Tag Archives: fashion

SXSW: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Many of you may wonder what kind of horrible disease I must have caught that caused me to take a 2-day hiatus from blogging. After all, what do I even have to do other than write commentary on desserts and breast size?

Well, this week has been particularly busy. Droves of tech nerds, musicians, and hipsters have invaded my fine city to take part in the epic adventure that is SXSW. And I am in people-watching heaven.

Here is a brief summary of my adventures thus far:

The Good

SXSW means many things to many people. To me, it means free everything. My friends and I were awarded these lovely passes for having breasts. Did we take offense to this? No, we took a lovely evening of open bar, free sushi, and a live show by Jimmy Cliff instead. Thanks, creepy man with a cigar for your generosity.

Not all of the parties were quite as high-class, so we switched to some good old fashioned Texas beer when the champagne selection came from a box.

The Bad

Last night was sadly the low-light of my SXSW spree. Not because of the place or people, just because I was feeling down. It began with this bag of wine and ended with a very grumpy version of me whining until I passed out in the car.

One poor soul tried to approach me and make a connection. He asked if my eyelashes were real. When that shockingly incited no conversation, he incorrectly guessed what type of cellphone I was using to try and impress me. Then, he mostly stood there and stared like a drunken zombie.

Thank you for your inquiry, sir, but I am currently not accepting applicants with IQs under 60. Should my intelligence requirement be lifted, we will be in touch. But don’t hold your breath. I also bite. Not in a sexy way.

The Ugly

The people-watching at SXSW is incomparable. I want to rip some of the outfits off of the women and run away with them until I reach my closet, which I hear is the next craze in how to shop.

Other outfits are not only less desirable, but down right vom-worthy.

Exhibit A

Home girl needs some Stacy & Clinton in her life. Or at the very least a different pair of socks.

Exhibit B

What kills me is that I actually like her shirt. Just not awkwardly layered, and with neon bra straps a’ blazing. But the shoes leave me speechless – are they rain boots? wedges? cowboy boots? I’ll just call them “ugly.”

I have nothing more to say about this photo. So in summation…. SXSW is great. I cannot say the same for all of the wardrobe selections.

And here is my fake smile.

As one of my friends always signs off… kisses and blow jobs. (think about it. xoxo?)

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The ShoeDazzle Swindle

Since my annulment, I have been through a lot of therapy. Sessions generally last about twenty minutes and take place on the most fabulous online clothing & accessory boutiques. Like any good therapy, it’s expensive, but my family fully supports me getting the help that I need to heal. And how do they expect me to move forward in life without great shoes to walk in?

ShoeDazzle became a fast favorite for this retail therapy of mine. The shoes are high quality and all priced at a reasonable $39.95. Recently, I logged on and began browsing their latest contraptions for stepping on my ex-husband’s man parts in style. To my utter delight, I saw that I had been awarded two free credits. TWO FREE CREDITS! I pinched myself, for this could not be happening. Two pairs of beautiful shoes, $0.

These ShoeDazzle folks must have sensed my large influence over today’s fashion and rewarded me with free footwear, I thought.  I have been waiting for this day my entire life.

But alas, I was mistaken. They failed to appreciate my reach to 150 blog followers and a handful of impressionable young children.

Upon further investigation, I found $40 monthly charges trickling out of my bank account and straight into the greedy hands of ShoeDazzle employees. I was outraged. Tormented! My shoe minions had betrayed me. So much for my dramatic ascent to peep toe glory.

So what am I to do? The only way to purchase their wonderful products is to be a member. The only way to not get charged every month is to click a “skip the month” button by the 5th, which we all know I will never do.

I’m torn. I feel betrayed and swindled, plus I really hate that they send me emails from Kim Kardashian. Because I totally care what shoes she is wearing next time she tries to annul her marriage. I started that trend, Kim. And I was wearing my own fabulous shoes doing it.

So the question remains… should I stay, or should I go?

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Shoes Heal The Heart

As you can imagine, the months following my breakup (from my husband…. nbd…) have been full of ups and downs. Between sobbing in the middle of Macy’s and living it up with multiple one-night stands, life has been interesting.

Yesterday, I wondered what life was like for my ex. Usually, I like to picture him eating day-old fried chicken in his boxers and crying into the empty bucket when it’s gone. But for some reason, yesterday’s curiosity couldn’t be satiated by these hypothetical images. So I decided to look on his Google+ Profile.

Normally, his posts relate to very boring technology news and are supplemented by idiotic comments that use improper grammar (I always knew that should have been a red flag). The latest one, however, was a photo album from Austin’s “Carnaval Brasileiro”…which is apparently an excuse for men to look at women who are wearing only body paint.

My ex sported an open shirt, showing off his newly-waxed chest. Oh baby. Why did I ever let you go. He has many pictures with naked women (yay), but the ones that really bothered me were with normal-looking girls. Nice, wonderful girls who should be warned! The last thing on earth I want is for some unsuspecting female, much like myself, to fall for him. I just want to staple this notice to his forehead so badly:


Ladies, if you see this chest, RUN. RUN AWAY SO FAST. And he should be really upset that he no longer has me to tell him how much he looks like a tool in white pants. Disgusting.

Anyway, my day was very much brightened when I cam home to TWO lovely boxes from ShoeDazzle sitting on my porch. I think I’ve got butterflies again 🙂

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Sunday Sunshine: Charleston Edition

Today, I am en route from Charleston to Austin. Let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like a Sunday at the airport. The smell of overpriced chinese food, the jolting boom of the loudspeaker, the unshakable chill that almost makes you want to pay $5 for a plastic-wrapped blanket… hard to beat this ambiance.

The purpose of my four-day Charleston getaway was to get in some girl time with my college roommates. Last time we saw each other, two of them were walking down the aisle with me toward my future husband. It’s amazing how much life can change in less than a year.

My favorite (and also most difficult) moment of the trip took place on the beach. As we walked to the ocean, I thought about all of the beaches I had been to with my husband. I thought of the time my kite carried me off the ground and I was flipping down the beach – stopping only when he caught my jacket and we both thudded to the ground bursting with laughter. I thought of when we built a sand damn just to see how many waves it could withstand, high-fiving each other with every success.  Of venturing out on perilous-looking rocks, seeing who could find the most tiny crabs. Of falling asleep in the sun and applying aloe to each other’s backs for days. Of salty kisses when I could barely keep my head above water. Of lying in a hammock suspended over the water on our honeymoon, not wanting for anything in the universe but each other.

Everything rushed back to me at once and behind my sunglasses, I started to cry. I tried to ride out the memories in silence, but fortunately, I got caught. Then, four of my best girlfriends surrounded me in the most epic of group hugs. I wish there was an aerial camera to capture that beautiful memory, along with the strange looks the passersby must have been giving us. It was something I’ll never forget.

Charleston brought me joy, pain, and a strong distaste for pastel-colored pants. Along with that, it brought some nice tidbits of sunshine. So without further ado and sappiness, let’s get to the goods.

1. Rustic Gold Jewelry: I am a sucker for dangly earrings. I feel so glamorous and indie chic with these. The best part is that they are super light and only cost $6 at the open marketplace in Charleston. Amen for knockoffs.

2. Goat Cheese: This is a favorite of mine in any state. I could have it in my breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert and die happy. Though I’d rather stay alive so that I can eat more of it. This delicious baguette topped with goat cheese and roasted tomato came in a little lunch bundle with red wine and tomato bisque- all for $8. I have to wonder what they do to the goat cheese in Texas to make it so much more expensive.

3. Casual-Chic Hairdos: One of my girlfriends made this tiny half-braid in her hair for a casual day of urban hiking (aka walking around town). I have always had hair envy for her mermaid locks of gold, but it was exacerbated when she pulled off this beautiful do. Since we live in different states, I am deeming it completely acceptable to rip this off and call it my own when I get back to Texas.

4. Springtime Flats: Measuring in at just above 5’2″, I have a general aversion to flats. They make me feel stumpy, small, and like a fatter, squished version of myself in heels.  However, in the interest of my still-mildly-sprained ankle, I have put all my beautiful heels in temporary confinement and invested in some new flats. And guess what? I don’t hate them! They are sassy, feminine, fun, and perfect for springtime (which starts in a couple of weeks for us Texan folk).

5. Wrought Iron Details: One thing I loved about the deep south was the intricate decor and paint work on the exterior of the homes. I love using white wrought iron indoors to give a modern-vintage feel. If I could steal this from the window, I would put it up on my new red accent wall in a heartbeat. I would also probably be in jail.

Happy Sunday, my friends! May your day have fewer shrill baby screams and less motion sickness than mine.

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Why I Could Never Live in the South

This weekend, I am visiting the “Deep South” for the very first time. All in all, it’s splendid. The houses are sprawling and beautiful, the weather is great, and the people are quite friendly. Nevertheless, this trip has convinced me that I could never, EVER live here.

For me, poor little Charleston, SC is in horrifying violation of all my favorite categories. Here’s why:

Food: Food and I are best friends. We enjoy each other’s company more than the recommended three times a day, and we have an agreement that if I promise to chew gently, it won’t direct itself to my thighs. The food in the south, however, has a mind of its own. Something about frying it breaks the pact, and I feel it seeping into my arms, making them jiggle as I wave. No- southern food and I are not getting along. And I am going to have a wardrobe that is not very happy about it when I get home.

Fashion: I don’t know what this phenomenon about dressing for Easter all year round is here. I feel like I’m in a really terrible claymation movie with giant rabbits who turn all the little people into pastel-colored clones. I am getting a fair amount of death stares for wearing immodest neck-lines that are not of a brand name or delicate hue. I even wore red lipstick last night (gasp!) and I am pretty sure some girl was mouthing “hussy” at me for it.

Beauty: Okay, I love my hair. It’s long and malleable and easy to flip around as a casual mating call. It’s also useful for flipping in the face of people I don’t like. My hair loves Texas, but it hates SC. I can tell because it poofs up like one of those lizards when it’s angry the second I step outside. Ready for attack. Quadrupled in size. Disgusting.

Sex: If I lived here, I would never have any. Never, never. You may think it’s because I’d be as wide as Paula Deen with murderous hair and an unconventional wardrobe, but that’s not all. I am going to be painfully honest at the risk of offending someone: the men here make me vomit in my mouth a little bit. They all have the same weird side-parted haircut. I just can’t sleep with a man who reminds me of my grandfather. They each wear a button-down tucked into their belted pants (which seem to only be sold in khaki or nantucket red down here). If they don a blazer, it’s navy and the exact same brand as their friend’s who is standing next to them. Originality at its finest. Last night, I saw one guy with a light pink button-down tucked into the nantucket red pants. I nearly died of fashion crisis. How are these men getting any?

Anyway, that’s my little rant. South Carolina and I were sadly not made for one another. Time to go back to my beautiful Texas where the men wear jeans and have sexy tousled hair. Home, sweet home.

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