daily randoms.

1. Today started out just fabulously. The bus driver passed me a note (I don't think I've been passed a note since the 8th grade) on a piece of the Express that read "you are a VERY beautiful woman!" So, that pretty much made my day right then and there, even if it was a little skeezy. I'm going to focus on the cuteness of it (and him!).

2. After my joyous bus experience, I got in the elevator with the craziest woman I've ever dealt with. There were about 4 other young people in the elevator with us and we all just cracked up as soon as she got out. She told one guy he was "sweating like a porpoise" and asked a girl reading Harry Potter if she ever put it down, seeing as she was reading the elevator. She went on and on about her grandkids and how much they loved it, and she called everyone "baby" and "sugah." Oooo, I want to see her again tomorrow!

3. The trash-talking on the Yelp boards is now in full swing, and I proposed a little stand off tonight at Pangea. I've decided that dance fighting is the only way to go, as it is oh-so entertaining. This is what I've got in mind:



or


I mean, who's to say that real life can't include dance fighting??

my childhood, via youtube.

I've been doing some major reminiscing....













Just try to get through some of these without singing along. I swear every word comes back to you. Oh man, I miss the good old days.

i normally treasure these moments.

Typically, I feel rather flattered/ecstatic when I see a celeb sporting something that I have in my own closet. For instance, Stacey London wore a cardigan I've got on one episode of WNTW and Reese Witherspoon and I have the same running shoes. Woo. Yay for me.


The thing is, I've never had the unfortunate experience of seeing something I own on a walking fashion disaster. Until today.



Those were my favorite summer sunglasses. Dammit.

daily randoms.

1. I was just behind a blind man with his seeing-eye-dog in CVS (yes, I was desperate for my 4:30 pick me up of a Diet Coke and Swedish Fish). I was not at all impressed by the black lab's ability to direct the man to the register or follow the man's nearly silent commands. No, this dog was face-to-face with the candy section and didn't touch a single thing. I mean, his snout was in the peanut M&Ms and he didn't even take a little sample. I can't even resist that kind of temptation. I believe this is why my precious Tabby will never be a service dog. But hey, at least she's cute:

2. I just went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and realized something was amiss! I forgot to put on my orgasm this morning! And, let's face it, a day without orgasm is like a day, well, without orgasm.

3. Tomorrow is Friday, and it's a big Friday at that. I've got an interview at a faboo little boutique in Georgetown, a meeting for a big event next week, and then out to dinner! That calls for a lot of outfits and a lot of outfit planning tonight. I'm headed to the gem room at the Smithsonian shortly to hang out with my bff, my lover, my dreamboat, and all my other friends, but after that there is most definitely a fashion show in my future.

4. Yes, you got 3 posts today! Doesn't that just make you want to piddle your pants? A little bit? C'mon!

yay.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/07/17/AR2007071701808.html

In addition to driving a Hummer, this douche has chinstrap facial hair. He deserved it.

vogue.

I finished Harry Potter in a mere 52 hours. If you take out 20 hours out for work, 18 hours for sleep, and 3 hours at happy hour last night, that means I really only had 11 "available" hours in which to eat, drink, socialize, and read the book. At 652 pages, I view it as quite a feat, especially when I count in the 10 minute break I had to take in the Potbelly's bathroom to compose myself after a particularly emotional part (I don't give away any details). It was a good warm up for this weekend, I'm sure.

Ok, in other news:
I know it's a little random, but I love Winona. I really do. I mean, Heathers, Reality Bites, Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands, Little Women... such memories of my childhood. She had that little freak-out with the shoplifting thing, but I still think she's fabulous.

No one can pull off a pixie-cut quite like she can and those big brown eyes work perfectly on the big screen. I usually like her style (she's a ridiculous Marc Jacobs fan) although I think she wears too much black, which is why I ADORE this Vogue cover shot. The jewel tones are perfect on her and I just love that she has always embraced her porcelain skin. I recently saw a picture of her with Eva Mendes (they were at Fashion Week together... otherwise, I just wouldn't be able to explain that pairing) and Eva looked disgusting. Ew. As much as I like getting a little color in the summer time, Winona reminds me that pale can be beautiful, too. It's obviously helped her age well: she looks better than she did when she was 25. Welcome back to the celeb world, Noni (get out while you still can!).

sorry, too busy to post.

No, it's not work or a budding social life that's keeping me away from you, my loyal readers. It's a little boy named Harry Potter. I've got to re-read the 6th book before the final one comes out... which honestly shouldn't be a problem. I read 300 pages yesterday.

Which Hogwarts house will you be sorted into?

My coworker husband is also in Ravenclaw...we'll call him Write. We had this exchange about our Hogwarts status:

Me: Apparently we wouldn't have made it in to the books, unless we were really good at Quidditch.

Write: well, we could die awful deaths without compromising any important characters...that's something, right? I bet you ravenclaw's common room is sweet.

I believe this is precisely why we didn't make it into Gryffindor or Slytherin. Damn.

"she dresses like a gypsy!"

Sorry I've been so MIA with posting this week. There's no real reason for it, just feeling lazy in the summer.

I've got a particularly crazy coworker who is, quite possibly, one of the meanest people I've ever known. Let's call him Crazy Bill (I'm obviously not feeling creative here). He says bad things about just about everyone in the office whenever he's annoyed with them, which is often. He confides in Erin pretty often, so I asked her if he had ever said anything about me. The quote above was from yesterday, when he was trying to show his displeasure in my taste. I found the comment absolutely hysterical. In comparison to the things I know he says about other coworkers, this is very tame and I find it (though unintentional) rather endearing.

I spend far too much time thinking about my style and how people may perceive me in that style. I like to look different, but my budget doesn't allow me to delve into anything too fancy: I'm usually stuck at Forever 21 and Gap like the rest of the world. My roommate (let's call her Bex) and I were having a conversation about this not too long ago. I hate how style has become so casual and laidback: I really don't like jeans and flip flops. If I had my way, I would wear dresses and heels every day with matching hats, maybe gloves. Basically, time warp back about 60 years. Unfortunately this just isn't practical today: people wouldn't care, wouldn't appreciate it, etc. Also, the time-honored tradition of custom made clothes as been completely uprooted by the ready-to-wear business which makes it difficult to find clothing that doesn't look like everything else out there. I wish dressmakers were still affordable, where I could bring in my fabric and get something that fit me perfectly and totally matched my style. Instead, I've got to buy run of the mill things and attempt to make them look special, but I find myself falling in a rut all too often.

Now, maybe if I could learn how to sew decently, I could enjoy working on some of these:

al's my man.

I sincerely hope you all watched Live Earth on Saturday. I got up at about 9:30 with plans to head down to the show at the Mall, but considering it was a bajillion degrees outside and it wasn't supposed to be much of a show, I decided against it. Instead, I stayed in and watched the performances from other countries... for about 6 hours. No joke.

Most of the performances were incredible, but further research this morning proved that Bravo didn't show some of the best ones. I mean, Damien Rice and David Gray performing Que Sera Sera TOGETHER?! Very very cool. Bravo also failed to show Bloc Party, Toni Colette and the Finish, Jack Johnson, or UB40. No fun. Luckily I can watch everything on MSN. Sting and the Police were incredible (not surprising) as were the Smashing Pumpkins, Beastie Boys, and Madonna with Gogol Bordeloo doing "La Isla Bonita"... sooo good. Even James Blunt impressed with his rendition of Cat Stevens' "Wild World." Jane Goodall was there, which is pretty incredible. She was even more impressive with her chimpanzee impression.

I thought the Live Earth program did a great job of focusing on the idea that I was taught as the "Tragedy of the Commons," which, in sum, recognizes the importance of the individual as part of the larger group. If we each take a small step, the impact will be massive. While big changes get a lot of press and make an impact on our surroundings, they certainly are much more difficult to orchestrate, take time to get passed through legislation, and put the work in someone else's hands. If we each become responsible for ourselves and our actions, things can change very quickly and very drastically.

I'll get off my soapbox, but I just wanted to highlight this incredibly important event and its possible impacts around the world. I hope it works... we've started on this way too late.

won't you be my neighbor?

My office building has these ridiculous flat screen TVs in the lobby and in the elevators. They post news headlines, weather reports, words of the day, and other random-ass crap. Today they posted a particularly disturbing theory: Mr. Rogers is to blame for the narcissism of youth today. W.T.F.

Further research led me to a blasphemous article in The Wall Street Journal. That's right, folks, a supposedly credible newssource is blaming Fred Rogers for the corruption of our children.

The supposed "problem" with Mr. Rogers is that he taught us all that we were special and are loved just the way we are. Instead, he should have been telling us that there is always room for improvement and we need to work hard in order to be loved or viewed as a contributing member of society. I'm all for teaching hard work, but what is so wrong with feeling special?!? As much as I feel that our generation is consumed by ignorant, self-fulfilled twits, I also believe that there is not nearly enough love. For many kids, Mr. Rogers was probably the only person who ever made them feel special, and I thank him for that. The problem with our generation is not Mr. Rogers, it's the parents who believe they can buy their children's love and that sentiment is passed on to the children. The article in the WSJ discusses a professor who is sick of his students pestering him for extra points. Mr. Rogers didn't do that buddy, the parents who bought their kids toys to keep them quiet did.

Mr. Rogers is an icon of all that is right in the world. He was peaceful, intelligent, friendly, and made those around him happy. What more can you ask for?

The U.S. Senate (take that, WSJ!) issued the following statement about Mr. Rogers shortly after his death:

"Through his spirituality and placid nature, Mr. Rogers was able to reach out to our nation's children and encourage each of them to understand the important role they play in their communities and as part of their families. More importantly, he did not shy away from dealing with difficult issues of death and divorce but rather encouraged children to express their emotions in a healthy, constructive manner, often providing a simple answer to life's hardships."

And finally, to prove that Mr. Rogers promotes good behavior, I'll tell you my most favorite Mr. Rogers story. Mr. Rogers drove a Chevy Impala for many, many years. One day it was stolen out of the TV studio lot. A reporter happened to be with him when he found out and the story was quickly broadcast on newstations across the country. Within a few days, the car was returned to its spot at the studio with a note that read "If we'd known it was yours, we never would have taken it!"

RIP, Mr. Rogers. Shame lies in the WSJ and their ridiculous writings.

happy birthday, 'merica.

I know it's not officially the 4th, but I will not be at work tomorrow and therefore will not be blogging. How I love national holidays.

It's kind of crazy being in DC for the 4th. Everyone is so.... patriotic. This is my first Independence Day not spent in southern Florida in many, many years and it's kind of weird. I usually spend the 4th laying out on the beach, eating some barbeque with my ridiculous family and getting a wee bit hammered without letting Nanny know, and then heading back to the beach to watch the fireworks be lit off a barge out in the Atlantic. This year will most definitely involve the barbeque, drunkeness, and fireworks, but no beach. Boo. I'm headed to a big barbeque at a coworker's house in Georgetown and then over to Sam's rooftop to watch the fireworks. The goal is to avoid the mess of the Mall, but I've got to admit that it'd be pretty cool to see everything from that level. I think I'd want to sit on the steps of the Lincoln, but it's just not worth staking out a spot at noon. DC puts on one of the best shows in the country, so we should be fine viewing it from Chinatown.

Besides the food, I think my favorite part of the 4th is just that everyone seems genuinely happy. The 4th doesn't bring the stress of gift-giving like Christmas, people want to be outside, and *most* people get over all the political bullshit and enjoy being American, at least for a day. I can't wait to hear the Star Spangled Banner butchered by over the top singers, make a cake that looks like a flag, wear my white jeans, and listen to Bruce Springsteen.