Posts from January 31st, 2011

date night

January 31, 2011


hunky and i continue the courting into our third year of marital happy.

we adhere to a strict date night rule.

{basically only that we have one, once a week}

me and him. him and me. face to face. well, more like my forehead to his chest. he is rather tall, my fella.

he talks, i jabber, he listens, i devour, he laughs, i shriek.

he smiles. i melt.

and although he typically misses the fashion fabulousness i bring to our evening’s out,

he never neglects to make me feel choice and only.

maybe it was truffle oil frisée or the french fries with cinnamon ketchup?

but this weekend’s date night still has me blushing.

 

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robbed

January 28, 2011

nothing against the other nominees, but the the ivy must be serving funny mushrooms in that grilled vegetable salad.

how else could such colossal neglect have occurred?

the tom ford gown alone would have been enough to get her on the ballot you buffoons!

best dressed aside; she is, in my opinion, the top girl in her game.

has been ever since her as the world turns days.

{yes, i watched her even then}

never the same lass twice, and never forgettable.

well, my only hope is that since she now has the night of march 25th free; she’ll be somewhere else, filming something even more fabulous for me to see next year.

images

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my magic formula

January 27, 2011

today i have a 10am call time.

regrettably, last night’s sleep count clocked in at a dismal 4 hours.

lucky for me there is a solution to the done in mess that is my face…..

 

hair

makeup

 

and fairy dust.

 

 

image for source

 

 

 

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care for a twirl?

January 26, 2011

everywhere i look, emerald seduction.

yards of drapey, flouncy, twirly skirt;

flashing me in my most adored color.

katie-land {a more fetching word than brain doncha think?} is already fancying up story-lines where i strut this splendid swaddle.

scene 1

my meeting with the big guns:

armed with pluck and groove, i wordlessly say it all with my style.

get outta my way boys, i wear the pants in this room.

scene 2

when the boy i’m soft on turns up,

my shoulders and defenses come down.

i’ll need pretty pleats that swish and sway for dancing slow spontaneously in the kitchen, or while waiting in line for peppermint ice cream.

he doesn’t need music; i don’t need a dance-floor.

scene 3

when the dames want to yuck it up with tequila shooters and ‘woo to the hoo’s’ at the bar;

i’ll have just the right sass and shake circling my hips to get that 4th round on the house.

scene 4

{yes, i know it’s not a skirt. but it’s fucking celine. make an exception here}

scene 5

she rarely comes out….but the vamp exists.

dark lighting, dark rum, and a dark, kelly green helps.

hold on to yer hats and glasses, her mouth is foul and her humor filthy.

scene 6

a fairy skirt for fairy-tale endings.

swirling fantasy and imagination from my ankles up to my eyes.

fabric so fancy miss scarlet herself would be itchy with envy.

i’m inspired to create, love, and kiss.

scene 7

this is the girl i long to be the most.

the explorer. the traveler. the nomad.

she’s on a street somewhere, passport in her pocket; half on assignment, half playing hooky.

no blackberry, laptop, ipod, or watch.

the city is her soundtrack, the sun keeps her time.

the freedom.

it almost hurts.

 

thank you for twirling with me m’loves.

 

 

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method of mourning

January 25, 2011

 

tonight is a big audition; a gut wrenching scene.

a september 11th survivor, a mother of a toddler, a woman bereft of her best friend.

i am none of these.

my preparation has drained me of all of light. i feel hollow and broken.

my condolences to the hand which tries to glue me back together.

i’ll never know even a sliver of a real victim’s agony.

thus more reason to honor them with every cell of my scene.

in gratitude.

 

image for source.

 

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busted

January 24, 2011

i have a problem.

i can’t stop eating the peanut butter in our house.

right there out of the jar.

heinous and uncouth.

please, if ever you are our guest, and are offered a sandwich with this said condiment, insist that we use a fresh, unopened bottle. otherwise you are subject to a peanut butter ravaged and abased with my passed, unstoppable spoon dips.

 

i try to qualify my food crime with buying organic, unsalted, sugar-free peanut butter.  in the end though, when you’re scraping the bottom of the glass, and your peasant blouse fits like lycra…..does it really matter?

last week i had had enough. i trash canned ALL the peanut butter in the house.

out of sight out of mind. out of my mouth.

{maybe the silverware will go next}

all was going so well until hunky hubby wanted his saturday peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

him: where’s all the peanut butter?

me: uh. well, ah…hmm. ahh….don’t i look cute in this dress?


20 minutes later my beloved returned from the market with a jar of…..skippy.

skippy?!!!??

skippy, in like annette funicello?

skippy, where the ingredient list has sugar before peanuts?

if ever a label could boast its hydrogenated oil content this one does.

remind me of this when i’m checking in for my bypass surgery.

YouTube Preview Image

happy monday m’loves, this youtube walk down memory lane has me major crushing on annette’s hair;  i’m dashing to the salon.

oh, and yes, i finished that goddamn jar of skippy too.

 

 

 

click image for source

 

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happy weekend

January 21, 2011

m’loves, riddle me your plans of weekend treat.

i will be working the whole way through.

{giant, dramatic, lea michele sigh}

i hope you’re getting a giggle from these silhouettes.

designer, wilhelm stahaele, handcuts these vintage silhouettes,

and then adds his own tasty dash of naughty and quip.

each had me chuckling louder than the next.

{ill advised when sitting alone, attempting to maintain that grunge, frustrated writer, coffee house look.but now that i think of it, my extra shiny penny loafers and cotton candy pink ribbon bracelet ridiculed any angst image i was trying to create}

who am i kidding? i’m a preppy poser at heart.

according to wilhelm’s website, when he’s not frightening small children with his disfiguring looks he schleps his works for profit.

i’ve saved my favorite for last.

shitstorm is a pet and prized term in our household.

we use it like mustard. and we put mustard on EVERYTHING.

{last night i had a touch of egg salad with my mustard}

happy weekend dears.

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hey mr tangerine man, play a song for me

January 20, 2011

not much to say today.

other than:

orange you glad it’s thursday?

images

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a step back

January 19, 2011

oodles of ravishing shoes in our world.

fancy shapes, heights, and designs.

fetching to me may read utterly ridiculous to you.

we find beauty in our own way. it should be personal.

i tend to forget this.

yesterday i forgot my kinship to someone who is struggling.

why would that person act like that?! i would NEVER do it that way!!

{especially in such put together shoes}

but shame on me;

who am i to really know until i’ve walked in theirs?

 

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the heat is on

January 18, 2011

whilst the rest of the country is enjoying flurry and frost,

we’re bikini-clad and burning up in california.

balls to boiling temperatures in january.

i’m one of the few who actually dislikes this warm weather botch.

give me back my stormy, grey, blustery winter stat!

off to find a weatherman…….

image

*disclaimer: i know i used the ‘we’ pronoun earlier. but this girl is in no way shape or form bikini-clad. more-like ‘blazer, knee-socks, jeans, and hat’-clad.

signed,

always freezing no matter what the temperature says

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