Vicious Trollops

battle jumpsuit

2011-12-01T19:29:00.001-05:00

A Lady: So I was standing in the hall talking to my boss and one of the (sweet, foreign, older, non-creepy) management dudes walked by, turned around, walked back, and said: “You look like a movie star. Every day!” and my boss was all, “I KNOW, RIGHT?”Sparkly purple jumpsuit (it has the word “suit” in it, ergo it’s totally work appropriate) win!

D: If you are wearing that lurex jumpsuit to work...

A Lady: WITH A CARDIGAN

D: Giiiiiiiiiiiiirl. I can't even. Also, that’s faulty logic: by this token, a swimsuit would be work-appropriate.

A Lady: Erm…I have worn a swimsuit to work before. WITH A SKIRT. AS A BODYSUIT.

D: Uh. Um.I.... I can't. YOU WORK AT [CONSERVATIVE CORPORATE OFFICE REDACTED].

A Lady: I’m a rebel. A rebel with a sartorial cause. Silent and mysterious at my desk.

D: You are wearing sparkly lurex. Ain't nothing silent about that.

A Lady: I have brainwashed everyone. Chicago's next.

D: Goddammit. This is why I live in the Midwest: to avoid mobs of Jumpsuit People.

A Lady: I'm like the Jumpsuit Zombie.

D: Instead of saying BRAAAAAAINS you mutter ONESIIIIIIIE threateningly.How do you kill a jumpsuit zombie? Do you repel them by creating a self-defense line out of, like, sensible shoes? Birkenstocks?

A Lady: You can't kill a jumpsuit zombie. It's what makes us terrifying and our reign inevitable.

D: I still cannot fathom a way in which I could look good in a jumpsuit. Doesn't exist.

A Lady: See? It's working. Now it's no longer "it's gross," but rather "I wouldn't look good in one." Baby steps. Baby zombies.

D: I’m certain you look good in it. I do not doubt that. But I think that it sends a dangerous message to the rest of America that they, too, should wear a jumpsuit.

A Lady: SPARKLES!

D: Ok, I am all for SPARKLES.

A Lady: Shiny shiny. I am way more happy with this than anticipated.

D: Ha, you know how to make my brain go "shiny ooh.”

A Lady: I'm a master manipulator

D: Bastard. C'mon, be nice. I did just get HIT BY A CAR.

A Lady: Fine, you get a pass on this, but ONLY because a truck hit you and ran over your bike.

D: So every time I want to win an argument with you I need to have a near-death experience?

A Lady: Yup. This totally works for me.

D: I may try to avoid being shot at just for the sake of argument-winning, though. But maybe if we start to discuss other topics of contention I would be amenable to a slight stabbing. Like, just one clean wound.(So I'm headed to the po-po in a few to file my police report for the accident, and though I could wear the jeans hanging from my doorknob, oh no. I'mma wear cutoffs just so the full array of bruises is on display for sympathy purposes.)

A Lady: (Strategic Dressing: not just for dates.)

magpie

2011-11-09T19:56:00.003-05:00

D: Step one: spend too much money on iPhone.
Step two: buy this iPhone case.
Step three: PEACOCK FEATHERS EVERY DAY!

A Lady: It's always Halloween in your world, isn't it?

D: You say that as if that is not a great thing. And ahem, do note that it's not sparkly. It's as restrained and conservative as peacock feathers can be!

it’s not a problem, it’s a hobby

2011-09-23T17:24:00.005-04:00

D: I am hoarding this Sephora gel stain. I fear they will discontinue it. Please tell me you’re hoarding things too.
(Um also: those thin Uniqlo heat-tech knee socks in all the shades of grey. They are the best things.)

A Lady: Oh yes. I hoard spices I'll never use. So much saffron.

D: BUT WHAT IF YOU HAVE TO MAKE LIKE 5 GALLONS OF PAELLA?

A Lady: EXACTLY. One never knows.
Mostly I hoard vintage clothes.

D: Silk scarves.

A Lady: Ooh, yes.

D: Nivea lip balm sticks.

A Lady: Yes! I still have all this shit I never wear. And flannel sheets I don't need any longer.

D: Inexplicably: pearl necklaces. I own four. I wear zero.

A Lady: ME TOO. I even have a long grey pearl necklace. I never, ever wear it. Pearls just look wrong on me.

D: Basically we hoard pretty/tasty things.

A Lady: Even though we never ever ever use them.

D: If we have to play dress-up post-apocalype, we are SET.

A Lady: You know, some people would actually use all this crap.

D: Maybe. Then again, those people probably hoard practical things like batteries, flashlights, uh.... hand-cranked radios? The emergency survivalist things?

A Lady: Meh. Unnecessary, all of them. This is what sparkly jewelry is for!

D: Yes. If it's shiny enough, it can be used as a light source.

A Lady: No batteries required.

D: I also have a huge shelf of pickled vegetables, so in the event of total worldwide calamity, I can garnish my bloody mary while the world burns.

A Lady: We are so ready. We're intentional hoarders, ergo, it's not a disease.

D: Clearly our priorities are correct.

A Lady: Oh, we should totally hoard some smoked oysters or something, too, or else the hangover will be terrible.

D: Smoked oysters and white cheddar cheez-its!

A Lady: Ooh and reduced fat (read: saltier) wheat thins!

D: I love that shit.

A Lady: AND DIET COKE

D: Perhaps we should just invest in a salt lick.

A Lady: And baked cheetos!
(Oh god, I'm going to die so young.)

D: OMFG yes baked cheetos YES.
(Die young, leave a good-looking corpse)

A Lady: All the preservatives will preserve me too?

D: Well, if we self-embalm ourselves with salt and booze....

A Lady: Exactly.

D: It's scientifically sound.

bookish

2011-09-22T23:05:00.002-04:00

Current reading lists

D: Let's see. Reading The Anthology of Rap, the whole Sherlock Holmes collection, The Club Dumas, and just finished The Pale King.

A Lady: I need to re-read Anthony Easthope's Poetry as Discourse.

D: ...

A Lady: Still in school. Forever in school.

hazardous cargo

2011-07-24T19:46:00.002-04:00

D: Okay, it’s been over a month. I think I can talk about The Cargo Shorts Incident without PTSD.

The (heh) short of it: some time back (like early June?) I ran into PB in the bike lane en route to work. Immediate reaction: revulsion.The cause: his ensemble of a novelty-logo t-shirt, athletic shoes sans socks, and CARGO SHORTS. Not Jack Spade-esque slim cargos, oh no. These were the worst offering of Abercrombie & Fitch circa, like, 2001. The kind of cargo shorts with pockets upon pockets. So very puffy. I think a built-in webbed belt was involved. These were the shorts you'd wear if you were a college sophomore playing frisbee golf on the quad with your fraternity brothers.

A Lady: Oh god I lost it at logo-tee. A grown man wearing cargo shorts? I mean, sure, I think the Current/Elliott skinny cargo pants for ladies are kinda cute but ON A DUDE? AND SHORTS? I can’t.

D: IMAGINE HOW I FELT.
At least he was wearing a bike helmet?

A Lady: This confirms my belief that you place too much emphasis on the presence of a bike helmet when evaluating people.

D: I went to work and immediately bitched about the outfit to a sympathetic coworker, who pointed out that perhaps since it is summer and he was biking to work at his fancy not-at-all-unlikely-to-require-a-suit-occasionally job, he was probably going to shower at the office gym and change into Real Person Clothes there. I grudgingly accepted this idea, but oh man, I did not entirely trust the hypothesis.

A Lady: Had you bitched to me instead you KNOW I would not have let that slide or told you to give him the benefit of the doubt. Which is probably why you bitched to the coworker instead. Also, if I can bike in a pencil skirt and four-inch heels, he can bike in pants.

D: Heh. So, the next day we had date plans to see a play and have dinner. Note that I hauled ass home after work to change from work clothes (which would have been entirely serviceable, but not particularly date-worthy) into something more going-on-a-date appropriate.

AND THEN. OH MY GOD AND THEN. HE SHOWS UP ON THIS DATE WEARING THE SAME LOGO TEE, CARGO SHORTS (CARGO. FUCKING. SHORTS.) AND SNEAKERS SANS SOCKS.

I could. not. deal.

Post-show, post-dinner (what, like I was going to bail on a free dinner?) we start biking homeward. I turn off a few blocks early like SEE YOU NEVER, GOOD NIGHT.

I have not seen him since.

A Lady: Okay, remind me that we need to have a Serious Conversation about the relative value of a free meal, and how lentils can be just as delicious and will cost you $0.50 and no self-respect. Standards!

D: I have standards! Occasionally low and situationally-flexible as they may be: STANDARDS. And puffy, excessively-pocketed cargo shorts do not meet them.

AND THE THING IS: HE SAW ME SEE HIM the day before in that same ensemble. COME ON DUDE. Repeating sweaty biking clothes for a date the next night, no matter the contents of that outfit, is just fucking unacceptable. It's a symptom of a total lack of effort. If you cannot be bothered to change your goddamn clothes into something that does not suggest you might go home, get stoned, and listen to Phish, then I CANNOT BE BOTHERED TO GO OUT WITH YOU EVER AGAIN.

Fuck that. I might not always be immaculately pulled-together and turned out, but for the fuck of shit, I make an EFFORT. Not always a successful effort, but come on.

baggage

2011-06-17T13:24:00.005-04:00

D: THIS. IS. RIDIC.

A Lady: WTF. Seriously. I take a big purse, and that’s it. Fin. (I mean, hell, I take a big purse and a small duffel for a WEEK. IN THE WINTER.)

D: AMEN. I mean, Jesus Christ on toast, I am in the midst of the travel marathon for work at the moment, and this is absurd. WHO CHECKS LUGGAGE FOR A THREE-DAY TRIP? I had to do slightly more than a big purse (although heeeey, that leather bag you made me is so best for work travel needs) since this is a Professional Fancy Times travel itinerary, but for REAL.

A Lady: Do we even have to get into why this is absurd? DO NOT CHECK LUGGAGE. Wear the big things, pack the small ones. Wear: jeans, tank, cardi, sandals. Pack: shorts, tank, dress, swimsuit, heels, underthings. Pack makeup, one hair product, travel brush. Jesus. Or leave Jesus, because then you might have to check.

D: Plus, if we're 90% water or whatever, Jesus will probably violate the 3 oz. or less of liquids rule.

And if you're traveling anywhere citified, you know that you're probably going to end up buying a significant amount of clothes there, which means you’ll pack for like 2-3 days less than the duration of the trip. And NO ONE needs to bring the entire makeup bag, c'mon. Especially if the vacation is beachy. You're going to end up wearing waterproof mascara, sunscreen, maaaaaaaaaybe powder for non-swimming times, and some sort of tinted lip balm with SPF. Maybe lipstick for evening.

I mean, I packed for 10 days in Peru in a single carry-on. And I didn't end up wearing half of what I brought, either. (Sum total of makeup packed for Peru: mascara, powder, tinted lip balm. I ended up wearing only the tinted lip balm. Shoulda thrown in another tube of sunscreen, though.)

A Lady: And’s let’s not even get into when you’re going home/the S.O.’s home and you’ll have easy washing machine access. In those cases, it’s entirely appropriate to take a week’s worth of clothes—again, a small duffel—and know that you’ll have the ability to wash all your basics. Also, no one at home will care if you wear the same thing three days in a row. (Or at least, they might care, but they definitely won’t comment.) Long weekends, I seriously just take a big purse/small overnight bag and fill it. Oh, also: roll your clothes! Fewer wrinkles, less space. Oh, and a foldable (!) lint brush is good. Or one of those mini travel rollers.

D: Ok, current contents of my work-travel bag. This is for three days, and I really should’ve pared it down better (the flats were unnecessary. Shoulda just done heels + sandals), but I did have to be ready for a fancy work thing (hence the lint roller).

Shift dress (nonwrinkle!), tank top (didn’t even wear this), multivitamins, stripey shirt, cutoffs, iPod, laptop + sleeve, professional-like black dress, book, business cards, work documents, huge tangle of cords and makeup bag. All inside the leather duffel. The purse got folded up and put inside the duffel and held travel docs, phones, wallet, sunglasses, etc. Shoes: black heels for work, flats worn on plane, sandals worn everywhere else. One bag to schlep. And this felt like WAY too much for three days, honestly. God, wish I’d taken a photo of my carry-on for Peru. I brought three swimsuits (because I like options?) and ended up wearing only about 80% of what I packed. For ten days. In a carry-on.

A Lady: Oh, def. When I went to Mexico, ditto the three swimsuits—and that was just for five nights—two sundresses, two shorts, wore jeans and a sweater, a couple light linen beach shirts and tanks, flat sandals, and a pair of heels for dinner. Wham, bam, you’re welcome. I seriously think my makeup bag was as big as the rest of the stuff I packed. And amen to slipping the purse into your bigger bag. That’s also a way to get around the one carryon/one personal item role: take a carryon, a big purse/small duffel, and put your regular purse in the latter. Take THAT, airlines.

you could look better

2011-05-22T17:50:00.003-04:00

D: Haaaalp. I am pouty today. Pouty and poorly-put-together.

I'm going to see "Bill Cunningham New York" today after work, and there's an opening reception beforehand, and I knooooooooow that I'm going to be stupidly hurt that no one takes my photo at the event. I won't have time to go home and change into something splendid between work and movie, so I am stuck wearing what I wore to work. And yes, I tried to step up my outfit game a bit today in anticipation of this, but I am so wholly dissatisfied with how it looks and UGH.

The outfit: slim-but-not-skinny dark-wash jeans, cuffed; bright magenta socks with vintage brown mary janes; flowy cream t-shirt; Rodarte for Target nude lace cardigan; bunches of necklaces. And yet as good an idea as it seemed this morning at 7:45, I now feel like it looks sloppy and generally crap.

A Lady: Okay, outfit. Get rid of the cuffs, tuck the hem under instead. Socks/ankle strap/cuff is too much.
The cardi...have you tried pushing up the sleeves? Also, flowy t-shirt: tuck the front in.

D: Done and done. Shirt will be tucked, cardi sleeves already pushed (always), hems tucked.

A Lady: Also, were I you, I'd ditch the socks. Magenta/nude/white/brown seems a bit intense.

D: I will test this out in front of the work bathroom mirror.

A Lady: Do it. Now. It might help your mood.

D: "Hello, coworkers! No, I am not prancing in the bathroom for any particular reason."

A Lady: Run to the bathroom for five minutes, adjust ensemble, and see if this helps. Then report back.

D: Will do.

Okay! The shirt looks wonky tucked in, but I adjusted the pants hems and took off the socks, and I look far better. This is amazing. I was thinking that the socks + heels were the best part of the ensemble, but I was so wrong.

A Lady: Heh. Even working blind, I'm here for you.

D: You are an Outfit Whisperer.

Well, at least when I bike up to the theater, I’ll have the glowy cheeks thing going on from the ride. And who doesn't love a lady on a bike? No one, that's who.

A Lady: Exactly. PS you'll love the Cunningham doc.

D: OOH HAVE YOU SEEN IT?

A Lady: Duh. Dude, I saw it in April. It's amazing. Insane and amazing. You'll want to give him lots of hugs.

Postscript: I left work too late to make it to the pre-movie fashiony-type-people party, but enjoyed my dinner of movie theater popcorn and a giant Diet Coke during the film. And of course it’s brilliant, but I am very concerned that Bill Cunningham rides his bike without a helmet.

she's crafty

2011-05-16T19:21:00.004-04:00

OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS THING IS GORGEOUS.

Hence the facial expression of total joy and amazement, obviously.

A Lady blogged it far better over here, but the short version is that she just saved me like $300, I have a gorgeous new leather bag, and my coworkers were amused by the reverberating squeeees of joy coming out of my office this afternoon when the bag arrived. I think the little dance I did down the hall (there may have been skipping involved) was more befuddling than amusing, but that's not the point.

stalkers

2011-03-04T23:19:00.024-05:00

A Lady: Fuck. Off.

D: OH MY GOD THOSE LOOK LIKE THEY ARE IN YOUR HOME OH MY GOD OH MY GOD HOW DID THIS HAPPEN

A Lady: Barneys. Warehouse. Sale. 70% off the discounted price.

D: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

DUDE.

OH MY SWEET JESUS. If I were standing up, I’d have fallen over.

I am just going to make incoherent allcaps noises over here.

Well, I bought $30 worth of Korres lip gloss today so.... WAIT THAT'S NOT THE SAME LEVEL OF GREATNESS AT ALL.

A Lady: Ahahaha. Fuckoff heels! I has them!

Sigh.

D: Ahem, shouldn't I be the one sighing with envy here?

A Lady: Oh, right.

D: So, as per request: the etymology of "fuckoff heels." It is pretty clearly Belgian Waffle, in my brain, but I think it's one of those concepts that most women will immediately understand.

A Lady: See, I've been using it for tech things for years. Such as: "fuckoff stereo."

D: Aha, yes.

A Lady: "A huge fuckoff tv.”

D: "That was one spectacular fuckoff sandwich."

A Lady: Ehhhhhhhh. I object!

D: Cmon. You know that I, of all people, will say "fuckoff sandwich" in the most highly approving manner.

A Lady: There has to be intent to intimidate/proclaim awesomeness.

D: Well, maybe the fuckoff sandwich is HUGE and also you are REALLY hungry.

A Lady: But is it putting other people in awe? I feel like that's the necessary bit. And I have never been in awe of a sandwich. (Have I told you about the pancake-eating competition?)

D: (Ooh no do tell.)

A Lady: (Everyone at brunch, dudes included, ordered the triple stack of plate-sized pancakes.)

D: (Ow Jesus my stomach hurts at the thought.)

A Lady: (The dudes were idiots and got chocolate chips. My friend and I got fruit ones. So it was a race. And I won, hands down. Ate the whole plate in, um, 90 seconds.)

D: (GODDAMN. I am impressed. And a little horrified, so basically DOUBLY impressed.)

A Lady: So you see why the idea of fuckoff food is like, eh.

D: Well, you're you. Meanwhile, I have been in serious awe of food on many occasions. Now I am on a quest for a fuckoff sandwich for illustratory purposes.

A Lady: Ahem, D, back to fuckoff heels. They usually involve some kind of a platform, yes?

D: Note: I think the fuckoff heel is for other ladies.

A Lady: Really? Oh, I wear them for both: dudes, ladies, you can all fuck off.

D: Well, how many straight dudes do you know that would look at the shoe and appreciate it as anything other than "pretty!"?

I mean, everyone can fuck off, but ladies Get It.

A Lady: Naw, I mean, they're sexy shoes, but they make you tall and you can stomp in them.

D: Ah, right-o. So fuckoff heels are 1) tall, and 2) stompy.

I don't feel that a plain black leather pump, no matter how tall it makes me, is really a fuckoff heel, though. Like, if it's pretty much unquestionably work-appropriate, it's not fuckoff.

A Lady: Also, the black pump can tip into fuckme shoes pretty easily.

I wonder if the difference resides in the platform. I feel like if it's sold at Anthropologie, it's not gonna be fuckoff, knaamean?

D: Mmhmm.

A Lady: They have to be stompy.

D: Do they have to be? Or is that just a common thing? Because sometimes there's a difference between a stomp and strut shoe, but I think I have strut shoes that are fuckoff.

A Lady: Hmm. Ok, my verb of choice might be stalk. Catwalk-style.

D: Oooooooh, yes.

Can wedges be fuckoff?

I'd think a fuckoff wedge would have to be 5", or it would just go clunky.

A Lady: There has to be some kind of angle or a tapering.

D: …something that looks just slightly precarious, which makes it all the more fuckoff that one is stalking in them.

A Lady: Exactly.

D: Under no circumstances can one of those pencil-thin stilettos be a fuckoff heel. You cannot stalk in those heels. You can slink, maybe, but not stalk.

A Lady: Yeah, those are totally fuckme territory.

D: Yup. A fuckme heel is meant for minimal walking, yet is also seen in the wild at ill-advised dance clubs. Poor choice, ladies!

A Lady: That's why they can't dance!

D: Also most of the population at those clubs is not known for good decision-making.

cinematic

2011-01-29T17:35:00.001-05:00

D: Why yes, I did get tipsy this month at an art opening & decide to go see "Burlesque" by myself.

A Lady: I can't believe you went to “Burlesque” drunk, alone.
I mean, I can.
But: amazing.

D: Ahemmm. Not drunk, tipsy. The art opening ran out of booze before I could get properly drunk.

A Lady: Was it everything I'm hoping it will be?

D: If you hope for a bastard child of “Showgirls”, “Cabaret”, and “Moulin Rouge”.... then YES.
Sequins, bad makeup, tits, and hilarity.

A Lady: OMFG. I need that in my life.

D: I still cannot believe that Alan Cumming was convinced to do that movie.
Also, Cher's face Does. Not. Move.

A Lady: Wait wait wait. Cumming's in it?

D: I KNOW
YES I THOUGHT I WAS SEEING THINGS
BUT HE'S IN IT.

A Lady: Must. See. Now.

D: I believe his first line is "I should wash your mouth out with Jaegermeister for that.”

A Lady: Holy shit, how did I not know that?

D: Best-kept secret of that movie, I swear.
Oh! And Cher has a line like "Did you tell him about the tattoo on my ass?"

Also all the girls in the movie who are not Xtina/Veronica Mars (she’s the Gina Gershon) look like Jessica Simpson.
EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

Dude, this movie was so worth the $4.

socially clumsy

2011-01-19T00:02:00.002-05:00

I can't argue with A Lady on this. She notes:

"D, your dating life is like the social interaction equivalent of a montage of people walking into doors."

book club

2011-01-13T22:09:00.002-05:00

It's worth noting that the Trollops' current reading list is Edna Woolman Chase's Always in Vogue and Jay-Z's Decoded. We're well-rounded.

trollops' holiday woes

2011-01-04T20:31:00.002-05:00

Email from A Lady:

"I realized today you and I have opposite approaches to overeating: you put on clothing that works around* the offending body part. I put on clothing that I fit into ten pounds ago in order to remind myself to not eat everything in sight. BUT there is strategy involved: jeans where the waistband is so tight that I’m desperately uncomfortable and in a little pain, but a big sweater over it so as not to offend anyone.

It’s like a hair shirt in service of vanity instead of divinity."

*... that is to say that I'm currently wearing the hell out of my loose shift dresses and the two pairs of pants that button.

lippy

2010-12-19T12:19:00.003-05:00

D: I have decided that I need a good coral lipstick.

A Lady: Ooh yes you do.

D: And a good violet gloss.

A Lady: ?

D: Not pastel-violet... plum? Something purple-y.

A Lady: .

D: I got into a red rut.

A Lady: .

D: I am taking that “.” as endorsement of this plan, whether you meant it as such or no.

A Lady: Uh huh.
They make berry colors for a reason. S'all I'm sayin’.

D: (My intern is going to come into my office any minute and see me frantically scanning Sephora. This will not surprise anyone.)
I kind of want to go play with this in Audacious Violet.

A Lady: EW. Dude.
Someone has to say it.

D: You never know! When I go play at Sephora, I will take photos. One of us will be proven right.
Hopefully it will be me.

A Lady: .
I know what this will look like. It will look like 1994.

D: Sssssssssh. Naysayer.

A Lady: YOU KNOW I AM RIGHT.

D: I will try it out! I am not saying I'm buying it sight unseen or anything.
…maybe more like a purple-y lipstain?

A Lady: Like a popsicle? or a cadaver? NO.

D: Popsicle.

A Lady: No one wants purple popsicle mouth. Cherry, yes. Grape, no.

D: Damn you, naysayer.

(later)

D: Photographic evidence, L! The selection at Sephora was a wee bit limited, but I fucked off from work this week for a trip over there with a camera.

NARS Shrinagar

Sephora Crush + Dazzling Violet gloss

NARS Bougainville

First of all, yes, I am obviously somewhat lipstick-impaired. Lipstick application is one of those girl-skills that I never acquired.

And second of, I only cropped the photos, no color correction/retouching. I am vain but not a liar.

A Lady: no.

D: Fuck you. I still think I've proven that yes, one can wear purple lips in real life.

A Lady: WRONG.

D: NAYSAYER!
Sigh. Ok, internet. Back me up here. These three purple lip experiments were not unsuccessful, right? Comment and tell me you're on my side.

Ed: FINE. No one has opinions. Way to make us feel alone and unloved, internet. (Setting aside the fact that we are often absent and neglectful and... oh, fuck it. I bought some purple gloss. A Lady can deal with it.)

wishful thinking

2010-12-09T20:34:00.011-05:00

D: Um, yes. We are the worst bloggers ever.

A Lady: Sigh. Agreed.

D: Let’s ignore the fact that we are absent and disappointing bloggers and jump ahead like we didn’t accidentally hiatus for, like, three weeks.

A Lady: Yes! Exactly! Let’s get greedy.

D: AKA wishlisting time. This is the best part of holidays: pretending that it’s not a little sad that I, at nearly thirty years old, am still making wishlists.

A Lady: Plus, the Christmas-adjacent birthdays thing. Was this always a pain for you, or a bonus?

D: Oh, always a bonus. My birthday falls three weeks after Christmas, so I’d take the handwritten list off the fridge, carefully cross off all the things I got, leave the un- acquired gifts on the list, and retitle it “Birthday List”. It was all kinds of efficient.

A Lady: Ooh. That’s so clever. My problem has always been of the eleven days prior variety. No, I never know what I want for either holiday. The more important concern is What Do You Want To Do For Your Birthday, and, to be frank I’ve more or less decided to throw in the towel. People are always writing papers or taking finals or already gone home for break and god I resent the academy sometimes.

ANYWAY. What do we want this year, pray tell?

D: I think I can speak for both trollops here when I say “scotch”. Delicious, gorgeous, expensive scotch.

And a table saw would be nice. But probably not recommended to enjoy at the same time as the scotch.

A Lady: And a pony! A Tom Ford-approved pony!

D: And a first edition of “What Shall I Wear”, of course. One must have a well-selected library, naturally.

A Lady: I could always do with a Rothko and a Twombly.

I also feel like either of us would go for the Visionaire boxed edition of Diana Vreeland’s VOGUE memos.
I saw it at Art Basel Miami and pined for a few minutes. The last copy they had on hand was $160 or so. (Which, crap, I should totally have gotten as an investment because on the site they retail at $250 WTF. Not. Worth. It.)

D: Ooooh. That packaging. Swoon.

(I can’t believe you don’t keep a running wishlist through the year. My acquisitiveness knows no bounds: I have a specific list on my calendar just for Things I’d Like To Have Purchased For Me. Sadly, the list only gets longer, not shorter ever. Magpie tendencies.)

A Lady: (I mean, I did, for a hot second, have a running email I was sending to myself to keep track of everything I wanted, but then present time came around and I, um, forgot about it. Because what’s more fun than making life difficult for everyone?)

D: Passive-aggression is everyone's favorite gift.

A Lady: Another thing I could use, since Boswell ate mine, is a new pair of ballet flats. (The
Delmans are dead, long live the cheaper version?) Like these, but in my size.

D: V nice. I can’t believe I haven’t put Improbable Shoes on my wishlist yet. No, my wall of shoes is not quite full yet, and I must remedy that.

FUCKOFF HEELS!
These are insane. And so am I, and thus, it is perfect.

We are so easy to buy gifts for, really.

vigilante

2010-11-19T19:39:00.000-05:00

A Lady: There’s a Vera Bradley sale on Rue La La today. I am torn between buying and burning all the stock, and slitting my wrists.

D: Bonfire of the uglies!

dress-up

2010-11-13T18:57:00.004-05:00

Between bouts of popcorn eating, Lip Service watching, and flea marketing during my long weekend in New York, A Lady and I went to East Harlem to swoon over the Notorious and Notable exhibition at the Museum of the City of New York.
(Pro tip: getting anywhere in NYC on the day of the marathon will be an exercise in patience. Oops, bad planning.)

A Lady is still dying over Isadora Duncan's dress in the show; my little heart goes pitter-patter for Marian Anderson's blue dress. So, um, if these pieces mysteriously disappear from the museum anytime soon, we had nothing to do with it, promise.

thrifty

2010-11-09T00:09:00.002-05:00

A quick scene from this weekend:

A Lady and I are scoping out various flea markets in New York, with the following exchange was muttered between us whenever a particularly attractive item was noticed.

Person One (interchangeable): "Hm, this is quite nice, but..."
Person Two: "You know, in Midwest Hometown, this would be found for $4/free/in immaculate condition."
Person One: "When I go back for Christmas, I am thrifting the hell out of Midwest Hometown."

domestic

2010-11-07T11:01:00.002-05:00

You guys, A Lady is making me breakfast right now, and I am wearing a pair of her fuzzy slippers.
Yes, awesome.

ahem hem

2010-11-06T16:00:00.002-04:00

baggage

2010-11-02T22:01:00.002-04:00

I am sitting in my apartment, looking over my "things to spend money on while in New York" spreadsheet, and avoiding making eye contact with the pile of clothing I have considered and rejected packing.
(Is this pile as tall as my bed? Yes, perhaps, it may be.)

What does one weaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar for a long weekend with one's most sartorially splendid friends? I chafe at the idea of not having my full closet full of Options for outfit re-thinking and re-tooling. (We will ignore the fact that I am very likely to buy a whole bunch of clothes in NYC, which could solve the wardrobe dilemma right there, but one can never count on this. I mean, what if the only clothing I buy ends up being, like, two pairs of boots and seven sweaters and no pants?)

BAH. This is sending me into a spiral of "I have nothing to wear, and I hate all my clothes, and I should just wear a bathrobe and never leave the house again because hey that worked for J.D. Salinger, right?". Which is objectively silly, considering I have two closets full of lovely clothing, but THERE IS NO REASONING WITH CLOTHING PANIC.

Truly, what does one wear? Because I am staring at one black knit dress, one pair of black boots, and one black cardigan, and I feel this is somehow inadequate for four and a half days.

press play

2010-10-30T12:39:00.000-04:00

Currently on heavy rotation on my iPod:

Jay-Z, "Hello Brooklyn v. 2"
KISS, "Back in the New York Groove"
Mos Def, "Brooklyn"
Sex Pistols, "New York"
Jay-Z feat. Biggie Smalls, "Brooklyn's Finest"
The Raveonettes, "New York Was Great"
The Beastie Boys, "No Sleep Till Brooklyn"
Talib Kweli, "New York Shit"
The Black Keys, "Brooklyn Bound"
Charles Hamilton, "Brooklyn Girls"

Oh, I'll bet you can't guess where I'm going this Thursday night, eh? Hint: "...meet up in New York and run riot. Shouldn't be too hard, no?"

C'est vrai. Let's all make squeeeeeeeee noises in unison now, mmmkay? And yes, there will be inevitable blogging of this long-awaited meeting.

addicts

2010-10-30T00:00:00.002-04:00

A Lady: Martin Luther Vandross

D: Captain Morgan Freeman

A Lady: Can't. Stop.

D: James Taylor Swift

A Lady: Michael Jordin Sparks

D: Ron Paul McCartney

A Lady: Leona Lewis Black

D: Fab Five Freddy Kreuger

A Lady: John Edward Scissorhands

D: Tiny Tim Curry

A Lady: Huey Long John Silver
I keep giggling. In public.

D: Hee

A Lady: Rapunzelstiltskin

D: Ahahahahaha.
Tom Wolfegang Amadeus Mozart

A Lady: Ayn Randy Newman

D: Willie Nelson Muntz

A Lady: Joan Rivers Cuomo

D: Jawdropping.
Wolfman Jack Black

A Lady: Malcom X-Men

D: Jerry Lee Lewis Farrahkan (or however the fuck you spell that)

A Lady: Heh
Dean Martin Sheen

D: Charlie Parker Posey

A Lady: Augh! Braintwins!

D: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA totally unsurprised.

A Lady: Michael Douglas Adams

D: Olivia Newton John Adams

A Lady: Captain Kirk Douglas

D: Marc Anthony Hopkins

A Lady: Serena William Shakespeare

D: Helen of Troy McClure

A Lady: Uncle Tom Ford

D: I was trying to think of a last name Tom too.

A Lady: Ahem. Pollyanna Wintour.

D: OOOOOH WELL DONE

A Lady: I think everyone thinks I'm crazy

D: With the snickering?

A Lady: Flat out laughing. In the park. Walking Bos.

D: Ahaha, that's even better. But at least you're looking at your phone for at least part of the laughter.

A Lady: True.

D: Barbara Walters Matthau

A Lady: Franny and Zooey Deschanel

D: James Joyce Carol Oates
Jamie Lee Curtis Mayfield

A Lady: Jimmy Jon Stewart

D: Robert Sean Leonard Cohen

A Lady: Hugh Laurie Anderson

D: James Earl Ray-J
Grandmaster Flash Gordon

A Lady: Neil.
Patrick.
Harrison.
Ford.

D: Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice

A Lady: THE WIZARD OF OZZY OSBOURNE

D: OH MY GOD. WHOA. YES.
Neil Simon Doonan

A Lady: Benedict Arnold Schwarzenegger
Les Paul Simon

D: William Henry Harrison Ford

A Lady: Patrick Henry Fonda

D: Chuck D(ee) Snyder

A Lady: Boy George Clooney

D: Bea Arthur Miller

A Lady: Gene Kelly Ripa

D: Melissa Gilbert Godfrey

A Lady: How are we still going?
Vanilla Ice-T

D: We are still going because WE ARE AWESOME (Ooh, a vanilla iced tea sounds good right now.)
Doug E. Fresh Prince

A Lady: Weird Al Capone

D: Mary Shelley Long

A Lady: Carly Simon and Garfunkel
Bob Dylan Thomas

D: Robert E. Lee McQueen

A Lady: Batman and Robin Thicke

D: Bruce Wayne Newton

A Lady: George Michael J. Fox
Babe Ruth Bader Ginsberg

D: OH DAMN. That is good.

A Lady: PS Dirty Harry Houdini

D: You are killing me.

A Lady: Am feeling witty for the first time in ages.

D: It's my Halloween spirit. It has rubbed off on you. Like a tenacious virus.

A Lady: Zachary Ty Bryan Eno
Tim Allen Ginsburg
Jonathan Taylor Thomas Jefferson

D: Jay-Z Z Top

A Lady: Okay. This has to stop

D: Oh, it should have stopped long ago. But do we heed that? Of course not.

A Lady: Kirstie Ally McBeal

D: Wallace Shawn Connery

A Lady: Ew. Ewewew.

D: Ahahahaha

A Lady: Steve Martin Scorsese

D: Debbie Harry Shearer

A Lady: Little Debbie Harry

D: Martin Lawrence of Arabia

A Lady: Oh gaaaaawd
John Henry Adam Sandler

D: Marion Barry Bostwick

A Lady: Bernadette Peter O'Toole

D: Lenny Bruce Lee

A Lady: Arthur Ashley Olsen

D: Henry James Dean
Rick Ross Perot
And with that, HALLOWEEKEND!

when it brainstorms

2010-10-29T11:39:00.011-04:00

A Lady: Ahem. Halloween costume ideas. Elizabeth Taylor Hanson.

D: Shirley Temple Grandin

A Lady: James Cagney and Lacey

D: Spencer Tracy Lords

A Lady: Pope John Paul George and Ringo

D: Tommy Lee Harvey Oswald

A Lady: Joe Hannah Montana

D: Steven Tyler Perry

A Lady: Little Orphan Annie Hall

D: John Candy Darling

A Lady: Billy the Kid Rock

D: Jill St. John Belushi

A Lady: John Calvin Klein

D: Pamela Anderson Cooper

A Lady: Chandler Bing Crosby

D: John Philip Sousa(n) Sontag

A Lady: Clarence Thomas Alva Edison

D: Samuel L. Jackson Browne

A Lady: Linda Blair Waldorf

D: Ron Jeremy Irons

A Lady: Anne Frank Sinatra

D: Boy George Michael Bloomberg

A Lady: Harper Leeann Rimes

D: Chan Marshall Mathers

A Lady: Larry David Bowie

D: Kris Kross Kristoffersson

A Lady: Glenn Beck and Call Girl

D: LL Cool J(ay) McInerney.

A Lady: Little Richard Gere

D: Stephen Jay Gouldfinger

A Lady: Smokey Robinson Crusoe

D: Harry Truman Capote

A Lady: Joe Cocker Spaniel (I'm flagging)

D: Andrew Jackson Pollock

D: Elton John Malkovich

D: Peggy Lee(igh) Bowery

A Lady: Okay, you lost me there.

D: Leigh Bowery: http://en.academic.ru/dic.nsf/enwiki/296072(rolled w Boy George)

D: Woody Allen/Alan Rickman

A Lady: Okay stop stop stop. We're fading.

D: I know. Sigh. And I've even had coffee.
Was really trying to do something excellent with Alan Rickman though. Failed.

A Lady: Alan Rickman James?
Bitch?

D: That took me a second, but is MUCH improved on my attempt.

A Lady: Jesse James Franco

D: Buddy Holly Madison

don't quit your day job

2010-10-28T20:45:00.024-04:00

Backstory: IM from D, received two nights previously. "Upside of last night: got the digits of a hella hella cute butch at the bar. Downside: when she mentioned that she lives in an "intentional community."

A Lady: Good morning! Questions: 1. Why don’t I have a horse? 2. Why am I not a supermodel?

D: Mooooooooooooorning. Oh god so tired.
Anyway, guess who texts me last night when I get home? MS. INTENTIONAL COMMUNITY, THAT'S WHO. I have no interest in your hippie intentions, lady. None. It's a short hop from "intentional community" to "becoming a freegan and wearing dreadlocks."

A Lady: Oh, come now. You said she's hot. This way you could keep the Dating Moratorium on and get a much-needed fix.

D: Dunno, let's not forget "intentional community." Oh my god, that's like lesbian hell: a hippie house full of ex-girlfriends. If she'd just kept that to herself last week, I'd be up on that like white on rice, but anyone who brings that up ON PURPOSE with someone they're trying to impress? There is something wroooooooong with that person.

A Lady: Yes, but at least there's never a shortage of conversation. These types are always very enthusiastic. You probably won't even have to say anything. Or listen.

D: Hmmmmmm. My standards, if not exactly low, are nothing if not situationally flexible. She is enthused about EVERYTHING, it's true. Which causes me to roll my eyes, but at least I can do that silently. Perhaps I will text her back tonight between spray-painting snakes gold and pickling grapes.

A Lady: Exactly. Lie back and think of England, as it were.

D: You are a bad influence. My favorite kind.
Now, what does one DO with a hot-but-hippie girl that is only a clear signal for Let's Go Hook Up and not Let's Converse and Have Feeeeeeeeelings?

A Lady: Bowling. Or whiskey.

D: Whiskey is always the answer, innit? When in doubt, delicious bourbon shall lead the way.

So as the counterpoint to the "Why aren't I a model? With a pony?" lifequest, I just saw this:
and IMMEDIATELY thought "I should play Isabella Blow, duh." Oh, former career path as an actor, how you pop up unexpectedly.

A Lady: Oh dude. You need to come to New York for next Halloween. You’ll be Issy Blow, I’ll be Lee McQueen.
Too soon?

D: Nooooooooooooo. Brilliant. So brilliant.
Issy Blow falls squarely into my Halloween Theme of always, always creating an elaborate headpiece for costumes. Win!

A Lady: Omgomg can we put on a Vicar of Dibley-inspired Christmas pageant? With three kings: Martin Luther, Billie Jean, and Stephen.

D: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
What about Nat King Cole?

A Lady: RODNEY.

D: YOU WIN.
Truly, why is no one paying us for thoughts like these?

career counselor

2010-10-26T18:49:00.013-04:00

In which we plan completely plausible and responsible changes of career! And by “career,” we mostly mean “ways to somehow acquire loads of money without doing much in the way of actual work.”

A Lady: Okay, let’s dream up alternative career plans: run away to England, star in a hilarious Beeb sitcom about two American grad students at the University of Edinburgh. Go!

D: YES.
Alternatively: I move to NYC, and we are scouted by a fabulous-but-not-obnoxious gallery + bar to program their events and create custom drinks. And there is a clothing budget in addition to salary, as our appearance reflects on the gallery/bar's success, naturally.

A Lady: We move to Tuscany, where your inability to speak Italian and my inability to do anything service-related wreak comic havoc on our social lives and ability to run a B&B.
OR we are anonymously nominated to be anonymous members of the anonymous board of nominators for the MacArthur grants. Which, amazingly/conveniently, is actually a high-paying gig!

D: While we are en route to a symposium on Best Practices in Shoe-Blogging, our plane is forced to make an unscheduled landing in Paris. There is a mysterious car waiting to pick us up at the baggage claim, and it whisks us to a Left Bank apartment, where Daphne Guinness announces that she is adopting us! It's France, I'm sure their adoption laws are flexible like that.

A Lady: Oh god, can she? Because then we would be heiresses and Without A Care In The World.

D: OR it turns out that my scathing grad-school takedown of Robert Brustein has attracted the attention of conservative arts lobbyists (a shadowy evil group, obvs) and I am forced to flee the country!; due to the volume of email correspondence exchanged between us, the Evil Conservative Arts Lobbyists or sundry assorted literary critics begin threatening you as well, and you, too, must make your escape! But thankfully, there is a safe haven in Monaco for persecuted brains, funded by the Princess Grace Foundation!

A Lady: I think all this grant-writing has given you a delusional complex about the availability of funds for entirely Unworthy activities.

D: Hush, let's work on getting the MacArthur Genius Grants. That's a life plan, right?

A Lady: Bugger, bugger, bugger. I have been reading all about the MacArthur fellows, little things like “Richard Powers trained in music and got his degree in physics, got bored and quit with his MS. One day he saw a picture and then wrote a novel about the people in it. Then he was a genius.”

D: Let's see... MacArthur likes people who are crafty! Check.
MacArthur likes minorities! Check. (Well, we count for like 3 minority points, anyway.)
MacArthur likes collaborations! Check.
Somehow we can work biking into this, and perhaps facilitate a tiny bit of bribery into the process by making MacArthur people a custom eponymous cocktail buffet. Or we could write a middling-but-Oprah-approved novel and just sell the movie rights, perhaps?

A Lady: Really, I think that’s all we need: a mediocre novel with a heart of gold. The Jean Harlow of novels. Based on pictures like this one!

D: "Consumptives dining on ferry boat" leads to a novel titled...
Um...
"Appetite Adrift"?
"Deadly, Hungry, and Unwanted"?

A Lady: “Paddling Toward the Sanatorium”?
“Wasting Away”?
“The Scarlet Dinner Napkin”?

D: Ooh, "Wasting Away" ftw! And then we will get critical acclaim because people will say "oh my god, women were able to write a novel with these fully-realized and compelling male characters, amazing!"
...oh wait, no, that only works in reverse.

catty

2010-10-11T22:01:00.001-04:00

D: Inexplicable hatreds: I have many.

A Lady: Hmm, apparently so.
I can't stand kitten heels.

D: I went through a kitten-heel phase in... 2003? It lasted all of three months. I think I do currently have two pairs of 2 ½" heels, but those are more sandal-y type things. Like, breezy summer shoes. Not kitten heels.

A Lady: Precisely. Low heels are not kitten heels. Kitten heels are ½” to 1 ½”. The itty bitty ones.

D: I feel like anything under 3" is teeny, but I also realize that's just my brain.

A Lady: I mean, I don't mind a small stacked heel; it's the little half-ass dinky heel that gets me.

D: Mmmhmm. The kitten heel is like "oh, I am an amateur."

A Lady: Oh! and strappy strappy shoes: the thin straps, not big ones.

D: The ones that look like they're made of licorice whips. Yes. Or rather, nooooo.

A Lady: Exactly.

D: Something about those just screams 1998 to me. SENIOR PROM SEXY SANDALS! CLASS OF 1998!

A Lady: Shoes will date you, people. And movies. They'll date movies.
"Those Crocs! 2007."

D: DON'T YOU DARE. Crocs suggest no time period. They suggest blindness.

A Lady: "Those little embroidered net flats! Most major cities circa 2003!"

D: Ha, yes. My japflaps were totally a 2003 purchase.

A Lady: I'll insist, though, that certain silhouettes are classic.
The straight knee-high boot with a stacked heel.

D: A shift dress.

A Lady: A pencil skirt.

D: A full knee-length skirt, with a close-fitting top. (Do I wear that silhouette? No, because I have no waist. Thus, shift dress.)

A Lady: A white tailored menswear shirt. Similarly forgiving, more breezy.

D: Let's not assume I can wear a white shirt without being clumsy in the vicinity of coffee or red wine or something equally staining, L. Keep your expectations reasonable.

judgment day

2010-10-06T20:49:00.004-04:00

A Lady: Sartorial irks, part the second: flimsy suiting. I just don't understand.
Is it because it's ill-fitting? Is it because it's ill-fitting AND made with cheap fabric?

D: It’s because it hangs so poorly.

A Lady: Is tailoring really so painful?

D: Sigh. Everyone should have a tailor. It’s nonnegotiable.

A Lady: I feel like there should be a rule that if you're going to buy a flimsy suit, you should be made to buy it too tight.

D: Precisely. Like a state tax. A "sin tax", in its way.
Oh god, pet sartorial peeve: when people don't cut the stitch that holds the vent closed after they buy a jacket/skirt/whatever. I want to run around with tiny scissors and snip them. I see it EVERY DAY.

A Lady: Oh god. Yes.

D: Shudder.

A Lady: Also, women who don't re-heel their heels.

D: COBBLERS ARE YOUR FRIEND. Your best friend.

A Lady: Screw-tips are not left exposed for a reason; new taps are not expensive.

D: I have lost count of how many times per year I re-heel my shoes. It's so worth it.

A Lady: Re-heel: you will not slip and fall and kill yourself, and you will not annoy me.

D: Confession: I may be guilty of a lesser version of the suits + backpacks felony. Perhaps a misdemeanor?

A Lady: Nooooooooooooo. Oh god, that shit makes me crazy.

D: …because I do sling my messenger bag with me to work each day.
BUT ONLY WHEN BIKING I SWEAR. And only when a large purse CANNOT be carried. If I’m taking the train? I’m carrying a purse/tote. I promise. But if I’m biking? It’s work dress, heels, messenger bag.

A Lady: Do you immediately take off the messenger bag and put said bag carrying your purse in your purse upon dismounting?

D: Yes. That messenger bag exists only while on the bike.

A Lady: Okay, that's allowed. I've done that too.
I just see grown-ass people on the train, on the street, without bike, with backpacks. It makes me want to scream.

D: Whew. I feel exonerated. Plus, I am wearing a helmet at the point, so I feel like I get a half-pass.

A Lady: Do we even need to mention the tennis shoes/businesswear thing? I feel like Working Girl pretty much said anything that needs to be said, even though people still do it.

D: No. No no no. WHY? Seriously, just put on flats. You can buy them at Target. At Payless. Hell, I do.

A Lady: And even if you have a foot problem, it's totally possible to get an orthopedically AND visually-friendly flat.

D: If necessary, leave your heels in the office. I don't quite get that- why buy shoes you can't walk in?- but I suppose it's an option. BE A GROWN-UP. LOOK LIKE A GROWN-UP.

A Lady: That too. Why do people buy heels they can't use??

D: Because people, dear, are bloody ignorant apes.
Hell, I think half the reason people take me seriously in any professional situation is merely because I am dressed like a grown-up. At least a little bit.

Um on that note: because I am currently wearing dirty jeans and a black t-shirt that is a different shade of black than the cardigan i have over it. Oops. Whatevs, it was work-at-home day.

A Lady: Er, I was about to say…
The irony is that I'm bitching about sartorial pet peeves while wearing, er, cutoff sweatpants and an old v-neck, grey socks, and pigtails.

D: HA. Pigtails, ditto.
BUT WE ARE NOT IN PUBLIC. WE HAVE STANDARDS.

A Lady: AND WE ARE NOT WORKING.

D: WE ARE SITTING AT HOME. It’s different.

haterade

2010-10-04T16:34:00.004-04:00

We hate lots of things. Flaked coconut (D), sweet/savory combinations (A Lady), coffee shops that don't provide free wifi, inexplicable public transit delays, having to explain our love of trashy television shows to those who doubt the necessity of brain-fluff entertainment. Also, I fucking hate ruffles.

A Lady: Ok, D, explain this hatred of ruffles, please.

D: I have never been a ruffly person, but all those ruffle-front things of late enrage me.

A Lady: Me neither, but the rage? I don't get the rage.

D: They just look infantile. Why must retailers take a perfectly good sleeveless shirt and puke up some needlessly involved decoration on it?

A Lady: Oh, well, that, yes.

D: Or this!
They are EVERYWHERE.

A Lady: See, I don't mind the second one.

D: Every time I want to just buy a goddamn plain cotton/silk shell, it's been attacked by accoutrements. Ruffles make me angry, I think, because I see them and mentally snap "dress like a damn adult, not like you're wearing a Formal Bib.”

A Lady: That frustration is understandable, BUT: what about Lanvin?
Do we hate Alber?

D: I'm sure he could make a ruffle that I liked. But I’d be contrary and call it a "pleat detail".

A Lady: See, for me it's a question of degree. One little pathetic cotton jersey ruffle? NO. But lots and lots of silk ruffles? OH YES.

D: All the damn shells/t-shirts I see for sale have some sort of superfluous appliqué/ruffle. Perhaps repeated exposure has induced an allergy.
Or whatever the quackish medical explanation for that would be.

A Lady: Appliqué I cannot stand. Ever.

D: Thank you. It's not a damn "trompe l'oeil" shirt when you just sew some gauze and beads drooping off the neckline. It's just lazy.

A Lady: EW NO. See, that's what I was talking about: cotton jersey.

D: Make it stoooooooooop!
Hmmmmmmmmmm. Maybe it's the Boobs Issue.

A Lady: Yes, like Mary Poppins or something.

D: And I have a weird torso anyway, so my hatred of ruffles might actually be an unconscious aversion to looking like Mary Poppins.

A Lady: Which is totally understandable.

D: I really should click away from J Crew before I murder someone. RAGE!

fun size

2010-10-02T07:45:00.001-04:00

A Lady: Why are there always Russians at Daffy's?
D: In Soviet bloc, bargains find YOU.

camouflage

2010-09-22T20:33:00.004-04:00

Apologies, loves. Between A Lady's whole moving/starting new job/attempting to dissuade her dog from eating yet another pair of shoes, and my... um... wait, what's my excuse? oh yes, my general habit of running around to things like Monday night dance parties that leave me waking up on Tuesday morning covered in mylar confetti and gold glitter, well yes, we've been lax at the updating.

In the interim, as we frantically scramble to be witty and amusing, an exchange on How To Hide The Fact That One's Hair Is Disgusting. Perfectly appropriate, as I am on day three of unwashed hair (I did try to rinse out the confetti, but may not have been entirely successful), made all the more attractive by the fact that I have not had a haircut in a long overdue while.

D:
Ways to Hide Last Night's Hair:
1) stay in bed
2) grey woven fedora of my dreams
3) drag queen wig
4) swimcap

A Lady:
5) t-shirt sleeve as head wrap
6) cornstarch
7) bun
8) stay in bed

D:
9) drape pet jauntily around crown of head
10) kerchief
11) hoodie
12) get out of bed, but only to move to couch
I am rocking option #7 today. Last night's hair was definitely not on my mind with This Morning's Oversleeping.

A Lady:
13) execute makeup perfectly, pretend hair is intentionally messy
14) baseball cap
15) beanie
16) balaclava

D:
17) full ski mask
18) turban
19) define self as "J.D. Salinger-esque hermit" and avoid all human contact

alleycat

2010-09-12T10:40:00.006-04:00

D: I have a story for you. It involves bacon, being awkward, and stalking a cute boy in my alley.

I wake up this past Sat morning with a well-deserved hangover and am addressing this by making a huge fucking pan of bacon on the stove, next to my large kitchen window. The phone rings, and I smush myself up against this window to get a little cell reception. I happen to glance outside into the alley and there is a totally cute boy out there. Ginger hair, nice glasses. And you know I am a sucker for nice glasses.

A Lady: Uh huh

D: Then, as I am a spaz, I exclaim into the phone "Dude! There’s a cute boy in my alley!" ... before realizing that I am standing in front of an open window, facing this boy who is now looking up at my window. Who totally heard me.

Then I realize that I am wearing a bathrobe and rocking seriously matted hangover hair, so I run away from the window.

But dude! The bacon! I cannot let the bacon burn!

A Lady: Ahahahaha

D: So I scoot BACK to the stove, next to the window. Cute Boy is still there.

A Lady: Noooo

D: I then proceed to press myself up against that window most of the day in the hopes that he'll come back.

A Lady: Please tell me you peeked from behind your frying pan.

D: Nah. But I should've dangled bacon out the window like a lure.

A Lady: Totally.

D: THEN! I'm out on the back steps later that night and I see him again. He is totally the houseguest of someone in my building! I must go forth and be detective-y!

A Lady: Wait, what was he doing in the alley? Are we sure he's not just loitering?

D: The first time, he was looking confused and looking up at the window as if he’d been accidentally locked out.

The second time, he clearly left from within my building and was heading out on an errand of some sort. Not a homeless dude in the alley, it would seem.

A Lady: Did he recognize you?

D: Nah, I only saw him as he disappeared down the alley.

BUT!

On Monday night, I'm leaving the building via the back steps, and I run into my downstairs neighbor and I ask: “Hey, you guys didn't have houseguests this weekend, didja?"

(neighbor) "no, why?"

A Lady: Ohoho!

D: (me) Oh, there was this really cute boy in the alley on Saturday who I saw from my kitchen window, and he was looking up at your window like he was locked out."

(neighbor) "Um. How cute? What did he look like?"

(me) "Exceedingly cute. Ginger, nice glasses."

(neighbor) "THAT IS TOTALLY MY BROTHER."

A Lady: OMG

D: (neighbor) "HE HUNG OUT HERE ON SATURDAY."

A Lady: OMGEEZY

D: (me) "You have a very cute brother."

A Lady: Et????

D: (neighbor) "Mind if I pass along the compliment? …and are you single?"

(me) "Please do …and YES."

A Lady: OMFG. Open-mouth grin.

D: I knooooooooooooow.

Alleystalking: the new meet-cute.

I am hoping to run into the downstairs neighbor again soon to push the Hook A Sister UP With Your Cute Brother agenda.

A Lady: This is amazing. And without the awkward dating-friends'-siblings thing, because he's just a neighbor.

D: YUP.

Although, jumping waaaaay ahead into the Realm of Possibility ZOMG, if we do end up hooking up, it may be awkward as his brother's apartment downstairs is the exact same layout as mine. Meaning: my bedroom is directly over theirs.

A Lady: D’oh.

D: (I plan ahead.)

via velo

2010-09-04T16:48:00.002-04:00

As A Lady is in the midst of "important" things like moving, starting a new job, and such, imagine her chiming in here to say things like "bikes: we like them!" and "be careful not to rip open any seams held tenuously together with sixty-year-old thread".

"But how do you bike in that, D?"

Yes, I get that a lot. The answer: comme ça, dear. Put on helmet, place feet in pedal cages, hike up dress, and bike forth. Is it, as A Lady noted, Potentially Inappropriate? Of course it is. I figure that anyone who may see me biking to work, to the grocery, to the bar, etc., is unlikely to be someone I will ever see again, and this turns my give-a-fuck meter down to zero.
N.B.: don't do this while wearing any delicate vintage pieces with seams that are a leeeeetle too tight around one's hips. That's just asking for trouble.

Eventually, one develops biking calluses on the inner thighs from where they rub on the seat. This is 1) highly unattractive, and 2) massively useful, and I am fully in favor of it. I'd rather have little quarter-sized calluses on my legs than have saddle sores. Related: I am gross about things like this. More scar tissue, says I!

(Let's talk about how ridiculous my bike is, guys. I am very lucky to have a free bike (the latest in a long line of free bikes, fantastically), but it is ultra-heavy, and the frame does not fit me, and it's really impractical to do my daily 12+ miles of city biking on a big-ass mountain bike. I lust after the Surly Pacer: I test-rode it last weekend, and oh my lord, I am having a hot-and-heavy imagined affair with this bike. It's perfection, and the Minnesota connection is just a bonus. I take a 56cm frame, if any generous patrons would like to gift a girl.)

peer pressure

2010-09-02T23:25:00.007-04:00

In which A Lady bosses me into not cutting my hair before I see her in November. (I am not cutting it in preparation for a truly kick-ass Halloween costume, at the moment.)

D: So: Theda Bara! I am growing my hair out, doing loads of research, and planning the Theda-as-Cleopatra costume. This might be the thing that spurs me to buy a sewing machine.

A Lady: Oooh.

D: IT INVOLVES A HEADPIECE. You know I am a sucker for headpieces.

A Lady: YES. Dude, come here for Halloween, and I'll be Louise Brooks.

D: OOH, YES. Louise Brooks is my idol. And my haircut inspiration, obvs.

A Lady: …Though I am excited to see you with a longer 'do.

D: I might cut it post- Halloween though; it tends to get stringy when longer. But! there will be Halloween photos.

A Lady: Nooooooooo.

D: Striiiiiiiiingy, L.

A Lady: I wanna see it longer. In person.

D: Bossy, bossy.

A Lady: Duh. Also, that's what dry shampoo is for.

D: You will not see it longer in person if it's all lank and gross.

A Lady: Hmph

D: …But if it's behaving, I'll leave it. We'll see.

A Lady: Pah.

Let it be known that if I am sporting unflattering hair around on my vacation this November, it is totally A Lady's fault.

meeting of the minds

2010-08-28T12:22:00.003-04:00

I bought myself a little present: a plane ticket for an east coast vacation this fall.

A Lady is east-coasterly.

I believe the formal statement we both issued regarding this event was "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!", accompanied by jazz hands.

how to break up

2010-08-20T21:16:00.011-04:00

More in the "advice you did not ask us for" column!

Now, it's highly likely that if one successfully dates us, there may be the eventual part where one must also end the relationship. (If not, after all, we'd have been partnered off at age sixteen or so, and that's a horrifying thought.) (You never know, though! --A Lady)

From D:
I'm lucky enough to have no true horror stories of breakups gone awry, so my contribution is largely a "how do to this right" series of suggestions.

I will admit that I did pull one of the worst breakup moves of all time, though. I broke up with someone via email. I know. I'm ashamed. Long list of excuses, (international long-distance, lacking a phone, the both of us passive-aggressively not signing into Skype, etc.), but: don't do that, kids. You look like an asshole, and for good reason. Breakups should be in person, or at the very very least, via phone in case of extreme long-distance situations.

Things that make a good breakup: be an adult. Don't throw tantrums. Realize that a bit of distance goes a long way towards being civil. Occasional check-ins via email can be nice, but only if they're reciprocated. Otherwise, that's just creepy and desperate.
Mutual friends remain mutual friends. And if you can't say something nice about the ex to the mutual friends, say nothing. Bitching and kvetching should be limited to the inner circle of confidantes, lest you come off as unstable.
And for the love of god, if you don't de-friend on Facebook (which you might want to do, depending on the situation), at the very least hide the other person's status updates and posts and such from your feed. It's for your own good. Under no circumstances should your first post-breakup communication come via Facebook: email or text message is acceptable, writing on the ex's Facebook wall is just icky.

Oh, and note that any of the above bits of advice are absolutely rendered moot if the breakup was instigated by some egregious offense such as being cheated upon or otherwise lied to. In those situations, you have my blessing to lash out as much as you desire. Go ahead, burn the former paramour's favorite shirt and donate all their books to Goodwill and commence with the trash-talking. No one will blame you.

And now, my turn. "Me" being A Lady. I will contribute the "how not to break up with us" part of this, because wow, do I know how to pick 'em. Do not:

Wait wait. Edit. Sorry. Have had the obvious pointed out to me. There's just one good rule for how not to break up with me: do not be a creepy stalker, because it keeps me from being amusing on the Internet. Which I live for.

prefatory posturing

2010-08-19T22:38:00.004-04:00

Our warm-up round before last week's Seamless viewing:

D: Ok, glass of bourbon in hand, Netflix open.

A Lady: K, let me pull up the moooovie

Oops just typed in "samless"

D: Hee

A Lady: (The new Kate Winslet vehicle.)

(HAR)

D: (Sean Penn's career minus one movie.)

A Lady: Oh god I can't. That last one finished it.

Oh wait.

(One Boring Summer.)

D: You win. My brain is too tired to pun.

A Lady: Firefox did not appreciate my wit: everything crashed.

D: Judgey bastard.

unsustainable

2010-08-13T00:09:00.003-04:00

A Lady has (um, had) an online shopping moratorium. I have a dating moratorium, spurred by a series of underwhelming dates and the realization that I’d rather go to yoga class/ read a book (currently: Hugh Laurie’s The Gun Seller, recommended by Helen)/ make dinner with my friends than go forth and date.

My plan is met with, shall we say, skepticism.

D: No, seriously, I am committed to this DATING MORATORIUM. I am sticking with this. The only dates I have this month are hanging-out-with-my-awesome-friends dates, and that keeps me plenty busy.

Miss North Star: How long will the moratorium stand?

D: Indefinitely. I vote through at least November.

Miss North Star: So… September?

D: Hush!

Miss North Star: You know I’m right.

D: No! I had only started doing the all-dating-all-the-time thing as of, like, this March. And that only really lasted through June. It was tiring.

Miss North Star: I'm not saying you'll go back to dating all the time…

D: Four months on, four months off. Like that farming thing where you let the land lie dormant for a while. It's good for it. Or something. I don’t know, I don’t have farmer cred.

Miss North Star: Right. Sure.

I think it's a load. I'm just going to deplete the nutrients in my soil until it's dry and desperate.

D: Ha.

Miss North Star: And then some nasty weed will take hold. And I'll get married to it.

add to cart

2010-08-11T21:19:00.001-04:00

For the record, A Lady's moratorium on online shopping lasted all of eight days. She claims that it was a necessity-purchase to replace underthings that were eaten by a dog.

In that case, every single thing I buy online is a necessity purchase to replace things that were destroyed by... um, by not having them yet. Yes. Like that.

how to date us

2010-08-11T21:16:00.002-04:00

“But I did not ask you about this, you trollops,” you say. Scroll down to the bottom of the post, note the tag “advice you did not ask us for," and just go with it.

Good Ideas/Bad Ideas for Dating D
Making an effort is required. And by “making an effort”, I mean that one must take the trouble to make plans in advance, and not just assuming that a last-minute text message is going to cause me to drop whatever plans I already have and make myself available to you. Spontaneity is cute within reason, but if you are unable to formulate a plan that includes a date, time, and location, I am going to be unable to go out with you. I joke about my color-coded calendar, but really: I have an absurdly anal-retentive color-coded calendar, and it fills up with Stuff.

Making an effort also includes things like wearing clean clothes, turning off the volume on your phone unless you have some legitimately pressing situation requiring your availability (Is your best friend due to birth a child soon? That counts. Are you waiting to see if your friends are doing anything fun tonight? That does not count; please go fuck yourself), and making me brunch. I am a total sucker for brunch.
I cannot believe that I’ve just had to clarify that one should wear clean clothes and not continually check one’s phone on a date. Fucking basic, right? You would hope so, but apparently you would be mistaken.

Flowers are also a Really Good Idea. Not stuffy Floral Arrangements, though, because those are formal and kind of weird me out: the last time I got Romantical Flowers the card said “happy one-month anniversary”, which caused me to freak out and drive to another state that night to escape the suffocating awkwardness. But: a peony in a jelly jar? I am guaranteed to adore it.

Apparently if you make me brunch and hand me a peony, I will go into a swoon.

I send pretty clear signals, really: if I make out with you at the bar/ on the street/ while hailing a cab, I like you. If I do not, well, you're going home alone.

Good Ideas/Bad Ideas for Dating A Lady
I favor tulips and calla lilies over peonies, but, like D says, simpler is better. The making an effort bit is, for me, a moot point: if I've agreed to go out with you or have asked you out, I'll already have noted that you are, in fact, making an effort.

Spontaneity is always charming, but only in a "Ooh, you didn't have to bring me coffee on your break!" kind of way. I like plans: they are something to anticipate and show that the other person is looking forward to the next time they see you as much as you are. If you call me up (NB: I hate the phone) after a week of silence and want me to do something three hours later, I will say No, on principle.

Be an adventurous eater and drinker. Make eye contact. Keep up with my horrible attempts at banter. Have rolled-up shirt-sleeves. It's okay to be a little possessive, too, if that's your thing. If you know any old school chivalry (which side of the sidewalk to occupy, whether you should let a lady walk ahead or behind you, standing when she leaves the table, etc.), that's pretty awesome. (Caveat: don't suddenly try to start putting these things in action if you haven't been doing it forever. I wish I were kidding, but I've been knocked aside and jostled by people trying to get me on the right side of the sidewalk. Not cool. Don't call attention to your manners, ever.) If you know how to partner dance and lead well, that's even better.

If you help me on with my coat, I'll go home with you immediately: you'll have just earned the James Brown Seal of Approval.

let's go to the movies

2010-08-10T23:02:00.001-04:00

Selections from our inadvertent liveblogging of “Seamless” while on gchat. I can think of few better ways to spend a Monday night than this.

D: After this day, a movie diversion is so welcome.

A Lady: Oh, I have a tub of watermelon at the ready.

D: I suggest adding vodka. Mmm, watermelon. Mmm, booze.

A Lady: Ahahaha I love this intro: "retired, bought out, retired, ABOUT TO DIE." Poor Mr. de la Renta.
Also: I live for Anna's impatient, post-speech headcocks.

D: Anna's head says "I made a point there, motherfucker.”

A Lady: True story: I hate that gay men dress me, or have any say in what I wear.

D: I want ladies to dress me. They get it.
Well, and Alber.

A Lady: And Raf.
Have I mentioned how fucking sick I am of Marc Jacobs? I get it: bows. dots. ugh.
I can't even bring myself to wear stuff of his that I already own.
Oh, P.S., did you see that? Barneys.
No apostrophe.
TAKE NOTE, READERS.
(I have few pet peeves. That is a major one.)

D: Snob approved.

A Lady: Wait, does she go by Doo.ri? The period included? Like Jennifer 8. Lee?

D: Doo.ri and Jennifer 8. Lee: they have exceeded us in pretension.
(I find it hilare that I am eating pita chips/covered in pita crumbs while watching a movie about high fashion.)

A Lady: (I wish I had a bag of baked cheetos.)

D: Oh duuuude. We should've planned ahead for that.

(Photos from the 2004 CFDA spread in Vogue are on the screen)

A Lady: do you remember any of these pics? Because I do.

D: Poor Peter Som, relegated to the background of his own shoot.

A Lady: Tom Ford trying to figure out how to say "Schouler"? Amazebomb.

D: Proenza Schouler boys: STOP SAYING CUTE

A Lady: KYUTE

D: STOP SAYING HOT

A Lady: "They fit so hot!"

D: Pet peeve. I fucking hate "cute".

A Lady: "KEEYUUUUTE"
"Why am I not...you know...enjoying my freaking brioche?"

D: "WHY AM I NOT ENJOYING MY FREAKING BRIOCHE?"
Hehehehehe.

A Lady: JINX!
Um, so: Daria. Do you remember the president of the fashion club?

D: ZOMG YES

A Lady: …and have you heard her voice yet in this movie?
Because I have. IN A MAN.
“I. Am. The president. Of. The fashion club.”

D: KEYUUUUUTE!

A Lady: HOTTTTT!

words to live by

2010-08-04T18:58:00.004-04:00

D: Hmmm. C.A. is texting.
A Lady: ?
D: Wants to go out again. I can't be arsed to reply promptly.
A Lady: So that's a no.
D: ...but I do need to get out.
A Lady: Dude. Not that much.
D: Sigh. Standards are low.
But maybe not that low.
Dunno. I have no squishy-stomach feelings for him
A Lady: That's a No, dude.
D: Word.
Who knew! Apparently I have standards.
A Lady: This is a good thing
D: I suppose.
Decent human being underneath it all, perhaps.

D: I'll likely run into him this weekend, so I have to play nice-ish til then.

A Lady: How nice?
D: Not THAT nice. Just return an occasional text, etc., rather than be a total dick and just ignore him completely.
A Lady: You are a better person than I am.
D: Well, I'm certain to run into him.
A Lady: So is he trying to date you, or just... ?
D: Dunno. He's making a half-assed effort in either case.
A Lady: Bizarre. I don't get that.
Either do it or don't.
D: I know. Either go full-on or just stfu.
A Lady: Heh. Life Wisdom.

D: That doesn't seem to be a crazy equation, non?

…

D: Aha! Just found out C.A. will NOT be around this weekend. Avoided!
A Lady: Oh word.
D: Commence ignoring him!
A Lady: Clearly you were really into this.
D: If he cannot be bothered to make ANY EFFORT AT ALL... neither can I.
A Lady: We have self-respect.
D: Well, sometimes.

Sometimes I just have inertia.

best of intentions

2010-08-02T19:39:00.000-04:00

A Lady: I am going on a moratorium: no shopping for clothes.

D: HAH. Fat fucking chance. You shop better than anyone. That would be like me saying, “I’m becoming vegan”.

A Lady: Nono, for serious. I'm not going to buy – wait, okay – I'm not going to buy anything ONLINE for a year. That should keep me in check.

D: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

A Lady: What?

D: This will never happen, L.

A Lady: Dude! I am so serious!

D: The road to hell, etc.

A Lady: That's it. C'est tout.

…

Okay, fine, not a year. Until the December sales.

D: I give it three months.

A Lady: Nono, December sales. Because that's how I divide my year: retail clearance calendars. The summer sales are just starting. I'm on hiatus until post-christmas.

D: December is a stretch goal, but it's a goal.

A Lady: Goals: I has them.

really bad at this

2010-07-31T18:37:00.004-04:00

In news that will surprise no one, this did not end well for me. Well, scratch that: the night ended well (videochat and drinks with A Lady, which was lovely), but the date itself mentioned below was high-school-dance levels of awkward.

A Lady: Are we both dating because we feel required to do so?

D: Hmmm, possibly? Though I catch myself cruising HARD lately. I'm giving myself whiplash with all the head turning. I think I am mostly dating because I want to get laid.

A Lady: Yeah.

D: Also: makeouts.

A Lady: Oh, mutual attraction. How elusive you are.

D: Hell. Seriously, hell.

So, yes, my date this week: I need a comfy-hot-bikeable-sweat-mitigating outfit.

A Lady: Cutoffs with a loose top might be ideal.

D: Hmmmmmm, cutoffs could do. I need to acquire jeans to cut off. Promising.

A Lady: Legs, but roomy.

D: Yup. Legs, always good.

A Lady: And probably less sweaty than a dress.

D: I like this. To the thrift store tonight!

(Later that day)

D: Pah. The Jewish thrift shop is closed, and I am too tired to walk to the Mexican thrift shop. I settled for $10 jeans at the Russian thrift shop.

A Lady: Ha. I love that your thrift shops have ethnicities.

D: They totally do. Hmmmm. There’s a fine line between Too Short and Awesomely Short shorts. I’m not sure that I care about that line, however.

A Lady: Daisy Dukes: which frankly, I feel are okay.

D: Agreed. I've got to work as much leg as I can, however I can.

A Lady: So. You excited for your date?

D: Actually, yes. We'll see. A text warning will be in effect from 7:30-10 pm Central, with a chance of moderate to severe self-doubt.

A Lady: Due precautions will be taken.

D: The National Date Warning Service suggests that those affected by this alert have a plan for shelter and gin.

A Lady: In case of emergency, seek shelter in front of a computer.

(the next evening)

D: OMG. The date was so bad. So, so bad.

#1: wore her retainer ON A DATE.

#2: lives with her parents.

#3: oh fuck number three, it’s time for wine and takeout.

…Well, at least I have cutoffs now. So that's something.

drumroll please

2010-07-30T20:52:00.005-04:00

All it took was two simultaneous and wretched dates and, er, three years of build-up. Ladies and gents, our first videochat, featuring cabernet and scotch. A match made in heaven.

soup of the day

2010-07-25T18:34:00.001-04:00

I was out of town for work this weekend in Our Nation’s Capitol, which was a pleasant 97 to 102 degrees the entire time, coupled with crippling humidity. At one point, my job entailed doing some damage control that left me standing outside for two hours in direct sun, which instantly swathed my entire body in sweat. I attempted to sit, but heard my dress rip the moment my sweaty body tried to move. Naturally, I was sans underwear and fervently praying that the rip didn't include both lining and dress. Ughhhhhh.

D: Oh my lord, L. Ughhh. The dress-ripping incident made me poke my fat after work. NOT GOOD. It is time for watermelon and grapes and gazpacho. And serious yoga.

A Lady: Watermelon and grapes are about all that sound appealing in this heat. Yoga...not so much. But mad props.

D: I shall rest up and hit Sunday with newfound vigor! and plates of fruit! and... many batches of blender gazpacho!

A Lady: …

D: Ooh, maybe watermelon gazpacho.

A Lady: Better. I have never ever liked gazpacho. Too watery.

D: Really? Oh man, I can practically drink a gallon of it. I don't put bread or water in mine, though, just vegetables and vinegar.

A Lady: Tomato juice yes, gazpacho, no.

D: Hmmmm. You have specific tastes.

A Lady: Very. But we knew this.

True to my word, I spent a bunch of quality time with my blender today, in the hopes that I will stop ripping dresses each time I move.

Pour vous: watermelon gazpacho!

Ingredients

about 1/3 of an overripe watermelon that has been sitting in my fridge for, um, about two weeks now

two tomatillos

a bunch of green grapes

a huge seedless cucumber, peeled and cut into chunks

a yellow bell pepper, seeded

an orange bell pepper, seeded

the juice of a lime or two

some yellow tomatoes

olive oil

salt

apple cider vinegar

Wash the grapes and vegetables, and remove their stems and leaves. Put the green stuff in the blender.

Blend. Pour out and set aside.

Put the pink stuff in the blender.

Blend. Pour out and set aside.

Put the yellow and orange stuff in the blender.

Splash in whatever apple cider vinegar is left in one's cupboard, along with a few really generous glugs of olive oil. Add about a half-teaspoon of salt.

Blend. Pour this over the pink stuff and the orange stuff and mix, then use a colander and strain out most of the solids. (This is why I don't bother to peel the tomatoes or the peppers, or to seed the watermelon. Inertia is your friend! That's why you're cooking with only a blender, after all.)

Mmm, watermelon gazpacho.

we're bad at dating

2010-07-25T15:16:00.009-04:00

A Lady: AHEM
I HAVE A DATE TONIGHT

D: WITH THE UNICORN, DON'T YOU.

A Lady: YES
YES I DO
Oh God. Will this be weird? Am I expected to be the dude?

D: This will not be weird. this will be TOTALLY CUTE.
What's the date plan, hmm?

A Lady: Drinks (typed drunks) at a bar around the corner, 8.30

D: Drunks works too.
(This weekend I was mid-whiskey flight when C.A. texted saying "what are you up to." Left in the typo after brief consideration; sent him a message saying "drankin' whiskey flights w houseguests")

A Lady: What to wear tonight...will it be weird if I've changed clothes from this morning?

D: No! She is totally gonna change clothes, too.
It's a Date, after all. An evening date.

A Lady: I'm thinking the Comme dress, with flat sandals

D: Ooh which Comme dress?

A Lady: The new one!
Black, strapless, long, casual.

D: Oooooooooooooooh. I vote yes.
Accessories?

A Lady: Earrings, bracelet, hair twisted to the side.
Minimal, in other words.

D: Swaaaaaaaaaaaank.

A Lady: But not too swank because it's West Philly, aka Park Slope.
Like, equal parts crunchy and Bugaboo

D: Heh. Vegans.

A Lady: Yup. Don't wanna overdo it, you know?

D: So hot-but-casual.

A Lady: Yeah

D: Hence the flat sandals

A Lady: Exactly.
Also, she's as tall/barely taller than I am.
And in very good shape.

D: Um, swoon.

A Lady: She's probably a pagan widow, though.
Or 20.

D: Ahahahaha

A Lady: Or lives with 10 freegans.

D: Or kicks puppies in her spare time.

A Lady: Exactly.

D: Or doesn't drink.

A Lady: Naw, meeting at a bar, remember?

D: ...where she will order a Diet Coke and say "oh by the way am alcoholic"

D: No, wait, diet SPRITE. Because she'll be allergic to caffeine.

A Lady: And wheat.

D: So really, if none of the above occur tonight: successful date.

A Lady: Standards at 50% and falling
Expect shitstorms late this evening
Possible hail of texts

D: A severe texting alert will be in place tonight. May be downgraded to a chance of hilarity with scattered horrors.

how to drink

2010-07-22T21:14:00.002-04:00

I like booze. Obviously. And while I am un-snobby about a lot of it (my well-documented and abiding love for High Life Light is Exhibit A for the jury), I am insufferably elitist about cocktails. Personal favorites: scotch on the rocks (not so much a “cocktail” as a hobby), French 75, manhattan, gin gimlet, dirty martini, Hendrick’s martini with a cucumber slice.

I had a cocktail party some months back that devolved into me doing some light shaming of a guest who was baffled as to the proper ratio of whiskey to sweet & sour. (Hint: the drink should still look like whiskey, not lemonade.) I am still dreaming of the day I acquire a bar cart for my apartment--how civilized would that be? Oh so civilized!

The main calculus when thinking about stocking one’s home bar is defining the balance between cheap and good. Where can a lady cheap out a bit so she’ll have enough money to splash out for a good bottle of scotch?

A Lady: when (re-)stocking a liquor cabinet, what should every fine filly make sure to have on hand?
so far I have: scotch (Macallan 12), gin (Plymouth)

D: also, Hendrick's gin, bourbon (Bulleit is my jam. But I am experimenting with Old Overholt right now with an infusion of sour cherries, and may switch for thriftiness purposes), scotch (I am a devotee of Laphroaig- smokysmokysmoky), vodka –it can be cheap, Smirnoff is totally fine. And snobby homemade meyer lemon sweet & sour!

A Lady: how do you feel about brandy/cognac? I feel like Calvados is a must.

D: I don't do much for brandy lately
But Calvados is a good cocktail accoutrement

A Lady: and speaking of accoutrements: vermouth (Martini and Rossi, dry)

D: + sweet vermouth
And fee bros bitters

A Lady: argh, sweet vermouth. you would.

D: for manhattans! It’s necessary!

A Lady: tequila: Don Juan?

D: My bar is understocked at the mo’. And I have zero tequila knowledge.

A Lady: I also like something unusual. Like pisco. Mine's lemon-infused.

D: Mmmm pisco! Yes! And maybe cachaça?

A Lady: mm, yes

Apparently we cheap out on vodka (quite possibly because both of us like our martinis with gin, and vodka is pretty much limited to mixing for others in my apartment, or for my own bloody mary slushies) and just go with Smirnoff. I’m eternally in love with Hendrick’s gin, but since that cucumbery-rosewatery flavor is not good for everything, I will also note that New Amsterdam is cheap and yet good. Not the best gin of all time, but my corner bodega stocks it for under $15, and it’s not discernibly cheap when one drinks it. I don’t have Plymouth around at the moment, but if it’s good enough for A Lady, it’s most certainly good enough for me. (Oooh, now I want gin.)

Bourbon: I am highly opinionated on this. Bulleit, in my estimation, is the superior bourbon. But Old Overholt has been recommended to me as a fiscally-responsible alternative, and thus far, I’m not totally horrified by it. I’ve got a batch of Old Overholt being infused with fresh sour cherries, and when I crack that open, I’ll report back.

Scotch: A Lady goes for Macallan 12-year; I go for Laphroaig and as old a bottle as I can afford. (Right now that’s 10-year. Sigh. Someone could buy me a bottle of Laphroaig Cask Strength, hmm?)

Tequila: opinionate with A Lady and educate me.

Rum: Hmm. No idea. I don’t drink much for rum. I think everyone I know drank one of those dorm-room concoctions of Captain Morgan and Diet Coke in Nalgene bottle at age 19, and then we quit drinking rum because of that, save for the occasional mojito when we want to torture a bartender by making them muddle mint leaves and sugarcane and have to spend 8 minutes making one damn drink.

Others: Pisco, Calvados, vermouths (sweet and dry), cachaça, bitters. And if you’re willing to juice a million meyer lemons and some limes by hand, I highly suggest making one’s own homemade sweet & sour mix. It’s so, so good. And after you juice all that damn citrus by hand, you will most certainly want a cocktail.

I am also of the belief that one must always keep a bottle of cava on hand, just in case. In case… you are thirsty? (Cristalino: cheap but good. And it makes a damn fine French 75, friends.)

Addendum from A Lady: a decent bottle of rioja, at least a couple years old. It’s the kind of wine you can splash out into little juice glasses or re-purposed votive candle-glasses and slam on the table emphatically when needing to make a point at 1 a.m. on a hot summer night.

act 1, scene 1

2010-07-19T15:52:00.009-04:00

Setting: Miami International Airport. Terminal D, Gate 28. International Departures.

A Lady: Heheheh white people who are Lima-bound have a uniform

Hiking shoes/Tevas

Cargo/ripstop pants

D: North Face jacketsPolo shirts/Greenpeace tshirts

A Lady: Hair that screams "Greenpeace"

D: (Jinx)

A Lady: Backpacks

Indian-print tees

Like, for serious. And they wear this stuff around Lima.

It's a metropole.

There are casinos and (cheap!) five-star restaurants.

Don't be a colonialist fuck.

D: Oooh, I bet there are ankle bracelets made of hemp, too

A Lady: Also: pith helmet. Gah.

I need to take a pic of this dude sitting across from me

D: PITH HELMET?

sweet baby jesus on toast
Sidenote: whyyyy are my lips so chapped?

A Lady: Because you have been making out too much with unsavory characters?

D: Nah, sadly. have not made out in LIKE A WEEK

A Lady: Womp womp

D: Ooh maybe sunburned from this weekend

A Lady: Too many ginsicles?

D: (No such thing as too many ginsicles.)
A Lady:

D: OH GOD THAT PHOTOA Lady: Are you impressed? Am v. undercover

D: Ninja-worthy photo skillz

You KNOW that dude eschews Christmas presents every year and just asks for a donation to the World Wildlife Fund.

A Lady: In Ling-Ling, his panda adoptee's, name.

D: YES. And it's not a Christmas gift, it's a "winter holiday donation"
A Lady: God am being catty D: It is too, too easy to be catty in an airport. All those people lined up, just ASKING for snark.

A Lady: Ugh, weather is awful, wish you were here.

naming rights

2010-07-16T18:35:00.004-04:00

It is so very unfair: A Lady has a namesake cocktail that’s all delicious and classic, and yet my best shot at imbibing my own eponymous cocktail is to frequent the same bar often enough that the bartender starts referring to a glass of whiskey as a “D”. I feel left out.

A Lady: I'll mixologize a Horst for you, and we can toast with when we meet.

D: Yay! It needs to have gin, whiskey, or champagne, fo' sho'. Otherwise the balance of my humors will be thrown off.

A Lady: Exactly. The Horst it is. I'm thinking some kind of a champagne cocktail? Champagne over muddled blueberries and lemon? Or gin muddled with blueberries and lemon, topped with champagne? Or whiskey with bitters and soda? Or a French lemonade but as follows: juice of half a lemon, 2 oz pisco, served over ice cubes in a highball and topped with soda, with a twist.

D: Oooh, boozy. Very close to a French 75- perhaps some sort of German riff on it, as I am freakishly 100% German, ancestrally?

A Lady: Bärenjäger topped with champagne, with a meyer lemon twist. Notice how I'm insisting on champagne?

Oh, brilliant. Yes, I am using this as an excuse to buy vrai champagne, and be snooty about it. After all, the bartender demands this. And if this means that I must drink those two bottles of cava currently chilling in my fridge to clear out refrigerator real estate to chill that champagne, well, I’m willing to make that extra effort.

la belle dame avec bourbon

2010-07-14T21:45:00.006-04:00

Okayokay, my turn. Readers, meet D. You might also know her as Nadarine. For Vicious intents and purposes, we'll call her D. D is fan-fucking-tabulous. She bikes in Potentially Inappropriate Outfits and doesn't give a damn. She knows how to wield a jigsaw (swoon). Her obsession with bacon occasionally concerns vegetarian me, but less for ethical and more for "I want to eat that stoppit" reasons. She fashions chandeliers, ginsicles, and stores her shoes more elegantly than you do. D introduced me to Mint.com and all its attendant guilt, viz., "Mint.com can be a cruel, cruel tyrant. But I DO love that it has a line item for weekly bar spending on my budget and does this without judging me." If you need someone to help you find a more discreet term for "drunk," D's your girl. She lets me harass her constantly, not minding when I text her at all hours about girl woes, girl triumphs, scale crises, and spending malaise.

Maybe, if we're very clever, we can persuade her to come visit me in Philthy. Or, at best, to meet up in New York and run riot. Shouldn't be too hard, no?

ladylike

2010-07-14T21:42:00.006-04:00

Now I shall, in my unprofessional capacity, introduce you all to A Lady. The Abridged Biography goes as such:

A Lady is smarter than you are, and craftier. (Behold: the reupholstered leather couch! Behold: the DIY dress!) She also has hooked me onto baked Cheetos and this lentil-avocado-greek yogurt salad thing she makes, and convinced me to watch the beyond-awful-into-hilarity Star Trek: The Voyage Home. ("But the whales! They'll drown!")*
If I am sending drunken text messages at 3:00 am, odds are that A Lady is the recipient. This is probably not very convenient for her, as she's one hour ahead of me in eastern time. Also, she has fantastically excellent hair.

*Further excerpts from our gchat during this movie:

D: OH GOD SPOCK JUST PUT ON THE HEADBAND

A Lady: KARATE SPOCK

D: Is that JIM BELUSHI IN THIS MOVIE? Oh wait no, just a random fat guy
THERE BE WHALES HERE!

A Lady: IT'S LIKE MOBY DICK. IN SPACE.
WITH SPOCK.

Tragically, we have never met. I know. Wrongful, isn't it? In fact, I have no idea what A Lady's voice even sounds like, as our friendship has taken place between blogs and emails and gchat and drunken texts. How very 21st century of us, isn't it? But we swear- we promise! we vow!- that at some point soon we are going to meet up, drink too much scotch (mmmm, scotch), swap trashy novels from the summer reading piles, and compliment each others' shoes. You, dear readers, shall be the virtual witnesses to this quest! But for now: we're going to settle in with our respective cocktails, talk shit about Ayn Rand, and continue to bookmark things that create great joy when purchasing, and great sorrow when checking one's bank account balance.

Go be a dear and freshen up my drink, would you?

without further ado

2010-07-14T21:36:00.002-04:00

Why, hello there.
You know what is delicious? Cocktails. Also, gossiping while watching bad movies. And popsicles. Definitely popsicles. Oooh, and nice lipsticks. This is essentially a compilation of Stuff We Like A Whole Lot: tasty, snarky, shiny. Cheers, darlings.