to the venue. At that point, we saw a glimmer in her eye. A glimmer of poison-tipped, serrated edge daggers. But she quickly shoved the look back into her eyeballs after her beyond-trustworthy Maid of Honor/sister promised to get the bag to the venue.
Of course, where family is involved we also had our share of drama. Please don't ask me how a pair of earrings snowballed into the most ridiculous argument.
To make a long story short:
all the bridesmaids survived those shoes I mentioned in a previous entry - no sprained ankles or broken toes
the ceremony was solemn and heartfelt
the bride's plan to have guests blow bubbles outside the church came to fruition
it was sunny SUNNY?!!?!?!?!*%!!
the cocktail hour was fabulous, no glass was empty at any point, which also meant there were a lot of buzzed guests which...
made for a happy reception filled with toasting, glass-clinking, lots of family love and new-family love, bride-and-groom kissing, dancing, photo booth shenanigans, empty dinner plates, more dancing, more filled glasses.
And finally, a drunken, midnight wedding party trip to Chinatown for fried rice, noodles, shrimp, and fortune cookies.
Oy, if you spot the wedding-gown-driven bulldozer in your neighborhood, kindly let us know.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
We Dance to the Beat (And We Don't Stop): Robyn at the Paramount
Before we begin, a brief public service announcement:
If you have seen this girl, please tell her the concert is over. She may now stop forcing her body parts on the backs of people. Help her find her way home.
That's all, thank you. Moving on...
My sister, who is a solid gold platinum titanium Robyn fan was not going to miss this show. She already missed her chance at Robyn playing Neumos last year so this was it. We happy hour-ed at Palominos to build and save our foot energy for what we were expecting to be a crazy night...
Which started in line outside the Paramount Theatre on a chilly Thursday in October, no rain, thankfully. We saw all sorts of Robyn-like platinum hair, a lot of tank tops and gooseflesh, sequins, feather vests, extremely good-looking gay men, usually with their equally attractive boyfriends, parents with minor children trying to buy tickets off of others - Daddy, Daddy you better find me a ticket!!! YOU BETTER FIND ME A TICKET OR I'M GOING TO RUN IN FRONT OF A CAR. And the random suspicious-looking person carrying a big backpack.
This is when everything moves in slow motion. Time check: 6:00pm. One hour till doors open. Contemplate work outfit for following day. Debate peeing at Paramount Hotel or Barnes & Noble. Eavesdrop on girl and boy behind you talking about reversible jacket design and halloween costumes. Time check: 6:04pm.
I will spare you the boring details about our wait, except the bit where I chickened out of using the restroom at the Paramount Hotel because I so obviously looked like I just walked in off the street and wasn't a guest. I ended up at Barnes instead.
Doors open, we head to the floor, where security people tell everyone to stay off the carpeted aisle and please sit on the floor. By the way, I've never seen such chatty, smiley security staff. They were talking to us! Weird. And we know how this part goes: more waiting. We don't really want to know about the Swedish girl behind us who went to a psychic and told her her sometime love interest will have a series of short relationships, but we had no choice.
Finally. Finally lights dim. The opener, Yacht comes out. More crazy. They had these dancers, one portly boy wearing a shirt that says Girl, and one blond girl wearing a Boy shirt. I am waiting for the opportunity to steal some of Girl's moves. They were brilliant. The band was a lot of fun, they sounded like a group you'd hear in Saturday Night Live's Deep House Dish. They also had the funniest line which they kept repeating between songs, If you have any questions, any questions at all...
So, Yacht got the crowd dancing and everyone's pumped up, and their set ends, and we're back to waiting for Robyn. But not for long. Her band comes out. The music starts and there she is!!! Bowl cut, glow-in-the-dark leggings, mega flatforms, my-belt-is-killing-me, and all!
ZOMG. Robyn was fantastic. Even the crazy girl who tried to hump every single one of us on the second and first rows to get to the rail couldn't put a damper on our evening. Thanks, by the way, to the cute gay couple who told her, you need to stay where you're at. Except, all they got in response was a glazed look from the Robyn-crazed crazy ass lipstick girl. The best part was when she just gave up her humping and left. Hey lipstick girl, U SHOULD KNOW BETTER not to fuck with the fans who waited in line before you!
Robyn was just an energizer bunny. It must have been the banana she ate while doing a back bend onstage! All those dance moves, the spinning, the chest pumps, the grinding, and gorilla arms. She was everything! And the crowd was with her all the way - fist pumping Indestructible's this is hardcore, screaming every word to Call your Girlfriend, body rolling along to None of Dem, waving our arms to Dancing Queen/Show Me Love.
Everyone was singing along. Who cares if you were singing Hang With Me's lyrics wrong? So what if it was, just don't fall headlessly, recklessly in love with me, and not stone cold, helplessly, recklessly... No one! No one cares! Sing whatever you want! No one cares, right? I mean, my lips were still forming kind of similar words, right?
It was an amazing concert. Robyn was an amazing performer. Someone get a DeLorean and let's do it again!
All photos by IP
If you have seen this girl, please tell her the concert is over. She may now stop forcing her body parts on the backs of people. Help her find her way home.
That's all, thank you. Moving on...
My sister, who is a solid gold platinum titanium Robyn fan was not going to miss this show. She already missed her chance at Robyn playing Neumos last year so this was it. We happy hour-ed at Palominos to build and save our foot energy for what we were expecting to be a crazy night...
Which started in line outside the Paramount Theatre on a chilly Thursday in October, no rain, thankfully. We saw all sorts of Robyn-like platinum hair, a lot of tank tops and gooseflesh, sequins, feather vests, extremely good-looking gay men, usually with their equally attractive boyfriends, parents with minor children trying to buy tickets off of others - Daddy, Daddy you better find me a ticket!!! YOU BETTER FIND ME A TICKET OR I'M GOING TO RUN IN FRONT OF A CAR. And the random suspicious-looking person carrying a big backpack.
This is when everything moves in slow motion. Time check: 6:00pm. One hour till doors open. Contemplate work outfit for following day. Debate peeing at Paramount Hotel or Barnes & Noble. Eavesdrop on girl and boy behind you talking about reversible jacket design and halloween costumes. Time check: 6:04pm.
I will spare you the boring details about our wait, except the bit where I chickened out of using the restroom at the Paramount Hotel because I so obviously looked like I just walked in off the street and wasn't a guest. I ended up at Barnes instead.
Doors open, we head to the floor, where security people tell everyone to stay off the carpeted aisle and please sit on the floor. By the way, I've never seen such chatty, smiley security staff. They were talking to us! Weird. And we know how this part goes: more waiting. We don't really want to know about the Swedish girl behind us who went to a psychic and told her her sometime love interest will have a series of short relationships, but we had no choice.
Finally. Finally lights dim. The opener, Yacht comes out. More crazy. They had these dancers, one portly boy wearing a shirt that says Girl, and one blond girl wearing a Boy shirt. I am waiting for the opportunity to steal some of Girl's moves. They were brilliant. The band was a lot of fun, they sounded like a group you'd hear in Saturday Night Live's Deep House Dish. They also had the funniest line which they kept repeating between songs, If you have any questions, any questions at all...
So, Yacht got the crowd dancing and everyone's pumped up, and their set ends, and we're back to waiting for Robyn. But not for long. Her band comes out. The music starts and there she is!!! Bowl cut, glow-in-the-dark leggings, mega flatforms, my-belt-is-killing-me, and all!
ZOMG. Robyn was fantastic. Even the crazy girl who tried to hump every single one of us on the second and first rows to get to the rail couldn't put a damper on our evening. Thanks, by the way, to the cute gay couple who told her, you need to stay where you're at. Except, all they got in response was a glazed look from the Robyn-crazed crazy ass lipstick girl. The best part was when she just gave up her humping and left. Hey lipstick girl, U SHOULD KNOW BETTER not to fuck with the fans who waited in line before you!
Robyn was just an energizer bunny. It must have been the banana she ate while doing a back bend onstage! All those dance moves, the spinning, the chest pumps, the grinding, and gorilla arms. She was everything! And the crowd was with her all the way - fist pumping Indestructible's this is hardcore, screaming every word to Call your Girlfriend, body rolling along to None of Dem, waving our arms to Dancing Queen/Show Me Love.
Everyone was singing along. Who cares if you were singing Hang With Me's lyrics wrong? So what if it was, just don't fall headlessly, recklessly in love with me, and not stone cold, helplessly, recklessly... No one! No one cares! Sing whatever you want! No one cares, right? I mean, my lips were still forming kind of similar words, right?
It was an amazing concert. Robyn was an amazing performer. Someone get a DeLorean and let's do it again!
All photos by IP
Monday, October 17, 2011
Las Vegas Style Guide: Classy Stripper Edition
Hello Classy Ladies! After a trip to Vegas with my fellow bridesmaids/cousins and our bride, I have returned with a few tips and tricks to looking faboosh on your Vegas trip.
The Way There
Let's start with your inflight outfit. Thizzizit, right?!?!? WRONG. Your flight is your last chance to be a semi-slob and relax your stomach muscles before the trip proper. You know you'll be sucking your gut in for all your one-size-too-small dresses. So heed my advice: keep it loose. And as for what might have been the look of judgment from the flight attendant when you and your girls ordered a cocktail on your 8am flight? Let it go, they don't care. They've seen worse.
Slide-Proof Legwear
As you usher the bride to Excalibur, home of Thunder Down Under, after she specifically said: NO MALE DANCERS, keep it cool. Keep her cool. Because you're not going to see any Thundering from Down Undering this afternoon. You are actually going to Night School 4 Girls. Cue the music! Let's hear a little Pour Some Sugar On Me!
A few things: if you want to be challenged, go ahead and wear your lucite heels at the burlesque/pole dancing class. Shorts might be a good idea. The flesh on your thighs will help grip the pole. Now there are two approaches here. A. Go ahead and laugh, embarrass yourself, get goofy. B. This is serious. I'm in competition. I don't care if anyone thinks I'm an actual stripper. Yes. I am talking to you, girl in the vest and shorts. What have you been doing in your free time and did you say you have another job on the side?
Walk It Or Cab It, Your Choice
If you are walking it, your choice was wrong. Your hotel looked near, but it wasn't. Now, if you've already committed to walking, after buying your pre-funk alcohol and snacks, I hope you are wearing something pretty. Now is the time to be adventurous. That thing that calls itself a romper? Now is the time to try it on. A strapless little something? Do it. Nude and a pair of Toms? Go for it! Who cares? No one, because everyone is already looking at the umm, older woman in a bathing suit top with her c-section scar hanging out.
I say keep it pretty because you never know when a club promoter will come your way (shout-out to Chad, aka Brad, aka Zach). He will put you on the guest list, get you in quick, and get you free drinks. It seems dubious but it's legit. I mean, just as long as the guy doesn't say, yo ladies, Imma get you on the guest list to the hottest club in town: Kidnappinz and Murderz Lounge.
Dinner is Served
Oy, slowpokes, everything may be open late in Vegas but most restaurant kitchens still close at 11pm. Hypothetical situation: you and the girls lost track of time thanks to endless drinks (from your pre-funk Walgreens/CVS liquor run), spinach dip, chips, pretzels, penis candies (whaaat), panty gift-giving, and all sorts of activities at your swanky suite. It's 10:30pm and you've all just finished getting dressed/made/prettied up and no restaurant will take you in.
So what?!? There's a place at your hotel that's still open, surely the servers will appreciate your fancy duds. And if it's 1am and you just finished dinner? No big deal. Go back to your suite, set down your take-home boxes. Rest your eyeballs for a second. Or two. Or, ah, don't wake up till morning... So, um, yeah, umm if that happens, you know, just in case, just sayin', no one says it actually happened, this is not real, I'm making it up.
Battle Buffet
Two words: Elastic waistband. Two more words: Chunky jewelry... Four Words: Distracts from big belly. Four More Words: Go for the proteins. Six Words: Fear not, take a mid-buffet dump.
Poolside
Aside from your swimsuit, don't forget to bring a roomy canvas bag. Your bag is your best friend. How else are you going to go on the cheap and bring your own cocktails to the pool. I mean, there's a reason why the pool check-in guy has a stack of platic cups at his station.
To the Club
For your night out, again this is the time to be adventurous. Go for something outrageous. It's your chance to let loose and not be seen by people from where you live. Or, go for the Vegas norm of tight-and-short. Or keep it classy in a revealing yet tailored look. What you shouldn't do is recycle a bridesmaid's dress. Lady, hey lady, come on?! I can tell. Black and white. Floral applique. Knee-length. You're not fooling anyone.
Well, that about wraps up this Style Guide. Toodles, Classy Ladies! Stay fabulous!
The Way There
Let's start with your inflight outfit. Thizzizit, right?!?!? WRONG. Your flight is your last chance to be a semi-slob and relax your stomach muscles before the trip proper. You know you'll be sucking your gut in for all your one-size-too-small dresses. So heed my advice: keep it loose. And as for what might have been the look of judgment from the flight attendant when you and your girls ordered a cocktail on your 8am flight? Let it go, they don't care. They've seen worse.
Slide-Proof Legwear
As you usher the bride to Excalibur, home of Thunder Down Under, after she specifically said: NO MALE DANCERS, keep it cool. Keep her cool. Because you're not going to see any Thundering from Down Undering this afternoon. You are actually going to Night School 4 Girls. Cue the music! Let's hear a little Pour Some Sugar On Me!
A few things: if you want to be challenged, go ahead and wear your lucite heels at the burlesque/pole dancing class. Shorts might be a good idea. The flesh on your thighs will help grip the pole. Now there are two approaches here. A. Go ahead and laugh, embarrass yourself, get goofy. B. This is serious. I'm in competition. I don't care if anyone thinks I'm an actual stripper. Yes. I am talking to you, girl in the vest and shorts. What have you been doing in your free time and did you say you have another job on the side?
Walk It Or Cab It, Your Choice
If you are walking it, your choice was wrong. Your hotel looked near, but it wasn't. Now, if you've already committed to walking, after buying your pre-funk alcohol and snacks, I hope you are wearing something pretty. Now is the time to be adventurous. That thing that calls itself a romper? Now is the time to try it on. A strapless little something? Do it. Nude and a pair of Toms? Go for it! Who cares? No one, because everyone is already looking at the umm, older woman in a bathing suit top with her c-section scar hanging out.
I say keep it pretty because you never know when a club promoter will come your way (shout-out to Chad, aka Brad, aka Zach). He will put you on the guest list, get you in quick, and get you free drinks. It seems dubious but it's legit. I mean, just as long as the guy doesn't say, yo ladies, Imma get you on the guest list to the hottest club in town: Kidnappinz and Murderz Lounge.
Dinner is Served
Oy, slowpokes, everything may be open late in Vegas but most restaurant kitchens still close at 11pm. Hypothetical situation: you and the girls lost track of time thanks to endless drinks (from your pre-funk Walgreens/CVS liquor run), spinach dip, chips, pretzels, penis candies (whaaat), panty gift-giving, and all sorts of activities at your swanky suite. It's 10:30pm and you've all just finished getting dressed/made/prettied up and no restaurant will take you in.
So what?!? There's a place at your hotel that's still open, surely the servers will appreciate your fancy duds. And if it's 1am and you just finished dinner? No big deal. Go back to your suite, set down your take-home boxes. Rest your eyeballs for a second. Or two. Or, ah, don't wake up till morning... So, um, yeah, umm if that happens, you know, just in case, just sayin', no one says it actually happened, this is not real, I'm making it up.
Battle Buffet
Two words: Elastic waistband. Two more words: Chunky jewelry... Four Words: Distracts from big belly. Four More Words: Go for the proteins. Six Words: Fear not, take a mid-buffet dump.
Poolside
Aside from your swimsuit, don't forget to bring a roomy canvas bag. Your bag is your best friend. How else are you going to go on the cheap and bring your own cocktails to the pool. I mean, there's a reason why the pool check-in guy has a stack of platic cups at his station.
To the Club
For your night out, again this is the time to be adventurous. Go for something outrageous. It's your chance to let loose and not be seen by people from where you live. Or, go for the Vegas norm of tight-and-short. Or keep it classy in a revealing yet tailored look. What you shouldn't do is recycle a bridesmaid's dress. Lady, hey lady, come on?! I can tell. Black and white. Floral applique. Knee-length. You're not fooling anyone.
Well, that about wraps up this Style Guide. Toodles, Classy Ladies! Stay fabulous!
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Face Parts
So, my sister turns to me this morning and mouths pimple, pim-mple, pimPOL, PEEMpoool, pmpl, PMPOWL. I think my pimple actually blushed. And guess where it was? To the right of the tip of my nose. Like a little fairy dancing on her tippy toes, spreading sebum on my face. You should have seen it before it popped its ugly head out. It almost looked like a tumor. Oh well, what do I know? This whole time my pimple could have been telling itself: shit, what's this face growing on me? Dancing like a giant, spreading face parts on my skin. Eew.
I just celebrated my birthday a week ago. My sister tricked me. She was really good, too. We agreed to meet after I got off work. She told me she was looking for jeans. She actually tried stuff out at varius stores. Except, guess who lost in this little 'shopping' pretense? ME. I ended up buying something (or some things, my memory is foggy on the details). And then she goes, I have a Groupon that expires. TODAY. For happy hour.
So we head to the fabulous, and great-smelling Alexis Hotel for their Bookstore Lounge where, upon entering, the first thing I see is what looks like my cousin's hair. Trust me it's hard to miss, she likes experimenting with Big & Sexy hairspray. And in my mind I was thinking, wow, that was one popular Groupon. So surprise! They were there to take me out for an early birthday celebration.
In random order, the evening's events were: get rained on and have puddles form in our shoes, beer and birthday cupcakes, arcade games, a Moroccan dinner, witness an over-excited adolescent belly dance, catch the end of the Mayweather/ Ortiz fight, lose at billiards, attempt belly dancing (belly? yes. dancing? nooo).
On my real birthday, I had the day off and it was just as nice. 6am Birthday phone call from my sister and nephew from back home. And a call from my best friend, whose rendition of Marilyn Monroe's Happy Birthday did not reach its completion.
I think she got as far as the first to you before we both burst out laughing.
P.S. She just had her birthday too!
I just celebrated my birthday a week ago. My sister tricked me. She was really good, too. We agreed to meet after I got off work. She told me she was looking for jeans. She actually tried stuff out at varius stores. Except, guess who lost in this little 'shopping' pretense? ME. I ended up buying something (or some things, my memory is foggy on the details). And then she goes, I have a Groupon that expires. TODAY. For happy hour.
So we head to the fabulous, and great-smelling Alexis Hotel for their Bookstore Lounge where, upon entering, the first thing I see is what looks like my cousin's hair. Trust me it's hard to miss, she likes experimenting with Big & Sexy hairspray. And in my mind I was thinking, wow, that was one popular Groupon. So surprise! They were there to take me out for an early birthday celebration.
In random order, the evening's events were: get rained on and have puddles form in our shoes, beer and birthday cupcakes, arcade games, a Moroccan dinner, witness an over-excited adolescent belly dance, catch the end of the Mayweather/ Ortiz fight, lose at billiards, attempt belly dancing (belly? yes. dancing? nooo).
On my real birthday, I had the day off and it was just as nice. 6am Birthday phone call from my sister and nephew from back home. And a call from my best friend, whose rendition of Marilyn Monroe's Happy Birthday did not reach its completion.
I think she got as far as the first to you before we both burst out laughing.
P.S. She just had her birthday too!
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