looking a little pastie.

a couple of months ago, i took my top off in a bar full of strangers and lived to tell the tale. i promised to give you all the full rundown sometime in the indeterminate future… well, that future is now- and this piece is 2 STRUTs for the price of one (one as a STRUTter and one as a not so casual observer). it’s posted on over at the observer, but their direct link is a little screwy right now, so you can find the piece in its entirety below. and in case you’re local and didn’t get a chance to see/feel/taste/participate in the carnage that was my  STRUT performance, i’ll be shakin it one final time tomorrow (october 14th) at geno’s. come support/join/ogle me, or at least come point and laugh.

Confessions of a late night STRUTter- A lesson in bringing it.

As a woman on a firm trajectory toward her mid-thirties who packed on an extra 30 lbs. 2 years ago and is still using “I got divorced” as an excuse for her somewhat doughy physique, one might not guess that I’d be jumping at the chance to get mostly naked in a room full of strangers. Two months ago, I probably wouldn’t have guessed that either. But then, burlesque happened.

weekend pickthrough- nonfunctional edition.

i get exactly 10 days of vacation/sick time every year. i allow myself 1 full week off from work, and the remainder are reserved for emergencies and obligations (spluh). usually i take this week sometime in july or august, but this year, on account of the puppy and the lost deposit debacle, my vacay had to be downgraded from 9 days in a cabin on MDI to 4 days at a motor lodge in moosehead.  and it’s not happening until september. and i’m dying. slowly. day by day.

ok, maybe not dying so much as withering. i have a very bad habit of overextending myself, and sometimes even if there are still responsibilities to be met (namely a long overdue graphic design project and a post of the observer), i just hit the wall and become completely nonfunctional. unfortunately, my wall-hitting has just fallen short of my vacation, and i spent the weekend sitting like a lump on my couch in a stupor. i know, my weekend pickthroughs are getting picked through later and later. i know, i haven’t scored myself a hot deal in weeks. i know, the more projects i try to take on, the worse job i do at everything.

so here it is. 3 days late, and barely breathing.

try liquefying your vegetables and pouring them in the humidifier. recipes for the really modern woman.

do i really have a future in toll booth collection? this random generator seems to think so.

man, if the streetcar was still running in portland (like it did in 1916), i wouldn’t be late for work every day (probably).

fuck that ghost! (a superior flow chart of super superiority)

what’s in this hipster’s bag? or for that matter, would you just look at this fucking hipster?

does the auburn mall really count as a dead mall? tragic. why oh why did porteous have to go?!

and while we’re sitting here on the couch, here’s a small collection of fashion blogs that have recently tickled my fancy:

young fat and fabulous– apparently she won the MTV twitter-vj slot (i am the jealous-ist), but i like her because she’s thrifty, curvy, and sassy as shit.

this bitch has the time, skill, and energy (and apparent access to a very thrifty thrift-store) to make a dress a day. maybe me and my remedial sewing skills need to start a spin off site called “a hot mess a day”?

portland local cutie pie sweet william catalogs her daily wardrobe.