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I'm trying something different tonight.

I broke up a couple of chipotle chilis and dumped them into the pot of chili I am making. Right now, the apartment is roiling with a rich, smoky, oniony scent and my stomach is growling and raising all sorts of ruckus. I think red chili with some chipotle peppers in it may become an important family recipe.

I had a “geez, I'm having a rut” day today. Last night I was gettng out my clothes, and I looked at a shirt I'd made…beige/tan/red/brown/black/gold striped v-neck longsleeve tee and said “I fucking hate this shirt” and crammed it back in the drawer. I look sickening in beige and tan. I wish I'd never bought that fabric. It wasn't at all cheap, but I thought with the red, brown, black, and gold tinsel, it would suit me, and the colors that become me might override the less beneficial beige and tan. I was SO wrong.

So, I declared “Bad Taste Day” and punked out. I wore 3 shirts, all at once. Bottom layer–pea-greeen lace tank-top with copper tinsel re-embroidery. Over that, a multi-green striped cropped long-sleeve tee. Over that, a green camo-pattern waffle-weave, cap-sleeve crop-top. For my butt, I wore a pair of black, medium-wale corduroy sailor pants. The regulation combat boots. 5 bracelets and a watch on my left arm, two big cuff bracelets on my right. Two different semi-matched bead necklaces. Silver skeleton earrings. Hair in Mickey Mouse buns.

Dunno if I was stylin' or not, but at least it broke me from my fashion rut.

I found out how to improve the prospects of that hated vee-neck shirt. I have this nifty, runchy-knit red tee-shirt that would give me the color boost I need if worn under the stripey affair.

Unfortunately, after I'd punked myself up, I got shifted to fill in at the front desk today. So I was frontin' for a prominent city department looking like someone who might gob off a stage and scream anarchistic lyrics to over-distorted 3-chord thrash.

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