Monday, January 30, 2012

Add it to the list!

Source.

Apparently I have mentioned so many things to hate in my friend T's presence that he simply announces, "Add it to the list!" at every new bullet point. I swear I like things, I really do--and here's a post to prove it.

"Amelie."


Elle aime...animated .gif files. (Source.)

A charmingly tongue-in-cheek approach to death, as written by an obituaries editor.

Source.

Darling boys with uplifting messages.

Source.

Petticoats!

Source.

Sexy men with sweet smiles and strong eyebrows.

Source.

Bouncy songs in French!



Surprisingly, the Girl Scouts.

Source.

Sex. Robots. Sex Robot.



What does it waaaaaaaaaaaant?

Reading Between the Texts.

All the pretty hearts and sparkles that come out around Valentine's Day.

Source.

Vagina love!

Source.

Singing in an awesome choir (with concerts on Wednesday and Saturday, yippee!).

Online comics!

Source. (NSFW)

The Rhinocerous Auklet (look at its whiskers!).

Source.

That a website that is essentially a Post Secret for rabid Disney fans exists. (No judgment--I love Disney as much as the next girl...who hasn't posted something crazy on this site.)

Source.

THIS.

Source.

See? I like SO MANY things.

(Doors that tell me what to do.)

Source.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

In which I try to convince myself that I will never be a CFWG..

If this is a CFWG, I kind of want to be it. (It's a .GIF! Click on it. Source.)

In which I am obsessed with the "Carefree White Girl" blog. In which I sit on the couch and eat Cheez-Its. In which I ponder which tires to purchase for my car. In which I use the phrase "in which" too much, but I love it.

In which I love everything about this photo.

Source.


In which I try to decide whether it upsets me that my ass will NEVER LOOK LIKE THIS NEVER.

Source.

In which I decide it looks much more like this pin-up blonde's ass as she climbs into a truck, and am mostly content.

Source.

(In which I worry that members of my family will frown at my use of the word "ass," but I hate the word "butt" and "tush" sounds silly.)

In which Clara Bow is adorable and looks like Miss Pillsbury (yes, from "Glee," ugh, I know).

Source.

This morning I had my car serviced (there is no way I cannot snicker when I say that, proving that I am still not a grown-up) and my father and I went to breakfast and discussed model trains and eco-friendly mortuaries. I told him that I would sprinkle his ashes wherever he wished, if he really wanted me to, and he reminded me that it really upset me when I was little to think that I would have no gravestone to visit in the event of his cremation.

Source.

Now quite the opposite upsets me. I hate the ecological (and economical) impact of graves (though I love graves dating from the Victorian era and before--they are so pretty and so good for photo shoots and DAMMIT I'M A CFWG).

In which these Carefree White Girls are actually Carefree White Women of a Certain Age Who Still Manage to Have Cheeky Fun. Does that make it better?

Source.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

In which an alien tries to escape my abdominal cavity.

For the past twenty-four hours or so, I have been assaulted by hideous stomach pain that hits in brutal navel-to-sternum waves. Since I have ruled out most of WebMD's horrifying suggestions (Crohn's Disease, appendicitis, food poisoning), I can only assume that this is the work of a baby alien.

Luckily I don't have anything better to do while I wait for my inevitable death-by-chest-cavity-evacuation than to commiserate with this perfect article on break-ups, which inspired me to listen to this song.



It's one of my favorites, and certainly destined for karaoke soon.

Monday, January 23, 2012

BAMignite Mad Men Party.

I took A and T to the Belleve Art Museum (it was T's first time in Bellevue! Not that he's missing out on much) for a Mad Men-themed party.



We got all dolled up, and of course A and I took forever doing so, so long that I didn't have time to do my hair or makeup properly.


A wore my red dress, and I wore her lace dress.

The line for cocktails was ridiculous and we didn't feel like playing fake money Roulette, so we explored the museum.


Investigating a wolf that was vomiting up pretty pink paint and sparkles.

I loved the old furniture that was on display--it was in keeping with the theme of the party.




T liked this "Action Office." An Action Office for a Man of Action, I told him.

T looking dapper in his $1,400 suit.

After the party, we went to Knee High Stocking Company in Seattle, figuring that we had looked so nice that we ought to show it off a bit more. We sat at the bar and chatted with the bartender, Kevin (a.k.a. "Horatio), the manager, Jack, and the guy who lives above the bar, Frank. Jack let me try his "Brokedown Car Blues" drink, which was essentially an AMF, and gave me a shot of Fernet Branca. When I told Kevin that I wished I could love creme de violette but that I found it too heavy ("like drinking an old lady's perfume"), he whipped something up that tasted like orange blossoms, violets, and springtime. It was amazing. My friends thought so too, unfortunately, and when I looked away, half my drink disappeared.

We stayed until after closing, then slipped our way through the slush still on the streets to get back to T's apartment.

Things to like on one of my last lazy Mondays.



I will always love this, no matter how often I see it, even though I hate how quickly it gets to the '70s, '80s, and '90s.

From the Club Monaco 2012 Spring LookBook.

Attractively scruffy men in comfy sweaters make me want to take a boy of my own shopping.

Jaded cartoon characters!

Ha ha. (Source.)

Articles about sexual revolutions that took place centuries ago!

Creating Venn Diagrams in Paint about things I don't really care for, to better inform my friends the public.



Making things better through the magic of gold glitter.

Source.

Sparkly ankle boots!

Crafty blogs that are all in Italian.

Sleepovers where I get to snuggle between two friends like a little sushi girl.

Source

"WTF!?" Engrish moments.

Source.

The way Milo Manara draws lips.

Source (NSFW).
Tiny grilled cheeses with cups of tomato soup! Genius.

Source.
President Obama singing two seconds' worth of Al Green's "Let's Stay Together." Love.

An auspicious start to the Year of the Dragon.

Source.

Chinese New Year began yesterday, heralding another Year of the Dragon, as it did in the year of my birth. 

Source.

The Year of the Dragon symbolizes courage and prosperity. Natural born leaders, dragon people are said to excel in life; they are energetic, warm-hearted, charismatic, lucky in love and egotistical (hey!).

This website says that I am, more specifically, an "Earth Dragon." Evidently I am "more rooted in the ground," and I "make better decisions" because I act "more rationally." I am level-headed and able to control my behaviors (most of the time). I'm more "supportive of others," but I prefer "being admired by others." Guilty, I suppose.

Source.

According to their birth years, my best friends are two Rabbits, an Ox, a Snake, and a Horse. I'm supposed to be a good match with Rats and Monkeys (never!). Evidently I need to pick my friends more carefully?

I love zodiac readings and Myers-Briggs tests, because I love to see myself in the analyses of others. It's like a mirror. I love mirrors! (Amusingly, this Chinese Zodiac reading suggests a mirror as a suitable present for a Dragon.)

Today I slept until 2:30 in the afternoon, and when I awoke I was rewarded with a job offer (what do we learn from this?). That was a short-lived unemployment spree! Year of the Dragon, indeed.

"Fire cannot kill a dragon." (Source.)

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Of unemployment and of speakeasies.

Source.

I applied for unemployment for the first time in my life about a couple of weeks ago, after getting laid off for the first time ever from my first "grown up job" ever. It was a little overwhelming at the time, especially because I have to keep a job search log. At first I bristled at that, but now I find that it gives me the impetus I need to apply to at least three different job postings per week. Plus I've always enjoyed keeping lists and organizing files, so this requirement satisfies my need for order.


When I graduated, my father's girlfriend wrote this poem in a card to me. It was meaningful then in a different way than it is meaningful now. Now it gives me strength.

"Raven, teach me to ride the wings of change."

Perch where the wind comes at you full force.
Let it blow you apart till your feathers fly off and
you look like hell.
Then abandon yourself.
The wind is not your enemy.
Nothing in life is.
Go where the wind takes you
higher lower
backwards
The wind to carry you forward will find you
when you are ready
When you can bear it.

-Dr. Margaret Wheatley


Something about having all this extra time, and (for the time being) a sufficient amount of money for both necessities and small luxuries, makes me want to shop. A lot. I almost went on a ModCloth binge the other day, but reigned myself in and only bought a couple of things, like the Essential Elegance skirt that I've been pining for, and some classic high-waist black pants.



I didn't buy the Perched In Your Soul skirt, or the Precisely Plaid-Matic skirt, even though I really wanted to. After all, I'd already blown $70 on a leopard swing coat on eBay ($60 off the original ASOS.com price, and $10 under the sale price!).



I went to a Mad Men-themed party at the Bellevue Art Museum last night, and then to the Seattle "speakeasy," Knee High Stocking Company. More on all that once my friends post pictures.

Tomorrow it is off to the thrift stores! I need to satisfy this shopping bug in a more frugally savvy way.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Et bien, je suis jalouse!


Jalouse Magazine: Une Fille Comme Les Autres from Matthew Frost on Vimeo.


Way cute.

In other news, I learned the other day how to switch back and forth between an American keyboard and an International keyboard (with accents! at least for romance languages...not Swedish so much), so my blogging life is much improved.

I really enjoy seeing the words "easy" and "tarte tatin" in the same phrase, unless of course the phrase is "it isn't easy to make a tarte tatin," but luckily Little Brown Pen is saying quite the opposite.

It's interesting to me that of all the things that I like about myself, things that I consider to be gifts or talents or hobbies, my love for the French language and French style and France in general is one of the few things that I hate to see in other people, because it intimidates me. I think I shall make 2012 the year that I set aside intimidation and choose to find complete joy in everything I love, even if I can never be the Frenchiest Francophile this side of the Cascades.

Also, I need more skinny jeans and why is that gap between people's front teeth so endearing?

Wild geese.

"Winter Moon," by K. Bonnema Leslie.

I am having a moment where all I want is to find the stars and to share them with another.

"Wild Geese"

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver

Poetry underground.

I found this mural in the Westlake Tunnel and I loved the poem.


Hold my hand she says, take me higher.
Be my love supreme and my rolling stone.
Put me on the A train, strand me out on Blueberry Hill.
Time buckles and sways, dreaming in color backward and forward.
He is sunny side up when the sun goes down.
Dark alleys are saxophones, he says, not muggers.
He wakes her with a tulip between his teeth.
She loves her body when he loves it, what are the limitations of allure?
She mirrors his highs lights his lows and loses his interest.
His hat is his halo.
He leaves to escape trouble and to bring it on.
She sings the blues and plucks the dead heads off the daisies.
He is a moth the size of a small bird who has eaten his way through her matching skirts and sweater sets. She sews her holes and moves forward.
He pauses and looks back, remembering her compilation of cool curves.
He imagines turning her upside down and pouring her out, backward and forward, like slow syrup.
He says "Mama dance with me. I'm a fool for you baby."


-Gene Gentry McMahon

And the snow goes on.

I finally took advantage of my friends' snow day yesterday when I left my apartment and walked the mile to their apartments.


On the way there I saw a huge group of people gathered at the top of Denny, and immediately I knew what they were up to. Sledding!


I saw two cross-country skiers, too. And this biker. Hardcore, man.



It took about an hour and a half to get to A's apartment and my Sorrels gave me bruises on the sides of my calves, above the ankle, but I had a good time and I considered the company (and the wine) well worth the trek.

That's not a pose; that is A's normal face. Just kidding! She is adorable.

At some point we wandered around the corner to our friend T's place, where we decided to take the Myers-Briggs test (T is an ENTJ, I am an ISFP, and A is an ENFP), told each other what kind of animals we were most like (I am evidently a cat; T is a crane; and A is Carnitas), and swapped dating horror stories (notable first date quotes include, "I just like to be with you every minute."), among other things.

I hadn't thought ahead to what I would do when it got dark, so I stayed over at T's apartment. When I woke up, he made me an omelette and let me watch the first season of "The Walking Dead" on Netflix while he worked from home. Score! 

I will admit that much of my addiction to the show stems from Andrew Lincoln's pretty lips. (Source.)

Later, we ordered Thai food and watched snow fall...while we watched more "Walking Dead."


Oof. It's just unfair. (If you click on this .gif, you will see him smile! Source.)

Awesome. (Though I did have to walk up the hill to pick up the Thai food, and it was so quiet outside, and my brain was so full of zombies, that I sort of wanted to take a bat or a shovel with me, just in case the "snowpocalypse" was also a zombie apocalypse.)

Zombies love bowling.

This afternoon I decided to make my way home, and although the buses were running more regularly, it still took me just as long to get back. 

The (defunct) Chapel Bar; icicles on a railing; the patio outside Piecora (yummy pizza).

I couldn't stop taking pictures!



Two snowpeople, getting it on (those are boobs, right?).

I love the look of smug satisfaction on the top snowperson's face. (What, you don't see it?)

Freezing rain has a purpose, and that purpose is to intensify the inherent beauty in a branch or a blossom.



I love you, Snowpocalypse! So long as the power stays on and I don't run out of food. I don't want to have to eat my roommate. She's such a nice person.




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