Monthly Archives: February 2008

Men’s Fashion (bonus Leap Year post)

I’m okay with guys wearing low-rise jeans, because this:

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is one of my favorite parts of a guy. Assuming he’s in good enough shape to get away with it. But as I walked past a Hollister clone today, I couldn’t help but notice that the male mannequins were wearing jeans so low that… well, those hombres better know a thorough (and gentle) waxing tech.

There was a boy at the bowling alley last night, with baggy-ass, showing-6-inches-of-his-boxers jeans and a crooked baseball cap, and I figured him to be 16 at the most. But he had a 21+ wristband! So here’s a lesson to be learned, fellas: If you want to look younger, dress like an 8-year-old with no access to a mirror. Oh, and a special note to Crooked Hat Guy’s friend: a basketball jersey that comes down to your knees is a DRESS. Stop acting tough, and realize that you’re actually cross-dressing. Badly. Trannies have much better taste than you do.

Enjoy your weekend, folks! I have given myself a full plate of tasks to accomplish. I hope to be all sunshine and flowers when we meet again.

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Made. My. Day.

Scene: Clickity clacking through the mall at lunch in my yellow stilettos, on a mission to find a white patent belt to match to my white patent shoes. Clickity clack, clickity clack…

Young, French Salesguy at beauty cream kiosk: Sweet-heart! I lahk your chooz.
Me: Hmmm? Oh, thanks. (smile; continue walking)
YFS: Oh and look, a mahtching bracelet. Verr cute. Would you lahk to try some hand crème?
Me: No, thanks. (continue walking)
YFS: Hey, come herrr for a moment. Zhust for a moment.
Me: Um, okay… (about to add “I’m on my lunch break and in a bit of a hurry,” I walk back over but my body language is two stores down the hall already)
YFS: (steps away from his kiosk, and asks very quietly) Are you ovherrr twenty-five?
Me: (blushing at the obvious-but-still-charming salesguy flattery) Yeeessss… (where on earth is he going with this? is it some kind of anti-aging cream? I’m considerably older than 25, so this line of reasoning is going to backfire on him…)
YFS: (still quietly) Will you mahrry me?
Me: (now blushing furiously) Oh! Oh, uh, thank you!

Now, if I had any actual social skills, this would have been an excellent time for me to say something like “I don’t know about that yet, but I’ll let you take me to dinner.” But I have no social skills. I blushed like mad, thanked him again, perhaps a third time, and kept walking down the hall. Smiling.

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miniblog: Now batting for your Colorado Rockies…

The Rockies had their Cactus League opening game yesterday, and beat the White Sox 7-3. Go, Rox!

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Two, Two, Two Posts in One!

Part One: Diablo Cody

Walking into a store yesterday, the woman in front of me turned around and said, “You look just like that writer who won an Oscar. For Juno. You must have people telling you that all the time.”

Um, actually, no. I don’t. But it was the second time in a week that I’d been told that I resemble some other woman who also happens to have dark hair and bangs. And heavy eyeliner. Megan and I were asked the other night if we’re sisters. Now, in both instances, I feel it’s a favorable comparison. An honor, if you will. It’s not as if I mind. But… if you saw two guys with buzz cuts, would you think they might be brothers? I don’t bear any actual physical resemblance to either Diablo or Megan.

However, when getting ready to head to work this morning, I did switch my purse contents to my leopard-print satchel in homage to Ms. Cody. Here’s to you, Diablo. And congratulations on your win.

___________________

Part Two: More than you ever wanted to think about bras

The store mentioned above was having an AMAZING sale on bras. I did not go in for bras. I do not actually need any bras. But this sale? Did I mention? It was good. I do not turn my cheek to $5 bras. I felt a little guilty when I got home. I mean, I just added six new bras to an already healthy selection. I asked Erin how many she thought was “normal” and she responded that she has about 20. She did not specify whether or not she felt this qualified as a normal amount. I asked Nick what he thought, and his take was that a gal should have one for every day of the week, or more if she has sweaty boobs. Note to guys: This is why we do not ask your opinions about these things. Not that there is anything illogical about that answer.

Owning bras is one thing, but fitting bras is quite another. It’s really simple. You measure around your chest, under your boobs. Then you measure around the fullest part. Take those two measurements, turn around three times counterclockwise, divide by the hypotenuse, and solve for X. Okay, it’s not actually that bad. But every time I measure myself according to the rules, I come up as a 34A. And I promise you, if someone were to cram me into a 34A, I’d probably have their head on a plate by the end of the day. The majority of my bras, at least until last night’s shopping spree, are a 36B (worn on the smallest hooks). Quite comfortable, no issues.

The so-so-very-pretty $5 bras that were on sale, however, were in a variety of this-is-what’s-left sizes, none in a 36B. Now, I once read an article in some magazine that claimed that you could go up or down a band size as long as you did the opposite with the cup size. Following this assertion, I should be able to wear a 34C. And, of course, there’s the whole mythical 34A theory. If you combine those, I should be able to wear a 34A, B, or C. So I decided to experiment, and bought the bras I liked in “close enough” sizes. Three 34Bs and three 34Cs. Three different brands all together, all new to my personal collection. I brought them home and decided to do a little comparison. Do you know what the difference is between a B wire and a C wire? Amongst all of my assorted bras? After holding them all up together, end to end, checking the curve… nothing. As for the perceived depth of the cups… not visible to the naked eye. I’ve been wearing a 34C all day, and while I do find the band to be too tight (on the middle row of hooks), it’s not as if I feel loose or unsupported within the cups.

Ladies, I think we’re being taken. Do any of my readers have insider information that might help?

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Aji Zukushi

I decided to take a trip to my favorite pan-Asian market on the way home today, to find myself a new (kitschy, plastic) bento box. I already have a non-divided kit, but I’m hoping to find a kids’ kit with some goofy, cartoony graphics. Super deluxe bonus if it has a matching, insulated tote. And, you know, while I’m here I may as well poke around. The prices on produce are the best around.

I walk in, I grab a use-a-basket, I turn toward the produce… and look! Right there, with all of the… okay, I don’t know what the other stuff is, but look! There are bags and bags of my favorite assortment of “wheat flour crackers.” Screw the vegetarian thingie, I’m getting the yummy crab crackers!

Fine, the rest of the shopping will be vegetarian. Hmmm, some “tofu cutlet” (looks like fried tofu to me, but is less expensive than the packages labeled as such), some… Okay, wait. I have a whole mess of broccoli and carrots and yams in the fridge. I don’t need any choy. The lily bulbs look interesting, but I don’t know what to do with them. Same deal with the banana flowers. The instant-noodle aisle takes me FOREVER to get through, now that I’m checking all of the packages for animal products. Sure, some of the packages are clearly labeled with “chicken-abalone flavor” or pictures of sliced beef, but many are too difficult to judge without reading the fine print. I finally get a packet of Vietnamese “vegetarian instant rice noodles” and also some bean threads, artificial spare ribs flavor. Wait… artificial spare ribs flavor? Seriously? The ingredients claim artificial pork powder. I’d be skeptical, but hey, the packet says “Made with Japanese technology” right there on the front! In English! The packaging also lists the ingredients in French, German, Vietnamese (as one would expect), and Japanese, because, you know, they made the technology. These are the most international noodles ever!

A new jar of furikake (free of bonito flakes), some Thai glutinous rice, and now it’s time to be more adventurous. First, I find a bag of mini pasta shells, except they’re made with rice flour instead of wheat flour. Heaven! Unusual, but not exactly adventurous. Really, to be adventurous would be to go back to the produce aisle and get those lily bulbs. But instead… I picked out a can of Thai coconut jelly. With pineapple. Not exactly going to win a medal for bravery, but the vegetarian thing does keep me (perhaps thankfully) from putting totally unknown stuff in my belly. There was a time, not too long ago, where I’d be willing to try it if I could figure out how to cook it. Unless, like chicken feet, it had visible toenails. That’s just a no-go. Also, no eyes. Thanks for offering.

After all that? I did not buy a new bento box. The store carries a small assortment of respectable Lock-n-Lock boxes, but they were not the divided variety… easier for washing, but more difficult for packing. My fingers are crossed for next time!

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new skirt

Okay, I swear, I still have plans to sew Butterick Retro ’52 B4790 before Spring settles in. BUT FIRST… I finally found the black, stretchy twill-like fabric that I’ve been looking for to make into one of the knee-length skirt options of Simplicity 5259. Now, while this might be easy-peasy for some of you sewers and seamstresses* out there, it’s still a bit of an endeavor for me. I only have two completed skirts under my belt, uh, no pun intended, and this will be the first one that I don’t plan to shortcut, and will actually use the interfacing on.

Once I’m done with the skirt, wouldn’t those capris look sweet in a red-and-white gingham, with patch pockets?

*I was going to make a joke about seamsters, but it turns out to be an actual, though archaic, word for a tailor.

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flex plan

I like meat. I like to cook meat, I like to eat meat. Mmmmm, meat. Cattle, poultry, pork, seafood, game… I have no idea what category rattlesnake would fall into, but yeah, I’ve eaten it. I’ve also had vegetarian and/or vegan friends since I entered college, and while I do offer to forgo meat in their presence, they have all been open to my eating meat in front of them. THANK YOU. Meat meat meat meat meat.

If we’re not supposed to eat animals, then why are they made out of MEAT?

In November, Erin decided to lessen her eco-footprint on the planet, and go vegetarian again. I respect that. Couldn’t do it myself, heck no, but I applaud her dedication. Except, oops, her husband was in the middle of a bacon kick. And giving her the teensiest bit of flak about her decision to do this. Just a little teasing, but Erin is sensitive. Okay, tell you what. To balance out the universe, I won’t eat meat when we eat together. Okay? I’m not really sure what balance that actually provides, but what the heck. Solidarity!

You know, come to think of it, I don’t eat THAT much meat. I mean, I love it, yeah, but I don’t COOK it that often. Too distracted to remember to thaw anything out, I have a lot of vegetarian dinners anyway. And this whole eco-footprint thing is something I can totally get behind. I recycle, carpool, use CFL bulbs, rechargeable batteries, a programmable thermostat, I buy wind power from my utility… and have you ever SEEN a feedlot? Appalling. Hmmm… Okay. Addendum to plan. I’m only going to eat meat on the weekends. Unless I’m eating with Erin. Then life is still a meat-free zone.

I’m not sure how it happened, but I have nearly stopped eating meat entirely*. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but more like the whole choose-veggie thing became a habit. I have unintentionally lost weight, which is not a bad thing. And in all honesty, my body seems to be working better. Don’t get me wrong, I am very much of the belief that humans are biologically suited to be omnivores. However, I also think that Americans eat WAY too much meat.

Now, the flip side of this coin is that I still have a freezer full of meat. Steaks. Pork chops. Chicken sausages. Bockwurst. Bacon. Heck, everything in my freezer is either Girl Scout cookies or meat. I could be a good person and donate all that meat to friends… but did I mention that I REALLY ENJOY MEAT? I can’t bear to let it go. And, you know, I never did claim to be a vegetarian… So here’s the deal. Weekends are going to be meat-acceptable again. Every weekend, I need to remember to thaw something out and eat it. Saturday: faux lobster (in my vernacular, flobster) chunks. With steamed broccoli. And it was quite tasty. But no matter how good those Costco pork chops are (and they are very, very good), I am not BUYING any more meat. For now. Heck, it’s gonna take me ages to get through what’s already in the freezer. By the time it’s gone, I’ll have a better handle on where I’m going with this.

*I went to a steakhouse with Scott on Friday, and had a STEAK. I ordered the smallest sirloin on the menu, ate half, and let Scott take home the leftovers. MY GOD IT WAS GOOD.

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