Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra

Mother's Day 2013

My Mom Is Better Than Yours … 2013 Edition

Yes … as you can tell by the photo to the left, I am about four feet taller than my mother. She is this petite, Mick Jagger-esque, 5’4 sassy Italian broad, and I’m a 5’9 half Italian, half Irish monster (thanks, Dad) who is wearing four-inch heels in this photo.

So happy Mother’s Day to all you fab ladies out there. I honestly don’t know how you do it. First of all, as a 26-year-old lady, the idea of having children right now freaks me out to the point where if someone asks me if one day I might want to have kids, my immediate jerk reaction is a “deer in headlights” blank stare followed by slowly but surely backing away from the conversation. But who knows, that may change one day. What do you want from me, I’m 26 and selfish right now. But honestly, the walking around for nine months carrying the kid, the not drinking whilst preggo, then the awful child-birth (I unfortunately have an older sister with two kids who felt it necessary to give me all the nitty-gritty details … YOWZA), and then having the responsibility of making sure that one day said child can become a respectable and prominent member of society … I mean, my God. You don’t just deserve a glass of wine today … take the bottle to the face, ladies!

Yes, today is about showering the ones who raised us, nurtured us, and still allows us to crawl into bed with them while in the midst of emotional breakdowns (not that I do that or anything :::shifty eyes:::). But I think today is a pretty damn good excuse to admire all women out there who do great things in life. Whether you are an aunt, a God Mother, a sister, momma to a dog/cat, a best friend, a co-worker, a humanitarian, you do things to make other people/animals better, whether you know it or not. So I’m tippin’ my cap to all the ladies out there today.

BUT … back to my original point … my mom is the best. You may disagree politely, which I respect, and I won’t bore you with the details of why that statement is 100% accurate, but it’s true because none of this would have been possible without her love and support. I would have never taken a such a strong interest in fashion if it wasn’t for her subscribing to every fashion magazine known to man for most of my life, and to this day still having a better wardrobe than me. I would have never known how to express my personal style if it wasn’t for her pushing me to explore different things whilst shopping. And I would have never known what a strapless bra is … and therefore I would have never known how badly life sucks in it.

So mom, thanks for giving birth to me, at age 40, in Camden, N.J. (calm down … it was in a hospital you freaks), … aaaaand I’m sorry I was like two weeks late, I clearly didn’t want to leave your womb. Hell, I still don’t really enjoy being all out in the open. But thanks for being you … because otherwise I wouldn’t be me.

And don’t worry, I won’t tell Kelly & Mark (my sibs) that I’m your favorite. It’s totally cool … your secret is safe with me!

LAH YA MA!

Tagged Ladies, Lady, Momma, Moms, Mother's Day, Mother's Day 2013, Women

May 10 2013

7 Comments

Abercrombie and Fitch

Stickin’ It To Abercrombie.

When I was in high school, I wanted to be cool. Like really cool. Like Kelly Kapowski cool. And I thought the way to do that was through trendy clothing that all the cool kids were wearing. Juicy, Hard Tail, Mavi Jeans … and good ol’ Abercrombie & Fitch. Sigh.

So, of course, on my Christmas list to Santa, clothing from Abercrombie was on there. Flash forward to Christmas morning when I’m holding boxes from A&F grinning from ear-to-ear like an idiot and my mom staring at me, shaking her head in disbelief and annoyance.

She then enlightened me to her very first … and last … Abercrombie experience, which I will share with you now, from her perspective, told by me (from what I can recall).

The smell was overwhelming when I first walked in to the point where it was making me nauseous. I kept going though because “Santa” needed to finish her Christmas duties. But it wasn’t just that. It was the music. The awful, horrifyingly loud music. I couldn’t think!

And then I got greeted by some model-looking half wit who is a size negative zero strutting around in A&F. I smiled and started to look around by myself. The funny thing was, there was no light! Just these tiny tea lights around the clothing. Was I looking at a t-shirt or was it a dress, I didn’t have the slightest idea!

So I was forced to ask a sales associate for help. I told the girl that I was looking for an outfit for my daughter, who was tall and skinny with long legs. She said some things but I couldn’t hear her. Her: “What kind of ::muffled noise::: Me: WHAT?! Her: “Does your daughter li … :::muffled noise::: Me: WHAT?! I CAN’T HEAR YOU? I mean I was screaming at this poor girl to get my point across! Once I started reading her lips, we got on the same page.

So she brought me over to the jean skirts, the ones that all the girls wear, apparently. I lifted it up to one of the tea lights and realized this piece of jean they were calling a jean skirt that looked like someone took a lawn mower to it was over $100, and would not even cover her behind. We moved on to t-shirts. She isn’t a large … at all. But when I lifted the medium up, it didn’t even look like it would fit a toddler. Forgive her for having breasts. So I was forced to get a large, which I wasn’t even sure would fit her. Not to mention I couldn’t find a t-shirt that didn’t say ABERCROMBIE all over it to save my life. And because I needed to get the hell out of that store, I was forced to buy an overpriced t-shirt … and the run towards fresh air and silence.

True life: That large t-shirt … didn’t fit me. And you know what, I was 5’9 and in no way, shape or form overweight. But even in their overpriced jeans, I was like a size 15, when normally I was a size 6. Really?

Clothing is supposed to make you feel good, help you express who you truly are, no matter what size you happen to be. You say you hate “fat chicks”, Mike Jeffries? Well I hate discriminatory, macho, close-minded, assholes who make people feel bad about themselves.

So to my mother, I apologize for making you go through this hell when I was a teenager. To normal human beings out there … if a brand makes you feel bad about yourself when they really should be in the business of making everyone feel the best they can … know that no one has the right to do that … NO ONE. And Mike Jeffries, you make overpriced, unoriginal crap that pushes your brand name. That’s. About. It. Take a look in the mirror and try to find Jesus or something. Men who are CEO’s of a popular clothing company, who put limitations on what kind of human being can wear their brand based on superficial reasons, clearly have something deeper inside they need to work out.

So SUCK ON THAT …. aye aye aye aye aye aye!

AND ONE MORE THING: Just because you have a model stick figure standing to greet me at your store doesn’t make me want to slap “Abercrombie” across my ass. People buy clothing because it makes them feel good and fits well, not because some gorgeous model sold it to them. And if you only buy your clothes based on how the sales associates look … well, God speed in life.

Tagged Abercrombie, Abercrombie & Fitch, Body image, clothing, Fitch, mall shopping, Mike Jeffries, Shopping, United States

May 06 2013

Met Gala

I Can Like … Spell Punk … Can I Go To The Met Gala?

:::Sigh:::

I’m not sure who thought it would be a good idea to let Hollywood experiment with punk fashion … but umm … yeah.

I desperately wanted Debbie Harry and Patti Smith to show up and like break shit and give everyone the finger and scream a lot and then leave … but alas it didn’t happen. Instead we had to watch starlets awkwardly play around with punk .. which, quite frankly, was painful.

I’m in no way, shape or form “punk” … and I think it is an incredibly hard style to pull off … because punk wasn’t about the style. It just happened … the music made it all come to life. It wasn’t because a stylist said … “ooh studs! SOOOOO punk.” It was because they literally didn’t give a shit. These people … live to give a shit. They get PAID to give a shit. Hence why it doesn’t work. And yes, the Met Gala is about experimenting with fashion, paying homage to it and living out a real life costume ball … but perhaps let’s pick a theme more obtainable.

For the following things do NOT count as paying homage to punk.

1. An overly dramatic smoky eye … yawn.

2. Baroque print dresses … wrong movement there, lady

3. Feathered ball gowns … unless you murdered the bird before the Gala and stuck its feathers to your dress, then that counts.

4. Platinum blonde hair … perfectly styled … just for funsies … tee hee I like, always wanted to do it

5. Faux hawks … amateur

6. Dramatic trains … unless an actual psycho path ripped up the material in the back … doesn’t count

7. Sheer black ball gowns … nice try, slackers

8. Floral print … … … I will have nightmares about Kimye’s look though

9. High slits … not the Grammy’s … go home

10. Cut out dresses … too trendy, holmes

So I will leave you with this thought: Why wasn’t there more Alexander McQueen where there wasn’t Alexander McQueen. That guy is probably in the after life kicking and screaming like, “WHY AREN’T MY DRESSES REPRESENTED!!!!! PUNK! HELLO?!”

And now …

Punk

Not punk.

Punk.

Not punk.

Punk.

Tagged Alexander McQueen, Debbie Harry, Hollywood, Met Ball, Met Gala, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Patti Smith, Punk fashion

Apr 26 2013

Gwyneth Paltrow

Gwyneth Paltrow: The New Regina George

Remember that girl in high school, the one you wanted to accidentally throw a banana peel down in front of where she was walking so she could slip and break her face … just a little? You know who I’m talking about … every girl had to deal with that girl in high school … and if you didn’t … well … you were probably that girl. Good for you.

And did you know … Gwyneth Paltrow was recently named People Magazine’s “World’s Most Beautiful Woman” GASP! And honestly, the haterade that has been pouring out of everyone because of this is absolutely classic. So yeah … looks like she has set the beauty standard in the whole entire world. :::Sigh::: Great. I mean for f*&ks sake … come on People Magazine. Like we don’t have any other shit to stress about, now we have to set our beauty standards to Paltrow? Really!?

But this got me thinking about the chick you wanted to banana peel in high school. Here are the qualities of that girl that made you secretly hate her, but at the same time crave her life compared to Gwyneth:

1. That girl: Excelled academically

Gwyneth: Academically … I know she graduated from the Spence School in New York City … sounds fancy … I’m sure has a degree in being beautiful and awesome too

2. That girl: Had the hottest boyfriend in high school

Gwyneth: Umm let’s go through her laundry list of ex-boyfriends, shall we? Brad Pitt, Ben Affleck … and now married to one of the sexiest rockers of our time, Chris Martin … ummm hello?! The Coldplay song “Green Eyes” is about her … I mean …

3. That girl: Was beloved by everyone (even the teacher’s spawned from Satan himself)

Gwyneth: She seems sweet as pie … I mean if Oprah lives and dies for you, shouldn’t we all? I can’t really see Paltrow smacking a bitch, but I could be wrong. Overall I would say she is pretty likable.

4. That girl: Sick body … like made Gisele look like a manatee

Gwyneth: The woman lives a yogi lifestyle. And that is why she is 40 and looks younger than me … I’m 26 by the way … cool. Also … doesn’t eat carbs … nor does she allow her family too. Sweet, Paltrow, how is that working out for you? Oh that’s right, your the most beautiful person ever … my bad.

5. That girl: Gorg … like stunning … made inanimate objects weep over her beauty

Gwyneth: Flawlessly gorgeous. Doesn’t fiddle with Botox or plastic surgery, just straight up naturally stunning. Excuse me while I go put on pounds of makeup so I don’t resemble death anymore.

6. That girl: Talented in every single thing she tried … like I’m talking could randomly hop on a pogo stick for the first time and become the world’s best pogo stick jumper

Gwyneth: Oh you know gave acting a whirl, won an Oscar. Gave modeling a whirl, ended up on the cover on Vogue. Dabbled in singing and did a freaking duet with Cee Lo and the Muppets on the Grammy’s. Then got into blogging because … why not take the spotlight away from actual bloggers who are trying to make a name for themselves :::shaking fist:::. Then decided to write a cookbook … I mean the list goes on and on.

7. That girl: Helped cure AIDS/feed the hungry/raised money for orphans … AKA made us all look really bad

Gwyneth: I mean she raises money for breast cancer research, is apart of UNICEF, donates to food banks, sells her own clothing on her blog to raise money … but when you are rolling in it like she is, she better damn straight help out charities.

8. That girl: Trend setter … I heard she wore army pants and flip flops … so I wore army pants and flip flops. (If you recognize this quote … I love you.)

Gwyneth: She could wear a paper bag and make it look chic. ‘Nough said.

9. That girl: Had more friends than she knew what to do with … people would just flock to her

Gwyneth: She knows Oprah and does yoga with Madonna … ‘Nough said. And quite frankly if she was in my general area … like I could touch her, I would totally kiss her ass and try to be her friend … “Oh your hair is SO pretty,” “OMG RIGHT?!” … that is how I imagine that conversation would go.

10. That girl: Lived a luxurious life with a plush home and cars that were more expensive than my parents combined salary.

Gwyneth: Do I even need to go there? She has homes on two continents … let’s talk.

So listen, let’s be real here ladies, the reason everyone is up in arms about Gwyneth Paltrow winning “Most Beautiful Woman That Ever Walked This Earth,” is because we are straight up J-E-A-L-O-U-S. I’ll admit it, I hate the bitch for no reason besides the fact that I wish she would stop blogging and divorce Chris Martin so I could have him … but God dammit do I respect her.

And now … I will leave you with this:

Tagged Beauty, Chris Martin, Coldplay, Gwyneth, Gwyneth Paltrow, High school enemies, People, People Magazine, Worlds Most Beautiful Woman

Apr 22 2013

spray tans

There Is No Crying In Spray Tanning!

As most of you know by now … I’m pale. Like really pale. Like pathetically pale. And lucky for me, some kind soul read my post about how pale I actually am and felt a need to aid in my search for a little sun kissed color. I woke up the next morning with a kind message from Adrienne, the owner of Baked Tanning in Philadelphia, offering to give me a spray tan … and when you look like Casper the Friendly Ghost’s twin like I do … you jump on a golden opportunity like this.

I had only been spray tanned once prior to this experience, and quite frankly it was pretty stressful. The exfoliating, the turning too dark after waiting too long to shower, the exfoliating again, and again, and again, and dealing with parts of your body that were darker than others. Luckily Adrienne gave me “spray tanning 101″ which I will share with you now so you can enjoy a painless, stress-free, almost relaxing tanning experience.

1. Exfoliate, Shave and Say Your Prayers: Don’t go insane, but get that dead skin off before the tan. You’ve been hiding your epidermis under bulky sweaters and tights for the past five months … start with a fresh layer of skin, ladies and gents. And yes … ev-er-y-where, all the good nooks and crannies. And the same goes for any unwanted hair. You may or may not be in the shower for a solid 45 minutes … I gave your fair warning.

2. Go All Natural: That means no makeup, moisturizer, or deodorant. Oh yeah … bet you didn’t know spray tanning turns deodorant green … cause it does. The Incredible Hulk look is so not hawt right now. So yeah, you may look like a hot mess going to and from the spray tan, but do what I did and pretend you are going to the gym … except … not. When people looked at me, I gave them a look back like, “oh yeah … don’t mind me … just going to pump some iron … in flip flops … yeaaaaahhh DON’T LOOK AT ME!”

3. Trust the Person Spraying You: If you don’t … walk the hell out. But usually … USUALLY … the person spraying you knows what shade of tan will look best on you. I trust Adrienne 110% because she gave me her background, told me how she trains her employees, etc. It’s okay to ask them those questions. And asking them their opinion is encouraged … they are the experts, for crying out loud. For example, if I told Adrienne that I wanted to look like I sat out in the sun below the equator for the past three months with no SPF, she would have told me I was absolutely cray and I would have respected that. Instead a natural, healthy glow was suggested.

4. Kim Kardashian Is An Idiot: If you’ve watched the entire season of Kourtney and Kim Take Miami with drool coming out of your mouth like me … then you’ve seen Kim and her blurred out nipples getting spray tanned every other day. Not just getting spray tanned … but getting layers and layers and layers of spray tanning. Turns out, there is no need to get layers of spray tan to make you darker. One layer of tan, with the right color suggested, will give you the perfect color … like I did. So Kim, maybe you should fire your fancy in-home spray tan specialist and hire Adrienne … just sayin’. I can’t image huffing spray tanning fumes is good for you either… organic smorganic.

5. Tans Don’t Just Fall Off: People think spray tans can melt off, slide off, run away without leaving a goodbye note. Nope. Let me bring it back to freshman year science class for a sec. Your skin is made up of cells. So in essence, you’re getting your cells spray tanned (ew … mental image). So when those cells die, they, along with their fierce spray tan, will fall off … making you pale once again. So you have to put effort into making those cells stay alive by moisturizing, for the love of God, with baby products. Powders, oils … yes … baby products. In my mind they may be cheaper, but I am in no way shape or form a momma, so who the hell knows.

6. No Fist Pumps or Hair Poofs: I didn’t leave Baked Jersey Shore-style … but God forbid you do … nail polish remover may be your best friend. Sometimes your ankles, knuckles, knee caps may get a little darker, and if that happens rub a little nail polisher remover over those areas and you’ll be good as gold. OR a lemon and sugar rinse will do the trick, if you’re an “all-natural” type of person.

I gotta say … this is by far the best spray tanning experience I’ve EVER had. I’m going on week two and I still have a nice, natural glow still (but I also made sure to keep my cells hydrated). And unfortunately, Kim Kardashian is a dirty liar … I did NOT feel 10 pounds lighter, but I did get a massive boost of confidence from it. I didn’t feel the need to wear as much makeup and I just felt healthier. A great self-esteem boost if you need a little pick-me-up.

And if you don’t live by Philly … I feel terrible for you, because I’m giving Adrienne and Baked Tanning my massive, shiny, unicorn sparkle stamp of approval for all fabulous ladies out there that need a pick-me-up. Not only is she a ridiculously talented spray tanner, but most importantly is no bullshit and will give you a service that will make you glow from inside and out.

So to Adrienne, I thank you so much for hooking me up so I don’t look like I’m an extra on the set of True Blood as well as taking the time to explain the fine art of how to get a beautiful and long lasting spray tan. Aaaaaaand I may be back in the next week … I’m starting to look like Casper again … ah!

Tagged baked, baked tanning, Beauty, Health, Skin Care, spray tan, spray tan upkeep, spray tanning, Sunless tanning, Tanning

Apr 09 2013

pajamas

A Plea to Pajamas

Dearest PJs,

What happened to our relationship? Did I keep you in my “comfy pant” drawer for too long? Was it that I spent too much time with my ratty, hole-ridden sweats? I know rebellion when I see it, and I’m on to you, my friend. Fed up with just being the “go-to-guy” for special occasions like Christmas morning, you busted out of the shadows and into the control of designers like Marc Jacobs.

Your silky touch used to soothe me whilst under the covers, and now you are too busy turning your nose up at us “normal folk” while strutting your stuff on some of the biggest Fashion Week runways. I realize I treated you badly. I realize I never made the effort to match your tops with your bottoms. I realize I may or may not have gotten bleach stains all over you. And oh those nights when we would fight … you would annoy me to the point where I found myself ripping you off and throwing you to the ground. :::sigh:::

But know that I adore you, my comforting friend, I just don’t want to wear you out on the town or to work. I don’t want to wear you with heels. I don’t want to have to put on red lipstick and style you senseless. It’s not you … it’s me. I want you curled up on my couch with me, snuggled under the covers and styled with a messy bun sans makeup with a glass of wine in my hand. But alas … you are too busy throwing away what we had to rub shoulders with glamorous models and actresses on the red carpet.

I realize if Marc Jacobs told me to jump … I would be more than tempted to say how high, but try and be you. For I cringe every time I see a group of normal women in a store, women who don’t have or can’t afford a stylist, surrounding themselves around you exclaiming things like, “what the HELL am I supposed to do with these?!“

You’re about to put lots of fantastic women on the Worst Dressed List. In fact, Joan Rivers is licking her lips in anticipation to have her way with you. Stop being silly … and come back to where you belong.

The “Comfy Pant” Drawer Ain’t The Same Without You,

Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra

Tagged Fashion, Fashion Week, Marc Jacobs, Marc Jacobs Fall 2013, Pajamas, pjs, spring 2013, spring 2013 trends

Apr 09 2013

Public Service Announcement

Cheers, Curls and a Fear of Jeans

My blogging soul sister down in Washington, D.C., Meaghan from District Sparkle, has pinged me to reveal five random things about myself … and quite frankly I couldn’t resist. Sometimes it feels good to let out the deep dark and embarrassing secrets of your past. And sometimes, like in this case, it is just good to reflect, laugh and embrace the fact that you were once, and most likely still are, a raging dork.

So if you didn’t think you knew me well enough … behold my five random facts:

1. Crazed Curls: It is true, I’ve been living a big ol’ lie. The minute I hit puberty, my hair turned into this thick, kinky curly disaster area that I loathed. I luckily stumbled upon a genius stylist who, in his words, taught me how to make my hair “Asian straight.” What once took me 2 1/2 hours to straighten my hair now only takes me 30 minutes, so thank Jesus for really expensive straighteners and conditioning creams.

2. Jeans Didn’t Exist In My Wardrobe Until I was 11: Until I was in 5th grade, stretchy pants and overalls were the only two things I would put on my body. Yea … I was hawt. Before I started 5th grade, my sister drug me to Old Navy and insisted I purchased a pair of jeans … normal, old school … jeans. But seriously … jeans freaked me out when I was little. I was scared I was going to get trapped in them and like pee my pants or something (yeah … I was a slightly odd child). But let’s be real here, my fears held me back from adopting really heinous jeans from the 90′s … in a way I did myself a favor.

3. No Piercings For This Guy: It’s true, I do not have one piercing on my body, including my ears. I have a tattoo, but no piercings. Never did and probably never will. When I was younger it was the fear of pain that held me back from getting pierced. But the older I got, the more I decided it was an economical move, meaning one less accessory I had to invest in. When I turned 25 I was going to give myself the quarter century gift of getting my ears pierced, but instead ended up getting my first and only migraine I’ve ever had. I saw that as an omen to stay piercing-free.

4. R-O-W-D-I-E: Yep kids … I was a cheerleader. Ugh. Listen, I wanted to be Britney Spears. I loathed competition and the idea of “trying out” for anything mortified me. So when they made cheerleading in 8th grade “no cuts” I said, “why not … that has to be just like dancing, right?” So on top of having to wear pleather pants and bandana tops whilst rocking out to techno music for my dance recitals, I had to stand in front of packed bleachers in an ugly cheer uniform making up cheers for wrestling matches because, “Dribble it. Pass it. We. Want. A basket,” didn’t seem appropriate. Hmmm … Ps. I don’t got spirit, no I don’t.

5. First Published in Third Grade: Excuse me while I remove the excess dirt from my shoulder. Listen, I just told you all about how I wanted to be Britney Spears and how I thought I was going to get trapped in my blue jeans and pee my pants. I deserve to gloat a little. So yeah, I wrote a poem about my mommy and it got published in some kids journal and won a prize. It absolutely terrified me at the time, but looking back was the start of my writing career. I always knew I wanted to be a writer, and this was a huge defining moment for me. Well … except for those few years during puberty when I was certain I was going to move to New York City and become the next Britney Spears. Psh … idiot.

I now challenge all of my fellow Philly fashion bloggers to reveal five random things about themselves! If I can reveal to the world my fears of peeing my pants, you can, too. Get um, ladies.

Tagged 5 random facts, Arts, Jeans, Old Navy

Apr 07 2013

tanning

Pale Panic

Tomorrow Mother Nature FINALLY decided to throw in the winter towel and give us a little taste of spring. Thank God. Now I can literally burn my winter coat. We’ve had far too much quality time together … and it must be destroyed. But I digress.

In anticipation for the warmer weather, I was just brainstorming outfits to wear tomorrow … all of which are either dresses or skirts sans tights … and I feel like every time I imagine wearing said dress or skirt sans tights I find myself in this awareness commercial for pale skin.

“Are you pale? ::: pans to me sitting around a table with my friends who are all laughing and having a good time, but I’m too busy trying to cover up my legs underneath the table::: Do you feel like pants are your only option? :::me laying in bed depressed as I pull the covers of my pale legs::: Know you aren’t alone. Paleness happens to everyone. :::”The More You Know” star swipe:::

I’ve been pale my entire life, in fact getting tan is something I have to dedicate my life to in the summers … and ain’t nobody got time for that. And I’m not like a porcelain skin, Florence Welch pale either. I’m like pasty pale. I want to punt people who have flawless porcelain skin as a matter of fact. I’m half Irish with pasty, gross pale skin, and half damn Sicilian … SICILIAN … and don’t have a drop of gorgeous olive skin on me. HMPH. Damn you, genes. But this year I’m like EXTRA pale. Why? Well … a few years ago I decided I was done “tanning.” Maybe it was the stupid Jersey Shore show and all of those kids looking like they were a rough 40 years old because of sun exposure, maybe it’s the fact that wrinkles scare the shit out of me and I know I’m not going to be in my 20′s forev … I really don’t know. But I’m done with it.

I was the Irish girl in high school who would go out in the sun wearing no SPF or like SPF 4 because I so desperately wanted to be dark and end up getting so badly sunburned I almost had to go to the hospital. I went to tanning salons all throughout college to bring all the boys to the yard or something. And now … nothing. For the past two summers I’ve invested in SPF 30 and above, and I think last summer I went to the beach once.

So yes … I’m insanely pale, by choice. No … like uncomfortably pale. See through pale. If you ever were curious as to what my tibia looks like … you could probably get a sneak peek right now. But that doesn’t mean I can’t spray tan or use tanning creams, which I’m open to. Spray tans are expensive … so that really isn’t an option except for special occasions, and I still need to do my research on which tanning cream won’t make me look like a carrot. So this whole me having to expose my paleness to the world tomorrow has caught me ALL sorts of off guard.

My options are I either sweat it out, wear pants or tights as everyone frolics about town in cute spring dresses with exposed skin as I have a Little Mermaid moment singing “Apart of Your World” staring out my office window as I eat my feelings. Or I just embrace my paleness, be an asshole and every time someone makes a comment or makes fun of me for being so pale, throw a skin cancer statistic back in their face. Boom. Yeah … no I’m not that guy.

But I do have a little secret weapon called the maxi skirt, my friends. Hello lover. It is totally cheating the system and I loves it. I’ll be covered so no one can tell I resemble Casper the Friendly Ghost, yet still get to feel the beautiful spring breeze. Problem solved. In the meantime, I’ll be on the hunt to try and find some cream that will make me look like I’m not actually vitamin D deficient.

Tagged Casper the Friendly Ghost, Health, More You Know, pale, paleness, Skin cancer, SPF, sun poisoning, sun screen, Sun tanning, Sunless tanning, tan, Tanning, tanning beds, tanning creams

Apr 04 2013

5 Comments

guilty pleasures

Top 10 Guilty Pleasures … Do You Dabble?

As I lay face down in my overflowing sea of caramel and marshmallow bunny rabbits … I can’t help but think about my guilty pleasures in life. You know … those things that may or may not be good for you, but are too satisfying to not indulge. Like … laying face down in a pile of Easter candy wrappers … not that I am … or … anything … :::coughs, wipes caramel away from corner of mouth inconspicuously:::

We all have them, we all love them … so why not chat about the things that make us feel secretly fantastic, right?

Behold ladies and the five gents that are reading this, my guilty pleasures in life, ahem …

1. Wearing Red Lipstick for No Reason: Whether I’m writing or just doing a whole lot of nothing, sometimes putting on some red lipstick turns a “blah” day into a special day. Sure, if anyone saw me randomly walking around my house by myself talking to my cat wearing red lipstick would say I’m one step away from becoming the crazed cat lady from the Simpsons … but it makes me feel good, alright?

2. Drinking Wine Whilst Eating Chocolate: If you are looking for a slice of heaven … come home from work one day, pour yourself a healthy glass of vino, get some M&Ms, or your chocolate or choice, and indulge. There truly is nothing more satisfying … well, I’m sure there is … but if you need a quick, relaxing fix … go to town on this one.

3. Laying on my Couch Watching Bravo and Drooling: This keeps me sane. When I need to tune out the world, relax, and not think, I get in my favorite sweats, plant myself on my couch and get lost in botoxed rich bitches screaming at each other. When I end up drooling, I know my mission of decompression has been completed. (Seriously how hawt am I?)

4. Instagramming Like a Bawwwwssss: Have you ever seen something really cool and said to yourself quietly, “I’m gonna Instagram the shit out that”? Oh yeah … no? Cool … me either :::Shifty eyes, backs away slowly::: Fine … my name is Kate and I’m addicted to Instagram (@LifeSucksInAStraplessBra follow along with me, please!)

5. Singing “What’s Up” By the 4 Non Blondes Really Loudly In My Car: And I said … HEEEEEEEEEY YEAAAAAA YEAAAAA YEAAAA EH EHHHH, HEEEEEEEEEEEY YEA YEAAAAAAAAA, I said HEY! AAAAA WHAT’S GOIN’ ON?! You should drive past me, I really put on a really fantastic show because I think I can sing … in my car … only.

6. Picking My Nail Polish Off: Okay, not an attractive quality, I get it … especially since doing this leaves me with crack head nails, but it is beyond satisfying, especially if you just need to zone out from stress. Of course afterwards I always say to myself, “dammit, why did I just do that!” but at the time it was worth it, that is what matters.

7. Changing Something About My Appearance: Hey remember the time I dyed my hair ombre … myself? Yeah … sometimes when I’m trying to get over something or get ridiculously bored … I get this violent urge to change something about myself. And it always makes me feel fantastic. Even if my hair doesn’t turn blonde but a weird shade of brownish-red, I consider it a win.

8. Pretending I’m A Bad Ass: Apart of me wants to hate people who wear sunglasses indoors, especially whilst shopping. Another part of me wants to slow clap them. Listen, sometimes when I go out in public I don’t want to see an-y-one. Oversized shades give me an opportunity to have a “Big Daddy” moment where I can act invisible. It is kind of genius, right? So if you see me wearing sunglasses out in public, in a store, chances are I don’t want to chat with you.

9. Pinning Before Bed: Some people say their prayers before they go to bed, I pin. Not only is it soothing … it is inspiration. I rarely know what I’m going to wear the next morning … so looking at some fab outfits gives me more time to hit snooze and less time to ponder what the hell I’m going to put on my bod.

10. Impulsively Buying Makeup At The Drugstore: Who hasn’t walked into a drugstore for tissues or tampons and found themselves in the makeup department randomly buying lip gloss or foundation. How could you not when beauty commercials leave taglines in your head like, “Get the London Look.” I’ll walk past the Rimmel London section and all of a sudden find myself saying, ummm hell YES, Georgia May Jagger, I want the London look! $50 later I have a bag full of random makeup that I don’t need and a box of tampons.

So since I spilled the beans … now I need to know … what are your guilty pleasures?

Tagged Beauty, chocolate, Cosmetics, guilty, guilty pleasures, Health, pleasures, red lipstick, Shopping, wine

Apr 01 2013

Lena Dunham

Who Run The World? Not Lena Dunham …

“Men are simple compared to BFFs” -Lena Dunham

I’ve been biting my tongue on the topic of Lena Dunham for quite some time, but I’ve just had enough. I’ve done my research, I’ve watched some of season 1 and most of season 2 of Girls and after reading this article by Refinery29 … I gotta say this: Lena Dunham please, for the love of Jesus, shut. the. hell. up.

The quote above? Absolute hogwash in my eyes. Maybe it is true in her fictitious world she creates, but in real life, I have to politely disagree.

In my world, there are two different types of girls: The ones who are the “girls girl” and the others that consider themselves a “guys girl”. Oh right, and then there are those random outliers who can co-exist perfectly with both. I consider myself a “girls girl.” I think it is because I like being able to relate to the people I’m around. The “guys girl,” well … you know who they are. They are the girls who make haughty statements like, “I just have never gotten along with girls :::hair flip:::, I take to guys more is all. Girls are bitches.” What I’ve always wanted to say back to them is, ” ummm then why are you hanging out with me?” but I refrained.

At the end of the day, girls need girls. I will agree with you, some girls are bitches. Some girls say really heinous things. But so do guys … we are all guilty of this. But life just isn’t worth living, as a female, without a chick for a best friend. And to be honest, the term “best friend” is madly overused. You could be drunk in a bar, instantly connect with a rando girl in the bathroom, take shots, be “BFFs” all night, and wake up in the morning not even remembering her name. It is so easy to start connecting on a “BFF” level with a girl … but more times than not, that fire fades, just like in other relationships.

To me, a best friend is someone who stands by you through your good and bad decisions. Who will talk you off a ledge in a moments notice. Who you can run to when a guy in your life broke your heart so badly you don’t even recognize yourself anymore. They see the good in you even when you are being 50 shades of cray (oh yeah … I said it). A best friendship is one of the most important relationships females need to have in their lives.

Don’t get me wrong … men are fantastic. Men are beautiful people who can, if they open their eyes, share a beautiful life with you one day. But to call them “simple” … uhhh yeah no. I’ve never met a “simple” guy in my life. Just because they are laid back doesn’t make them simple. In fact, NOTHING in life is simple. Bare with me as I have a really corny moment, but I think Charlotte York from Sex and the City had it right all along when she said, “men can be these great nice guys to have fun with, and then your girlfriends can be your soulmates.” Listen, I don’t want to call up my guy friends when I have cramps, or feel fat, or hate the way my hair looks, or when I’m having a minor life crisis and need to have reality slapped back into me, or when I want to gossip, or talk about the Kardashians, or just want to go on and on about nothing. Call me old school … I just don’t.

Lena Dunham … you’re a genius … leading hipsters into the final frontier, tip of the cap to you. But I think you have it all wrong when it comes to the concept of “BFFs”. Because that is the most important accessory any girl can have. The concept of being “best friends” with someone isn’t something you can make weird, unknown, obscure or edgy. Friendships won’t be sold at Urban Outfitters like neon skinny jeans, alright? You know when you have a best friend … you feel it in your gut, just like when you know you met the love of your life. Plain and simple.

Oh … also … Marnie and Hannah should end things … that is a relationship that would have ended the minute they got their college diplomas. Real talk. It is not worth having a plot line go on and on when Marnie is off living in Lala land with her app-creator boyfriend and Hannah is sitting pantless on her counter eating Cool Whip. Because if Marnie gave a shit, she would be sitting pantless eating Cool Whip with her. That’s how BFFs roll.

Also … sidebar … maybe, just maybe, comment on how those four girls survive in NYC, with barely any of them having jobs … I mean seriously … who can relate to that?

—–I’m very lucky to be able to call a few ladies in my life my “BFF” and I dedicate this post to them and all the beauty, laughter, and wisdom they have and will keep bringing into my life.——

Tagged best friends, Best friends forever, BFF, Friends, Friendship, girls, Lena Dunham, Marnie, Relationships

Mar 27 2013

Ombre Hair

My Day With Ombre

Perhaps it was boredom. Perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps it was my desire taking over me to do something “edgy.” Who the hell knows. But L’Oreal’s Ombre in a box called to me … and yes friends, I answered.

Now I didn’t just go into Target, spot the product and say, “oh yeah … let’s fiddle with some bleach on my very processed, overly straightened hair.” No, absolutely not. Mama did her research. I watched the YouTube video reviews … which, gotta say … I kind of regret. 1. The girls are 85% super annoying, all focused on being Rachel Zoe and looking super maj in front of the camera and not focused on the important things like, oh I don’t know … how to use it perhaps (not all … but most). 2. They all put these fears in my head, like, “OMG her hair turned bleach blonde after 45 minutes, must not leave it on that long. Lesson Number 1 that I learned: Everyone has different hair. Just because the girl reviewing has long dark brown hair like you, doesn’t mean she is you. This was the best video I watched, which of course came straight from the L’Oreal source, because they show you how to apply the product properly. God knows if that is even a real hair stylist. They could have found a hobo on the street, glammed him up and gave him a French accent for all I know. Regardless, very informative, and very necessary before you apply.

So then it was time to take the plunge. There is something really exciting, fun and terrifying about dying your hair a new color that I love. Once the color was mixed, I dropped my first layer of hair down and applied the dye to the nifty little application brush (the black thing seen in the photo to the right), which rocks at first. But word to the wise, you HAVE to make sure you hair isn’t the slightest bit tangled, otherwise it will get ripped out, you’re been warned. The reason I wasn’t really down with the application brush is because I found you had to put a lot of dye on the brush, and by the time I got to my ends, I really had to brush hard to get all of the dye on your hair. The brush is deep so all the dye goes straight to the bottom, making it a bit tricky to get it all out. But Lesson Number 2 that I learned: Slow the eff down. I’m always in a mad rush to the next thing. And while dying my hair, it is like someone is threatening me with a knife telling me to get it done as fast as possible or I will get cut. I have this sick fear that if I don’t rush, some hair will be all sorts of different colors and I will have to spend the rest of the day in the fetal position crying, “WHY??!?!” (probably why I should leave it to the professionals, huh).

And then began the waiting game. The rules are you wait 25 minutes, and with your gloves, remove some of the dye from your ends to see if your hair is as light as you would like. If it isn’t, apply more and check it in 5 minutes … and continue for up to 45 minutes. Do you know how insane it is for a girl with dark brown hair to sit patiently as blonde starts invading the darkness? Umm hello? I paced, I ate Starbursts, I stared at myself in the mirror for waaaaay too long, I made shoe art and Instagrammed it, I texted people freaking out, I paced some more … I mean, the clock couldn’t move slower. So after 25 minutes, I checked … wait … oh right. The dye is extremely hard to remove with gloves to see if your hair is “light enough.” I don’t know what that hobo turned glam French stylist was thinking. But I could tell that the back of my hair was getting lighter than the front, so I said screw it and applied more. I waited 5 more minutes, checked again. Still nothing. Hmph. I applied more. Waited. And all the while, that YouTube chick danced in my head like, “OMG my hair definitely turned a bit lighter than expected … uuuhhh whoops,” with a devastated look on her face that I couldn’t shake. She had left it on for the full 45 minutes. When I got to 30 minutes, I dove head first into the shower. Aaaaaaaaaaand ::::fade to black:::

I bet you are just DYING to know the results, right? Like so curious? Well … Lesson Number 3 that I learned: I will never be blonde. I think my hair repels it, to tell you the truth. I don’t have a drop of blonde on my head right now, but instead I have this like reddish, lighter brown ombre thing happening, which I don’t hate, but the part that kills me … no one has even noticed, hmph. I just wanted to be “edgy” DAMMIT! The experience was definitely, “MEH.” And man did it do a number to the ends of my hair. Even using the conditioning shampoo that it comes with, I have this scarecrow hair from the Wizard of Oz thing going on that I’m not too fond of. But that’s what you get for using any sort of bleach-product I suppose.

Any who am I regretting this decision immediately? No. Am I bummed that I got less than mediocre results? Hell yes. Would I recommend? Of course, refer back to Lesson Number 1. Listen, I would rather do an experiment for $8 than have a stylist do it for $100, ya dig? Now excuse me while I go make an appointment with my colorist so she can get me back to normal espresso brown … a thank you very much.

Ps. What is up with the chick’s hair on the ombre box? Seriously … they couldn’t find a better model with ombre hair? Because that ain’t cute, L’Oreal … no one in their right mind wants to look like that.

Tagged Beauty, dye, hair dye, Hair dying, L'Oréal, L'Oreal ombre, Ombre, ombre fail

Mar 15 2013

Saint Patricks Day

Wear Green Responsibly … Or Get Pinched!

I don’t know about you, but St. Patrick’s Day is literally my all-time favorite holiday. And it isn’t because I’m half Irish, or that I have a shamrock tattoo on my ankle, or that I love the fact that it is socially acceptable to start drinking at 9 a.m. and pretend like you are in college again for the day … no … not at all :::shifty eyes::: So as you can tell, I’m pumped to start the celebration … responsibly of course.

But I gotta say, I’m over the typical St. Patrick’s Day, college-like outfits. You know what I’m talking about. The ridiculous green tights with the green and white striped knee highs, with some crazy shamrock headband or bow that lights up, and a low cut, ultra tight “Kiss Me I’m Irish” T. I’m :::mumbles something::: years out of college, and just don’t feel the need to have it look like the Party Store vommed green all over me anymore. It’s time to put the style back in St. Patrick’s Day, ladies.

Wanna hear something that will absolutely blow your mind? The color blue was originally associated with St. Patrick’s Day. And my favorite fun fact of the day: There is a legend that says we wear green to become invisible to leprechauns who will pinch us if they see us. And that legend is why I am proud to be Irish, my dear friends.

So let’s not hit up Party City and any green graphic T you can find, and instead, go for a stylish green look! Here are some of my favorite green pieces that I found using one of my favorite websites for style, POPSUGAR. I could definitely see myself enjoying a whiskey drink or two … or five … in any of these green garbs.

Ps. I may or may not still fancy a pair of green shamrock sunglasses when I’m drunk. Just sayin’ … those are acceptable.

Click the image to find just where you can make this green look your own!

Tagged Green, Green Style, Holiday, mint, Party City, Patrick, Saint Patrick's Day, Saint Patrick's Day Style, Shamrock, St. Patrick's Day, St. Patrick's Day Style

Mar 10 2013

Vintage

Old Clothes Should Be Cheap

For a while, I was extremely turned off by vintage clothing, and it killed me. Because no offense, I really don’t want to pay a bazillion dollars for something that was worn and torn by another person. Whenever I would walk past a vintage store, I would immediately perk up thinking I would find some hidden treasure. But after being bitch slapped by cheap, overpriced clothing that wasn’t on trend over and over again, I just didn’t have the urge to “tag pop,” as the kids are saying nowadays.

But today … I found vintage Jesus. For me, vintage clothing should be accent pieces within your wardrobe. A nice little find that can add character and spice into your every day pieces. So when I stumbled upon this fabulous store, Frugal Resale, I was pleasantly surprised to see fashion forward pieces, for beyond amazing prices. That shirt above, which is my new baby, was $7. SEVEN. DOLLARS. It is on trend, so cute, fits great, doesn’t look cheap or beaten to death, and is something really different. And did I mention it was $7?

When I saw the price points and how many truly different and literal “vintage” pieces were staring back at me, I just got this violent urge to experiment. Oh yeah … I became a vintage whore. I was looking at outlandish blouses, and colorful dresses, and awful nightmare-ish 80′s pieces that my sister made fun of me for even thinking about trying on. But I mean for the love … that is what it is all about! For $7 … you can make some questionable fashion choices for once in your life … right?

Vintage is supposed to be fun, not pretentious. You don’t shop vintage so when someone asks you where you got that shirt you can flip your hair to the side, throw on a snobish smile and say, “yeah … it’s vintage.” I mean, do me a favor and shut your face, okay?

You should want to go in there and try things on that you would normally never buy for yourself … why? Because hopefully they will be a reasonable price … and you can buy it for funsies and experiment with a new, or even, old trend. That oversized white blazer that is clearly from the 1980′s … but so works with the menswear for women movement right now? Try it on! The white button down that looks like the puffy shirt from Seinfeld but really works with the black and white spring trend? Try it on!

Have fun. Don’t be pretentious. Don’t roll your eyes at the no-name labels. And for the love of Jesus, keep an open mind! So I would like to personally thank Frugal Resale for putting the fun back in vintage shopping. I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun shopping … in all honesty.

Tagged Frugal, Shopping, vintage, Vintage Boutique, vintage clothing

Mar 07 2013

3 Comments

Nail Polish

Nail Polish Scandal Uncovered

OPI … Essie … Revlon, etc. … I’m on to your asses.

Quite frankly I’m kind of shocked that 60 Minutes and/or Dateline hasn’t covered this hot story. But what … is up … with the fact that you can NEVER finish a bottle of nail polish?!

I’m obsessed with the color fire engine, 1950′s red. It isn’t a real color name, but that is what I call electric red (OPI I am available for nail polish naming if you so desire my services). I’m not a nail polish snob, I will use anything from N.Y.C. all the way to OPI and Essie. But 9 times out of 10 … my nails are fire engine red. Therefore when I buy a bottle of red nail polish, I will most likely finish it … or so I like to think.

For example, the bottle above I purchased a couple of months ago. I lerve it, clearly, so much that there is barely anything left in the bottle. Right … well, the funny thing is … the brush doesn’t really reach that far down. I know right … I’m appalled too! So the color that is left … I can’t get to unless I tip the bottle over causing a huge disaster, explaining why half my furniture/bed linens have red nail polish stains on them. Hmm … odd isn’t it, nail polish companies?

I get it, you want me to say … “oh fiddlesticks and a half … empty bottle … time to go to the store and buy another $9-$12 one. OR … “I’m so over this color … I’m going to move on to the next trend.” HOGWASH! I’m using this thing until it is bone dry … got me? And honestly who has that kind of cash flow to drop on bottles and bottles of nail polish?! But what I really want to know is why the brush isn’t long enough? Hmm? Because to me it looks like a blatant attempt at screwing over the American public … and I just won’t stand for it.

I get it … women like options. One season blue is in vogue and the next it is pink. But we should have the option to finish a bottle without having to tip it over and/or add nail polish remover in order to finish up the rest of the color. It is wasteful, and you know what, for how expensive nail polish is, a travesty.

So for shame, nail polish companies. I demand an answer as to why some big shot at the brush company got together with some big shot at the bottle company, and decided to screw over the American public (Father of the Bride … what, what). You don’t think most women will get to the point where a nail polish bottle will be empty … but I’m not most women. Boom.

Power to the people and their rights for longer nail polish brushes!

Tagged Bottle, Color, Essie, nail color, Nail Polish, nailpolish, OPI, Revlon

Mar 06 2013

Thought Piece

Hey … Remember 2001?!

Whether you were a teenager 5, 10, 15, 20 … etc. etc. etc., :::cough::: … years ago, there is probably a part of you that would love to hop in the DeLorean and bitch slap your younger self. Why? Because you were an idiot. Admit it. Laugh, take a sip of wine, and admit it … for the love.

During a very “stylish chat” with fellow bloggers today, it made me think about my time as a teen. Yeesh. That’s all I have to say about that. I was in the throes of my teenage years during the zeros? The 00′s? The early 2000′s? What the hell are we calling that decade anyways? Whatever … regardless, the saying, “I wish that I knew what I know now, like when I was younger,” is so true. I wish my 26-year-old self could tap my 13-18 year-old self on the shoulder and say something like, “Ey you, stop acting a fool. Kay thanks, byeeeee.” But alas, that kind of technology hasn’t been invented yet.

So if I could hop in my fire engine red DeLorean and stop myself from doing idiotic things … here’s what they would be … ahem:

1. Chill With The “OMG’s” and “WTF’s”: The chances of you and your friend or frenemy that spread the rumor around school that you once made out with a hot dog (Mean Girls … ayeoooo), still being friends outside of your teenage-dom … is slim to none. You’ll walk away with two, maybe three friends from high school. “No no no … but we are like best frien …” I’m going to stop you there. You don’t think you’ll lose touch, but you will. College will happen, new friends will swoop in, then internship friends, then real life friends … then you’ll be saying high school who? Right. So chill with the drama. For reals … this “real world” your teachers and parents keep talking to you about does actually exist … and blows. Badly. Save your tears and reality TV drama moments for when you get verbally beat down by your boss for the first time. Boom.

2. Wear Your Damn Rubber Bands/Retainer: Because when you’re 26, your bottom teeth will be jacked. And you will be pissed that you went through all that pain to have your teeth go back to the way God intended them to be. Like really pissed. Now you have to start pricing out God damn Invisalign so you don’t have to look like Faith Hill at the Grammy’s.

3. Get. Out. Of. The. Sun: Wrinkles aren’t just for mom-mom’s. And skin tags … they really do exist. And for the love of Jesus, you’ll still get tan whilst wearing SPF 30. And my GOD no one gives a shit that you have a tan line of a Playboy bunny on your hip from the tanning salon. Cancer. Yeah … that’s a real thing too. Hats. Umbrellas. SPF 70. I don’t care what the hell you do … just take care of your skin, for the love of God. Hmmm people liking me because I’m sun-kissed … or cancer? People liking me because I’m sun-kissed … or cancer?

4. Stop Giving A Shit What People Think: It won’t matter. Ever. Like never ever. You think those girls gossiping in the corner before Home Room will haunt you the rest of your life? Nope. The minute you get handed your diploma, they will fall into the dark abyss of your memory never to return again (unless you want to rock your reunion … which I don’t suggest … unless you really want to stick it to them, then go for the gold). Wear what you want, and don’t just give in to trends because everyone else is doing it. Not expressing yourself will be the biggest regret of them all. Instead of standing out, you will fade into the velour cloud of Juicy sweat suits. Vom.

5. Start Becoming One With Healthy Foods: Your fab metabolism … won’t last forever. No matter how long you think it will … it won’t. Your ass will start giggling, you will get stretch marks, and all because you got addicted to shit food and soft drinks in your younger years. Humus, meet mouth … mouth … meet humus.

P.S.: Stop thinking you are going to move to New York City to become J. Lo’s next back up dancer, draining your mother’s bank account with hours of dance lessons and $90 dance costumes made of plether and other very flammable fabrics. Instead … hit the yoga studio. ASAP. Kay, thanks.

5. Tell Name Brands To Suck It: There will be this mystical store in the future called Forever 21 that will be a game changer, where you can get fashion forward, rich looking outfits … for literally nothing. Brands like Juicy Couture, Hard Tail, Michael Stars, Mavi, Seven, etc. … won’t mean anything. Also, teenagers shouldn’t carry around designer handbags unless they can buy it for themselves, they happen to have rock stars for parents, or they did something like cure cancer. Otherwise it just looks ridiculous. Word.

Now if only my actual adult self could come calm my on-edge 26-year-old ass and tell me everything was going to a-okay and that I would end up publishing Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra, and ride off into the sunset on a unicorn with Justin Timberlake.

Tagged braces, brand names, caring what people think, Delorean, dental work, Faith Hill, Forever 21, health food, home room, Juicy Couture, sun damage, tanning salons, teenage drama, yoga

Feb 27 2013

Compliment.

Meet My New Obsession: Compliment.

I’m a firm believer in putting yourself in other people’s shoes. Why? Because you have no idea what is going on behind the scenes. You think you may know … but in reality, you have no idea. Think of all the shit you keep bottled up. If only life gave us an electric yellow emotional Post-it to slap on our foreheads so we can write things like, “yeah … just broke up with boyfriend … Back. Off,” and have everyone leave us alone. ::Sigh::: But alas, it has not been invented yet.

I, for example, have been feeling a little blue these past few weeks, for reasons I will not disclose here because the electric yellow emotional Post-it has yet to be invented. But when I got my very first jewelry delivery from Compliment this week, all of a sudden it was like I got sparked back into the glorious land of unicorns, sunshine and baby kittens.

I came across Compliment and immediately was drawn to it simply because of Melissa, the founder and creative director, and her lovely skill for crafting handmade (no two pieces are exactly the same) fashion-forward jewelry, as well as her theory that, “sometimes people around us could use a boost … something to uplift. Something to build them up. One easy way is to give them a sincere compliment.”

So I opened my little brown Compliment box only to find a beautiful piece of jewelry accompanied by a simple typed note stating, “You Are Marvelous.” Each box had a different compliment, and each one put a bigger smile on my face. Why? Because it was something special, something different, something so unexpected, yet uplifting. It is very easy to go buy a friend in need a card, bottle of wine, even a piece of jewelry from his/her fav store. But to send them something original from Compliment with a short and sweet note letting them know how fantastic they are … well, that is the right kind of medicine to help anyone in need.

Nowadays everything is so damn competitive and literally at an 11 at all times. I swear I blame the reality TV :::shaking fist::: Everyone is yelling, at each other’s throats, talking shit, spreading rumors … OY. Enough … instead, acknowledge a friend/family member/co-worker/ frenemy in need and send them a little something with a reminder that everything is okay. That they are bad ass and important in this world. Acknowledge them … because sometimes that is all it takes. A little something special and a nod that they are recognized.

So I insist you check out Compliment. I’m a sucker for fantastic packaging … and this rocks. I’m also a huge fan of the punctuation in the names of the jewelry. Period. Seriously. So thank you to Compliment and Melissa for making my blues fade away a bit!

And you know what … I am marvelous … dammit!

For more information on Compliment, tweet them @ShopCompliment or visit their website!

Tagged Bracelets, compliment, compliments, gold, handcrafted, Jewelry, Necklaces, Rings, Shopping, silver, stones

Feb 25 2013

Oscars 2013

A Real Girl Showed Up At The Oscars … GASP!

Yes, I was one of those crazed freaks that watched the entire Oscars last night. I can’t help it, I’m just desperately waiting for the 2013 version of “Soy Bomb” to run on stage and do something crazytown. Alas, nothing of the sort happened … yawn.

But I came to realize something last night. And that something was … that I want Jennifer Lawrence to become my new best friend. I’m not even going to call it a girl crush, because it is so not like that (and my girl crush at the moment is Jessica Chastain … durh). But seriously, I either want to invite her over for a slumber party where we get drunk in sweats and watch Adam McKay movies and laugh and prank call Bradley Cooper and have her describe what making out with him is like. Or I want to hang out with her at a hole in the wall bar that only accepts cash where we can see how many guys we can get to buy us drinks and laugh at drunk people.

She is a breath of fresh air to “the industry” and literally the antithesis of Anne Hathaway. I used to love Anne Hathaway, until she started giving acceptance speeches and vomming pretentious nonsense. “It finally came true … eeeeeeee!” We get it, your mother played the same role you did in Les Mis, you started out as a Princess Diary, all you’ve ever wanted was to be an actress … raaaaaa. And then … the winner was J. Law, who literally fell on her face walking to the stage because she was probably so shocked slash excited … and my God who in the right mind could ACTUALLY walk in that dress?! Now THAT is what I’m talking about. Why? Because that is something I SO would have done!

We here at Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra, and by we I mean I, are all about keeping it real. Strapless bras and strapless dresses aren’t comfortable nor do they stay up …, as we saw all last night with numerous starlets shimmying up strapless frocks, and wearing couture gowns and walking in 5 inch toothpicks with no support is no easy task. And yes … sometimes, we get stains on our shirts, and would rather get down with a cheese steak rather than a salad, and when we fall, we may or may not drop the eff bomb over and over. But hey, these are the cold hard realities of being a chick nowadays. The days of wearing proper white gloves are out the door. Not because I don’t want to be proper, I actually find it a very romantic trend, but because if I wore said white gloves, I would probably have orange Cheetos stains all up in them … and that’s a little gross, right?

Clearly Anne Hathaway has paid for an invisible stain shield to form around her at all times. And how much do you want to bet she keeps viles of perfection in her alphabetized pantry? And then there is J. Law who had no problem rolling up to Seacrest and complaining about how starved she was. She fell in front of every large and in charge movie star AND anyone watching on TV while going to get her Oscar and managed to bust out a very sincere and eloquent acceptance speech without making fun of herself too much, but at the same time not turning a blind eye to the fact that she just bit it. I would have been purple with embarrassment and probably drooling. So thank you for making America realize … females like Anne Hathaway at the Oscars … don’t exist in real life. They just don’t.

And a girl who eats a cheese steak before the Oscars is one that needs to be my new BFF. Let’s be the new Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie … you know, except less … umm … yeah … not. Come on, please? J. Law … ma girl! Okay cool … call me! Or should I call you? You know what you’re probs busy … whatever :::awkwardly laughs::: silly me … I’ll just wait by the phone.

Forever.

Ps. Don’t feel bad … look at Carrie Bradshaw. She fell IN Dior … you fell while wearing Dior. Whatevs. Also, she fell on the New York Fashion Week runway wearing Dolce … so yeah … you win. I don’t care if Carrie Bradshaw isn’t real … you still win. Now can we be BFF’s?

Tagged Academy Award, Academy Awards 2013, Anne Hathaway, best friends, Dior, Falling at the Oscars, Jennifer Lawrence, Jennifer Lawrence fall, Jessica Chastain, Oscar, Oscars 2013, Strapless Dresses

Feb 13 2013

7 Comments

Styling

Shut Up And Style Me

Okay … we all get blocks in life. Road blocks, writer’s block (the bane of my existence), style block … all equally make me want to pull my hair out. Now we all know I have a fascination with black and white … well … everything. From my home to my closet to my bed … I’m a little crazed about minimalism. It’s simple, it’s clean … and above anything else, it is timeless. And when I see it in any shape or form … I need it then and now.

So when I was browsing in H&M this past weekend and came face-to-face with this black and white vertical striped sleeveless button down … I had to make it mine, therefore I did. I literally was counting down the hours until I could slip it on for work. But when that moment came … NOTHING flowed right, outfit-wise. All perfect ideas I had involved a maxi skirt and very Marc Jacobs Spring 2013 looks … but nothing conducive for 32 degree weather. I would slip a cardigan over it, then try one of my blazers, and then work in mixing patterns … ugh. And nothing make me feel like, “hell yes … I’m a stud.” So I put it back in closet, only to try the next day and the next facing the same damn issues.

After day three of this nonsense … I’m sending out a battle cry to you all, because I can’t take it anymore. I’m lusting after this shirt, yet we can’t be together because I haven’t found its true mate in life to make me feel amazing. So my request? Style this look for me. Clearly you have no idea what I have in my closet, but somehow, someway I probably have what you are talking about. I like to think I have all the basics.

Take a look at this fantastic top and comment below explaining how you would style it. I need suggestions whether traditional or outside of the box. Go for it … any inspiration helps, for the love of Jesus, because for some reason I can’t wrap my head around this guy. Hey … we all have our moments. I’m sure Marc Jacobs has issues getting dressed in the morning … right?

I mean who doesn’t want to play the part of Rachel Zoe?! Rock it out. Make it “maj“. Looking forward to seeing what you guys are going to bring to the table! Comment either here or on my numerous social media presences like:

Twitter: @LSIASB

Instagram: LifeSucksInAStraplessBra

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Life-Sucks-In-A-Strapless-Bra/242154915813904

Tagged black-and-white, H&M, minimalism, Rachel Zoe, shirts, sleeveless shirt, style block, styling

Feb 12 2013

Valentine's Day 2013

Jesus Did Not Die NOR Did He Rise …

… on February 14.

Valentine’s Day is such a bunch of bullshit. Seriously … way to go Hallmark for finding a way to make people want to crawl in a black hole one day a year for no other reason than the fact that they aren’t receiving chocolates, flowers and idiotic cards that say, “I Woof You,” with some pathetic looking dog on it. I’ve seen girls literally cry themselves into a frenzy watching other women receive flowers and not them. It’s wild and sad all at the same time.

Now I’m not speaking as an enraged woman who just had her heart-broken … absolutely not. Because even if you are with that “special someone” … these Valentine’s Day advertisements have an acute way of making you feel absolutely alone. All of a sudden your mind goes to crazy places like, “my boyfriend doesn’t shop at Jared … what does it mean!?!” “Why haven’t I received an open heart necklace … huh?!” “OMG … I’m sitting on my couch alone right now … I’m going to be alone forever … ever … ever …ever :::Trails off:::” In-san-i-ty.

I wouldn’t even take the time to acknowledge the fact that Cupid voms all over the place this time of year if it wasn’t for a very poignant conversation I just had with my best friend. I won’t give you the nitty-gritty details, but it was about “getting back to you.” It is so easy to get lost in work, every day life, a relationship, that you begin to lose yourself … including what you stand for. Only until someone smacks you upside the head and makes it crystal clear what you have become is when you realize that you are standing as a hot mess at point B … and point A (where your true self exists) is like 500,000 miles away in the opposite direction. And that is when you stop and say, “sssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

So I want to stick it to Valentine’s Day this year … and I’m hoping all of my fab readers will stand with me. And I’m not saying this in an Alanis Morissette kind of “You Outta Know” way. I’m saying it so ladies out there don’t take it as a green light to torture the men in their lives for not planning the “perfect evening” and for the other set of single women to plan elaborate all female gatherings Real Housewives-style chugging white wine and spurting out half thought out sentence fragments about why being single is so awesome and how “I don’t need no mans ::: drunken z-snap:::”, oh yeah and … “why doesn’t he LOVE me?!!?!?! ::::drunken tears::::: Ew.

Enough.

So do me a fav and …

Please refrain from the following:

1. All girl dinners that end up being drunken convos about ex-boyfriends and how much they suck … yet don’t … yet do … yet don’t … and usually end with a pathetic drunken text to him/her that sounds like SUCH a good idea at the time, but when you wake up in the morning will make you want to die. Seriously ladies … just don’t. Seriously. “No … but I jussssss … need … to tell him … that I’m sooooooo over husss stupid azzzzz.” Yeah … text messaging ex-boyfriends should have a breathalyzer device attached to it. Apple … get on this.

2. Rolling your eyes at co-workers/friends who get showered the legit way for Valentine’s Day with flowers and such. It will be tempting … but let’s take the high road. There are some good ones out there who know how to do it right, no matter how stupid and clique it may seem. So anyone who wants to send me milk chocolate caramels … I will not stop you, nor will I roll my eyes. Just sayin’ …

3. Putting up a status somewhere across social media about Valentine’s Day and how fabulous you are with an undertone of saltiness that you are single. Seriously … not a good look. Tacky if anything. Being single isn’t cancer and age is it but a number. Get. Over. Yourself.

But seriously …

Please indulge in the following:

1. How fantastic you are … personally, professionally, all around … indulge in it. It is a day about “love”, right? Think of all the ways that you make life lovable and how life makes you lovable. Put on a fabulous outfit, go about your day like any other day … but take the time to love yourself. I know I sound like a heinous self-help nightmare right now, but I’m serious for once. It is important, dammit.

2. How fantastic the people in your life are. Family, friends … even if you have one of each … it is a blessing. I am the luckiest girl in the world to be surrounded by such lovely friends. That is something to celebrate and hell … I may even consider buying them a God damn open heart necklace because yes, they rock THAT much.

3. Know that one day to show the love … just isn’t enough and shouldn’t be enough. The love should be shown 365 days a year. Nice try Hallmark, but we ain’t buyin’. One day of roses and candies and naked Cupids doesn’t mean shit at the end of the day. It means your neighbor gave in to the man … and you didn’t. BOOM.

Ahhh Valentine’s Day … how you make us all go cray. But this year … it is time to rise above.

Tagged Alanis Morissette, Anti-Valentine's Day, Apple, Cupid, Hallmark, hearts, Holiday, open heart necklaces, Self help, Valentine's, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day 2013

Feb 07 2013

Grammy's 2013

Mama and Papa CBS Say No Bare Fleshy, Grammy-Goers!

I’m speechless. Literally. First thing you learn when you are, oh … I don’t know … able to comprehend that you are a human being walking on this earth, is that it is not okay to let your giggly bits hang out. Seriously. Don’t you remember the awkward and weird convo you had with your parents as a wee one that went a little something like, “no-no areas stay covered up, sweetie.” “No showing your butterfly on the playground,” and so on.

But I suppose when you become rich and famous, those little “private part talks” we had with our parental units go right out the window. Why? Because, why NOT! Duh! Seriously though, we are innocent bystanders that have been watching a battle called “who can push the limit the most.” Because of people like Janet Jackson and her infamous nip slip, Lil Kim letting one of her knockers hang free for Diana Ross to feel up, J. Lo and the “scandalous” Versace number, and countless other nip slip, side boob, ass crack and va-jay moments … CBS Standards and Practices committee now feels it is necessary to take the parental role and use the term, ” no bare fleshy,” in an email to all attendees of the Grammy’s.

Mama and Papa CBS: Now Rhianna, your body is a temple only for you. No bare fleshy at the Grammy’s … okay? Bare fleshy bad!
Rhianna: :::Sighs::: BUT!
Mama and Papa CBS: BUT NOTHING. No bare fleshy on the red carpet! Am I understood young lady!?
Rhianna: :::huffs and crosses arms::: fine.

My question is, do people REALLY need to be reminded of such things? Really? Because as accomplished adults … you should have a little common sense to know that private parts should not be exposed in public. You should also be aware of a thing called “taste” and “class.” Just because it’s only rock n’ roll, doesn’t give you the green light to dress like an absolutely hot mess hooker, especially when fantastic designers are probably begging you to wear their looks hot off the runway. Hmm … McQueen … or this slutty number from a no-name designer from West LA? Decisions … decisions.

Yet at the same time performers are so set on out-doing one another that … in reality … on-stage nudity is the next big “shocker.” Remember the good ol’ days when it was scandalous that Madonna rolled around on stage in a wedding dress to “Like a Virgin”? Now if Lady Gaga walked on stage butt ass naked I don’t even think I would blink an eye.

This leaves me wondering what is going to happen when Jennifer Lopez gets out of her limo in a dress with a slit going up her thigh. Is the principal of CBS going to come out with a ruler and expel her ass? I hope someone shows up with a tuxedo painted on their body. Now that would REALLY be stickin’ it to the man.

Oh, also (I almost forgot) … no product placement either, rock stars! Eff … guess I’m going to have to return my one-of-a-kind sequin dress with “SPAM” written across my knockers. Oh well :::sigh::: … there is always the Oscars.

And now … for my fav “scandalous” Grammy’s looks!

Tagged CBS, CBS rules, CBS standard practices, Grammy, Grammy Award, Janet Jackson, Lil Kim, No bare fleshy, No fleshy, Rhianna, Scandalous dresses, Showing skin, Showing too much skin, Standards and Practices

Feb 05 2013

Closets

Closet Space: Let Me, Let Me Downgrade ‘Cha

Moving. :::Sigh::: People tell you how heinous it is, but you really don’t know until you make 15 trips to get your closet from your car to your room … upstairs. In other news, my side abs are looking FANTASTIC. But yes, if you don’t stalk me on social media, then you’ve missed all of my fantastical ranting and raving about this epic move that owned my life for the past two-three weeks. But it is over. I am through with the moving conversation.

And yes, I did get emotional when saying goodbye to my old closet, pictured to the left. It wasn’t like Real Housewives status or anything, but it fit my wardrobe perfectly and I Pinterested it before Pinterest was “Pinterest” by ripping the doors off and adding sheers. I couldn’t help but run my fingers one last time through the sheers as Boys to Men’s, “It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye to YesterdayHEEEE,” played in my head.

That song quickly turned into, “Movin’ on Up” as I went to place my clothing in their new home, when … wait, what :::record screeches:::? Yep. Meet my new closet I’ve deemed “the hole.” Honestly … who can work with something like this?! I am a visual person. When thinking of outfit options, I like all of them staring right back at me so I can say, “Hey guy, I’m going to wear you today with this other guy” (yes I talk to my clothes, don’t you?)

So I had two options: 1. Throw my clothes on the floor and roll around in them crying screaming, “WHY?! WHY ME, LORD?!?!” or 2. Get creative.

To everyone’s shock and awe, I chose the later.

1. I became one with my space: I figured out where my furniture would fit best (and look best) in order to get an idea of how much space I was workin’ with and what storage option would work well with it. It also forced me to get all of my shit in order, otherwise I would be the girl who lived out of boxes.

2. I embraced storage options: I never understood “The Container Store” or people who were obsessed with it. Seemed like overpriced plastic nonsense for organizational freaks to me. Now I know … they are women who lack closet space. After realizing a rolling rack is what would fill my space void … I started researching Walmart, the Container Store, IKEA, Amazon … and numerous other random sites for the perfect one.

3. I got Pinterested: Not only did I need more space for my clothes … I needed it to look chic. This is my room, the expression of who I am, for the love of Jesus. I’ve worked tirelessly to create an oasis for myself and I wouldn’t have it ruined by an obtrusive piece of furniture that i just had to buy for the sake of storage. Eff that … aesthetics comes first. I therefore turned to Pinterest for creative options from shelving to rolling racks. I’m telling you, if you ever have a creative roadblock from style to home decor to world peace issues … Pinterest will save the day … I swear.

4. I became okay with failing: In this process, you need to know that your first attempt at storage solutions … won’t work. The storage Gods don’t play that way, homie. You will need to move furniture, reorganize, move furniture again. Shit will break and it will lead you to drink. You’ll buy one rolling rack, replace it for another, and drink some more. Or (like I did), make your mom tradesies with you for the perfect rolling rack fit.

5. I found rolling rack Jesus: Once you find the perfect storage solution … this overwhelming sense of peace takes over your body. No I’m serious, it is like an outer body experience … you just feel … soothed. Calm. Heavenly. No I’m CLEARLY not that much of a storage psychopath … but it was a vibrant sense of completeness when I turned my storage nightmare into this Pinterest-worthy creation. BOOM. Not only do I get to showcase all my fantastic pieces, but the rack works with the rest of my furniture, AND there is still so much room for ACTIVITIES!

The Finished Product:

Tagged Closet, closets with no space, clothing racks, Container Store, containers, furniture, IKEA, Interior design, moving, Pinterest, rolling rack, small closets, space, Storage, Walmart

Jan 18 2013

Khakis

Khakis … I Shall Burn Thee.

I’m starting to feel like I need to go to a therapist about all of my repressed childhood fashion choices that haunt me to this day. Khakis. I honestly don’t think I’ve owned a pair since I was in elementary school. Hey, it was the 90′s. And even then I was forced to wear them for “fancy” events like plays, family parties and other random events I was dragged to, because at this point in time I was repulsed by dresses and this was my mother’s second best option for me to look “dressed up.” Woof.

I blame the fact that Khakis have become a “classic wardrobe staple” on The Gap and their stupid hip commercials in the 90′s with all of the swing dancing and such. Remember those? If you are an embryo and can’t remember that far back, let me enlighten you … take a walk through the 90′s here.

Yeah. That happened. Thanks, Gap. I wish I was in the boardroom when the advertising big wig had this stroke of genius. “Khakis … AND … wait for it … SWING DANCING! EH?!”

So let me explain to you the reasons why the site of Khakis make me want to create a bonfire and throw them all in there. ahem …

1. They are stain magnets. It is like the universe turns them into a magnet for any type of colored liquid or food particle to drop on them. If you wear light-colored pants, like Khakis, you are most certainly asking to get a stain in a really awkward place and then have to walk around for the rest of the day with a sweatshirt wrapped around your waist … YOU know what I’m talking about. Also, remember as a kid how you were never allowed to play outside when you were wearing them due to parental fears of grass stains? “No sweetie, after Easter mass THEN you can go play outside. We don’t need Mr. Grass Stain to get you before then, do we now?” That SUCKED.

2. They never are the right color. Like ever. The really light ones are super ugly and weird. Like are they white? Beige? What the hell are you trying to be? And then the ones that are a little too dark are just as strange and remind me of a card board box. There is never the “right color khaki.” And if you know of one, don’t even bother telling me because I still will loathe them. Just call me the Goldie Locks of Khaki pants … they are never just right.

3. Uniforms. If you have ever worked in retail or at a convenience store, chances are you either had a uniform or weren’t allowed to wear jeans. I worked at numerous retail stores back in the day, mostly discount places, and we weren’t allowed to wear jeans, which was devastating to me. I lived in jeans and really didn’t know anything else outside the world of designer jeans. So I turned to khakis and had to pull together really awful outfits in order to meet a silly dress code. Someone call my therapist because I think this is another reason why I have repressed Khaki issues. But seriously, making sandwiches and dealing with awful customers that yell at you over discounted designer goods whilst wearing Khakis? You would want to burn them, too.

4. Too Short. Too Wide. Bell bottoms, wide legged, capri, skin-tight skinnies, drawstring, floods, mom jeans in the form of Khakis … all are repulsive. Once again … I blame this on the Gap. They put really good-looking people in really ugly pants with some sort of hypnotism device in the commercial so when you watched it, you immediately needed to buy them. I have never found a pair of Khakis that have fit properly. They always make my thighs look weird, my ass look flat, and, worst of all … they are NEVER long enough. When was the last time you put on a pair of Khakis and did you best model strut? Hmm? All signs that they should be burned.

5. What the HELL do you wear with them? Okay, so you could wear a white button down, or a white t-shirt with Khakis and look like you are a Kennedy taking a stroll on the beach in Martha’s Vineyard. Or you could wear a nifty cardigan with them … but seriously, how do you make Khakis cool? They are the ultimate statement piece if you are preppy. Nothing wrong with that. If you are preppy, you’re preppy. No shame. But for the rest of us, how do we make them work? The answer is, you don’t. They are made preppy, and therefore, you really can’t take that away from them. Unless you rock a “I Heart Satan” shirt or something with them with combat boots … maybe then.

Listen, Khakis are forever cool … because the Gap said so, and what Gap says goes. But at the end of the day, they may be one of my least favorite garments in the whole entire world. I tried them … therefore I can knock them.

In the meantime, I shall call my therapist. I think we should start with the Old Navy Khaki capris I bought in sixth grade that were skin-tight and came below my knee. :::Chills:::

Ps. No one has performed a swing dance in Khakis since 1998.

Tagged 1990s Fashion, Casual, clothing, Consumer Goods and Services, Gap, Gap Swing Dance, Khaki, Khaki Gap Swing Dance, Swing, the Gap

Jan 14 2013

high heels

Don’t Wear Um If You Can’t Rock Um

Yep … :::sigh::: that little girl to the left? That’s me. Let me tell you that I’ve tried numerous times to burn this picture. My family has been obsessed with it … so much that my brother thought it would be funny to blow it up and put it on the side of my house during my high school graduation party … so he did. Good times …

But after watching the Golden Globes last night and having to witness Lena Dunham awkwardly stumble to the stage to accept her awards, I decided I had to share this photo with you and tell you a little story called … I’ve been walking in heels since I was 3 … literally, as you can see. And not because my mom was a crazytown stage mom. Nope … this was self-inflicted. I literally lived in heels until like age 5.

Right, so Lena, darling … just because you have a fab TV show that everyone is obsessed with (myself not included) and have become God’s gift to hipsters all over the world and you probably were and are worth a million bazillion dollars … DOESN’T mean you have to rock 6 inch Louboutin’s. Seriously. Sure, they are fun, pretty, and a “symbol of status.” But what is the point if you can’t strut your stuff properly?

I realize everyone is crying like, “waaa leave poor Lena alone, she was wearing beastly Loubs … you try walking in them waaaa!” But seriously, why didn’t her “people” hire her someone to teach her how to strut in these bad ass shoes? Because if you are going to rock Loubs … you ROCK Loubs, for the love of God.

At the end of the day, wearing high heels and walking in them … not an easy task. But we as ladies do it because they are fun, gorgeous, sexy, and a staple in every woman’s closet. But if you can’t walk in them, pick a different pair. I think Christian Louboutin makes a smaller heel size than 6 inches, right? There is nothing more uncomfortable in life than witnessing a woman wearing a fantastic pair of heels and disgracing them by walking like an idiot.

And for ladies … and Lena … that have a hard time walking in heels, here is my shoe strutting advice:

1. Take your time, there is never a fire whilst walking in heels … never

2. Picture Naomi Campbell or your favorite super model when you walk

3. Heel, toe, heel, toe … it is not a myth

4. Know the difference between “sitting shoes” and “walking shoes” … if you don’t know the difference, you should probably nix the heels completely

5. When you buy new heels, wear them around your house, rock them when you cook, clean … break. them. in. (Lena Dunham should have been doing this for weeks before the Golden Globes)

6. Practice makes perfect. If you have an event to go to and you never wear heels … and decide to indulge in your dream pair of heels to rock … don’t, unless you are willing to put the hours of walking practice in. Otherwise … guaranteed, you will make an ass of yourself.

So there ya have it. I still walk like an asshole in high heels when they aren’t broken in properly … we all do. But I’m sorry, there just is no excuse when you are at the Golden Globes. None. Like not even a little. I’m glad you have your hipster army defending you but … for shame.

Tagged Christian Louboutin, Golden Globe Award, high heels, High-heeled footwear, Lena Dunham, stilettos, strut

Jan 10 2013

Makeup

Things I Don’t Have The Balls To Do

It has taken me a long time to turn into the person I am today. There was a time where I barely spoke, let alone have the nerve to write a blog post with the word “balls” in it (sorry family). I’m finally at the point in my life where I’m like kind of okay with pushing boundaries … kind of. But there is one thing I still just CANNOT do …

… and that is walk out of my house without a drop of makeup on.

I know, I know … what the HELL is wrong with me, right? I thought, maybe I should go to a therapist, figure out what the core of this issue is. Perhaps I secretly hate myself? Maybe it stems from years of repressed teenage rage? Or is it that I’ve come to find makeup as the mask I use to hide behind society and all of its pure evils!

Nope … here is what’s up. A. I love makeup. I love the way it looks, feels, smells … I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT :::kicks legs up in the air::: And B. I look a hot mess without it. For serious. I’m not one of those girls that walks out of the shower all dewy (ps. I loathe that word, why did I just use it) and fresh, ready to take on the world. Oh hell no. Those Neutrogena commercials are bullshit. My skin, pre-airbrushed, ain’t perfect, to say the least. Blotchy spots, blemishes, and dry skin for days. Woof.

Yes, moisturizer is my bestie. But even if I lather on the cream, it still doesn’t make me instantaneously human being-friendly. My skin may be hydrated, but the blotchy, blemish bullshit is still very much present. Only now my skin looks super glossy … ick … sick, not sexy.

But there are a few instances where you will see me leave my house sans makeup:

1. If I’m Legit Sick (like I was this week): I could care less if my face makes you want to run in a cave and hide for the rest of your life. I honestly feel bad for my doctor and the people I come across in his office, because that man only sees me when I’m like a stage 5 hot mess. I’m like the Queen of all hot messes out there. But you know what, I could care less. When I’m that sick, a parade of ex-boyfriends could strut through his office and I still wouldn’t give a shit. I’m lucky if I’m not drooling on myself at that point.

2. If I’m Super Glow-Fab Tan: Perfectly sun-kissed skin doesn’t need makeup. Maybe a pop of mascara, but besides that … I’m going to rock out with the free bronzer, yo.

3. If There Is An Emergency: If someone is in the hospital, if someone needs my help, if on the face scale of pain you say you are at a 10 where the smiley face doesn’t even look like a smiley face anymore because it is wincing so badly … yes, I will drop everything, including my makeup bag, and run to you.

4. From The Shower To My Makeup Table: I’ll be makeup-free in that like five-minute window, so if you are that desperate to see me without … try to catch me then.

5. When I Sleep: I don’t sleep with makeup on … soberly. I believe it speeds up the aging process and I’m trying to look like I’m in my 20′s forevah-evah. So I am very diligent about removing it before bedtime and applying expensive anti-aging (it’s best to start now) … unless I’m drunk. You have a better chance of seeing me make out with Justin Timberlake than me actually taking off my makeup before bed whilst under the influence of vodka. Either way, I’m waking up looking a hot mess.

So there you have it. I am confident enough to admit that makeup for me is a comfort blanket of some sort. Without it I absolutely feel naked, and even worse, I have less swagger, if you will.

At the end of the day, we want to give into trends and all this ridiculously expensive beauty nonsense to make our swagger that much stronger. A good bag of makeup that makes your feel beautiful has the power to change your whole day. And a good day can change your whole world … trust me, that’s all it takes.

Tagged Beauty, Cosmetics, makeup

Jan 08 2013

Bravo TV

Commercial Shame

So I have the Black Death that has infected most of the Northeast. Fever, stuffy nose, face feeling like it is going to fall off … weak, tired. It is the worst, especially when your doctor tells you what you have is viral and there is nothing you can do.

So I was told to rest, which I am AWFUL at (hi, I’m the worst patient). But I did find something to connect my ass to my couch, which was a Real Housewives of Beverly Hills marathon on Bravo, which is the holy grail of good TV when you are sick. I literally watched it from 3 p.m. to 9 p.m. (judge all you want … but I needed to see what was going to happen between Adrienne and Brandi … come on!)

And as I sat on my couch in my finest hobo gear (I could break mirrors when I’m sick), I couldn’t help but notice the depressing commercials that were shown on Bravo. Like yes, advertisers know who to target during what shows on certain channels, but seriously … for the love of Jesus, they were painting a grim picture.

Now these are just some of the commercials I saw on Bravo that made me question if I was “that woman” who was addicted to Bravo …

Previews for More Bravo Shows: Like lots of them. AKA you have no life and need these marathons and new idiotic shows to get you by. Don’t feel bad, I eat them up, too! Suck it, Bravo … you win! Lisa VanderSkank has her OWN SHOW!? Shut. UP! It is like candy. Hello … I mean I’m currently living vicariously through Kyle Richards on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

Dating Sites: EHarmony.com, Match.com, Match mixers, BlackPeopleMeet.com … for the love of Jesus. We get it, new year … single people don’t want to be single. Duh. But there is such a thing as an “independent woman” who doesn’t need no mans :::z snap::: Flashing these commercials in between me seeing if a housewife bitch slapped another housewife as I run to get my 15th Diet Coke won’t do ANYTHING for me. Moving on.

FreeCreditScore: Ya broke? Because these fools will remind you. Ugh … Go. Away. The holidays are over … we may or may not have over done it with the credit card usage … who the hell wants to be spun into an anxiety attack when watching mindless drivel. Not this guy. Hence why I’m watching said mindless drivel.

Pet Smart Commercials: ALL the kitty ladies, ALL the kitty ladies, ALL the kitty ladies … now put your paws UP! Calling all cat ladies, there is something for you! Rar! Now where did I put those dang cat treats … Chester is meowing again.

Vacations: Depressed? Lonely? Need to get away with your man, perhaps reignite that love flame? Go to Disney, Paradise Island and any other numerous exotic places they flash in your face. AKA making you hate your life even more and crave a vacation you probably can’t afford. Cool.

Insurance Commercials: I don’t really understand why they are emphasizing shit falling on cars and your house so much … but it really sucks. I’m trying to watch women who have 10 carat engagement rings and 15 Hermes bags here and ignore my stupid life, kay thanks. You don’t exist, car insurance.

Watchers of Weight: Jesus … okay we ALL put on a little extra weight during the holidays and if you say you didn’t you are a dirty liar. But do we need to be reminded every five seconds? “I lost 25 pounds with my hubby, I did the cooking and the calculating … blah blah blah” we-ing all over that bitch that not only makes you very aware that you are overweight … but single.

Oh and I love the crack rocks you can sprinkle on your food now to magically lose pounds. Oh and now they make orange juice with less sugar? What?! Isn’t OJ healthy to begin with?! These people are on drugs … do it the old-fashioned way ladies … the way YOU want … for YOU … with YOU … BY YOU! Tell that happy bitch who lost 25 pounds with her husband to suck it and eat a Snickers.

… and last, but certainly not least, …

Gordon’s Fisherman Fish Sticks Commercials: Umm … what? You’re single, broke … fat … so now we are turning to the creepy dude in the yellow fisherman’s coat? I would much rather starve to death. Eating fish sticks will NOT … and I repeat NOT bring all the boys to the yard.

So thanks, Bravo. We are over weight, lonely, single, broke, cat ladies, who eat Gordon’s fisherman sticks with bad credit that are in desperate need of a vacation. But you know what … sticks and stones, Bravo, because you have really good bad TV that soothes my soul when I’m sick.

Now excuse me … I just got sucked into the Real Housewives of Atlanta. Bye life as I once knew it.

Tagged Bad TV, Bravo, dating sites, eharmony, match.com, Real Housewives of Atlanta, Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, vacations

Jan 06 2013

Makeup

Anxiety In The Makeup Department

2013 is here and I don’t know about you, but I get the urge to revamp every aspect of my life this time of year. I feel empowered to work harder, try new things, get healthy (although I am not one of those diet-obsessed/gym membership-crazed freaks), and really just get the urge to start kicking ass and taking names. It feels amazing … even if I know it may or may not last.

But I also find myself VERY bored with my overall appearance. I’m literally yawning at myself in the mirror. I feel like my hair style hasn’t changed since early 2002, which concerns me. Have you ever seen those women with the hairstyles from the 1980′s who think they look absolutely smashing, but clearly are unaware of the fact that 20 years have passed? Am I that person now?! Are ” the kids” laughing at me saying like, “wow, nice straight hair from 2002, granny!” Eek!

So I had an Ulta gift card burning a hole in my pocket, and thought why not start revamping my look with some new glam-a-lam. There were two definite things I ran out of that I needed, but besides that I had an open mind. When I got there, I had extreme makeup ADD. My mind was literally going, “oh Stila, but wait … Smashbox lip glosses?! OMG stop … Bare Minerals … ahhh!” Like I could NOT focus for the life of me.

In essence … here is why I cannot shop in stores that strictly just sell beauty products.

1. The pretty colors distract me: I know, I’m five. But seriously, the way the makeup lines are set up with all the pretty colors and containers exposed makes it extremely difficult for me to focus on one thing. I’m like jumping from lip glosses to shadows to different brands to hair dryers in seconds. Not only that it’s like lip glosses, eye shadows, nail polishes, hair styling tools, spa items, bags, hair accessories … like my sweet Jesus … enter anxiety attack stage left.

2. Idiots Work There: I mean no disrespect and I’m not saying ALL people that work in these stores are idiots, but if you are working in a department that sells $40 lip glosses … you should probably know a thing or two about A. customer service and B. the product itself. I was clearly wandering around like a lost fool in front of these two sales associates today who were having a really vibrant conversation about their college experience and what they wanted to do with their lives. “:::twirls hair::: Like I have a broadcasting degree … but like, you can’t really do a lot with it, so I’m just here for now until I figure something else out.” Seriously, that’s fantastic and all … I’m glad your educated, but mama needs help picking out products. Help a sista out, for the love of God! They didn’t even acknowledge me, and I really didn’t want to ask their opinions because I just had this inkling that they would turn me into Snooki. And yeah … no.

3. Brand Overload: We all have brands that we are loyal to for one reason or another, but like I said … new year, time to branch out a little. But how do you know what is good and what isn’t? Sure, you can read all the reviews and ask for opinions … but at the end of the day everyone’s skin and style is different, so really you are forced to just test products blindly. No offense, but buying a $20 eye liner without knowing for a fact that I am going to adore it doesn’t seem too appealing to me. They blind us with brand bling … yet I have no guarantees.

4. The Necessities: I went into Ulta for two products, but had an open mind for some new thangs. I found myself torn between what I needed and what I wanted. I wanted to try out a dark red lipstick, but I needed new gold-ish eye shadow because I knew I was going to run out shortly. I wanted the cool new colors from Smashbox, but needed a new Mascara. Hence why I was walking around the department like a lost fool. The stylish angel on my shoulder was pushing me one way while the saucy devil on the other was trying to get me to do bad things.

5. I’m Super Cheap: The beauty behind Sephora is that they don’t give you the “cheaper” option. They are literally like too f-ing bad … we have high-end brands and if you must go slightly cheaper, we have the Sephora brand for you … which is still kind of pricy. But with Ulta you have one side full of glitzy, higher-end brands, and then the classic Revlon, Almay, Covergirl, etc. on the other side. So when I find a $20 designer eye shadow and fall in love with it … I end up going to the other side to go find it for cheaper. That’s just how I roll.

So there ya have it. I literally didn’t step out of my makeup comfort zone because I got so overwhelmed by all of the above. Sigh … damn you Ulta … you’ve won this one.

Tagged Almay, Beauty, Cosmetics, Revlon, Sephora, Stila, Ulta, Ulta Beauty

Jan 05 2013

Atlantic City Style

Skanks, Skanks Everywhere …

So I just returned from my birthday excursion to Atlantic City (yes, I’m offish 26). And in the midst of my hangover, I need to share with you the spell I noticed that washes over every girl the minute they hit the casino floor. No it is not the urge to gamble all your money away, chain smoke and start chugging vodka … it is the urge to dress like a straight up skank. You can’t control it, you just want to let it wash over your body until your ass is hanging out of short shorts and your ta’s are all out and about.

So I had on a really fantastic flowy Theory dress with an open back. Beautiful? Yes. Classy? Totes. AC appropriate? Jesus, no. It is all about the age-old saying, “when in Rome.” And when in Atlantic City, you need to show as much skin as humanly possible without actually walking around naked … derh. And like I said, I had this incredible urge to look skankalicious.

So I changed into a skin-tight, short as shit lacy number, since I brought like 15 options with me, and five-inch sparkly heels (I mean it was my birthday) and I finally felt like I was home. Why? Because there are really a few places on this earth that you can dress that skanky openly and not be judged, so I indulged … just a little.

But when I was “out in da club” rubbing shoulders with every dress Forev Twent has ever created, I noticed there are different types of Atlantic City-skankdom.

1. The Kim Kardashian Skank: Too much makeup, extensions down to your ass, 5 inch peep toe stilettos, the tightest banded dresses I’ve ever seen to accentuate the curves and usually all in black or nude. You stand there with a serious pout, hands on hips, very model-esque. The only difference is Kim’s look is (probably) designer, and these girls … not so much. Nice try, though.

2. The Dirty Skank: These are the girls that have no right wearing what they are wearing. Perhaps the dress they are rocking isn’t fitting properly, things don’t match, the hair, the jewels, the shoes just aren’t working … I mean it could be a number of things. I don’t want to be catty or rude … you get the drift.

3. The Diamonds in the Rough: In the midst of bad dresses and skanky whores, there are a few girls who have actual style. They didn’t just throw on a tight dress, high heels and straighten their hair. They wear the statement bling, the styled dress with the booties to match. I mean these are runway-esque looks. These are the girls I want to tap on the shoulder and say, “hey, you look fab.”

4. The “Oh … I totally have that dress” Skank: I tell you, when you are in a crowded club and you look around, you’ll see millions of girls, literally … in some sense … wearing the same dress. It is either from Forev 21, H&M or Express. Bet me money. And these girls, who are all wearing the same dress in essence, are competing against one another. They are swinging their hips, throwing their heads back laughing, making eyes to cute boys, AND secretly wishing you and every other girl competitor would die a slow death. There is nothing to these girls besides a slutty dress and an evil eye.

So there you have it. I woke up this morning like Cindarella after the clock struck 12 and transformed back into my non-skanky self and said, “get me the hell out of here, for the love of God.”

But these”going out dress” bore me to death. We need to come up with something new, like pants, for example. Pants … they are so hot right now … pants.

Tagged Atlantic City, Atlantic City Style, Club Dresses, Dresses, Going Out Dresses

Jan 02 2013

Comfy Clothing

What Is Your HMHL? (Hot Mess Hobo Look)

Excuse me while I lay flat on my bed in a coma drooling on myself, thanking the Gods from the bottom of my heart and soul that the damn holidays are over. Good. Lord. I can literally hear my body saying to me, “Hey! You! Yeah … you! You made me gain 10 lbs, I’m dehydrated to shit, and I just had to talk your liver into not fleeing your body to a safe haven … hope we made some healthy resolutions, lady!”

If I did resolutions, which I don’t, it would be to give it a rest … for a while, at least. Literally. I’m placing my five-inch stilettos, short shorts, tights, and everything else uncomfortable I own gently in my closet and letting them collect some dust. In the meantime, I’m adopting my HMHL. What is that you ask? Let me explain …

Hot Mess Hobo Look. Yep. I’m not talking about the cute sweatpants from Alternative Apparel with the matching hoodie. Or the low-rise Juicy sweats that may be made of cotton but are such a damn chore to wear. I’m talking about the clothes you wear when no one is around … like no one. No friends, family, significant others. Okay, maybe your cat … but that is it. Here is how you accomplish said look …

1. Don’t shower. Just don’t. Wake up in the morning NOT feeling like P. Diddy and don’t shower.

2. Throw hair up in messy, non-cute bun. That’s right … no sock buns, no fancy buns that involve bobby pins … I’m talkin’ on the top of your hair with pieces of hair going to and fro … yo. And it’s okay … your hair can be greasy. Remember, NO SHOWERING!

3. No makeup. Or if you are so lazy (which is the point of all of this), you’ll have black under your eyes from mascara residue. But that’s it. Blemishes come out to play … all day. Lips might be chapped, you’ll have bags under your eyes … it ain’t pretty. But ladies, our skin needs to breathe sometimes.

4. Rock a pair of sweats that only your cat should see. This would be the pair of sweats that are so damn comfy you want to staple them to your ass, but at the same time are so ugly it could make a unicorn cry. Mine happen to be a gray pair of Steve Madden (yes, I know), cotton sweats that no longer have a string to make them tighter since it got so knotted and I’m too lazy to fix it. And since the string is gone, they shimmy down when I walk, giving you an 87% chance to see my undies when I walk. They are also super thin since I wear them like all the time and may or may not have holes in them.

5. Sweatshirt of some kind. I’m not a fan of sweatshirts, I retired them all when I graduated college … my go-to happens to be a sweatshirt-like shirt that looks like it has bleach stains all over it, but really the bleach stains were strategically placed there. Doesn’t need to match, the only focus is on comfort. Oh yeah, and it is gray to match my hole-ridden, ass showing Steve Madden GRAY pants. Mmm hmm I look super hot. Come and get me, boys.

6. Infinity scarf. I enjoy living in my American Apparel infinity scarves in the winter because I can wrap my entire body in them and they are warm. No jewelry is allowed in this look, so I consider this my hobo-chic accessory.

7. Socks/Slippers. For example right now … I’m wearing mismatching socks. Not only that, but one ankle sock and one knee-high. Why? Because I don’t care and just need to be warm. And I do own a pair of furry tan slippers from Target that go to my mid-calf and if I could find them I would so wear them right now. They really are the icing of my weird gray jump suit HMHL.

… and that is about it, my friends. Park your ass on the couch and in the words of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, lay like broccoli. No one will see you, no one will judge, no one will be there to care. The goal is to be so comfortable yet look like the bird lady from Home Alone 2.

I learned the art of my HMHL from my mother who literally doesn’t have one article of comfy clothing that doesn’t have a hole or bleach stain on it. And not the kind of bleach stain that was strategically placed there … I mean the kind you get from cleaning the shit out of the kitchen. And she likes it like that. Wanna know why? Because nothing is better in life than seasoned comfy clothes.

What is your HMHL?

Tagged comfy clothes, Hot Mess, Steve Madden, sweat pants, sweat shirts

Dec 30 2012

New Year's Eve 2013

Holy Shit, I Have NOTHING To Wear Tonight!

If any of you are like me, you woke up this morning, realized it was New Year’s Eve and then realized you have absolutely no idea what you are wearing tonight. I mean is this not the worst feeling in the world?! It’s not like you are hopping out of bed to go to work not knowing what the hell you are wearing … oh no, this is NEW YEAR’S EVE for Christ’s sake! What the HELL are we going to do!?

Okay … everyone calm down! We have two options, ladies: 1. Take on the mall today. 2. Find something in your closet that could potentially work. Let me tell you something … if you choose option #1 (and I mean this with love) you are a fucking idiot. Let me break this down for you. New Year’s Eve is the ultimate amateur hour. I don’t know about you, but I like to drink … a lot. Therefore when a monumental event comes around like ringing in the New Year, I don’t really fancy paying quadruple or even more to get into my local watering hole that normally wouldn’t cost me shit to get into … only to wait in line for hours on end to get a watered down vodka and club … leaving me sober and having to deal with these amateur idiots who can’t handle their watered down vodka drinks. Hmph.

So if you are thinking about going to the mall today to try to find that perfect outfit, here are some reasons why you shouldn’t:

1. Sober Amateurs Will Shop: You will be bombarded with girls in sweat pants with PINK across their asses that just got their makeup done at MAC frantically looking for the perfect sparkly skankfit that will bring all the boys to the yard. They will be with their friends freaking the fuck out talking at octaves only dogs can hear, all up in ya bid-ness. Don’t. Do. It. To. Your. Self.

2. Nothing is Left: I bet you are thinking to yourself, “SOMETHING has to be left.” Nope. It is not there. The only things that are left are negative zeros that probably have some sort of rip in the seam from some girl who clearly had no right trying that size on, but who was praying to Jesus that it would fit because it was her last hope … and didn’t. She threw it back at the sales associate in a fit of rage, and because the sales associate just wants to start and get her drink on, put it back on the floor carelessly to leave you with false hope. And the vicious cycle will continue.

3. Dresses Aren’t the End All, Be All, Kids: Unless you are going to a fancy party that you paid a lot of money to go to … a dress REALLY isn’t 100% necessary. I know, I know … we all want to look fab on New Year’s Eve, I get it … because on March 4 you will DEFINITELY remember how fab you looked, but Christ, think outside of the box. Leather pants, patterned pants … a nice pair of jeans with insanely amazing heels … all are appropriate for New Year’s Eve. Dare to be different … you know, put together an outfit that doesn’t look like a disco ball vommed all over you.

4. For the Love of Jesus … It’s Only New Year’s Eve: Remind yourselves of that if you don’t take my advice and end up going to the mall. It happens … every year. Don’t break your bank to look amazing … again, unless you are going to some party with a Queen. And no one will remember what you wore. Trust. Everyone gets so drunk, it won’t matter if you are wearing a God damn bath robe or haute couture. So if Forever 21 doesn’t have the dress you are looking for and you find yourself SOL … don’t worry. Ask anyone a few months from now what you wore, fantastic or foul … no one will give a shit and or remember.

5. Hey, Remember Your Closet?: Before doing ANYTHING … check out your closet. Lay some things out on your bed and start pairing shit together to see if it works. Leather skirt with a knit sweater, sheer maxi dress with a matte sparkle shrug and amazing tights … think outside of the box. You might have your New Year’s Eve outfit answer starring you right in the face and you don’t even know it. Pour yourself an early glass of champagne and start testing looks. What do you have to lose?

So ladies, don’t freak out. It’s a God damn Monday night, at the end of the day … and if you have no options and will have to settle with something ordinary, just start drinking earlier and it won’t matter. Boom … problem solved.

I’m personally royally screwed outfit-wise, but don’t care. Why? Because I’ve spent too too many years caring too too much about what I should wear for New Year’s Eve. You know how many New Year’s Eve outfits I remember? ONE … a sparkly dress I bought at Urban Outfitters two years ago. It was fab. I still have it and may decide to go for the “A disco ball just vommed all over me” look … again. The end.

Not caring is a beautiful thing. God speed, ladies. I know you will all look fantastic in some way. Cheers.

Tagged New Year's Eve 2013, New Year's Eve Fashion, New Year's Eve style

Dec 16 2012

Public Service Announcement

For The Love … Stop. Photographing. Yourself.

Okay, I know we are all beautiful, in every single way … Words. Can’t. Bring. Us. Down. But right now … I’m going to try to bring it down … for, you know, the common good of society.

What is up with every female … and some males … taking “MeGraphs”? What is a “MeGraph” you ask? It is when someone takes their camera or phone … either or, either or, and takes a picture of themselves and posts it to some social media outlet.

MeGraphs have escalated to the pondering girl, the “I’m so bored,” girl, the excited girl, the OMG look at this outfit I just randomly put together, but in reality took me all afternoon girl, the I’m pretending to not give a shit but actually it hurts … THAT is how hard I’m trying girl, the “I’m so nerdy, tee hee” … but in reality I’ve been trying for the past 45 minutes to be super sexy girl, and so on and so forth. All of which makes me want to, in the words of Chris Farley, rest his soul, drive my car into a God damn bridge embankment.

My question is, why? For the love of Jesus … why? Cool … you are wearing something awesome and want the world to see? Post it, go on with your bad self … but don’t act so blase about it. You want to post it because you think your look is the shit … so my God … say it. Scream it from the rooftops … that is why you are posting it to social media.

The only people who have the right to take “MeGraphs” and clog up my Instagram newsfeed are the following: Models, actors/actresses/people in the fashion industry. AND. THAT. IS. IT. If you are not in the following categories, then sorry kid … allow the photographs to happen organically. If a friend or family member would like to shoot a picture of you watching Gossip Girl on the couch with your cat looking bored … then so be it. Throw that shit on Instagram. But besides that … STOP.

So curious as to when the appropriate time to take a “MeGraph” is?

Here is a foolproof checklist that will make it crystal clear:

1. If you suddenly become famous … like the paparazzi is parked in front of your crib famous

2. If you suddenly become an editor at Vogue

3. If you suddenly get to co-star in Justin Timberlake’s next film

4. If you just got your makeup done and you look absolutely stunning … show that shit off

5. If someone ELSE will be in the photo with you … green light … ding, ding, ding

6. If you are 100% whole heartedly against duck facing … but still … refrain

7. If you just got done modeling for Marc Jacob’s fall print campaign and running to do Burberry’s next

8. If you have a black eye … (I assume it would have an interesting story behind it to make up for the MeGraph)

9. If you just got a face tattoo

10. If you are online dating and need a really fantastic profile shot and ONLY will post it to said dating site … ONLY

If you do not fall into ANY of the above categories … then my sincere apologies but … no MeGraph for you. I’m sorry … I can’t allow my readers to have awkward MeGraphs … I just can’t.

And just so we are clear, here is the list of awkward MeGraphs:

1. When you look bored

2. When you look super serious

3. When you duck face

4. When you pretend you’re sleeping

5. When you do anything besides smile

6. When you try to act like you are in an ad in Vogue but really you are in your cubicle

7. When you pretend said photograph is totally candid, except we can see your arm awkwardly extended … aaaaaand there were probably 20 bad versions before this one

8. When you try to act sexy and seductive … I mean … awkward. Totally awkward.

9. When you are trying waaaaaay too hard to be “dorky” “goofy” “light-hearted” by making a weird face

10. When you take a photo in the mirror

I apologize if I just crushed your soul because all these years you thought taking these MeGraphs were a form of self-expression … but in reality, they are quite vain and at the end of the day, I just want the best for you.

Think before you post, people.

Dec 13 2012

Holiday 2012

These Are A Few Of The Things I Will Punt …

Right now … it is ALL about the “right” gifts and the “perfect” presents and the gifts under $30 and the gifts that are “must-haves”.

What I want to know is why more people don’t raise their hand and talk about the shit they don’t want. Is it rude? Yes. But are manners worth letting someone close to you spend all this money on something you have to end up pulling muscles in your face trying to fake excitement over? You know what I’m talking about … we’ve all done it, ahem: “OOOOOOOMG! STOP! HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?! I LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE IT :::smiling, smiling, smiling … trying to find a way to show every single one of your teeth until your cheeks hurt so badly they want to go run behind your ears:::

Call me rude, but I came up with a small list of stuff I personally … nor am I assuming anyone in a sane state of mind … would want, ever. And no … this blog post is not dedicated to clueless men out there. This is for errbody, so take notes people.

1. Anything from Zales/Kay Jewelers/Jared: I’m not a snob, I swear … but for some reason, I feel like these jewelry stores are such a cliché for men. “Oh hey, men … you’re clueless right? Don’t know what to get the lil lady? Come get her something shiny and she’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.” Yeah. It just feels thoughtless to me. And their advertisements make me want to Veruca Salt-style freak out, so yeah … gift will get punted.

2. Clothing: I’m doing you all a favor here. It is a sweet thought and always appreciated, I mean when could you not use clothes. But to avoid the whole awkward “size issue,” stay away from clothing and go the gift card route. You’ll thank me when you don’t have to stand in front of a loved one saying, “I only got you an extra large because everything looked super small, and they said it would shrink and I just wanted you to be … you know … comfy. I swear. It means nothing. I don’t think you’re fat. Not that I ever thought you were fat. Shit. Give me it, I’ll just take it back.”

3. Something that looks like it is for me, but really it is for you: We’ve all done it, but at the end of the day … it sucks. New perfume because you hate the way the person smells, sexy unmentionables to meet some fantasy of yours, a trip you’ve always wanted to take to a place the other person hasn’t even heard of. Nice try. I’m on to you, fools.

4. Anything a house wife from 1950 wanted: Vacuums, blenders, toasters, microwaves, TVs, hair dryers, hmmm what else, oh yes, lawn mowers, pots and pans … okay get the eff out of here. These are necessities, not gifts. The day I get excited over a God damn vacuum will be the day I marry Justin Timberlake and then force him to get N’Sync back together. Seriously I won’t even give you my best fake-excited face. I may try to smack you with said appliance though, so hope your reflexes are up to par.

5. Stuffed animals: Just die. I’m not even going to give this any sort of explanation. Just … arg. Don’t.

6. Shit for my car: I know my brakes are squeaky, and I realize I haven’t gotten a car wash in like three years, and yes my “I need my oil changed” light has been on for six months … so freaking WHAT?! My car. My prob, Bob. Therefore, not present worthy. A tire rotation won’t rev my engine, if you know what I’m sayin’. The present should tune ME up … not my car, dammit.

7. Fire arms: I know, crazytown. All I’m saying is I will cry and run away. And I don’t run for anything … unless there is a spider. Guns and spiders. Straight up … there will be a dust imprint of my body left before you can say, “Oh come on … it’s not THAT bad.” Talk to the dust imprint of my body, bud.

8. Anything that swims or needs water to live: I will unintentionally murder it.

9. Spa Kits: Again, your head is in the right place. I’m always in high-speed mode, probably need some R&R. I won’t lie, I get pumped when I see a spa kit. They always look so pretty and cool. Pumice stones, special hand cream and gloves to wear, foot cream … how luxurious?! When it comes down to it though, the thought of rubbing my own feet, is exhausting and will probably never happen. So unless that spa kit comes with a man that pops out of it to rub my feet who happens to look like Justin Timberlake … then this is a no go, my friend.

1o. A Furby: Nothing is more terrifying … than a Furby. I would rather sleep with a bunch of clowns watching me than have to stare at those creepy bastards. And WHY the HELL have they made a comeback? I thought we were done with the Furby conversation, people? I have a theory that it’s the governments way of watching us. Mmm hmm, big brother up in this bitch. No thanks. I will find a way to smash it.

Dec 09 2012

Beer Style

The Cure For Life Sucking In A Strapless Bra …

Beer.

Who doesn’t love it? The taste, the crispness, the hops, the games that can be played with it, the many drunken nights and bad decisions made due to it in high school, college and beyond … ahhh sweet nectar of the Gods.

Whether you are having a bad day, good day, a day to celebrate, a day you want to pretend never existed, or just a … well … day (I literally can make up ANY excuse to enjoy a few brews), beer is there to hold your hand and guide you through it all.

And now I want you all to meet L.A. River Brewing Company. Please forgive the shameless family promotion, but I can’t help it. Good beer needs to be shouted from the rooftops … and right now I don’t have a rooftop … I have this blog.

My cousin and his business partners have started a Kickstarter campaign to kickstart their brewery dreams. The end goal? Producing their first “commercial” batch of hand-crafted beer and opening a brewing space with the proper equipment in Culver City, L.A.

So why should you pledge to great west coast beer?

1. Their beer is delicious: They brewed all the beer at my cousins wedding, which in itself is bad ass but it was also tasty … AND didn’t leave a vicious hangover (and I am the QUEEN of hangovers so that is saying a lot)

2. Dedication: They have positioned themselves to succeed with business plans, outstanding branding, delicious product, awesome website, and a flowing following on the social media scene. (‘LIKE’ them and tweet them if you don’t believe me)

3. They Are Winners: No seriously … they have won a ton of awards at brewing competitions across the west coast

4. You’ll Get Props: You aren’t just throwing money into a cyber space pint glass. They want their fans to be a part of their success. They want YOU … IN their beer. Wait … hold on … ew. Scratch that, reverse it. Seriously though, they know they can’t do it without you and are beyond grateful.

5. Free Schwag! Depending on how much you pledge (the more you pledge the cooler the schwag) you’ll get things from t-shirts to pint glasses to a complimentary growler and your name on a bar stool! (WHAT?! My name on my OWN personal BAR STOOL … YES PLEASE!)

Seriously … I believe in this Kickstarter and the tribe of amazing brewers behind it and so should you. So if you love beer, if you love people with passion and dedication, and if you want another option in ways to get drunk … donate and ‘SHARE’ this blog post.

And people … next time you find yourself about to pay WAY too much for a mother f%^&*^% Bud Light … take that $8 (I know right? $8 … who do you think you are, Bud Light) and pledge it to a quality brew. Word.

POWER TO THE BREWERS!

Dec 02 2012

Wardrobe Malfunction

Cursed With Pointy ‘Bows, Much?

You can file this under #FirstWorldProblems all you want, but as of now it is effecting my wardrobe, which is therefore effecting my bank account, which is therefore effecting my future life plans, which is probably, in some way, shape or form, effecting the future of the United States economy … and so on and so forth.

What is this dreadful problem, you ask? Slowly but surely, every single one of my long-sleeved T-shirts has a hole in the elbow region. :::Sigh::: The reason why this type of hole is so troublesome is because you literally can do nothing but throw the sweater, shirt or cardigan away because the more you bend your arm, the bigger the hole gets. And you know … quite frankly I just don’t like giving up that easily.

Not to mention, it is a “covert op” hole. It’s not like when you put on a pair of stockings and notice a run immediately because it is starring you right in the face. Oh no … and honestly, who checks out their elbows before leaving the house. Makeup? Check. Right shoe? Check. Left shoe? Check. Deodorant? Check. [Awkwardly put your elbows to the side like you are about to get down with the chicken dance] Holes in the elbow region? Nope … all is well! DAY … LET’S DO THIS :::jumps in mid-air:::

I mean for the love of Jesus … I barely have time to take a second look to make sure I don’t have a piece of hair sticking up like Alfalfa let alone do a full body scan to check for holes in clothing. In my world, especially in the morning, if I can’t see it, it therefore doesn’t exist.

But unfortunately, these embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions are noticeable. To my dismay, they don’t wear a cloak of invisibility. In fact, sometimes it feels like the minute I step outside of my house, the universe highlights them in electric pink so every overly observant person can make it their distinct mission in life to make me aware of said malfunction. “Good morni …” “OOOH HONEY … LOOK AT THAT HOLE! YIKES …” Really? Seriously? Thanks for pointing it out and all, first and foremost, but honestly … what would you like me to do? I have legit two options. Number 1. I can acknowledge the hole. Wish it well. Become one with it. Accept it … and move the hell on with my day. OR number 2 … I can take the hole-ridden shirt off and just rock my skivvies all day. Hmmm … decisions, decisions.

These people, the overly observant ones, think they are doing a good deed by making the wardrobe malfunction known … which sometimes, yes … you are. But before making it your job to potentially put a downer on someones day by alerting them of something they have been desperately trying to ignore … ask yourself the following questions:

1. Can said malfunction be fixed? Meaning, can a Tide Stick, dab of club soda, quick stitch … etc. heal the situation? If not … zip thy lip.

2. Are any inappropriate body parts being exposed? Nip slips, ass cracks … sure, these things need to be quietly dealt with ASAP. But if not … for example if a shoulder is overly exposed … http://www.zipit.com/org.

3. Is the person you are about to alert look like they are having a bad day? If so, (and I mean this in the most polite way possible) Back. the. fuck. off. Chances are they know of said malfunction, aren’t happy about it, and the last thing they need is you bringing it up.

One day … to prove a point …when someone annoyingly tells me about something I have no control over, like a hole on the elbow part of my shirt, I’m going to kindly say, “Oh my word … thank you SO much … how embarrassing!” rip my shirt off and call it a day. #Winning …

Nov 27 2012

Traveling, Uncategorized

My Suitcase Tortures Me

Day three of being home and yeah … I’m still staring at a half unpacked suitcase. In fact, it is lying in my hallway and has become this stationary beast that will probably cause me to one day break my face. Don’t worry, I made the effort to at least wash the worn clothes in the said suitcase, but besides that I just don’t have time for it and all the nonsense it comes with. Instead, I lie in bed, like I am right now, resenting the fact that I probably only wore 25% of the shit I packed, which leads me to this question … why am I the worst packer in the ENTIRE universe?

I wish it was like the old days where it was a natural thing for women to carry like 25 really fantastic suitcases with them while they traveled. Instead, you tell people you are checking ONE bag and you mine as well have told them that you spit on kittens, hate beer and don’t break for squirrels. My God. “Don’t you know the risks you take by checking a bag? And thinking of TSA scumbags fondling my intimates, ICK.” Really? Sure I hate paying that idiotic fee, but mama likes her options whilst traveling, so lay off, man.

In fact, with all of the dumb “As Seen on TV” shit that is out there, why hasn’t anyone found a contraption that could take your entire closet, suck it into a black hole-type device that would make it all fit in a normal size suitcase? Hmm? Again, as hard as I try, I can’t really anticipate what I’m going to wear three days from now, therefore I need options. Why? Because I wear things based on my mood. I could be feeling fat, bloated, skinny, happy, sad, angry, sassy … who the hell knows! I could potentially want to wear a muumuu or perhaps a skanky tight Herve Leger dress. Who the hell knows. Hence why I need my ENTIRE closet. But is that feasible? NOPE.

It is the “what ifs” that kill me. What if we go out to dinner? I’ll need a dress. What if I don’t like that dress and wish I had the other dress? I’ll bring the other dress, too. Wonder if we go swimming? I’ll need a bathing suit. Wonder if we go to a black tie affair? Fine, I’ll bring my ball gown skirt and elbow length gloves. I mean, what? My mind goes to crazytown places because I’m desperate to be prepared.

Whilst packing for the trip I went on last week, I went back and edited a lot of stuff out of my suitcase to make it all fit. Did I say to myself while on my trip, “man … do I wish I didn’t take out [fill in the blank]? You are sure as shit I did … and I kicked myself for it. I would have rather packed a bigger suitcase and brought my whole life than had to sit in a foreign place without the proper clothing options. Instead I had to repurpose numerous looks, mixing and matching, praying the people I was with wouldn’t realize I had been pulling a clothing Groundhog’s Day.

Really, the only time you are safe when packing is if you are going to a tropical place. Why? Because A. Resort wear is FOUL … no need to bother yourself with it. B. You are in a bathing suit the whole time. C. If you aren’t in a bathing suit, you are in a dress that should be sassy and small … therefore not taking much thought or room in your suitcase D. If you don’t think you will wear your bathing suit the whole time you are a damn fool … seriously. But if you are going to a place where the temperature is iffy (like where I went), then that is where the closet suck black hole-type contraption would come in real handy.

So my thoughts on packing for a non-tropical trip … ahem:

1. Bring a lot of neutrals that you can mix and match. This saved my ass. Because the temperature was so up and down, I was able to repurpose a lot of items with different pants or skirts without people thinking I was a dirty hot mess.

2. Plan your outfits … if you can. I personally can’t do this, but you can at least guesstimate how many outfits you will need during each day. And edit, edit, edit. Did you bring five white T-shirts? Seriously … remove four. One is more than enough. Do you really need seven tank tops in different colors? Try to plan for each mood … if possible. A little conservative, a little sassy, a little skanky, a little profesh (depending on what kind of trip it is, of course).

3. Don’t let the “what ifs” get to you. Take a deep breath and think realistically. Will you potentially go to dinner at night? Will you frequent the beach? How drunk will you be getting? Will there be any potential suitors to impress? Check the normal temperatures (during the day and at night). Keep your audience and atmosphere in mind. If you aren’t going to P.Diddy’s White Party … then don’t pack the skanky all-white dress. If Prince William didn’t invite you to the grand ball … nix the ball gown jazz. Seriously, I know … I get the last-minute … “BUT I NEED TO BRING THIS“ … spazz out. But get yourself under control. Slap yourself across the face or something … get it together, man!

4. Bigger IS better. I’m all for checking bags. Why? Because I hate bastards that bring suitcases on a plane then take FOR-EV-AH to put the damn thing in the overhead compartment. Shit man, it’s hot, my bag is heavy, I just want to get to my seat and start drinking (you know … because flying scares me), and because then I don’t have size constraints. I can bring as much stuff as I want and therefore will let the “what ifs” haunt some other poor soul.

So there you have it, folks. Take it from me, packing is not an easy thing. I’m tortured by thoughts of forgetting something, missing something, taking too much or not enough. At the end of the day, I pray someone invents the closet black-hole so I can just suck it up, put it in my suitcase and have everything I need … and potentially someone to carry it for me as well … because that thing would be heavy, and I’m straight up lazy.

Word.

Tagged packing, suitcase, traveling

Nov 25 2012

Thanksgiving

It’s Never Too Late …

… to throw up ya thanks!

I was traveling for work over Thanksgiving … therefore I was unable to write a dedicated post to celebrate or have Thanksgiving dinner with my family. So tonight my dear readers … I shall have faux-Thanksgiving dinner AND share my somewhat outdated thoughts on Thanksgiving with you … ahem.

I have a lot to be thankful for this year … and quite frankly I won’t bore you with the list because let’s be honest, no one enjoys reading/hearing people use “what I’m thankful for” as an excuse to brag about their “fab” lives. I’m on to you people.

What I AM most thankful for right now is the fact that I get to nurture, love, expand and respond to all the glory that is Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra. It’s my special little guy. I love in the beginning of the year my goal was to at least get 50 readers a day and now have sometimes over 300. I know for you big time bad ass blog writers that is chump change, but for me it makes me so happy that I end up doing the Carlton dance from Fresh Prince of Bel Air. And I love that when I write a piece, even if I think it is shittastic, you guys still leave me really loving, funny and intriguing comments that make me glow.

Honestly, the concept of “motherhood” never sounded appealing to me. I never really felt like I had a “Mom” bone in my body. But working hard and getting to see Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra grow for the past (almost) two years and continue to grow is more satisfying that I could have ever imagined. So it makes me think … could I one day be a mother … …. ….

NAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

One thing at a time people … for the love of Jesus. So from all of us here at Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra … and by everyone I mean yours truly, I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving! And know that I’m very thankful for ever single one of my bad ass readers!

And remember … it is all about the things in life that make you glow!

Nov 18 2012

Traveling

Who Are You When You Travel?

I don’t travel much. Partially because I loathe flying and partially because I don’t have time slash can’t really afford to go to the places I would like and therefore don’t see the point (i.e. London/Paris). Not really a big deal because again … I loathe flying for fear I will come crashing down in a fiery awful death. But I digress.

I AM flying this upcoming Wednesday for work … which I’m kind of pumped about. And as I sit here in a lazy state putting off doing laundry, planning outfits for my three days of hotel room living, and finding my suitcase even … I find myself fixated on “the plane outfit.” The plane outfit is important because you want to be comfortable, yet you really want to be stylish. Because … you know … the paparazzi will surely be chasing me throughout the terminal. And then I think about what kind of celeb I want to be whilst traveling. Do I want to be …

Kim Kardashian: She gets photographed traveling … a lot. She is like an airport whore. I can’t believe I’m saying this … but I dig her airport style. Comfortable, chic … large shades, hair in a chic messy bun. I could totally rock this look … you know, with my Louis carry on and my (probably) over-the-knee Loub boots (riiiiigggghhhhhht.)

It says, “yeah I’ve got style … yet leave me the hell alone, I may or may not be hung over and I may or may not want to talk to you.”

Madonna: The material girl likes to get down with layering whilst traveling, to the point where you wonder if she even has ta’s and an ass. But I gotta say … slightly genius. I’m personally flying from a cold climate to a warm-ish one and thought to myself how to go from wearing a coat to rocking flip-flops. You do it through layering. Madge could literally fly from New York in the spring to Antarctica, back down to Jamaica in mid-summer and then back to San Fran in Mid-july and be COMPLETELY prepared for all of the above.

Sure her style here isn’t really my “look” per se. But I will agree with the scarf so you can hide from the paparazzi (for all you starlets out there) or really annoying people who like to strike up conversation with you whilst traveling (for all us normal folk).

And yes … the oversized bag is a MUST. I am actually stressing out about what bag to take that will keep all of my belongings, passport, laptop, iphone, etc., safe, sound and stylish.

The hat … I’m going to politely disagree with this one, M. But hey, we all need outlets to express our personal style, right?

Audrey Hepburn: Or you could go old Hollywood-chic when traveling with the very proper dress, overcoat, chic slicked back hair, heels, tights … woof.

Honestly, Audrey can do no wrong in my eyes. But the fact that women had to travel like this back in the day makes me weep. At the end of the day … unless you have millions and bazillions of dollars … traveling is an exhaustifying bitch. There HAS to be a balance between being stylish and comfortable. But the “proper” nowadays, while traveling, unfortunately, gets punted out the window.

Sorry, Audrey. You lose, my friend.

Paris Hilton: And then there is this, sigh. I get it, you may be flying really early or really late … you may just want to be über comfy, or you might just have a fetish with your monotone jumpsuit, I’m not sure. But this isn’t okay. It also isn’t okay to have “PINK” or anything else across your ass whilst traveling, just sayin’. From me to you, holmes … don’t just roll out of bed and hop a plane. At least do what hipsters do and put effort into looking like you just rolled out of bed.

Lady Gaga: Looking to make a statement? Welp … you can ALWAYS rock this look …

… and then there is this …

I gotta say … and apart of me hates myself for agreeing with her … but I think I’m a “Kim Kardashian” flyer. Granted she is heading to her private plush jet with endless bottles of Dom and I’m going to my peanut seat in coach awaiting my ant size bag of pretzels … but she has the right idea and the three must-have whilst flying.

1. Big scarf (circle scarf is possible)

2. Exceptionally large shades

3. Large bag you could potentially stick a small human in

Boom. Safe flying this week … lovely readers!

Tagged Airport style, Audrey Hepburn, Kim Kardashian, Lady Gaga, Madonna, Paris Hilton, traveling

Nov 14 2012

Christmas

Things That Make Me Want To Vom During The Holidays

I don’t know if you are aware … but it’s Christmas time. In fact, it has been Christmas time since like mid-October. They started off slowly in stores like pumpkins, pumpkins, pumpkin candy, Christmas tree, ghost, goblin, Santa … but now since we are like a solid week away from when it is ACTUALLY Christmas time, stores have said “screw it” let’s start this shit early.

In other news, I happen to love Christmas time. The lights, decorations, music … ahh it doesn’t get any better than that. But some people (not naming names … but you know who are you are) take it upon themselves to turn Christmas time into the cheesiest cheesefest of the year … making me want to said … vom. So besides Nat King Cole, Michael Jackson at a young age, the isle of misfit toys and caramel Santas … here are the things that make me want to vom during Christmas time … ahem.

Jeweler Commercials: My God. Mom trimming the tree as Dad swoops in holding a Kay Jewelers box with a Jane Seymour exclusive open heart necklace inside. Umm yeah … here’s what’s up. I don’t want a fake diamond necklace designed by Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman … okay? If every kiss begins with Kay then I’m going to become celibate. Clueless men out there… from me to you … think outside the Kay Jewelers box.

Lexus Commercials: I love it. A woman wakes up Christmas morning and her perfect golden retriever runs over to her wearing a red bow with a key at the end of the ribbon. She looks at it puzzled as her hubby motions to the window where she looks out and exclaims … “OH MY GOD … YOU GOT ME A LEXUS?!” Really? Who buys anyone a Lexus for anything let alone as a Christmas present. No one. I get Forever 21 PJ bottoms and I’m like to the moon happy. And how do you hide a Lexus from someone? What … did he like creep out of bed at 5 a.m., walk to where the car was, drive it in the garage and just pull a ridiculously large bow out of his ass? Huh? Honestly, seems like a lot of work. Pssst … advertisers for Lexus, this isn’t real life.

Couples Who Take Pictures in Front of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree: Okay so New York is kind of amazing all the time … but during the holidays it is just straight up magical. But there is nothing that makes me want to unfriend you more than if you post a picture of you and your significant other, your bestie, or whomever else in front of that tree during Christmas. It’s just … unoriginal … corny even? So note to self, you post a picture of this and you are straight up getting unfriended … you’ve been warned. Take a picture in front of the holiday Barneys window … then we’ll talk.

People Who Use Santacon As An Excuse To Dress Slutty: Like it wasn’t bad enough that Halloween has turned into an excuse for females to buy out Victoria’s Secret, pop on a pair of ears and call themselves “a mouse … duh,” but now Christmas?! Come on. Take your American Apparel red tights, you hooker boots, and your furry coats someplace else. Same goes for Rudolph and the elves. Santa has a beard, he’s fat as all hell, he gets down with milk and cookies whenever he can, and he’s a gentle old man. How is this sexy?! For shame …

The Neiman Marcus Holiday Catalog: For the sheer fact I can’t even fathom affording ANYTHING in this book … it makes me weep. It is beautiful, over the top fantastic … yet :::sigh::: out of my reach. One day Neiman … but for now … you make me want to vom out of sheer sadness. Sorry I can’t buy my significant other a jet this year … shucks. Oh well … I suppose a cheese sandwich and a yo-yo will have to do.

People Who Wear Ugly Christmas Sweaters To Be Ironic: I blame Urban Outfitters and hipsters for this one. Ugly Christmas sweater parties took off when I was in college … and sure it’s funny to watch your friends strutting around drunk in a snowman embroidered turtleneck. But honestly … it’s over. Some granny’s still enjoy a good snowman sweater! What about them! Huh?! It isn’t cool, it isn’t cute, it isn’t creative (anymore) and it is the gateway fashion statement to dressing like a slut. You host an ugly Christmas sweater party and just expect someone to dress like a whore reindeer … just sayin’. You did this to yourself.

Malls/People Who Shop at Malls: Ew. I swear, malls turn into the center of hell once Black Friday hits. You’ve got the crazies, the temperature becomes equivalent to the equator, babies are ALWAYS crying at octaves only dogs can hear, sales associates want to hang themselves which therefore create a hostile shopping environment (trust me, I’ve been that sales associate before), and people turn into lunatics that will do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING to get that “great deal,” including: Cursing, causing a scene, telling off innocent sales associates because they can, throwing shit, getting in legit fist fights (I’ve seen in), participating in a tug of war over a piece of clothing, creating a stampede, etc., etc., etc. Woof … I’ll hide behind my laptop and online shop in my bed as I eat bon bons, kay thanks. See ya never, crazies.

If You Exclaim on Facebook “Aren’t I the Luckiest Girl in the World”: Some guys hit it out of the park when it comes to Christmas gifts. The will pull something out of left field and give you the gift of all gifts. Fantastic. But no need to take a picture of it, post … “OH EM GEEEEEEEE … aren’t I the LUCKIEST girl in the world!? ” Fine … you’re excited and want the entire world to know how fab your significant other is … but just so we’re clear AGAIN … I’m going to unfriend you. Instead of posting on Facebook, perhaps go run into the street and scream what you would make your status and see how idiotic you sound. “OH EM GEE, Bobby just got me the new black suede clutch from COACH, AREN’T I THE LUCKIEST GIRL IN THE WOR …” and before you even get the words out, I guarantee someone will tell you to shut the hell up. Point proven.

Ahhhh and there you have it. Harsh? Absolutely … but I speaks the truth. No I am not a man hater, nor do I hate “love,” but I do want you to remember that Christmas is more than what is under your tree. Boom.

In other news … I can’t wait to play N’Sync Christmas! Right?! Who is with me!

Tagged Christmas, Christmas 2012, Holiday, Neiman Marcus

Oct 30 2012

Justin Timberlake

And Now For Something Non-Hurricane Sandy Related …

I feel like I am breathing easy after two days of Hurricane Sandy mayhem. I hope everyone is safe, sound and dry. To those dealing with destruction and flooding … you are in my thoughts!

But in an effort to stop watching Hurricane disaster coverage, saying things like “hunker down,” “Hurricane Sandy,” “superstorm,” “wind damage,” “down trees,” and other hurricane jargon, I thought I would lighten the mood by discussing something I’ve been turning a blind eye to for years … ahem. The fact that Jessica Biel and Justin Timberlake were dating and now … married.

Apart of my hurricane survival kit was the People Magazine detailing their entire wedding. My modern-day, adult-self complimented parts of yet, while my 13-year-old self was screaming inside, “NOOOOO! WHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYY?!!?! HE LOOKED AT ME AT THE NO STRINGS ATTACH TOUR IN 2001! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!”

So behold, my present day commentary on the wedding, versus the commentary from my 13-year-old self on the wedding.

1. Justin Serenaded Jessica as she walked down the aisle.

2012 Me: Hmm … does this mean he is going to start singing again? Can I get this song on iTunes?

13-Year-Old Me: WHAT?! He was supposed to sing “This I Promise You,” as I walked down the aisle! Did he sing “This I Promise You,” to that skank!? He better not have!

The couple hand wrote their vows for one another.

2012 Me: Hell yes I’m writing my vows, I’m a wri-ter. It would go a little something like this: Justin … I’ve loved you since we locked eyes at the 2001 No String Attached concert in Philadelphia. Yes, I know I was all the way in the back, but I saw you checking me out in my Old Navy capris, pink tank and orange bandana in my hair, and all the way to when you brought Sexy Back. Now I’m going to need you to bring sexy back again, sweetie. More music, less movie making. Mama wants to go on tour. Kay, thanks! Love you … kisses!

13-Year-Old-Me: ::::Tears pouring down my face:::: JUUUUUSTTTTIIIIIIIIN! I just, :::balling my eyes out:::: I just love you. :::Hands on cheeks::: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The bride wore a custom pink Giambattista Valli couture gown.

2012 Me: Ew. Really? You are marrying Justin Timberlake in a pink gown? What? For serious … dude was wearing a Tom Ford tux and you roll out in that monstrosity? Fun? Sure. Maybe for a dress I used to put on my Barbie’s when I was pretending to play prom. Don’t get me wrong, Giambattista Valli is a genius … but this was all wrong. It was like trying to be McQueen, but didn’t quite make it. We get it … you probably shouldn’t “wear white,” but you are marrying JT … in ITALY for Christ’s sake. Have some class, woman.

13-Year-Old Me: I would look so much hotter than you in my sparkly dress I got at Kohl’s yesterday with my Mom along with matching sparkly diamond tattoos and my platform heels from Steve Madden, okay?

Guests including close friends Jimmy Fallon, Andy Sandberg, Timbaland, and Biel’s 7th Heaven co-star Beverly Mitchell moved to an al fresco bar for cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.

2012 Me: I wonder if Andy and Justin did “Dick in a Box” … if this was my wedding I would have demanded it. Better yet, I would make him and Fallon do “Barry Gibb talk show” … TALKIN’ IT UP!

13-Year-Old-Me: That prude from 7th Heaven was invited but Lance, JC, Chris and Joey weren’t?! WHAT?! My mind is going to explode. JC was supposed to be best man and Lance, Chris and Joey were going to be groomsman. Seriously … this wedding is all backwards!

The newlyweds’ first dance was to Donny Hathaway’s “A Song for You”.

2012 Me: Not for nothing, but I have no idea what or who this is. Lame. Trying to be “different” are we?

13-Year-Old-Me: Umm … what? We would have danced to “I’ll Be Good for You” from No Strings Attached. Duh.

While Biel will keep her name professionally, she’s ready to be Mrs. Timberlake outside of Hollywood.

2012 Me: Really? I’ve been ready to be “Mrs. Timberlake” since 1998 while Jessica was busy playing Mary Camden. Boom.

13-Year-Old-Me: I’ve been practicing writing Kate Elizabeth Timberlake in ALL OF MY TRAPER KEEPERS! ALL OF THEM! Kate Elizabeth Concannon Timberlake. Kate Concannon Timberlake. KCT. KET. I almost have my cursive “T” down!

And there you have it folks. My 13-year-old self is a little heart-broken for numerous reasons. I suppose we’ll always have that moment in Philadelphia when he locked eyes with me all the way from the other side of the Wells Fargo Center. :::Sigh:::

Tagged Giambattista Valli, Jessica Biel, Justin and Jessica wedding, Justin Timberlake

Oct 28 2012

Hurricane Sandy

What To Do When The Lights Go Out

Welp … Hurricane Sandy is about to show her heinous face any moment now, and here I am just waiting patiently … and nervously … for her. Listen, I’ve lived in New Jersey my whole life and never once (besides last year) did we EVER have hurricanes to deal with. And now this bitch decided to hang a Louie and storm the Northeast. Could it be rapture? The apocalypse? The Mayans being proven correct? A simple freak act of nature? Who the hell knows.

But since this hurricane business is so foreign to me and probably most of the people in the northeast, all I can think about is this concept of evacuation. We can take a blizzard like champs … but give us 80mph winds and we crumble. Seriously though, if I was told tonight that I had to pack a bag and get the eff out … what would I take? I love all of my clothes, shoes, accessories, makeup … and quite frankly not all of it would fit in one bag. So do you just take stuff that is conventional or do you take stuff that you want to keep safe?

So if I had to evacuate tonight (which horrifyingly enough may happen) and I only could take one bag, after much contemplation, here is what I would take, ahem:

1. Pair of skinny jeans, a pair of yoga pants, my circle scarf, a jacket of some sort, and a few plain long-sleeved T’s (keep calm and comfortable)

2. Makeup (I don’t need to look like Sandy bitch slapped me)

3. My Macbook and my work computer (someone SOMEWHERE will have electricity and wireless, right?)

4. Toothbrush, toothpaste, makeup remover wipes, moisturizer, baby wipes, soap (Again … don’t need to look and smell like Sandy took advantage of me)

5. My spiked Sam Edelman suede heels (Just … because)

So yeah conventional yet crazy … story of my life. The rest of it I would slash am trying to hurricane-proof if shit starts going array, which involves making sure it is all probably hung in my closet and all of my accessories in one place that if I needed to, could just toss in a bag and hide somewhere high. I feel like the big key here is to stay organized. Again, I’m a hurricane neophyte so I’m just following my instincts.

In the meantime, I’ve done all of my laundry just incase I don’t have power for a week or so and in the next hour will be taking a nice long hot shower… in case, you know … showering isn’t an option in the next few days. Sigh. No Internet and no hair straighter make Kate go something something …. Crazy? DON’T MIND IF I DO! (You get bonus points if you know what movie that is from).

Alright, well anyone who has been or who will deal with the wrath of Sandy … please be as safe as safe can be. Take care of your loved ones and friends! Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra will be hunkering down for the next for days and will return if and when I have Internet :::chills:::

Now I’m going to go kick it old school in my Hunter boots, pop a bottle of wine … and wait for the wrath to begin.

Tagged Evacuation must-haves, Hunter boots, Hurricane Sandy

Oct 23 2012

3 Comments

clothes donation

It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye … :::Cue Boys to Men:::

I had a moment today where I looked at my overflowing drawers and closet and wondered, “hmm … if there is so much excess clothing, why do I have such a hard time getting dressed in the morning?” And then I thought maybe … just maybe I’m hoarding clothes for no other reason than I have separation issues. I can’t say goodbye to articles of clothing because wonder if one day I say, “damn, I wish I had that black sparkly tube top from 2007.” Clearly without it I would spontaneously combust or something … right?

Well I had about enough today. I just started throwing shit out like crazy. If I had to think about if I wanted it or not, it was gone. One day when I’m sane I’ll probably cry myself to sleep thinking about the three, yes three, black maxi dresses I tossed … but I just have this unnerving feeling that maxi dresses will “be so 2011″ next season.

But now I’m staring at this massively large industrial trash bag with years and years of clothing stuffed inside of it, not knowing what my next step is. I have two options … let me explain, ahem:

Option 1: Sell some of it at Platos Closet: Psyche. I loathe this place with an absolute passion. No … my clothing is not couture or “high-end” … but God dammit it is timeless, chic, and taken care of. Yet when I once brought like six trash bags full of great stuff to them, thinking I was going to be rich … I was confronted by this teenage Sales Associate who quickly looked over my clothes and told me most of it was “outdated,” “not what they were looking for,” “last season” and “in poor condition.” Liar, liar … your ugly pants are on fire.

First of all, how does fingering a shirt prove to you that it is “last season”? What does that even MEAN? You saw this shirt in New York Fashion Week last spring … or what? You just don’t personally like it? Because A. this store smells like an old basement that has vintage clothing in it and B. I’m pretty sure … no wait, wait … yep, no I’m absolutely sure you are selling white paten leather platform Mary Jane’s. So yeah, what were you saying about my clothes being outdated? Also, no offense, I don’t want to pay $40 for another person’s used pair of boots. I can buy a new pair or fantastic boots that some other weirdo didn’t already wear around town for that price … a thank you.

Perhaps if I knew the method to their madness I could put my mind at ease and not want to light the $11 dollars I made off three ugly purses I was certain they wouldn’t accept because THEY were in fact “outdated.” So any Platos Closet employee reading this that would like to school me in your clothes accepting ways … be my guest.

Option 2: Donate My Clothes: Ding, ding, ding! I am very grateful for all of my clothing, hence why it is so hard for me to say goodbye to it most of the time. But I like the idea of them going to someone who needs them, who will cherish them … you know, for them to have a better life than living in my drawers … getting tossed around and looked over for something better.

My advice is to find a charity you are passionate about and see if they take clothing donations. I personally don’t like throwing them in the bins out front of Walmart, although sometimes I do because I’m desperate to get rid of stuff, but I do like to know where my stuff is going for the most part.

And I gotta say, after I threw out all the stuff that has just been over crowding my personal space, I feel cosmically lighter … gotta say. So do a little fall cleaning because your neglected clothing might be the one thing that puts a smile on someone in need’s face. Just sayin’.

And to the people of Plato’s Closet … you have proven to me that there is really no such thing as an easy dollar made. You make it look so easy on your stupid commercials … but in essence, not so much. Someone will appreciate my clothing somewhere … I just know it … so suck on that … AYE YEY YEY YEY YEY YEY YEY!

Tagged Donating clothes, platos closet

Oct 15 2012

Instagram

I Got Style …. Yes I Do

So I’m not that “traditional” fashion blogger, I realize this. I don’t wake up in the morning, get dressed and take pictures of myself in the mirror showcasing my outfit of the day, I’m not that guy (not that there is anything wrong with it). Nor do I have an assistant/roommate/henchman to take beautifully candidate photographs of me being all stylish and shit whilst walking down the street. I mean seriously, how do these girls get these pictures of themselves? I always wonder … do they stop people on the street and say, “hey there is a perfect gust of wind, mind photographing me?” It always seems like these girls find the perfect graffiti wall to compliment their outfit making picture magic. If it were me, I would probably fall into a man hole while walking to said beautiful graffiti wall and then I would be face down in a manhole with my legs flailing about and my knickers showing. Now THAT would be a picture.

Now … I also get very uncomfortable getting my photograph taken. I assume it stems from awkward school photos that happened during puberty before I knew what makeup, braces and a hair straightener was … and loved to rock a good ol’ fashion turtle neck. And yes … I’m naturally awkward. If I had to sit in front of a camera and strike a Vogue pose, Jesus I may pee my pants. But at the same time, it fascinates me. I love watching fashion shows and photo shoots. But the thought of being in one makes me break out in small amounts of hives. But I secretly do wish I could do it. I’ve heard/read that getting your photo taken is kind of addictive. That is an addiction I personally never see myself having. Give me large sunglasses and a fake mustache … and I’ll be happy as a clam.

But as a fashion blogger, I realize I need to get over all that jazz … because people want to see yo’ style at the end of the day (or so I think … I mean I stalk the fashion bloggers I follow). So if you are curious about my person style … follow me on Instagram … because I’m an Instagram-aholic. But yes, here is where you can see what I buy, what I hate whilst shopping, what I wear, what I laugh at whilst shopping … and cats. I like to Instagram my damn cat … who doesn’t?

My Instagram handle/username/screen name/InstaName (whatever the hell you call it) is LifeSucksInAStraplessBra (duh). So ‘LIKE’ shit, comment, laugh at me, yell at me … do whatever you need to do, but it is time for me to open up a bit, style wise. Maybe by the time I’m 35 you’ll see me on a TJ Maxx commercial.
Disclaimer: That chick above? Yeah … not me.

Tagged fashion blog, fashion photography, Instagram, photography

Oct 11 2012

Stains

Bringing Buttons Back

You know when you wake up in the morning and you are like shit out of luck when it comes to thinking up outfits to wear to work? Usually I’ll brainstorm the night before or when I’m continuously hitting snooze and pretending the clock isn’t really telling me it is time to start my day … but today, I wasn’t getting any “outfit magic” if you will. So luckily while I was applying mascara I realized, “hey … my favorite sheer green shirt! That guy hasn’t made an appearance in a while … SOLD!” So I dug into my closet, threw on my shirt, a pair of skinny jeans, leopard flats … and went on my way.

I thought I was looking good … in a lazy, comfy kind of way. It wasn’t until I was talking to a co-worker that I noticed, oh yeah … evidence that I actually brushed my teeth that day … and I’m not talking about giving off minty fresh breath. Oh no … I looked down to find a big white tooth paste stain on the front of my sheer shirt. Shit. You would think stains come out of sheer shirts easily … but wrong. Especially tooth paste. Tooth paste is like cement on fabric … any fabric. I ran to the bathroom to try to remedy the stain with dabbing water, which only made it worse and more noticeable … and now with bits of paper towel stuck it to. Faaaaaaan-tastic.

I walked back to my desk defeated, embarrassed even feeling like this white stain was doing the God damn Macarena on the front of my shirt. Hmph … so what to do, what to do. True, my hair covered a part of it … just a part, but what were the odds my hair would stay in the same place all day. I take my daily stress out on my hair … flipping it, running my hands through it, tucking it behind my ears, trying to pull it out … you know, the usual.

And then I had a stroke of genius … FLAIR. Mama needed some flair to cover up the embarrassment. I had to have something in my cave of wonders, also known as my desk, that I could stick on myself to regain some normalcy. But alas, I was S-O-L. I started making my rounds to my co-workers, asking for flair … stickers, pins, a scarf, a flower … some-thang. And finally … someone happened to have some SWEET neon buttons. They were tiny, but my saving grace. So I took two to cover up my Macarena-ing stain. Silly? Yes. Awesome? For sure. Innovative? My God … absolutely.

I learned a valuable lesson today. You can try all you want to look absolutely fab and stylish. But stains happen to the best of us. And if they don’t happen to you then I hate you. Seriously. But no, when stains happen, you need to roll with the punches. The style goes out the window a bit, and the need for fantastic flair takes over … because you immediately go into style-survivor mode. You can cry and blush when someone makes an inappropriate comment about the after Macarena-ing stain … or you can cover it up with something funny slash awesome and walk around with pride and a sense of humor. A sense of humor on a chick is one of the sexiest things you can have … trust me. Well don’t trust me because at the end of the day I have no idea what men find sexy … but I find anyone having an amazing sense of humor kinda hot. Truth.

Also … buttons? They rock … we should totally bring them back. Yep. I’m bringing buttons back. Decision made.

Tagged Buttons, Sense of Style Humor, Stains, Stains on clothes

Sep 26 2012

Jersey Girls

My Theory On Being Made In New Jersey

I was watching TV the other night and a preview came on for the new CBS show “Made in Jersey.” Intrigued, I sat there and watched this portrayal of a typical “Jersey girl” unfold in front of me. Bigger hair, loud mouth, not afraid to get in front of someone’s face, thick New York-ish accent, Italian (I assume), makes points and comes to conclusions based on things like her sister is a manicurist, hair poof … even more ridiculously stereotypical and loud Italian (I assume) family. I mean for the love of God. Really? Again?

Let me say, I was born and raised in New Jersey. South Jersey … less than a half and hour away from Philly. I now find myself clinging to the fact that I live less than a half hour away from Philly due to things like the Jersey Shore. Now the minute Jersey rolls of my tongue, I am being bombarded with questions like, “do you fist pump?” “why aren’t you tan?” “do you go to Seaside Heights and hang out at Karma?” Then my head explodes.

What I am saying is this stereotype of the typical “Jersey girl” isn’t fair to us all. Jersey as a state sucks and already is known across the country as “the arm pit of America,” but now having to defend myself and answer all of these inane questions is exhausting and overall … irritating. Not only are we viewed as idiotically tan fist pumpers who like to get drunk and make out with “guerilla juice heads” at bars, but now we have this show depicting this clueless, big haired girl trying to make it in a big fancy city law firm. If you took away the stereotype from the show and made it just a normal girl from Jersey trying to make it in a big city law firm, maybe … just maybe I would give it a shot. But no CBS, you had to take it to Snooki-ville. She legit is J.Wow with a law degree and a suit.

This character seems like a smart girl, yet says things like, “a law degree and I still end up doing makeovers in the bathroom.” Christ. And then gets a star tattoo on her hip bone and makes a statement like, “I’m tougher than I look.” My GOD. Let me set the record straight, some Jersey girls may act like this … and there is NOTHING wrong with that … at all. Some Jersey girls are proud of this as a matter of fact, I know some of them. What is wrong with it is that it has turned into this awful stereotype that makes producers think it would make a hit show. Wrong. Instead you are just making it harder for ACTUAL “Jersey girls” to claim they are from Jersey without people laughing, rolling their eyes, or making an awful “ew” face.

Am I proud to be a Jersey girl? Absolutely not. I don’t have a New York accent, I don’t fist pump, I don’t enjoy “guerilla juice heads,” I don’t rock big hair or a poof, I’m not a bad ass loud mouth bitch, I’ve never gotten in a fight in my LIFE, I eat hoagies … not subs, I don’t explain to people where I live in Jersey by what turnpike exit I’m off of, and I don’t enjoy neon colors or shirts with catch phrases on them. I’m just me. So where does that leave me? Yes … I am a Jersey girl, but I just don’t fit the awful stereotype people have conjured up for it … instead I cling to Philadelphia for dear sweet life.

So CBS, I will not support this show … not up in here. Guess what? Until people realize there are OTHER types of Jersey girls … I refuse to partake in anything having to do with this persona Hollywood and elsewhere have labeled as who we are. To all the girls out there who are proud to be from Jersey and rock the stereotype … I commend you and please do not take offense to anything I am saying. This is coming from a girl who doesn’t fit in with her state, yet technically can’t claim a city she lives a mere 20 some minutes from as her own. :::Sigh::: I was made in Jersey, but that is about it.

Down with the Jersey girl stereotype. We are much more than that.

Tagged Arm put of America, Jersey girls, Jersey Shore, made in jersey, New Jersey, New Jersey Stereotype, Snooki

Sep 23 2012

Lady Gaga

It’s Cool Not To Be Skeletor … I Promise.

Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra is all about commenting and making fun of all the heinous things we as ladies do for fashion. Some of it sucks … including wearing strapless bras … so sometimes you just have to laugh at the situation … henceforth why I’m here. And one of the many heinous things we as woman have to deal with is maintaining a “healthy” weight … a.k.a. don’t get fat, look fat, or exhibit any essence of fatness. Which brings me to the example of Lady Gaga.

I love me some Gaga. I actually adore her for numerous reasons that we won’t get into right now because I’ll start babbling on like a super fan with stars in her eyes. But I’m going to say it is absolutely appalling what the media is doing to her and the new meat on her bones. A year ago she was too skinny, had a drug problem, and looked sickly. Now it is “pork-her-face,” and unoriginal headlines about her eating her entire meat dress. Yeah … I definitely want to hear a reporter who is a dude commenting on a woman’s weight. Hmm mmm …

Yes … the Lady put on some weight. Yes, perhaps some of her stage outfits don’t look as rad as they once did … but this is a woman that we are talking about. A human being. Writing hurtful headlines and being so disgusted by her not looking like a stick anymore … sucks. This is why there are things called body image disorders and diseases like bulimia and anorexia. We are basically telling every girl out there that it is not okay to have a stomach and curves in the society we live in. Well … way to go a-holes. A lot of young girls live and die for Gaga. To think that these impressionable young ladies are reading this drivel and thinking to themselves, “yikes … am I too fat?” makes me want to punt my computer.

People actually seem to have conspiracy theories over why Gaga put on the pounds. Maybe she’s preggo? Maybe she let herself go? Perhaps this is one of her publicity stunts? Or hi, maybe she just decided to enjoy all the beautiful and delicious foods in life instead of settling with a Saltine and calling it a day. Think about it … the girl travels the world. I would ABSOLUTELY get my eat on if I was roaming through Europe. True, she is a performer and technically performers need to have sick bodies because they are sex symbols and run around a stage for hours on end … but do they really? I thought Gaga was known for her voice and cray-cray outfits and vision … not her six-pack. Just sayin’.

So let me let you in on a little secret. Girls … like to eat … A LOT. We might not shovel food in our faces around the general population, because for crying out loud we are ladies … but get us in a room with our girlfriends and a couple pizzas, junk food and beer and see the kind of work that can be done. We are hormonal creatures, we get hungry … really hungry … and eating is one of the most satisfying things in the world. To judge someone for that or to criticize weight gain is absolutely not fair … and quite frankly, no ones business. It is called manners and weight is not something you discuss out loud … idiots.

Everything in moderation is what I like to say. I’m actually happy Gaga put on a few pounds because personally, having a pop star to idolize like that who is so terribly thin that isn’t obtainable for everyone, is quite frustrating. Every woman has a different body, know that. We all have curves and lady lumps in different places … and there is nothing wrong with that. But the last thing we should be doing is judging one another for our weight. There is a fine line between enjoying life and being unhealthy, so as long as Gaga is eating wisely and working out (here and there, because God knows I don’t all the time), then she can tell the media to suck it, politely of course.

So next time you go to make a Lady Gaga’s fat joke, I want you to think about how you would feel with a headline concerning your weight. I want you to think about all the poor women in the world suffering with painful eating disorders. I want you to remember that there is NOTHING wrong with being slightly over weight. At the end of the day … it is about being healthy, not about being an insensitive idiot.

And if you don’t know … now you know.

Tagged Lady Gaga, Weight Gain

Sep 22 2012

Public Service Announcement

Walk Tall And Wear Large Shades …

I never really thought about the age-old saying, “always dress like you are about to come face to face with your worst enemy.” But that statement couldn’t be more true. I’m pretty sure everyone can agree that when you look like absolutely death, hair a hot mess, no makeup, ripped sweats and bagging clothes, hung over as balls, is when you will run into that long-lost love of your life, or Justin Bieber, or perhaps even your boyfriends parents for the first time. I don’t know why the hell the universe works like this, but it does. It is a cruel, cruel world.

I remember after I got my hair and makeup done for my best friends wedding months ago, all I wanted to do was run into everyone I’ve ever met because I looked so fab (and I rarely ever say that about myself). But I barely saw my own mother that day. It almost seems like you need to plan a party after you get your hair dyed or your make up did just so you are guaranteed to see people you know and show off the goods. But even if you were to go ahead and do something like that, you would probably end up falling in a huge mud filled manhole or something right before walking into the venue.

But to think of always being on your toes style-wise and looks-wise seems like an exhausting endeavor. My God, we aren’t even safe running to our cars in the morning. I can throw on what I wore last night, run my hands through my hair, throw on my shades … and I’ll be good to go, right? Nope. That’s when you are ALWAYS seen … by EVERYONE. They are out in MASSES. It is like everyone got a press release to be out in the street that you are walking on. It is mortifying, it is uncomfortable, it is awkward … and more than anything you just wonder to yourself, why now, lord … seriously?!

I usually try really hard to be on my toes and not look a hot mess. But for example, this week I was absurdly sick … like I don’t even remember Monday. I literally drove myself to the doctors without any makeup on, did not touch my hair from sleeping on it, wore my sweatpants that don’t fit me and have holes in them, a matching comfy sweatshirt that only my cat sees me in, and flats. When you are that sick, you don’t care. But oh yes, who is sitting in my doctor’s office? This older woman who I worked with at this clothing store when I was a SENIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL. Trust me, I didn’t sweat this one, but I was terrified she was going to recognize me and start small talk when all I wanted to do was crawl under my car and die slowly.

My point is … you could know you are coming face to face with a girl you LOATHE and spend hours planning the perfect outfit, the perfect hair, the perfect makeup … and something will go wrong. You just can’t plan for these types of things … ever, because the universe already planned them out for you … that saucy minx.

My piece of advice: Walk tall and wear REALLY large shades.

Sep 18 2012

Donna Karan, Uncategorized

Donna Karan And I TOTES Have The Same Life

So we can all agree that Donna Karan is fashion royalty … she is a fashion wise man. But after reading about her “average day” in the September issue of Bazaar Magazine … I found the point was truly proven that good things come to those who work their asses off. Sure, people put things of this nature in magazines so we can take a glimpse into the lives of the rich and famous … but sometimes while reading like this … I can’t help but laugh … perhaps this is how my green envy shows its fab face.

But let’s take a glimpse at me, a writer, an editor, an average 20-something’s day, compared to the very glamorous and chic Donna Karan’s day … ahem:

7 a.m.:Donna Karan: Brushes teeth, drinks hot water/lemon … not knowing what day it is (due to jet lag back and forth from L.A. to Haiti).

7 a.m.: Me: Alarm has been going off since 6:30 … realized I could definitely sleep for another 15 minutes, hit snooze once again and dozes back off.

7:30 a.m.: Donna Karan: Does yoga/pilates with an instructor who comes to her personal exercise studio in her house overlooking Central Park.

7:30 a.m.: Me: Shit … hit snooze one too many times, going to be late … need to haul ass into hair and makeup (by hair and makeup I mean turning on my flat-iron and throwing something on my face to make me not look like death).

9 a.m.: Donna Karan: Hot bath, steam, oils … she likes her mornings to drag out.

9 a.m.: Me: Either hauling ass into work, praying I don’t get a speeding ticket or just setting up shop at my desk and pouring myself a glass of hot black tea.

9:30 a.m. Donna Karan: Eats breakfast (egg white omelet with spinach), drinks green juices, touches base with daughter, starts making work calls, throws on bodysuit, skinny pant, ballet slipper, and a short leather jacket (she is a uniform dresser). If she has a photo shoot, she’ll have her hair and makeup team come to her apartment to help get glammed.

9:30 a.m.: Me: Already dove head first into my day. My hot black tea is sitting beside me, I have the Verve Pandora station playing in my ears, my red pen is in my hand and I’m responding to emails.

10 a.m.: Donna Karan: She doesn’t rock makeup on an average day. Her staff packs her lunch in little coolers. Looks at the to-do list, starts texting. She’ll write speeches for things like the Clinton Global Initiative in Chicago and Barbra Stresisand’s charity concert in Malibu or do interviews whilst in the car with driver.

10 a.m.: Me: Yep … still editing. I’ll probably get up and put more hot water in my tea. Go to meetings. Reevaluate my to-do list. Write a little. Start thinking about lunch as my stomach most certainly will start grumbling. Converse with co-workers, answer text messages. Skip numerous annoying songs on my Pandora station. And edit, edit, edit. (Yawn.)

1 p.m.: Donna Karan: If she can squeeze it in, she’ll go get acupuncture (what?) or get vitamin B shots.

1 p.m.: Me: Time for me to get out of the office. Will wander into town, get something to eat, enjoy the weather. Perhaps do errands, visit the cobbler who does fantastic work on all my broke shoes, bring things to the dry cleaners … you know things I don’t have time to do … ever.

2 p.m.: Donna Karan: Now starts the day, first meeting will go into the second meeting, which will go into the third. She reviews retail, web, the foundation or the collection. There is no average day. Some days it is turning her apartment into a design studio to enjoy her granddaughter’s birthday, or perhaps a trip to Haiti whether giving Reiki at hospitals or working with artisans, or perhaps it is a nice silent yoga retreat.

2 p.m.: Me: This time of day is pretty routine. Same things I’ve mentioned above (yawn) … although now I’m contemplating happy hour.

7:30 p.m.: Donna Karan: Cocktail parties, meetings, dinners. Whatever she is wearing goes right into evening with a shoe change or just removing her jacket. She drinks vodka and club soda because it isn’t fattening. Where ever she is, she is there with a purpose. Then she’ll stop to snuggle with the family.

7:30: Me: I sometimes/or usually have a bag with me that has “just in case” outfits, makeup, shoe options … because God knows where I’ll end up. I’m either at happy hour with co-workers, happy hour with friends, dinner with friends, drinking wine with mother, but usually at home in my bed or desk writing the genius that is Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra. My drink of choice is vodka and club … so cheers DK.

Midnight: Donna Karan: She is in bed, reviewing magazines and going through updates from her office. She’ll review paperwork, fabrics, and ad campaigns. She has hypoallergenic pillows and a black cashmere spread. And she truly enjoys having a foot massage before bed.

Midnight: Me: ZZZzzzzZZZZZzzzzz I’m usually comatose by now. My sheets are from TJ Maxx and my cat is probably sleeping on my pillow snoring with me.

So there you have it. My life absolutely seems like a yawn-fest compared to the fabulous and wonderful Donna Karan’s. But like I said … good and fantastic things come to those who work their asses off and this is just more inspiration for me to end my fab days with a foot massage whenever the hell I please.

Much praise to DK.

Tagged Bazaar Magazine, Donna Karan

Sep 10 2012

Uncategorized

I Would Sell My Mother For Marc Jacobs

Okay … some of you probably GASPED when you read my headline, but let me explain. My mother and I have a joint obsession for Marc Jacobs. And since his Spring 2013 runway show was this evening, I told her I would kindly sell her on the black market to be able to see it live … and she kindly told me she would sell me on the black market for a pair of pilgrim shoes from his fall 2012 line. So there. I’m not THAT much of a heinous daughter.

So I realize I haven’t said much about spring 2013 fashion week … until now. Sigh … I just watched the Marc Jacobs show on my computer like a complete nerd. My cat was on my bed purring, I was in sweats and a hoodie … with my hood up appropriately sipping Emergen-C and pretending it was a martini because I feel like shit. I mean, doesn’t EVERYONE watch fashion shows like this!?

But my GOD. Marc. Jacobs. If anyone knows me at all or even a little, or actually if you’ve seen me from a far a couple of times … you can tell I’m obsessed with black and white. My closet is 85% black and white, everything decor-wise is black and white … I live in a black and white world and I likes it. And Marc birthed black and white for spring 2013 and I am just beside myself. The whole thing was like 1960′s mod beach meets Manhattan.

Exposed hip bones, tall girls wearing flats and flats ONLY, flouncey skirts, black and white striped, well … everything, dress/shirts that barely covered the model’s asses, exaggerated collars and bare mid-drifts (and did I catch a vintage Micky Mouse sweater?) … pure excellence. For me it isn’t just about the clothes when watching a show … it is the music, the lighting, the models. And these girls were super awkward and creepy, the music was mod-trancey by The Fall and … wow yeah … I’m in heaven. Literally my heat has an irregular beat right now.

Ps. I always wonder if these models, as they are strutting down the Marc Jacobs catwalk, who probably just got to spend the past couple of hours watching him and his minions run around backstage, think to themselves, “holy shit … I’m walking in a Marc Jacobs fashion show right now. Literally. This is happening. Act natural.” Yeah … if that were me I would be screaming at the top of my lungs in my head, “OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG.” But I’m also a fashion nerd so … yeah. Back to sipping my Emergen-C martini. Hood up.

Now behold … some of my mother-selling-worthy looks:

Update: Literally as I speak my mother is cutting her hair like one of the Marc models. #Obsessed

Tagged Marc Jacobs, marc jacobs spring 2013, new york fashion week, spring 2013 fashion

Sep 08 2012

Model Industry, Uncategorized

Carbs and Candy and Cocktails … OH MY!

I’m in no way, shape or form model material. I may be the right height, but if I had to not eat carbs, chocolate and refrain from cocktails I would probably start foaming at the mouth and viscously attacking innocent civilians on the street. Real talk. For example, to be a model you need to have self-control whilst walking through the Halloween candy aisle at the grocery store. Me … well I find myself purchasing extra-large Reese’s in Pumpkin form because I A. love chocolate and B. love peanut butter and C. love Halloween … duh.

But I just read a very disturbing article on Refinery29.com about the crazytown things models do or get talked into doing to stay thin. Starving yourself is apparently soooo early 2000’s. Instead, this is what is en vogue … ugh:

Modeling Agents Pushing Girls to do Cocaine and Speed: What? How do these agents live with themselves? Not only are you telling girls it’s okay to do drugs for the sake of their careers, that … let’s be honest, won’t last for more than five years, unless you are the born again Kate Moss, only to turn them into washed up drug addicts. People need to understand that modeling isn’t a forever thing, but a drug problem or dying due to drugs is. #NotWorthIt

500 Calorie Plans: I know hoagies that have more than 500 calories! I really can’t comprehend, my brain just doesn’t understand. I would need to basically choose between the beer I drink and a sandwich as my “food/drink” of choice for the day … and that is it. No piece of candy to make me feel better when I’m having a shit day, no large pizza all to myself when I’m PMS. Nothing. And this is where I would go on my murderous rampage.

Eating Cotton Balls: Do people hear themselves when they say, “yeah I eat cotton balls to curb my appetite”? Is the fashion world so diluted that a statement like that actually sounds normal like, “yeah … I jogged two miles before work yesterday.” I literally would be vomming cotton everywhere. Is cotton calorie-free? I do believe sticks of gum are calorie-free too … just sayin’ … you have other options, ladies.

Getting Injections: IN-JECT-IONS! Girls, unless a man or woman who has a distinguished medical school degree is holding a needle in order to give me some sort of shot to cure me of something and or give me some sort of vaccination … then eff off. In what world is getting a shot in your THYROID to speed up your metabolism a good idea? The answer is in no world, not even in fake, made up worlds. So next time you feel the need to do this, I want you to do the following: Smack the needle out of the “doctors” hand (and I’m using quotes because it is hard to believe any respectable doctor would ACTUALLY give models shots in their thyroid to speed up their metabolisms … but that’s just me), smack the “doctor” across the face, scream, “NOT UP IN HERE!” then catwalk out of that bitch.

Everyone wants to be thin and everyone wants designer clothes …myself included. I’m one of those girls who is always asking friends and family if I look skinny. Sad but true fact about yours truly. But being able to see your bones isn’t chic. Getting shots, doing drugs and eating things that shouldn’t be eaten … isn’t chic.

You know what is chic? Being at a healthy weight. Enjoying everything in moderation. Having a little junk in your trunk. I loathe her for numerous reasons, but look at Kim Kardashian. Definitely not a stick figure, but she models and is GORG … I’ll give her that much. And if you hate Kim Kardashian and don’t want to hear this nonsense, well how about this: Marilyn Monroe. She was a size 12. Not 2. 12. Chew on that, models of America.

Tagged Diets, Fashion Industry, Models, Refinery29

Sep 05 2012