The Pregnant Goat

Out in the boonies where my mother lives, there's a ranch where people raise and sell llamas. It's only a few blocks from my mom's house. Every time I go visit her, I walk over to the llama ranch to see the llamas. They're really beautiful and graceful, and they have such big eyes and long eyelashes. They look very intelligent, and they're curious--they all come over to look at us when when we go by to look at them!

The people with the llamas also have a herd of goats. This time the goats were even more interesting than the llamas. They were totally pregnant. I've never seen anything quite like this pregnant goat. She looked like she'd swallowed a flying saucer. It was kind of disconcerting, actually.

And a Lump of Coal

This is a Nintendo DS Lite, and my little sister wants it. She is not a brat, she is not spoiled (in fact, she's deprived, in my opinion) and she did not throw herself onto the floor of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory screaming that she had to have it. She mentioned it to me when I saw her last, a few weeks ago.

I e-mailed our father to ask if he had already gotten it for her, in which case I would have gotten her some games for it. There are age-appropriate games for this thing, with such titles as "Build a Bear Workshop", "Hamsterz Life" and "Charlotte's Web."

Our dear father responded saying that she doesn't need this game, that she already has the "keeping up with the Joneses" syndrome, and that even if she had this game (meaning if I buy it for her) they will probably not let her play with it, because she doesn't need to "zombie out" in this way. My dad fancies himself a non-consumerist hippie, but only when it's convenient for him. Please, they live in an affluent neighborhood where white people and a handful of Asians who don't want to live around people of color and poor people go to live, and her mother drives a Mercedes. Hypocrites! The last time I saw my sister, her hair was a rat's next, uncombed, her pants were five inches too short and her shoes didn't match anything else she was wearing (none of it matched, actually). Why not get her some cute clothes? Soon enough she will have to deal with breasts, bras, body issues, and ugly office-appropriate clothing.

I'm hardly saying they're neglectful parents... they're just so out of it, so cheap (they can WELL afford the stupid Nintendo DS), and they dress her so goddamned ugly.
It's really a shame. And at my age (no longer in my twenties, shall we say) and my dad's (61) I can't exactly go off on him the way I'd like to. I'm old, he's old... I can't really just tell him where to shove his granola. My poor sister. Shall I give her a ball of homespun wool (I can pick the little fuzzies off my rug and save them for this) and two sticks to knit with as her educational, non materialistic Christmas gift?

I have half a mind to go out right now and buy an overpriced, hot pink velour sweatsuit that says "SPOILED JUICY BRAT" or "HOTT JUICY KID" (or some such nonsense) on the back and send it off to her... WITH the Nintendo DS Lite. In pink.

Twilight

I've just finished reading, in rapid succession, the three novels in the "Twilight Series," a vampire teen love story/thriller by author Stephenie Meyer. I thought it was a trilogy, but apparently there is another novel in the works.

Twilight has a cult following, and is quite a phenomenon. (A movie is forthcoming.) It taps into a lot of the romantic fantasies that make people tick, I think. There's a gorgeous guy (Edward) who is mature (he's something like 100 years old, though physically he's stuck forever at age 17), rich, generous, protective and hot. The female protagonist, Bella, is sort of the classic heroine of romance novels: smart, beautiful but she doesn't know it, stubborn, headstrong yet vulnerable, kind of unemotional with most people, but of course extremely passionate with the guy she's in love with, and so forth. I think that's the gist of the romantic plot, but there are many twists and turns, and the novels create and describe the magical/supernatural realm in ways that really pull you in! They're very fun to read... Freud be damned... and adolescent literature is still a genre that I love.
Although a lot of adolecent lit does have sex in it (did that start with Forever, in 1975, by Judy Blume?), the Twilight series (SPOILER ALERT!) doesn't. It's a big sexual tease, actually!

The Devil Wears Fleece

I rarely write about work, because, let's face it, I (along with so many other millions of employees) could fill blogs, novels and additional external hard drives full of accounts of horrid work experiences. Besides, it's depressing. Fashion, home, design and style are just so much more fun.

But sometimes work collides with blog in ways we cannot ignore!

For years I've been seeing these Masai Barefoot Technology (MBT) shoes in the Bliss catalog. They're ugly, they're expensive for an ugly pair of shoes, and they're supposed to give you a great workout while you're walking around, building up strong legs and a superbutt. I've long wanted a pair, but it just seems there are so many cute shoes to be had for that price, so I've never actually gotten around to getting them.

Yesterday I overheard an executive at work bellowing into the phone in her office, having a loud personal conversation. (I don't get why people don't understand that today's modern telephone equipment is not the same as it was when a phone was two styrofoam cups and a string. We don't have to YELL into the phones anymore. The microphones are powerful, and they pick up your voice and convey it anywhere it needs to go. But so many executives do this, right? They love to sit in their big offices bellowing their personal conversations. I've heard it all... screaming at the contractor because the new sliding doors at home don't slide. Son going into boarding school... blah blah kicked out of boarding school. Something something dog coughing need a holisitic vet. It's all part of their obnoxious entitlement.)

This conversation happened to be about the MBT sneaker! She was doing a poor job of explaining it, but that's definitely what she was screaming about. Will wonders never cease? I thought the MBT sneaker was for models, the wealthy and bored yoga/nonfat latte crowd, the body-obsessed, and readers of the Bliss catalog.
Who knew that the devil who wears fleece would know about this shoe?

Mickey, Minnie and all the other Mice.

My hamster died a few months ago, after a long hamster life. He was a fat, slow, adorable ball of fluff, without a tail, of course. (Well, hamsters do have a tail but it's just a tiny stumpy thing.) I know hamsters are rodents, but they're really more like tiny teddy bears.

Having been rodentless for some months, I couldn't have been more shocked one evening when I was sitting on the couch, talking to DD, who was in the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something little and dark run FAST along the wall and disappear into the kitchen. We have inhabited our apartment for two years and have never seen such a thing--a mouse! (People who liken mice to hamsters have never seen the lightning speed with which house mice run, whereas a freed hamster will often just stand in one spot trembling and looking befuddled.)

We keep the apartment extremely clean and spare. Our place is small, our aesthetic modern, and we just don't have a lot of stuff. I like to think that if DD and I died suddenly, whomever would have to clean out our apartment could empty it in about an hour, and clean it with barely a quick sweep and a quick spritz of glass cleaner, and no bizarre secrets would be revealed in our drawers, under the beds, or on our bookshelves. My first incorrect assumption about mice, that only dirty places have them, was corrected in a hurry.

Like complete idiots, DD and I purchased various humane rodent repelling devices, like an electrical sound thing that they can supposedly hear, the sound bothers them, and they leave you alone. HA HA HA. Those don't work. Next, I purchased some sort of "humane" electric chair for mice. You put 4 AA batteries in this little box, smear some peanut butter inside, and the mouse goes in and gets electrocuted "painlessly". Well, we will never know. I have yet to catch a mouse in it! We also threw out all our dry food and teas, and purchased some expensive super sealing containers for the new dry food, rice, noodles, chips, sugar, etc. Same with the trash can and recycling can. We got rid of them and are now shopping for the fancy tight-sealing kind. They're more than $100 each!

We learned that our landlord has a whole rodent control department. Nice to know that the entire complex is infested, not just our unit! Awesome! A guy came and set up the traditional awful, scary mousetraps, plus some freaky glue traps that look like an old fashioned meat tray, only they're coated with some super sticky glue.
He looked around our apartment and determined that it was well sealed and that there was no way mice could get in, which of course, makes no sense. He also said that from the "evidence", or lack of, he concluded there were no more than 2 mice.

We've now caught a total of 4 mice... in the glue traps. Yes, this means a mouse gets stuck in glue and dies a horrible death. I read on the internet that the humane way to kill mice is either to drown them in bucket, in a bag held down by a brick, or to put them in the freezer. DD yelled when I told him this, and said we are neither setting up a drowning device, nor putting mice in the freezer with our ice cubes. I am afraid of my kitchen and am losing weight, without exercising.

But we got some good advice from someone else who had a mouse infestation where we live. She said to raise holy hell with the work order desk and make them come out, move appliances out, and stuff every conceivable hole with copper mesh before putting the appliances back. Apparently this is the best thing for blocking all access points. She also shared some DELIGHTFUL information about the hantavirus.

Whole Sizes Only

Along with the Isabella Fiore Peace Out bag I would like to wear these John Fluevog "Rainbow" sandals. They only come in whole sizes, and I'm almost always a 6.5. Sometimes a 6, but really rarely. Why are some shoes only offered in whole sizes? That makes me crazy. I hate it!

For Rich Hippie Wannabes...

I'm in LOVE with this bag. It's by Isabella Fiore and it's called "Peace Out". I think it was released in summer.
I'm not usually the biggest fan of Isabella Fiore. A friend of mine loves the older style IF beaded bags and would show them to me. "That's a lot of shiny beads," I thought. But some of IF's styles are hippie chic or motorcycle chic and they appeal to me a lot.

This Peace Out business was something like $700 orginially. Too rich for my blood! But I've got my eye out and am checking Ebay regularly! The fact that a lot of fashion bloggers have declared it the most hideous, ugly bag IF ever made can only work in my favor!

Holiday Card Dilemma

I went to Catholic elementary school. Much time was spent in class between Thanksgiving and Christmas making a highly involved craft gift for our parents, nearly always of a religious nature, of course, except for the one year when we glued individual red pistachio shells all over a pointsettia cut out and then shellac-ed it. There was the profile of a wise man, covered with macaroni and spray painted gold. There were 3D Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus dioramas... there was an advent wreath. That was my favorite, because I liked pink and purple.

I still get sort of crafty around the holidays, often this craftiness takes the form of a handmade or self-designed Christmas/holiday/winter solstice/Japanese New Year card. Last year DD and I worked on them together. The theme was gingerbread men.
The resulting cards kind of looked like something a ten year old would make, but they were cute. We recently discussed different themes and ideas this year, coming close to agreeing on one, and then throwing in the towel and deciding to just BUY preprinted, boxed holiday cards. We're totally giving up, I know.

Choosing them is not as easy as it would seem. Everything feels falsely cheerful and ironic to me. You know, penguins doing cute things, ditto polar bears--I mean, let's face global warming. The wintry scenes have always felt weird to me... I grew up in Southern California, where the closest thing to a white Christmas was my mom saying, "Should we get a flocked tree this year? Should we? They're pretty, huh? Should we? Nah." I try to go for general holiday messages out of the desire to respect everyone's spiritual beliefs. Also important to me is paper quality. I love nice paper!

These are two pretty appealing designs, although neither quite nail it for me. Almost. "Hope Peace Cookies" is a Kate Spade design, and the bright stars are available at the Museum of Modern Art store.

Christmas Starts On Halloween

On Halloween I went to the market to get some things for our dinner and came across a big end display of Mrs Meyer's Clean Day Holiday cleaning kits-- the package is shaped and decorated like a gingerbread house, there's a recipe for gingerbread and butter frosting on the side of the carton, and the carton contains mini versions of four Mrs Meyer's products-- Countertop Spray, Concentrated Cleaner (mix with water to make more Countertop Spray), Dishwashing Liquid and Room Freshener. I wish it contained a mini Glass Cleaner instead of Room Freshener, but, oh well. All the products are scented like gingerbread.

There are so many cool things offered around the holidays, and it's like you have to get them now because they're limited to the holidays. Of course I know that this is all some massive corporate ploy to make us consumers buy a lot of stuff in the last fiscal quarter (duh). But dishwashing liquid that smells like gingerbread? Can you really fault me for buying a $15 Christmas-scented cleaning kit while literally wearing my Halloween costume?! The very next day my friend Meagan and I hustled it over to Lush, where we bought more limited-edition, "holiday" items. I tell you, these companies are shrewd and cruel.

Jordan Crane

Happy Halloween! I like artist/comic book artist Jordan Crane's kind of scary, kind of sad, bittersweet images. They're melancholy, but cute, to use an over-used word. Oh, they're not just for Halloween, either. I just thought I would talk about them today. The green one is called "late night long walk high hopes" and the poison one is called "write note if swallowed".

These are from a postcard book of his. It's called Uptight All Night: 30 postcards. The colors are super saturated and the postcards are much more beautiful than what one would usually see in a postcard book. I like sending postcards through the mail often instead of notecard + envelope. I took on this habit after receiving a postcard in the mail from my calligraphy teacher. His writing is so beautiful that every letter and number just makes your eyes bug out of your head! It's show-offy, or somewhat exhibitionistic, to send a postcard instead of a note. In spite of that, or because of it, I like using postcards.

Cinderella Says

It's really simple: if the shoes don't fit, I don't buy them.

A great principle, very simple--but there's this phenomenon that happens to me sometimes, usually when a beautiful shoe is on sale for a really good price.
The phenomenon works like this: I try the shoe on, and it seems to fit! It feels great! It's like walking on clouds! Gleefully, I buy the shoe. I get the shoe home, admire it for a few days, possibly crow to my friends and boyfriend about the deal I got. Then, the first time I'm going to wear the shoe, it hurts like a motherf*cker.

That's what happened with these cute John Fluevog chunky platforms. I love Fluevogs--on other people, and in the store.
They're beautiful, they're weird, and they're not common. But I've never found a pair that fits me. My shoe size is usually 6.5 but sometimes 6. Every shoe or boot of Fluevogs' that I've ever tried in 6 has been too tight, and every 6.5 too big. And I go to the boutique and try at least twice a year, trying several styles.

The other day I was supposed to meet my friend at a certain time on a certain street, only when I called her she said she was just waking up from a nap. She was going to come in 1/2 an hour, she said. So I wandered over to Fluevog and saw these brown, apricot and pink platforms on sale for a mere $89, regularly $225. They were the only pair left and they were a 6. I wasn't even going to try them on, but since I was waiting for my friend and there was no one in the store, I did. And they felt great! I was in shock... happy shock! Of course I bought the shoes. The next day when I tried them on with all my outfits that would match, they had suddenly shrunk and my toes could not move around and I felt like I had my feet bound. DAMN IT! So I took off my thin sock and put on an even thinner nylon socky thing and they were still killer. Sadly, I examined my receipt and sure enough, it said FINAL SALE. "FINAL SALE" was even circled in pen by the salesperson.

I let my friend try them on, thinking she might want to buy them from me--she also loves Fluevog, and she has a slightly smaller foot than I do. She got the same happy glaze on her face that I recognized from my own-- she was talking really fast and saying they were slightly too tight but she was sure she could make them work, etc etc. I think it's the $89 dollar thing, really. It's just such a great price that it makes people crazy. I don't know, maybe a cobbler could stretch them for her where they're tight. For me, it was the length of the shoe, and the arch didn't even hit my arch in the right place, so it kind of felt like the shoe was trying to eject me out of it, with only the strap like a seat belt holding me in, so I know that stretching them won't help me. I'm like Drucilla and Anastasia trying to cram my caveman feet into Cinderella's shoe. But maybe they will work for my friend. If the shoe fits, wear it! But if not, stay away, no matter how inexpensive!

Georgia Rule

If I wrote about all the bad movies I see, it would just be endless. I kind of purposely try not to write about all the bad movies, much like I try not to write about all the clothes and shoes I want, because where do you stop with that kind of thing? A person could have a whole blog, updated about 20 times a day if you write about bad movies and all the clothes and shoes and handbags you want.

But Georgia Rule was just SO, SO bad that I must make an exception to my rule! It was so bad that I can't believe the studio producers had the nerve to write a scolding letter to Lindsay Lohan telling her that her bad behavior was jeopardizing the film. Umm... she could not have made the suckiness of this film any worse. It had a bad screenplay, bad dialogue*, pathetic attempt at making LA look like rural Idaho... and Dermot Mulroney as a veterinarian... Jane Fonda's stiff, expressionless eyes and eyelids... everything about Felicity Huffman, oh, God, Georgia Rule is SUCH A BAD MOVIE!

Tangent: look at this old picture of beautiful Jane Fonda.

The movie sucked so bad I can't even write a coherent post!

* Some of Lindsay Lohan's character's BAD lines:
1) "You don't have to brush me or feed me after riding me."
2) "I'm going to find your boyfriends and f*ck them stupid."

and this profound pearl of wisdom:

3) "You can't stop what's done to you. You can only survive it."

I know, I was a total moron for even putting it on my Netflix queue...

The Panty Fight

I was introduced to the concept of Nordstrom Rack by my friend Eileen, who till recently was also my co-worker. She would always come to work and say, "Like this top? $12 at Nordstrom Rack," or "I just bought a bunch of underwear... Nordstrom Rack..."

So the other day Eileen and I went to Nordstrom Rack. I had been there once before, I remembered upon entering the store, but it was such a traumatic experience that I must have blocked it out. Actually, Nordstrom Rack wasn't the bad experience... I had dropped a metal luggage cart thing full of sex toys on my foot and it literally cut off two of my toenails, and at the time I only wore high heeled shoes or high wedges. I had to buy a few pairs of shoes that were open toed, because I could not put any pressure whatsoever on the completely bare, sensitive nail-less toes, and also low-heeled, so a sympathetic pal had taken me to Nordstrom Rack, but I'd forgotten that it was Nordstrom Rack.

This time, I realized that there are remarkable deals at Nordstrom Rack, like a $1,000 Isabelle Fiore purse for $265, and Citizens of Humanity jeans for $78. The pain in the butt part is that you kind of have to dig around and rummage around and you might find something wonderful but they don't have your size, etc. But it's fun and you might find some great deals.

So then I went with my friend Ruth, who got into a panty fight with some woman. Apparently, the woman grabbed a pair of panties that Ruth would have bought almost right out of her hands. Ruth laughed about it. She wasn't too mad. That lady was lucky. Ruth has a black belt in kung fu!

The panties I like best are Cosabella's. They're really pretty and really comfortable. The plain solid colored ones are around $21 a pair, and some of the more lacy ones or ones with ribbons and other details are more like around $35 a pair. Sometimes you can get a great deal on them from Ebay sellers, like the solid ones, brand new with tags for like $10 or $12.(They don't let you sell used panties on Ebay, but they used to. Technically you weren't supposed to, but people would have ads that said things like, "unWORN, unUSED not DIRTY panties for sale..." But Ebay put a stop to that.) The other night I bid on and won a lacy pair for only $15.50 or something like that.

The next day I have this email from another person who was bidding, and the email says something like, "Sorry to bother you but I bought the matching bra and I was trying to win the matching panties and I was wondering if..." Never say that I am not a nice person, because I wrote to her told her that I can understand wanting a matching bra and panty set and yes, I will sell the item to her for the same amount I paid. I am not engaging in a panty fight! I'm a lover, not a fighter.

Hardier than Cockroaches?

There's a fennel plant growing out of the asphalt in a parking spot right outside my work. I can't believe this thing grows there--it's such a filthy, industrial part of San Francisco, and people are constantly snapping off its branches with their oh-so- skillful parking.

Even more astounding is that swallowtail butterflies have laid their eggs on this fennel plant and now it has some caterpillars on it! There's also one chrysalis attached to the railing of our stairs. It's incredibly hard for me to spot the caterpillars because their camouflage is so good! I took a few photos. Here's one.

Butterflies and Rainbows

Gloomy day. I had to pick up the company bagels at 6:30 am for work and it was raining.
(I was impressed with myself because I put fresh new windshield wipers on my car a few weeks before it actually rained. Hey, I'm turning into one of those organized, prepared people! Now if I can just start actually saving some money...)

As I was leaving work, one of the managers found some swallowtail caterpillars on a fennel plant outside. She was so excited, showing them to three of us who were leaving at the same time. There was already a chrysalis hanging from the railing of the stairs, too. My work is located on a really dirty, dangerous street; by dirty, I mean it's a common passageway for diesel semis and it's a very industrial area--it's polluted and gross. Pretty amazing that butterflies would want to come lay eggs there.

Then on the way home I saw this rainbow. Butterflies and a rainbow in one day. I thought it was a sign I was going to get into a car accident and die on the way home, but I was wrong. I lived to tell.

Dahlias

The dahlia garden at Golden Gate Park is one of my favorite annual San Francisco events. (My least favorite is Fleet Week, which just ended two hours ago. This annual display of miliary might literally flies right over my apartment, with all its earsplitting, booming, shrieking scariness.)

The best time to see the dahlias was probably a month or three weeks ago; the flowers are on the downturn now, but still outrageously beautiful! The dahlias are so amazing in their mathematical, patterned perfection. Although the word "dahlia" comes from "Dahl"-- the name of a Swedish person, they actually originated in Mexico and Central America. Aztecdahlias.com says they originally had an Aztec name-- "acocotli" or "water-cane", and they are the national flower of Mexico. Go see them, before it's too late!

The Great Jade Hunt

My sister's birthday approacheth. What to get? I rembered her telling me something about some doll she has-- a "Bratz" doll with "yellow" hair, as she says. She's turning six.

The Bratz dolls, in case you don't know (I didn't), are a popular line of dolls who have really big heads compared to their bodies, large cat-like eyes and big, inflated looking lips. They wear slutty fashions and often come with interchangeable miniskirts, tiny tops, and feet. That's right... you don't just change their shoes... you change their feet, which have the shoes painted on! A few years back there was some scandal because one of the Bratz was being sold with a thong panty.

I'm somewhat horrified that my sister is into these Bratz, but on the other hand, I remember what it was like to be my dad's child. He's extremely unconventional, and while I now appreciate my hippie upbringing, at the time, as a kid and teenager, I often just wanted candy, Guess? jeans, name-brand stupid toys (not super educational toys), and a lunch pail like everyone else's that wasn't ergonomic and made of renewable hemp or organic cotton. I usually get my sister books or art supplies. But she's in kindergarten now, and is now old enough to realize that she who has the most toys... well, she who has the most toys has the most toys, that's all. Kindergarten can be competitive. I remember!

So off to the toy superstore went DD and I.

There was a whole aisle of Bratz and Bratz paraphernalia, but it was at first difficult to find "Jade"--the somewhat Asian looking character. I was also looking for the "Bratz Kidz" line of dolls, which are more age-appropriate for my sister. The Bratz Kidz are dressed more modestly than the adult-ish Bratz, and they come with accessories like a pony or school things or fairy wings and wand. Their changes of clothes include bell bottomed jeans and little cardigans (thank God). There was no Winter Fun Jade, though... no Back to School Jade... no Jade with Pony, although there were all the other characters available...the one with "yellow" hair (Cloe), Yasmin (possibly Latina, Yasmin is a brunette), and Sasha, presumably African American. Fortunately, DD found Jade in the clearance aisle... I ended up purchasing Sasha, Jade and someone named Lilani. I chose Lilani because she seemed more rare and because she came with a fairy costume. After three days of researching Bratz, their potentially harmful affectz, their availability, and their pricez, I've gone completely nutz!

Snow on the Mountains

Sometimes I like a green bouquet--Bells of Ireland, eucalyptus, some lemon leaves, and other green things florists bundle into a green bouquet can be really pretty and kind of a soothing change from a colorful bouquet of flowers. So, at the Farmers Market I decided to buy this plant--"Snow on the Mountains", or Euphorbia Marginata.
Turns out this stuff bleeds a milky white sap that is potentially irritating to the eyes and skin... in fact, the whole plant is potentially irritating to the eyes and skin. The person who sold me the plant cuttings said, "Don't touch the plant and touch your eyes..."
"Okay, thanks for telling me," I said, trying to be nonchalant, but actually sort of wanting to not buy them after all. Anyhow, the plant cuttings sat around our apartment for a week and in that week some of the flower parts opened, releasing some kind of insect hatchlings that were striped yellow and black like bees, but much skinnier. Fabulously poisonous, infested Snow on the Mountains! Just great!

When Coffee Snobs Fall From Grace

The other day I was helping with what we at my work call Worker Food. Worker Food is this program where we all put in a certain set amount of money and with the money, the Worker Food Committee makes a budget and buys fruits and vegetables from our company. Then they display it in this kind of makeshift "store" we have, only the store is "free"-- or you take on the honor system, based on your weekly $$ contribution.
The company sells the produce to us at cost, which is very nice. I'm not on the committee currently, but I was subbing for someone who is, who had to miss work that day. So we were cleaning out the old produce and displaying the fresh stuff when I discovered three cans of this Starbucks Double Shot Espresso and Cream stuff.

Well, I'm a coffee enthusiast, shall we say, and I like good coffee, recently roasted and ground up right before the brewing. I don't like Starbucks, and I only drink it once a year on my Christmas pilgrimage to see my family, because it's the only coffee that's slightly better than the coffee from a fast food joint along the seven hour car trip. (Why drive? Because there are lots of Christmas presents in the car.)

And yet, the fact that someone had put these weird little cans of espresso-n-sugar in the Worker Food seemed serendipitous... so I took one and tried it. I poured it over ice and actually drank half the thing before the sweetness became overwhelming and I stopped. But it actually wasn't half bad. Now, see. Someone's going to kick me out of the Blue Bottle coffee line next Saturday, outing me as someone who not only drinks Starbucks, but drinks it out of a CAN.

A Head for Business and a Body for Sin

I'm fascinated by a new manager at my work who wears horrible clothes, like straight out of the 80's, and I'm not talking cool 80's fashions worn with a 2007 sense of tongue-in-cheek; no; I mean 80's shoulder pads, big square navy blue women's suit with ill-fitting skirt and huge gold double breasted buttons, a loose polyester scarf around the neck, and closed-toe, high but thick-heeled clompy shiny pumps. I feel badly for her.

Whenever I see her and am stunned anew by the hideousness of her clothing, I think, "I've got a head for business and a body for sin," which was one of Melanie Griffith's lines in the movie Working Girl. This woman reminds me of that era of work fashion. Th funniest part is, everyone else dresses casually at my work. I mean, it's a vegetable warehouse, for God's sake. Most of the people are warehouse workers and truck drivers, our office is grubby, and we're always on recycling bin duty or kitchen duty or some other dirty duty. Her dressing up is so weirdly out of place, which is what makes it so fascinating!