“Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can.” ~Danny Kaye
Earlier today I became thoroughly and shockingly annoyed over the apathy of others. I demanded response and some sort of commentary to a new Obama administration appointment and instead no one shared the joy, wonder, curiosity and overwhelming amount of giddiness that erupted upon hearing of a thisclose vacancy in the United States House. As much as I dislike apathy towards politics I find my reaction to the apathy a bit deplorable. Who am I to be judgemental and tell people that they should care about Sonia Sotomayor or John McHugh? Why should I be the one to tell others that how a presidential candidate feels about a woman’s right to choose or Plessy v. Ferguson will end up impacting generations? That isn’t my job and yet the way it maddened me today. It was so…well…it was unnecessary. And I totally take back when I said – behind your back – that if Neil Patrick Harris was giving someone a blow job on my bed then you would care more than who Obama was appointing to very high powered positions. I’m sorry.
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On Sunday evening – pre the day of self righteous bitch ass behavior – I burned three of my fingers on my right hand. I burned them after I put METAL into the microwave so I could make tea because I couldn’t find my normal tea making accouterments. So there I was grabbing hot metal, fleshy fingers first out of the microwave. Good news is that in the event that I commit a serious felony I have no finger prints. Bad news is that I’m using the hunt and peck method when it comes to typing. There’s also a ruined manicure and my father was rather disappointed by my Vulcan salute because my fingers are so effed up that I can’t tell anyone to ‘live long and prosper’ with the proper enthusiasm.
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I think I’ve spent the last three weeks without telling you that I’ve started writing at MamaPop again. I’m…and I’m loathe to admit this so I’m taking deep breaths but it’s not nearly as bad as Holly crying during Speidi’s wedding so I really shouldn’t care…..I’m doing recaps of The Real Housewives of New Jersey(1, 2, 3). And I fucking love it more than is appropriate. Especially that Caroline. The Carmela Soprano of the group who will fuck a bitch up in a minute.
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I leave for DC again next week. I’ll have to update my suggestions but that is the least of my worries right now. I keep flipping through my paper planner to July and then I flip back. I then I look at July again and then I flip back. Rinse and repeat. It’s because I need a Klonopin every time I think of July. The running around and the multiple experiences with TSA and how I’m going to pack and the number of tattoos I will be getting and suddenly I’m awake at 2:30AM thinking about standing by myself at BlogHer because EVERYONE HATES ME.
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Last night I lived my worst fear: I saw my therapist at the bar. I’m not really supposed to be drinking. We pretended not to know each other. Let’s just say I’ll have some ‘splaining to do about that goblet full of (shitty) Meritage.
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I’m posting now in hopes that tomorrow comes sooner. I’m awaiting a special package at the suggestion of Karen and OMFG I cannot wait to show you guys and also I owe Karen a kiss. And this chick needs some practice like whoa.
Excuse me, Miss, did you know that there are boobs on your skirt?
“Clothes are never a frivolity: they always mean something. ” ~James Laver
So when I lived in Spain there was this store I loved called Desigual. They had all that cool stuff that was kind of off beat and perfect for pretending to be European and then when people commented on where you got that great skirt you could say, “Oh, in Spain” and be one of those obnoxious people who talk about their trips to Europe all the live long day.
While in NY a few weeks ago I thought my eyes were deceiving me when I saw a Desigual right there in SoHo. “Joy!”, I thought, “I will go in there and see what they’ve got”. I figured a skirt would be nice so a skirt I purchased and tra la la’d my way to dinner.
I finally wore the skirt on July 4th. It was cool and abstract and something you couldn’t find just anywhere. There was no reason to try to understand the design because It just is. That’s art. Alana thought it was cute. She even said so. And I was like thanks, you’re cute too. Nothing makes you feel good like a skirt that’s fun when you’re normally wandering around in the same jersey knit dresses as every other Suburbanite.
On Wednesday I was looking for something other than a dress for work and figured Hey! My awesomely fantastic skirt will do! I was all excited. I sauntered into thinking nothing of it. I was in a good mood. I looked good. I felt all bad ass and shit.
I even went to my mother’s side of the office to chat up with a coworker when my mother came around the corner.
“Cute skirt”
“thanks! I got it from this Spanish store I found in SoHo!”
“Wait, what’s that on it?”
“…” I look down. “Nothing. I don’t even know”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate for work”
“What?”
“That would be perfect for outside of the office or on Martha’s Vineyard but not in the office”
“Why???” I asked both perplexed and incredulous. Why is that woman always trying to harsh my buzz?
“Heather, that’s a little too risque”
“WHAT?”
I go into my mother’s office.
“Don’t you see that? That the people on your skirt are anatomically correct?”
I look down at my skirt. I look closer. I can feel my entire face burning up.
“Do you see the penis?”
“Oh shit!”
“Do you see the breasts?”
“OH SHIT!”
My mother laughs hysterically at how cute an naive I am to not have noticed that there is a very graphic love scene being portrayed on my outfit.
I keep saying “OH SHIT” and she keeps laughing.
I run out of her office and call Alana to say, “Hey, ummm, did you notice anything odd about my skirt the other day?”
“No, why? Was it on backwards”
“THERE ARE BOOBS AND A DICK ON MY SKIRT”
“Oh, I thought it was just cool and abstract”
So did I.
(Click on the photos so you can see exactly where everything is placed)
I called Susan to be like “HOLY FUCKING SHIT THERE’S PORN ON MY SKIRT”
“You should wear it at BlogHer” she replied after snorting and doing that laughing so hard it’s silent routine
“Oh yes”
“I can be like, ‘One of my friends has porn on her skirt, the other has seven kids. Which one freaks you out more?’
If you’re looking for me on Thursday I’ll be the one going around saying check out the boobs I’ve got going on below my waist.