CATS! The Musical

originalNo not really … but side note, I totally got a VHS tape of CATS! The Musical for Christmas one year, and totes watched it more than once … which is probably too many times. Memory … all alone in the moonli … alright, I’ll stop.

Back in the day, you know, when I was in elementary school, it was cool to like cats. It was also cool to eat glue, hate boys, and wear 15 different colors of neon at once, but I digress. I definitely owned a few Lisa Frank trapper keepers with some cats mixed in with unicorns and puppies, along with a few cat pencils, and maybe even an embroidered cat sweatshirt. I mean who didn’t? To be clear, I wasn’t obsessed with my cat, these are just the things offered to children to wear and use in the 90’s, and my mom indulged.

And then once middle school and high school hit, cats became uncool. I was lucky it I petted my cat once a week. I suppose I was too caught up in useless drama and learning the moves to Britney Spears’ new music video. Even in college I remember making a pact with my roommate to intervene if either of us showed signs of becoming cat ladies.

But now … in 2013 … the amount of cat swag that people are actually buying AND wearing astonishes me. I would have gotten my ass beat in high school (and by beat I mean the rich mean girls would have totes made fun of me behind my back and spread rumors around that I was a cat lady and my house was covered in litter instead of rugs) if I rocked a sweatshirt from Forever 21 that said CAT in big bold letters.

Alas it is the cool thing to do … to be obsessed with cats. Hipsters who once flocked to fedoras and ball smothering skinny jeans, are now flocking to cats. I really hope animal orphanages all over the country are feeling the positive effect of this movement. I mean hell … even I just adopted a baby cat back in August and have become obsessed with her to the point where I talk about her and photograph her like it were my child. If you follow me on Instagram (which is should), you will understand this. By the way her name is Ellsworth (after Ellsworth Kelly … one of my favorite painters) and I just bought her a sparkly red collar for Christmas … eeeee!

Maybe it is because once closeted cat people feel free to come out and say, “Yes. world! I own a cat … and love it … and his name is Mr. Whiskers … and I make him wear a bow tie!” And one thing people who love cats more than cats … is OTHER people who love cats. Trust. It is the thing to connect with in your late 20’s or 30’s when you don’t have children.

But I just don’t know if I need to express my love for my cat via my fashion choices. My fear is that years from now I will look back and shake my head in shame, much like how I view my Lisa Frank cat trapper keeper and VHS tape of CATS! The musical. Yes, a lot of these cat-inspired items are adorable … and hey some are actually chic … but I have a feeling this “cat lady couture” just won’t last forever, I don’t care if all of it is in black and white. One day, being called a “Cat Lady” will actually go back to meaning you own 15 plus cats, don’t brush your hair, and will be single for the rest of your time on Earth.

But for now … if you don’t like cats … I don’t trust you.

Capture 31558000-02 8335f4e318e19102b4d8071a386cd591 Forever21 Cat Chiffon Shirt2 Capture2


Photo credit: Visit

There has been a lot of talk about how to not only take an Instagram pic, but also how to look über fab in it, thank you Tyra Banks. There are even articles out there describing what the filters we choose say about us. :::Sigh::: really? Come now, people. Back in the day, I highly doubt folks sat at their typewriters writing about how to not only take a Polaroid pic, but how to make yourself resemble Farrah Fawcett.

I suffer from a pretty severe Instagram addiction, like most Americans. When the phrase, “throw a filter on that shit,” resonates with people from the baby boom era … you know it is a viral disease. And it doesn’t help following people gifted with great photog skills, because it only makes you want to step up your Insta-game. For people with an unexciting life, Instagram makes you feel like you’ve traveled the world with filters and focuses … when it reality, it’s just your average day at the van down by the river.

A part of me misses the disposable camera and film that you had to insert into an actual camera. Why? Because then you wouldn’t take the picture, have five girls dart for the camera, review the picture, freak out about how they resemble a gargoyle and make you retake the photo 1,200 different times with numerous different “hand on hip” poses. Sigh … the good ol’ days.

But instead of giving you tips like popping your hip or angling the camera 35 degrees north of your eye brow for a fantastic photo … I’m going to give you some pointers on what not to do. And just so we are clear, I’ve pretty much done all of them, so no judgement if you partake in these activities, ahem:

1. Don’t. Take. Selfies. Seriously.: I think each person in the world should be awarded a “one selfie a year” card. Because at least once a year you probably look ridiculously fierce and maybe someone isn’t around to help you capture that moment. Then, go ‘head, extend that arm and use your “one selfie a year” card. Then you are done. Until the ball drops next year, you are to not take any more selfies. Promise? Okay everyone take some rubbers (points and my eternal love if you can reference where that quote came from). Listen, I’m going to go ahead and make a big assumption here that the rest of the year I BET someone is around to help you make some photographic memories. You know I’m right.

2. Don’t Ask Drunk People To Take Your Photo: I literally did this this past weekend because I happened to be slightly intoxicated myself and it went a little something like this, ahem: Drunk Me: “hey you, here’s my phone,  will you take our photo :::throws phone at drunk kid:::.” Drunk Kid: Umm I don’t know how to work one of these :::laughs:::. Drunk Me: What?! Who doesn’t know how to work an iPhone … photo now!” You know what I ended up with? A bad, dark photo … turns out the idiot had never heard of a concept known as flash. And also, giving a stranger your phone … really bad idea. Strangers plus handing over a really expensive phone plus intoxication equals your phone dropping in a mug of beer or said stranger running away with it. Or maybe I’m just paranoid, either or.

3. Don’t. Duckface: I’m not even elaborating on this. I know you are thinking it makes your face look so fantastically thin and chic … but wrong. WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. You look like a fool. As an ex-duckfacer, except back in my day we called it “Blue Steel” … I’m telling you, you will look back at these photos of yourself 10 years for now and be like “wwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhy,” and then try to delete them off the Interwebs and realize, OMG I can’t because it is on here forever … I’m screwed. History will forever have photographic evidence that I am indeed an imbecile. So from me to you … stop it. Don’t make me tell you twice.

4. Don’t Act Natural If You Are Clearly Posing: It makes no sense. Why in Jesus Christ’s name would you be acting like you didn’t know someone was taking your photo when we can all clearly see your arm extended, desperately trying to hit the camera icon to take the photo. Psst, just between you and me, people know the paps aren’t following you. We know you aren’t famous (unless you are, then still, you probably would have some minion taking this photo for you). Hate to break this to you but, the gig is up, bro. Don’t worry, you’ll get ’em next time.

5. Don’t Fixate On A Pose: “OH, EM, GEE … Lisa’s best friend Stephanie told my best friend Rachel’s best friend’s best friend’s dog walker that if you put your hand on your hip and tilt your head to the side, you’ll totes look one hundo percent better in pics.” That rumor got spread so fast to every single female on this planet, until it crossed my ears and I went, “huh?” So I, of course, tried it, and I, of course, ended up looking a hawt awkward mess. Listen, I’m not saying don’t do this, I’m saying be sparingly with it. Photo with your grandma? Maybe wrap your arms around her instead of hip popping, just saying. I swear, your arm won’t look fat in that one photo with your Mom Mom. On the red carpet? Hand on hip, my friend. Tilt that head until the cows come home. Know your audience, know what kind of photo you are taking, and know that the “hand on hip” pose wasn’t sent down from Jesus.

Instagramming is about self-expression, fun, and creativity. Stop giving in to this false sense of celebrity and just be yourself. Here is a song to remind you of that: In advance, you are welcome.

Now back to my regularly scheduled addiction … deciding between Toaster or Lo-Fi.

Beyonce Is Brainwashing Us

1375967866000-beyonce-pixiePhase 1:
Queen Bey chops off her “hair” into a pixie cut which causes hysteria amongst the masses. Breaking News headlines erupted, bloggers went absolutely insane, and even CNN covered the story … must have been a slow news day, huh, kids? No wars … poverty … destruction to cover? No? Alright, Beyoncé’s new do it is.

Me? Well, I wasn’t that shocked. I just assume all celebrities wear weaves, extensions, and/or wigs … because I would if I was famous. And honestly, who the hell can have long, luscious, chemically treated locks that look THAT good ALL the time … am I right? So, again, I just assumed that she took the extensions out and chopped off what was left into a fierce pixie. Not that big of a deal … not that mind-blowing. But according to sources, those long luscious locks were all hers. Mmmm hmmm and I just wake up looking natural beautiful every day. Pa-lease. And if you did, Beyoncé … why didn’t you post pics of the several inches of hair you hacked, hmmm? That moment is totes Instagram-worthy … so what’s the deal?

Brainwashed Status: Psssssh, please :::flips hair:::

Phase 2:
More people start talking about, and by more people I mean everyone in the world. I swear monks that have taken a vow of silence uttered, “did you see Beyoncé cut all of her hair off?!”

I began to get irritated, yet intrigued, over people’s idiotic statements like, “I’m going to sell my tickets to see her concert because what is Beyoncé without her hair?” Umm … whaa? A woman with that kind of endless amounts of dough could make a splash and chop all of her hair off and the next day have a flaming red bob with blunt bangs. I mean, give me a break.

But I couldn’t help thinking about the balls it took to do something so drastic like chopping your hair off. In fact, I found myself bringing it up in conversation: “So how about Bey’s pixie cut, huh?” What was happening?! I curled up in a small ball and began stroking my long, somewhat luscious locks thinking to myself, “I would never hurt you like that.”

Brainwashed Status: Bey is creepin’ on in.

Phase 3:

All it took was one more person.

I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, checking my Instagram (no I wasn’t, employer, I was doing … my … job :::thumbs up:::) when I saw one of my favorite models, Coco Rocha, in the process of getting her luxurious locks chopped into a pixie.

What. Was. Going. ON!?

The end product was amazing. She looked fierce. Compared to her pixie, her long hair was yawn worthy and dull. But stop. Wait. She is a model. She is always fierce. But this hair cut put me in a trance. Beyoncé looked amazing, now Coco … maybe I should …


For a hot minute I thought to myself, maybe JUST maybe the big change I needed in my life was to chop off all my hair. Think of how easy the maintenance would be. No more long showers conditioning my long locks, no more hours straightening and flat ironing and curling. I could just shake it out, blow it out, and be done. And then I remembered I had curly hair. And this vision flashed before my eyes for some reason:


What had happened to me?! Had I gone insane. Abso-frikin-lutely I had! I have thick, unruly, kinky curly hair. And I’ve worked YEARS tirelessly to get my hair to this length. Why, sweet Jesus why, would I do something like that to myself?! Sure, if I had a dream team of people who could 24/sev touch up my hair during humid days and constantly reassure me that my head didn’t look ginormous and that I don’t look like a dorky, teenage boy … sure. Yes! Sign me up … but those things just aren’t in the cards now, are they?

Listen, I appreciate the Twiggy throwbacks, but I really hope this doesn’t become a “thing”, because ladies, you need to be a special person to pull off the pixie. You need to think about your personality, your style, what kind of hair you have (curly girls … avoid and use caution), your outlook on life, etc and so forth. Because some women chop of their hair and it only accentuates their beauty, and others … well … yowsa. If we could all have pixie cuts one day and long flowing locks the next like Queen Bey, well, we would, now wouldn’t we?

Sigh. Nice try with the brainwashing, Bey, now if you would excuse me, I need to go whip my long, semi-luxurious locks back and forth for funsies.

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. 🙂