wrapdress kick

i don't make enough money for all this but i'm on a mission...to create my own personal wrap dress collection.

let's be honest...i've never been one to fixate on fashion as a hobby. but now that i'm a young urban professional...and i ain't gettin' any younger, the idea of looking a little more fabulous is quite alluring.

one dress is in the mail. but my future purchase...once enough time has passed and money made to justify it...will be this (or perhaps the black/cerise, more understated one):

gawd. what has gotten into me.

yellow flats. mmm.

okay. my turn. ordered these earlier this week on anthropologie.com...on sale! (so rare). i'm such a prepster.

More shoe-obsessed musings

So clearly I have this metallic leather theme going, right? Here are two other styles I teetered around in at DSW, just for fun:

This first pair was not uncomfortable...until I tried to walk. The cushioning, platform and thickish heel make them not totally unbearable:

But then after weepily parting with those, I tried something like these on and remembered that high heels are soooo very impractical:

Um. Imagine propping up 250lbs. worth of something with two pencils. Slightly chubbier-than-#2 artsy pencils, but still. It blows my mind, man.

In more comfortable shoe/show news, yay for Harold who is Bravo's first Top Chef! -- I mean, Top COOK! And guess what shoes he was pulling on before leaving for the last challenge? None other than my favorite sneakers ever -- Puma Californias (in white with navy stripe to be specific).

And can you believe none of the four eliminated contestants thought Tiffani should win? I can. Dang. Did you see how she tried to claim Dave's dessert as her own? WHAT?! I stopped feeling sorry for her right then. And now Bravo can follow Harold around as he tries to start his own restaurant! You know that's on the schedule for this fall.

And people, did you that the new season of Project Runway is starting this SUMMER?!

hot hot hot.

And I got some props today on my own Pumas from some guys here at work, thankyouverymuch. Of course, even that had to come with a side of awkward, right? Apparently this guy tried to tell me this a couple days ago and I was totally oblivious and had no idea anyone was talking to me. So see, even amongst the penny loafers and Manolos, some people still recognize.

OK, I'll shut up about shoes now!

Don't ask / Don't tell.

As of late I've been somewhat shoethirsty. For real, I have not purchased shoes in SO long. OK, "SO long" as it applies in zuppe-time. So I've been a little spendy for the past couple of weeks, and I'm just gonna sublimate my guilt into some shop-talk rules that I'm going to try to operate by:

DON'T ASK...
me how much something costs only to get that look on your face all like "Dude, you got SUCKERED"/"Like OMGZ, I would never pay that MUCH!"
If I paid that price it means (a) hello fool, I've agonized already, like have we MET?!; (b) it's not going to keep me from paying off my student loans, okaaaay?; (c) you see how f-ing easy peasy it is to find a pair of size 10+ dressy shoes that are (1) reasonably safe for use on hard surfaces (2) cost less than $300 (3) have at least a wee frisson of chic and finally (4) are a color you'd wear after 1983, let alone Labor Day.

DON'T TELL...
me how much you paid for something as if you discovered a mothertrucking cure for cancer. Unless the damn thing actually cures cancer, I don't want to hear about it. If it's so awesome, go tell it on the mountain or some crap, or I'm sure there's an internet community out there for people like you who LOVE crowing about their sale-saavy. Go ahead, scan your receipts and post them if you're so gleeful about it, but spare me. Please.

In fact, don't ask me at all about how much something costs unless you are thinking of buying it yourself and you'd like to know where in the world can I get such a fabulous whatchamacallit and how much money should I keep on hand for bringing this wonderfulness into my life. And don't tell me how much something costs unless it's equal opportunity (e.g. coupon code, Ebates, what-have-you) AND something you think I would actually want to buy.

It's just tacky. I'm all for open discussion of money issues amongst friends, but save your judgment face for someone else before I smack it off you.

....aaaand here are the shoes I bought that encouraged mom-of-zuppe to ASK (or really, ASSK) which ended up in her judgment face+youpaidwhaaaaat, which brought on the barrage above.

....aaand here are the shoes that drove the guilt home. I found these in black at DSW on Saturday and just tried 'em on for fun. But then, as it often happens with me, I could not stop thinking about them. I felt like I needed at least a half size larger, so I tried to hunt them down online (but frustratingly could not remember the style name) with no luck whatsoever. So yesterday, after dropping off my dad to pick up his car from the shop in Greenwich (CT) and subsequently getting lost in Rye (NY), I finally made it to Woodbury Commons to search (and boy did I have to search) for the Aerosoles Outlet. And so after discovering the 11s were too big (damnit) and the 10s just a wee bit cramped and of course no 10.5s (because how weird to make a 10.5 because WHO could be that size?) I just bought the damn 10s after making sure returns were possible. It was, like, after the store was closed pretty much and the salesguy must have thought I was insane, foaming at the mouth as I probably was.

And OF COURSE after searching Zappos.com on Monday like a madwoman, I find them online today. Thankfully for more than at the outlet (and that's all I'm gonna say about that). But damn. GODDAMN I say.

So.... they come in teal (!!!) as well. And it's buy one get one 50% off. So... if these work out I may have to get another pair. Right? RIGHT?!

Allow me to re-introduce myself....

I'm Rick James, bitch! (those are hints for later)

So yesterday I went to the Roots, Mos Def and Erykah Badu show at Radio City Music Hall. After two months of griping and hand-wringing and whining about the evil of Ticketmaster and how I was SOOO not looking forward to this show and no more nevermore concerts ever (yes, most of you were witness to it), I ate my words*, downed some Alizé and had a righteously wicked-awesome time.

*along with a great uttapam at Saravana

The Good: The Roots' marching-band-style entrance into the concert hall complete with Black Thought rapping via megaphone, Rahzel reunion!, Angelique Kidjo's adorable dancing (too bad she only sang one song), Erykah Badu's fly-ass dress and ability to belt it, Mos Def being generally cute and charming and the boy can SING. Also, Slum Village showed up which was pretty neat.

The Bad: J*Davey was a disappointment. This is a duo which The Roots have been promoting, and honestly, it really wasn't clear why. I am guessing their style of pop/electronica/soul/funk sounds better at home than live. The beats did not resonate at all. Miss Jack Davey sauntered on stage wearing a halter top, hot pants and a ginormous Native American-style feathered headdress. Pretty spectacular. She reminded me of a cheerleader chicken (albeit with killer legs). Like for real, her singing sounded like squawking to me. I may take a listen to their other songs, but the way they hype themselves on their websites makes me roll my eyes.

The Ugly: At some point during crooner Bilal's performance, some foul liquid substance started dripping on me. It was gross lukewarm beer and it came from above. At Radio City. Classy. Luckily I could change seats. 15 minutes later the guy in front was dripped on too. This is why large plastic cups of beer are an abomination.

and the moment you've been waiting for....

The HUGELY UNBELIEVABLY AWESOME:

DJ Jazzy Jeff! How cool is that?! Uncle Phil could not stop him from ripping the turntables. and also...

Um, DAVE CHAPPELLE.

and oh yeah. just someone sometimes known as JAY-Z.

!!!!

shine your light, shine your light on the world

and the award for cheesiest sex scene

goes to Meredith and McDreamy on Grey's Anatomy. I felt like squirming--- as if I were 12 years old and my parents were in the room watching it with me. Why did it feel so cheesy? I suppose it was the climax, if you will, of the show, but come on . . . chris o'donnell's character is an animal healer and that has to count for something.

Manthem

Don't have a TV so I haven't seen this yet, but how silly. I hope that women start boycotting BK in response to this.

J's trendy taipei's "eastside" cut

J before: not so stylin'


J after: i'm stylin'! who knew my natural waves could do this!

Okay. I had to give in to the allure of my brush with Taiwanese pop stardom.

My coiffe was in desperate need of a cut (after nearly a year of overgrowth). I couldn't quite fit the cut in before I left for my trip to Taiwan so I was left with a photo ripped from my Delia's catalogue to shop around for some kind of Taipei hairstylist that might do a good job giving me some long sexy layers.

My little high school buddy/family friend turned Taiwan b-level pop star had a couple girfriends who swore by the most popular hair stylist to the Taiwanese stars of the moment. Her name, Splendy (don't ask because I just do not know). Trained in London at Vidal Sassoon, she had cut the style for the near ubiquitous Yang Cheng Ling ("Rainie"), an anime looking girl with huge bangs and the face of a toddler.

My appointment with Splendy did not disappoint. I now have a haircut by the trendiest hairstylist of the Taiwanese stars.

Kiss my ring.

hello my name is LEAVE ME THE F ALONE

(apologies to km and lilbunny who have heard this all before)

Lunch with Co-Workers, Volume I
Invariably, among a group of five women connected only by extremely boring and repetitive work, the conversation turns to eating, diets, pregnancy and its havoc on the body, and raising difficult children. Pretty much fine and good, I suppose. At least it was a really nice day to be outside.

Lunch with Co-Workers, Volume II
Railroaded once again, with nary even an e-mail to warn me, an overcast chilly day outside so we were inside, and not even any good cafeteria options to brighten the dismal hour, this time it was me and four guys. Invariably, among a group of four men connected only by extremely boring and repetitive work, the conversation turns to drinking, drinking during work, getting drunk at office parties, and the dreaded Red Sox and Yankees. I feel pretty bad for the guy who invited me; he was only trying to be nice. I blame the sucky friends, but then, maybe despite my efforts not to, my eyes may have rolled repeatedly of their own volition. Sort of like when you can't help gagging at a bad smell or the sight of Mischa Barton's horrible hair extensions.

There is a reason why I eat lunch by myself at my desk.

Anna Nicole Smith Wins Supreme Court Case

the headline made me chuckle.... i sort of think of lawyers winning, and the thought of anna nicole as a lawyer is funny :)

"Others' misfortune tastes of honey"

If J is the resident quizmeister, I am the resident Wikipedia-promoter. I really enjoyed reading this entry about one of my favorite words.