"If you can't be pretty, you might as well cause trouble" – Florence King
Mar 7th, 2010 by Meetzorp
I’ve got this awesome fabric:
And it’s just enough to make either of these dresses:
Sundress
OR
late-1960s A-line
I think this fabric would be just about equally fabulous with either pattern, but I’m not sure which to go with. Opinions would totally not hurt my feelings right now!
Feb 28th, 2010 by Meetzorp
I’ve been fooling around with mixing my own perfume lately – I guess it’s more like cologne or something.
Anyway, I procured three tiny atomizer bottles and some cheap vodka. Using various essential oils and extracts already in my possession, I’ve been mixing up my own blends of olfactory wizardry.
So far I’ve done one that’s a blend of rosewood oil, bergamot oil, and sandalwood (fave!). Another is Jasmine (in jojoba oil), Ylang-Ylang, and rosewater. The third is my most complicated one.
I started out by steeping four coffee beans and a half of a cinnamon stick in about half an ounce of el-cheaparooni vodka for about a week. Then, I measured 1/2 tsp. vanilla, 1/4 tsp. orange extract, three drops of patchouli oil, and six drops of bergamot oil into an atomizer and topped it off with the coffee/cinnamon-infused vodka. It’s a really, really sexy scent that kind of evolves as you wear it.
These perfumes separate out of course, so you have to shake ’em up really well before applying, but the scent carries well yet it is subtle and very easy to wear.
Feb 25th, 2010 by Meetzorp
I guess if you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the work restroom and think, “who the fuck is that douchebag?” you’ve probably pretty much failed your fashion check for the day.
I realized about midway through the day today that I dressed like a complete asshole and felt sheepish for the rest of the day. I’ve been doing pretty well with the whole not-dressing-like-a-dipshit thing for quite a few years now and so I was totally chagrined to catch myself slipping so badly.
I’m not sure that any one element of my outfit really sank the failboat…it was just an un-fortuitous combination of garments that taken separately and mixed with other things are all innocuous enough, but brought together, really made me look like a twee, aging hipster who really ought to know better.
It wasn’t just the black American Apparel skinny tee with the Victorian cyclist lady screen printed on the front. It wasn’t the hot-pink flowered a-line skirt with the gros-grain ribbon belt. It wasn’t the quasi-fishnet stockings, or the mary-jane shoes. It wasn’t my semi-librarian-ish glasses, nor the pigtails, nor indeed the silver nail polish. It was all of that brought together that basically said, “old, out-of-it dweeb tryin’ to rock it at an all-ages show” which isn’t really appropriate for work…or anywhere else I might ever find myself.
I don’t have any explanation or excuses. For reasons I cannot adequately articulate, I thought last night that the above would be a really great outfit. It wasn’t. I felt like a jackass for about 60% of the day, and I am going to be making a note to NEVER WEAR THAT SHIT ALL TOGETHER EVER, EVER, EVER AGAIN, EVER!
What the fuck, self?
Feb 24th, 2010 by Meetzorp
And really bad at coming up with titles for blog entries.
But there it is…my mundane superpower is probably being able to sleep in really odd places.
I’m sure I will sleep in many other odd places before I go down for the big Dirt Nap. It seems to be a talent of mine.
Feb 20th, 2010 by Meetzorp
Right now, I am in possession of some seriously ratty underwear.
The problem is not that I am in some way incapable of procuring new underwear; I am not in need of any underpants-based charity. The problem stems principally from my accursed absent-mindedness. (Also my twisted sense of logic and detest for wastefulness)
Where to start?
Abent-mindedness seems to be a decent jumping off point. So. I’m a space-cadet.
It’s not just that I forget to buy underwear when I am at some emporium where underpants may be had (although that is a factor in my ratty-assed equation). It is mainly that I will pull a pair of drawers out of the drawer in the morning and note that they’re in appalling condition and that I should throw them away when I take them off that night. However, come evening bathtime, I take off the underpants (along with whatever else I was wearing) and bung them into the laundry hamper. Unless a pair of underwear is egregiously awful (mostly, when the elastic is shot and they become “creepers”) I almost invariably forget my intention of throwing them away.
So what happens is that they get washed. And here comes the explanation of my curious logic and abhorrence of waste. So, I wash the underwear. I put the underwear away. As I’m putting away the underwear, I note that they’re awfully ratty and that I should throw ’em away after the next wearing. I do not, however, throw them away RIGHT THEN AND THERE because it seems like a shame to waste the energy of having washed and sorted and put them away. What a waste of detergent, water, and time! So of course, I’ll just wear them and throw them away after wearing them. In my logic, if I wear them, I will not have wasted the time, water, and detergent; I’ll have gotten one more washing’s worth out of them.
So of course, what happens is that I wear them again, forget to throw them out again, wash them again, put them away again, and wear them again. And again. And again. And again.
The only thing that will break this idiotic cycle is if I go to Target, buy as many underpants as my budget will stand, and come home and throw out everything that looks in the slightest bit dubious and start all over again. This has to happen and this has to happen soon, ’cause the state of my knickers really doesn’t bear any further debate!
Feb 8th, 2010 by Meetzorp
I cleaned a bunch of excess keys off my keychain and thought it looked a little sparse. I haven’t had much in the way of baubles or bobbles on there in ages, so I decided to fix that:
There is a house key, key to Joel’s workshop, key to my U-lock, and a key to the pickup.
And a tiny-tiny brass crescent wrench – in honor of the fact that I disassembled and re-assembled an entire Schwinn with nothing but a crescent wrench and a screwdriver.
I have a few other tiny brass tools that my Grandma gave me a zillion years ago, so I decided to highlight one of them on my keychain since it seems rather appropriate.
Feb 6th, 2010 by Meetzorp
But the opening animation was AWESOME:
We’ve had about a 50/50 rate of hits and misses with Netflix. The movies that we’ve gotten and enjoyed were really great and the ones that sucked were almost unbelievably awful. The nice thing about Netflix is that it’s so inexpensive that if you get a dud, you can just return it and not feel like you are out much but the time. And the 45 or so minutes we bore with “What’s New, Pussycat” were way more time than we should have put into that contrived, uncomfortable, plodding streak of shit.
The following are my reactions, as posted to Facebook, the night we tried to watch that movie:
Next to “Talledega Nights,” I think “What’s New Pussycat” is the WORST movie I’ve only been able to stand to watch halfway through.
I honest to god though that was one of the most tedious, cringe-worthy, un-funny piece of crap I’ve ever wasted 40 minutes of my time on (I couldn’t stand it enough to see it through to the end). I thought that movie sucked with a vital power of suckitude not lightly given to mortal men. Can I spell it out any more plainly? That movie nearly made me barf from a combination of boredom, frustration, and disgust for the utter misogyny of it all.
The one thing I found really and truly funny in Pussycat was Peter O’Toole’s dancing. By the standards of anyone or any era, he is an appalling dancer. He looked like he was being electrocuted. And *that’s* supposed to be Mr. Suave & Debonair?
If the movie were as stylish and clever as the opening animation, it would have been a charming piece of work. This is one movie that aged really, really badly.
Feb 2nd, 2010 by Meetzorp
Any woodchucks poking their heads out here in KC today weren’t too likely to see any shadows…it was overcast and kind of grimy today. Winter in Kansas City, when it isn’t snowy, is not an aesthetic triumph.
I’ve been hunkered down pretty deep lately…gone to ground so you might say.
Here I am popping my head up out of the hole. I permed my hair today because I was bored and it beats the hell out of cutting it all off and looking like this again:
The perm is a “temporary perm” (I know, total oxymoron, right?) which is supposed to last for about a month. I hope it does, ’cause I am totally loving the mad curlz.
Oh yes, our dining room…it’s gutted at the moment. A couple of doorways have been widened and there’s now a cool little window between the kitchen and dining room, as well. More about that another day.
I haven’t had much to say for myself lately. The winter “blahs,” as well as a few boring situational issues have basically sapped my will to write. I try to keep this blog positive – it probably presents an overly idealized vision of my life, but I am not that comfortable with “putting it all out there” like a lot of bloggers do. I don’t want to come across as a whiney drama-queen, nor a total trainwreck, nor do I want to look like I am grubbing for sympathy, freebies, or page-hits.
But I haven’t been a super-happy-monkey lately, because my phone-jockey job is sapping my will to live. Also it is winter, which always takes the starch out of me. Also, my old house, which has been on the market since last July, was foreclosed on a couple of weeks ago, and the events leading up to that debacle were a bit stressful to say the least, and totally ate my brain. When the foreclosure finally happened, it knocked me out far more than I thought it would…it was so anticlimactic, yet somehow it also felt like the rug was pulled out from under my feet.
I don’t want to rehash the whole sordid tale of how I became a statistic in the Great American Real Estate & Financial Crisis, so I’m going to attach my hardship letter I submitted when I groveled before Wells Fargo in the attempt to accomplish a deed-in-lieu-of-foreclosure solution (which obviously was denied).
Basically, when I was very young, dumb, and full-of-myself, I bought a house in ghetto territory at an inflated price and thought I was doing something clever. Then I divorced, re-married, moved, lost a job, was unable to find sufficiently remunerative work to keep up my end of the mortgage agreement, and ultimately got foreclosed upon. Even after I found a full-time job, I found myself unable to make up the arrears and continue to maintain the place. It would have completely depleted my bank account and then some to come current on the payments, and when I was filling out the paperwork for the deed-in-lieu agreement, the math bore out that it would take in excess of $200 a month more than I earn to keep current with the payments.
So, now all of that bullshit is behind me. Another grim chapter in my stupid life closed, and I hope not to revisit it much ever again!
And so I plan to return to my regular type of entries about more fun and interesting things…like the upcoming annual F-Lawrence Pub Crawl, which is always a good laugh.
Jan 21st, 2010 by Meetzorp
I’m gonna be schmoopy for just a minute. I enjoy the heck out of Joel’s and my relationship – he just tickles me eight shades of pink and I wanted to share a couple of fairly awesome pictures of my feller:
Joel is imitating a sea-gull in Santa Cruz – this is the day before we took off on our big coast-to-coast adventure.
Getting the goofies in the tent somewhere in mid-Nevada. To be fair, here’s me, the same night. I think the Nevada desert broke our brains.
One of my favorite pictures of Joel of all time, by Chris “Professor ChrisGo” Thomas.
Imitation of a Gumby while stacking lumber.
One last picture for “awwww” factor – Joel chillling with the housepests on Ruby’s first night with us. Awwww!
Jan 16th, 2010 by Meetzorp
The day I took my favorite photo to date was a charmed day – some days are. There’s no predicting which ordinary day will turn out to be extraordinary, but that was one of those days when the insects, zinnias, and I were somehow operating in perfect harmony.
I’d gone out around midday on a Sunday to potter around in the flowerbeds out in front of my old house. I was pulling weeds and just generally surveying the lay of the land out there and things were looking extraordinarily good.
The next door neighbors’ kittens squeezed through the chain link fence between their house and mine and were being ostentatiously cute.
There were some delicate little yellow butterflies disporting themselves amongst my gaudy zinnias.
I spied a nice Monarch butterfly, too.
A grasshopper was out enjoying an unusually colorful luncheon.
But the crowning glory of this particularly glorious afternoon was this casual, big bumblebee who was hovering around and drawing snacks from my garden.
I’ve long been a fan of bumblebees, and as bumblebees go, this one was a top-notch representative of her field. She bustled around amongst the flowers like she knew exactly what she was up to. She was a big ol’ bee on a mission.
Her furry form was dusted with vivid orange pollen.
She seemed to have an uncanny ability to pose for the camera, too.
I’d have to say that this bee totally made my day that day.
Looking back over these pictures (and a few others in my archives) made me realize that I need to have my camera out and about more. I kind of fell out of the habit after I got my G9 – it seemed to fancy and costly to just tote around everywhere, but on the other hand, it is too nice of a camera not to use. Also, now it is a couple of years old, has been repaired twice…nothing is perfect forever. I should use it sensibly, and if it gets broken again, I will have it fixed again. If it gets broken too badly, I will have to save up to replace it. But one way or another, I will not get any more great pictures unless I go out and take them, and that is certain!