Re-Defined Life

Tuesday is a Vision in Khaki

The shirt is new, the beads are from laila rowe (again), the pants are scandalously from Victoria's Obvious and BT bought me the jacket.

It is too late to say more. But what a day.

Monday is Hung By the Neck

The scarf belonged to my late surrogate grandmother. She had some great scarves, which I inherited at the age of 12. The skirt was last year's Naked Lady party Best Find. And, though you cannot tell, the shirt has designs on it and is see through. There is definitely an undershirt happening here.

Sunday Blues

Last spring, around the time in New York that the weather was changing. When some days were cold and others warm, I spent some time photoblogging my wardrobe. Now, it is spring once again. And the wardrobe has changed with both location and season. So, in the tradition of Lara, who taught me about fashionably prideful photo-blog-awesomeness, here is this year's attempt at blogging each day's outfit.

The necklace is plastic and was purchased at Laila Rowe in Soho, New York. The store went out of business and the necklace was something like a dollar. The vest, which is pinstriped, happens to be a men's under-vest, which I bought at a thrift store for a 60s party in which I wore a full pinstripe suit and gangster hat, in a successful attempt to be totally awesome-looking. I don't have any other part of the suit anymore.

The blue t-shirt is from the naked lady party. And, to keep the blue going, I'm wearing dark-wash jeans, which you can't tell--I know. But you'll just have to imagine.

Plus my hair is getting long.

April: Breakup Month

I haven't posted a monthly theme for a long time now.

I used to theme my months with some frequency--
April 2007 was Change Month
February 2007 was Lawyer Month
And some of the months I named never made it into my blog, but were named nontheless.

This began in college, when the boys I knew themed each month. There was no-good-with-girls month and phil-speaks-cannot-correctly month, or something to that extent. And, as some of the things you do in college remain awesome throughout your whole life, I continue to try and theme my months. Appropriately or not, as it were.

So this month, it is time to spring out of your relationships. I know it is normally spring in and fall out, but, no, not this year. We're all springing out. And getting that spring back in our steps.

Tomorrow I will, I believe, revive another tradition. The photoblog. Oh yes, I am reverting to the vanity of my New York life. And you will love it.

Interviewing Tips In Reverse

I generally attempt to stay away from work topics. This is why my entries are more few and far between.  Presently, so much of my time is spent at work or asleep or, if not that, with Eric and/or Emily watching movies and, alternately, sleeping. (Yes, I'm aware I mentioned sleeping twice--it is that important and frequent).

But this time, I cannot help myself from mentioning one work related incident. I feel it is fair to mention and compromises nothing. Because it is not about work. It's about the joys and shocks of interviewing. On both ends.

So, for the past couple of weeks, we have been interviewing for a junior programming and web development position. We've interviewed a number of people at a number of levels and there is one that stood out. By stood out--I must say that I don't mean in any way favorably. Certainly there are standouts in a favorable light as well, but this man stood apart with his strangeness and utter awkwardness.

The awkwardness was apparrent very early. Indeed, before the interview even began.

He walked into the office almost half an hour early and, as we weren't ready for him, we directed him to the lounge area, which is in my direct line of vision.

"Where can I put my coat?" he demanded impatiently. He paced. When offered water he asked what else we had. He stared. He muttered. He talked to people who were clearly on the phone. And we all stared back.

But the kicker, the real defining moment of his visit with us, came midway through the interview.

"I really want this job. Man, I wish I knew what to say, what I could say to make you hire me" he offered enthusiastically. "I mean," and at this point he looked at our Senior Programmer and then at the Director of Operations and chuckled, "I don't give blow jobs or anything..." and then he laughed.

Did that just happen? Did he actually just make that joke--in the middle of an interview?

Yes, yes he did.

It's crazy that such a classy guy remains unemployed...just crazy.

A Song for My Lovely

My new lovely, darling, shiny baby.

I spent the weekend on it and have decided that the next purchase is a squishy seat cover.

Nudity, Cycling & Harry Potter

Every time there is a Naked Lady Party there are several items that stand out and merit mentioning. This year those items included a turquoise bra, two mini skirts purchased at the Children's Place and a giant Peruvian poncho that somebody's dad threw in their bag.

The sangria, which I wasn't entirely sure about as it was my first attempt, was a success as well. And I have an entire leftover pizza in my fridge. If I make up with Eric, I'll give it to him and the boys. I'm sure Emily and I won't be demolishing the entire thing.

On another note, today was finally like Spring. After last week's snow, I was counting April as winter in Colorado. But no longer! Sweet warm breeze and sunshine all around. So I took my new baby (photo pending) road bike and spent about 4 hours cycling to the mall, to the library and back. And the rest of this afternoon will be taken up by the history-making awesomeness that is the Harry Potter series.

I've been reading them, though I was cynical about the acclaim, and I understand why everyone loves them. Well-written, growing up with the reader and ingenious stories. What's not to love? So here I am, at book four, which is incredibly thick, and about to crawl onto my bed and enjoy it. If you haven't read them--cynic or not--give them a try.

Next Step: Naked Chocolate Fights...errr

Tonight is my second ever Naked Lady Party. Last time, this is what I wrote:

"So L's planning a naked lady party at her house (hopefully this weekend, but it may yet have to be put off if not many people can come). The premise of this idea (just in case you, like myself, have never heard of such a thing) is that you invite all your girlfriends of all shapes and sizes to go through their closets and clean them out. All the clothes that are too big, too small, too someone-else, too colorful, too drab or just haven't been worn since Clinton was in office are piled into bags and brought to the venue (in this case: L's house). Everyone then dumps their clothes in the living room, strips down to their panties and scrounges. It's basically a barter, an exchange, a way to get rid of the stuff you never wear or can't wear and get NEW old stuff to take home with you.

Essentially this consists of 25 women in their panties running around trying clothes on, drinking adult beverages, eating pizza, chatting and possibly wrestling over that perfect pair of pants. Somehow I feel that I'm about to live every man I know's fantasy.

But seriously, how great of an idea is this?

I have a box full of clothes on my floor and it's about to have shoes and maybe some scarves in it as well.

Just say the word and I'm there, pants off."

I still feel that way. Pants off and ready. But this time I've planned the party. This means it is at my house and there is homemade Sangria, cocktail shrimp and about 16 ladies involved.

And afterward we'll strip down to our lingerie and have a pillow fight.

Kidding.

Afterwards, what will actually happen is that I'll gather up the remaining things, shove them into plastic bags and donate them to a company in Denver that helps refugee families get settled in America. Aww, not only does everyone get new stuff, but we all get to do a good deed. Hoorah for us.

Here's my entry post-naked-lady-party last year.

Revival of a Comic

I forgot how awesome Explosm.net is...

Booty Calls. You know.

Sometimes It's Hard to Know What's Real

What's she looking at? What color is her dress? Does she have a tattoo?

Sometimes my life feels like that puzzle.