Where Else Can You Walk Around Half Naked?

Here I am at the Folsom Street Fair last Sunday. On the bottom I'm wearing black lace tights and turquoise underpants; hee hee. I didn't go all-out, because last year I was essentially topless and I felt too exposed, but at least I wasn't walking around in GAP khakis like so many of the tourists and lookie loos at Folsom this year. It seems like every year there are fewer participants and more cameras and more people who are just going to see the freak show, and it's sort of annoying, but to me, it still feels safe and I enjoy walking around half naked in heels in public, with cops around who are actually facilitating it all! I still love the Folsom Street Fair, and love San Francisco for having it every year!

The Most Fun Laptop Pillow Yet

I recently spent a day at West Coast Green, a green building trade show in San Jose California, "boothing" for the organization I work for. Aside: I love that "boothing" is a verb in trade show speak. You're not just "working at your booth" or "representing the organization" you work for. You're BOOTHING.

Anyhow, although there was no end to the parade of cool, sustainable products for building the Platinum LEED-certified, low-carbon footprint house of your dreams, complete with succulent-planted roof and radiant-heat flooring, I currently rent an apartment which was originally built by... the US military. Yeah.

That said, the item highest on my "most likely to buy" list was this awesome laptop pillow by Intelligent Forms:

Intelligent Forms' laptop pillow

The Intelligent Forms BOOTHERS settled me into a chair with the laptop pillow atop my knees and a cute little Macbook nestled into the pillow. The pillow is comfortable and flexible, and filled with buckwheat hulls, which make a pleasant sound and a nice weight. They had one made of brown fabric, which really looked like logs. Each round end bit of fabric was a different pattern, and the pillow held the laptop securely. What's more, because the contraption hugged the computer, I was able to move my legs around and shift my weight without fearing that the computer would slide off. I have to say I liked this thing so much more than the iLap, by Rain Designs, which is what I've used most recently.

Captcha Woes

I must be a bot, because more often than not, I honestly can't read these CAPTCHAs, that are designed to tell humans from machines. I get my vision examined frequently, I wear contact lenses, that THING that happens to people in their 40's where they can't read anymore and have to hold papers further from their eyes has not happened to me, my lenses are the right prescription, and supposedly with them inserted, I can see 20-20. CAPTCHAs have gotten more difficult...

Orchidfest 2008

I'm awfully late posting this. I went to Orchidfest 2008 last weekend, at the Hall of Flowers at the edge of Golden Gate Park. I actually enjoyed Orchidfest so much more than The Pacific Orchid Expo, which was held at Fort Mason in February. I know it's comparing apples and oranges, because the Pacific Orchid Expo was HUUUGE. It's like of like comparing New York City with San Francisco, which, for some reason, people in San Francisco do ALL THE TIME... you just can't compare, because New York City is just its own huge, stunning, incomparable thing that I can't even really wrap my mind around.

But I digress.

Orchidfest was great because it was intimate and had a friendly feel. The orchid sellers weren't mobbed, so they were super friendly, patient and very open to sharing their knowledge and lore. DD and I bought 6 raffle tickets for $5, but we didn't win the raffle... it seemed like our chances were good, because there weren't many people there yet, and there were going to be several plants given away. It looked like lot of the volunteers won. I watched one guy choose the plant I would have chosen had I won, and I congratulated him (while suppressing the desire to knock him down and take his plant) while he gloated. I think DD felt a little sorry for me at that point, because he kindly bought me everything I wanted!

Two very sweet men showed me that these "Twinkle" oncidiums (bottom) smell like chocolate. They had red, yellow and pink, and they said the red smells like milk chocolate and the yellow and pink smell like white chocolate and they smell heavenly when placed together. They only emit their fragrance during the warmer part of the day; the growers told me they start around 11 am and intensify as the afternoon wears on, and then they "turn off" as it becomes evening. I took a red and a yellow. The individual flowers are each so tiny; smaller than a person's pinkie nail.

The other plant I got was this very trippy orchid called a "coelogyne". It only blooms upside down like this (1st photo), so you have to get underneath the plant to see it full-on (2nd photo). It only makes one flower at a time, and then a new one forms and the old one falls off. The plant keeps doing this, and the stalk gets longer and longer and forms a zigzag pattern. It was definitely not the flashiest, most colorful orchid there, not by a long shot. But I loved its quiet weirdness, and so, I took it home.

What to Be for Halloween?

DD's work has a spectacular Halloween party every year. A lot of the people who work there are artists, and as a result, the costume contest is legendary! After attending this thing for a few years now, I've realized that the only way we can hope to win is by getting together a large group of people who form a sort of collective costume. For example, last year there was a very impressive group who went as the movie "Office Space". Someone was a red stapler... another year there was a group of transformers who transformed into IKEA furniture. I sort of didn't get it, but they won big time.
And each year there seem to be a few cohorts of the Fandango brown bag people, each more spectacular than the last.

One year DD and I went as John Lennon and Yoko Ono during the bed-in. I figured, might as well exploit the ethnic similarity and poke fun at it. My wig made my head itchy and hot, our MAKE PEACE and HAIR PEACE signs that I'd carefully lettered and painted were freaking heavy, and walking around attached to DD by sheets and comforters was annoying. The only gratifying part was that everyone middle aged took our picture. Last year we went as Netflix envelopes-- again, a lot of artwork and production, but the costumes were easy to move around in, and when we took them off we just had comfortable black clothes underneath. Again, a lot of people liked our costumes, which made it fun! We didn't win anything, though.

This year I wanted to be Three's Company with several of DD's coworkers. One of them is a tall blonde woman-- she was slated to be Crissy Snow. Being short, brunette, and having a very layered shaggy haircut, I was to be Janet Woods. We were all going to roller skate...I'm a good roller skater!... but then the company said one of the rules is no wheels. We didn't think the costume would be as good without skates. Another idea was carnival people... one woman has two babies and we thought they could be little animals, and all I really wanted was to be a bearded lady. No one liked that idea, though.

My next idea was to be Rubik's Cubes that really work. It's not like I am super handy, but I'm resourceful and crafty, and no stranger to the drill. A quick internet search revealed a step-by-step guide to how this man created his amazing Rubik's Cube costume. Check it out! He even put some clear contact paper over all his colorful squares for authentic texture... this guy's precision and attention to detail is wonderful! Anything I could do would be a poor imitation, so I'm still brainstorming my costume!

Lars and the (RealDoll) Real Girl

How I never saw this movie when it first came out is beyond me, considering my fascination with RealDoll. I finally saw this movie last night--it's about a guy (Lars) whose mother died apparently while giving birth to him and whose father was emotionally shut down after that, leaving Lars sort of shut down and introverted. One day at work (it's not clear what he does, but he has a "cubicle" job) Lars' coworker shows him the website of RealDoll, saying how much he'd love to have one. Lars doesn't seem particularly interested, but he ends up getting one and naming her Bianca. At first, his brother and sister in law are freaked out, but eventually the entire community comes to accept Bianca. It's zany and sweet! And even though Bianca is a RealDoll, there's nothing particularly sexual about the film at all, which makes it even more unpredicatble and interesting.

Lars and the Real Girl website

Nougat

It can take several days to tame a new hamster. Today is Day 2 of trying to handle the new hammie, named Nougat. He's way faster than the late Skeepants! This taming session ended with Nougat giving me a handful of warm hamster pee. Ugh! Still, I remain optimistic.

Low Commitment.

Having been pet-less for about half a year following the death of my solitary goldfish, DD and I recently pondered what sort of pet to get... if any. I visited the SPCA adoption center and found a wonderful cat that I really liked... but they were kicking people out because it was close to closing time and I was under too much pressure to decide. Plus, they had a $20 adoption special that weekend only, and after I finally decided it would have been $80 to adopt her. Plus, you know, she has claws and glands and a butt, I have a white sofa, which, by the way is not particularly comfortable, and oh, that fabric that's supposedly treated, probably with some kind of horrible chemical, to release stains easily? It doesn't release red wine. Not that I'd expect it to.

I still like cats, so I became enamored of these miniature Persians that people are breeding nowadays. They're beautiful, and so, so tiny! They're very expensive, too, like a few thousand dollars. Which is okay when you're talking about car repairs or needing a new computer but seems kind of a bit rich for my blood, considering I'm unfortunately the type of person who lets her bank account get down into the double digits plenty often. So I started thinking along the SPCA lines again, when my little sister, age 6, announced to me that she's deathly allergic to cats, although she likes them and has a few cat stuffed animals.
Although I don't see her very often, she does come over and I want her to be able to come over and hang out, and even spend the night, once she gets a little older and her parents release their death grip of overprotectiveness on her. (I mean, really. I'm thirty-five, not fifteen... I drive a safe four-door sedan, I have a dull 9-5:30 job at a nice non-profit. I don't quite get why we only get to have supervised visits... sometimes I think my father is in a time warp and to him, I'm still a 16 year old who ditched school, snuck around, wrecked a car and spilled red nail polish all over the carpet in my bedroom and hid it till I went to college by rearranging my room.)

The other week I walked into the post office by my work to be greeted by two of the sweetest little puppy heads you ever saw peeking out of a doggie carrier. I dropped to the floor, stunned by their adorable-ness. In some kind of crazed moment, I even asked their owner for breeder information. Apparently these are champion chihuahuas, and the proud new owner flew all the way to Michigan to get them and bring them back to California. After about half an hour of petting these little puppies while their owner taped up some packages she was sending out, I returned to work, happily announcing to my coworkers that I fell in love with chihuahuas and planned to get one.

After a few hours, rationality set in. For one thing, I've never had a dog and don't know the first thing about them, nor has DD ever owned a dog. For another, we rent, and we're technically not supposed to own a dog (though plenty of neighbors do, because the management used to allow dogs, and they changed the rule but had to grandfather in anyone who already had a dog). Finally, I realized I don't really want a dog. They have to go to the bathroom and you have to take them out before the sun rises and stand there and shiver while they do their business, and then you have to pick their business up while it's still fresh and steaming.

So, I'm the proud owner of an adorable hamster, which DD purchased for me yesterday! Hamsters are great. They require only about $100 for their whole set up-- nice cage, ASPCA-approved exercise Wodent Wheel, food, and bedding. You clean their cage once a week and play with them daily (but if you don't play with them daily, they don't care. In fact, they're so indifferent that I don't think it matters to them at all if you skip a day). They're fun to watch. They live about 2.5 years. My little guy is about 5 weeks old... so we should have plenty of time together. Photos to follow!

Valley of the ...

I'm back, with a new zeal for the keyboard, thanks to an iMac which arrived today at around noon... but my instantaneous passionate love for this thing will be explored in great detail another day!

Before the old machine started to sputter out, exhausted after four years and some hard drive damage, I was thinking about costume jewelry designer Tarina Tarantino's new line of flesh tone (fleshtone? flesh-tone?) colored necklaces, hair bows, bracelets and other baubles. It's interesting. I'm fascinated with foundation makeup and I have several types, myself, ranging from lightweight coverage to really heavy-- a thick cream formula that completely covers the texture of your real skin and sort of puts on a whole new "skin". So the idea of extending the constructed skin to the adornments that traditionally offer color or contrast or metallic shine, and making the adornments tone-on-tone interests me, design-wise. Politically, it makes me think about all that "doll" imagery, language and conditioning that women grow up with (and continued to be rather innundated with throughout our daily lives). Like, who wants to be a doll? Like a Stepford wife? What the heck is that even about? I also feel that women celebrities are looking more and more doll-like all the time, and I wonder why that is.

It also made me think about RealDoll.--I've talked about RealDoll before, and RealDoll for some reason is often a point of reference for me!-- I could see a beautiful RealDoll dressed in all this Tarina Tarantino Doll Skin finery and how cool and eerie and so odd-yet-so appropriate that would be.

Is there an essay or a paper or thesis or book about the history of flesh tone? Like who was the first paint manufacturer or writer who used that phrase for that color? Outside of the United States is flesh tone not pinky peachy gray? Do you like clear Bandaids? I do!

Easy Halloween Costume: Sarah Palin

DD and I have been brainstorming our Halloween costumes since November 1, 2007.
I now think we should go as the Republican ticket. All I need to do is to get one of these Ken Paves/Jessica Simpson hairpieces and say things like:


"I am pro-life and I believe that marriage should only be between and man and a woman."

Mimobots

At work my coworkers and I have a Tuesday staff meeting. One of the many, MANY things said during the meeting today was something about "thumb drives" disappearing. My boss likes to say "thumb drive" for what I call a flash drive and what other people call a memory stick. Seriously, this thing has so many names it's kind of ridiculous.
Anyhow, apparently in classes, people are passing around various flash drives (I am not sure why) and they need to get back to the the instructor or the TA, and they disappear, not because anyone wants to steal them, but because they're little and they look like everyone else's flash drive.

I think we should get a whole bunch of different Mimobots. Mimoco has turned a dull little device into a little bit of adorable happiness, called a Mimobot! There are lots of different Mimobots available in varying storage capacities-- 1 gig, 2 gig, etc. And they're priced pretty much like a plan flash drive. I love Mimobots!

God Bless Facebook

I came late to Facebook... I already had a myspace and a friendster and a tribe and whatever the hell other social networking things there are out there. My late hamster Skeepants even had a Hamsterster account. Honestly I didn't really see the point of any of them...or the value or benefits. Except for the hamster thing... I did enjoy all the photos of everyone's cute hammies! Along came Facebook, and I came late to Facebook, and again I didn't see the POINT, until the other day, when into my Inbox landed a message from my best friend from elementary school, whom I haven't seen since then, when she moved from California to Georgia with her family. How crazy is that? Apparently this is a common Facebook phenomenon. In this case, I'm extremely happy to reconnect with her, but it's certainly something to think about in regards to privacy and anonymity, so I went through and found several exes and ex friends (this is commonly known as Facebook stalking, I think) and made a "block list" so they can't turn around and find me!

Fresh Scent. New Pants.

As regular as the turning of the earth and the return of high tide, my period comes each month on the same weekend as this "Executive Certificate Program" at my work. During "Executive Program Weekend" a bunch of executives have classes at a law firm downtown, and I am the official caterer, coffee bitch and dishwashing scullery maid.
I also work six days a week during Executive Program Weekend, and this Friday was a thirteen hour day for me. Saturday was a lot better... my day started at 7:00 am and ended at 5:45 pm! Lots of fun stuff happens during Program Weekend, such as pre-ordered bagel platters going "missing" from a bagel shop which shall remain unnmamed, even though I not only ordered the bagel platter from a girl with the same name as me, but I also called to double check and confirm my order the day before the event, and my caterer showing up at 12:20 for a 12:30 lunch.

But perhaps the BEST thing that happened was that my period started, and it wasn't like some courteous little trickle... it was like a scene from a horror movie, or from the latest novel in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series, Breaking Dawn, wherein a baby half vampire rips its mother apart when it's time to be born. I'll skip the gory details, but I had to walk down Market Street with a sweater tied around my waist and go and buy a new skirt to wear, and my pants had to be discarded. There is no saving them. That's how much of a bloody mess it all was.

Why did this happen? Well, yes, I knew my period was coming, and I did buy an anticipatory box of tampons a few days prior, however I accidentally bought "Fresh Scent" tampons, which I realized with horror at 6:00 am Friday morning. They smelled like Raid ant and roach killer. I cannot stick a Raid-scented tampon inside my body. I'm afraid I will get instant cervical cancer if I do. So I was relying on my last wimpy "regular absorbency" non-scented tampon to carry me through from the time I left my house at 6:35, went to the grocery store, shopped for last-minute food for the Executive breakfast (and more tampons) drove to the law firm, unloaded my carload of food, piled it onto a rolling delivery pallet, got my security badge, and finally took the freight elevator to the law office where I would hopefully get to the bathroom in time (at around 8:10 am) to insert a new tampon before bathing the entire city or just the crotch of my really nice pants in my menstrual blood. Yeah. Didn't happen. I ended up spending $98 on a skirt (couldn't get pants because I'm so short that all my pants have to be hemmed before I can wear them) and $18 on a new pair of panties. But hey, there is no time to shop for bargains when one has bloody pants and about 11 more hours of work. I just don't understand why some people's periods trickle out in a predictable, manageable way and mine is more like someone pouring out a glass of water for a day, and then it pretty much ends. I've been to the doctor and they say there is nothing wrong with me down there. Executive Program weekend is just not a good weekend for my gushing geyser period. It's really best to be close to home, or at least to the bathroom at work. One time I even dropped blood on the floor of Macy's downtown, and had to stand there squeezing my thighs together while my friend ran to the bathroom to get me a wad of toilet paper. Now that was really awful. That was probably the worst thing that ever happened with my weird explosive period.

And since a skirt is not really a replacement for a pair of work pants, I also bought a new pair of work pants this weekend, bringing the menstrual financial toll to about $220 this weekend!

Fashion Twins, Part XIVIXIIIXXX

My sister is visiting, and she's a 6 year old demon with boundless energy and a steady stream of conversation, so I have not been able to write. But I did manage to capture yet another pair of fashion twins. How cute; they both put on their jeans and light yellow tee shirts and then snapped the leash on their light yellow dog and went walking down the street! This is so unlike DD and me. If we both get dressed wearing the same color jacket or shirt or shoes one of us will usually go and change. It just feels so gag-inducing wearing the same things. I feel like couples have just been together too long when they start dressing like that!

The Poopetrator

My co-workers and I are going to a baseball game today. We're leaving in twenty minutes; those of us who even bothered to come into the office at all today. Most are "working from home" (cough cough) and will meet us there. Uh huh. My CEO is wearing crisp khakis and a bright orange polo-style shirt instead of his usual suit and tie and glossy shoes. I don't really know anything about baseball. I only know of Derek Jeter and A-Rod (whom I keep thinking is named "Axel" instead of "Alex") and I know the Giants aren't playing the Yankees today, so I won't even see Derek Jeter or A-Rod. And didn't Barry Bonds go to jail? Whatever. I have sunscreen, a big hat, Gucci sunglasses and a few trashy magazines; that ought to hold me. Anyhow, I'm not really writing about the baseball game outing, I'm justifying why I'm goofing off and writing my blog during the workday!

The wrong-est thing just happened. We work on the first floor of what looks like a big white house. There are two businesses upstairs. They get to their work by using stairs outside... it's not like they need to come down to the first floor for anything. I was in the bathroom (pee only) and someone came stomping into the bathroom. I saw boots under the stall door, which I thought odd since no one in my office wears those kind of boots. I thought maybe it was the letter carrier or DHL driver... Then I smelled poop! Then the person washed her hands (with our nice organic lavender soap!) and left. I ran out to see who it was, and saw someone going back upstairs. She works upstairs and came downstairs just to poop in our bathroom. Not only did she drop a turd in OUR bathroom, with its poop smell molecules, she used our fancy hand soap, that we take turns buying. We're a NONPROFIT, for God's sake; they're a FOR PROFIT. You go downstairs to the NONPROFIT to POOP, and use the soap provided for by the underpaid nonprofit employees. What a jerk! I really want to go up there and just walk into their office, see the woman and confront her... but MY coworkers think I'm nice, and we're supposed to be friendly with those people upstairs. There's a very nice transit center across the street with a very nice bathroom that's open to the public. She should really have some frickin decency and go poop over there! I try to do my business at home, personally. I don't feel my coworkers should have to be exposed to my solid waste. Coworkers have to deal with enough of each other as it is. The next time the Poopetrator comes downstairs, I will be waiting...

Modesty Panels, please.

It seems to be my lot in life to always work for "alternative" businesses. Start ups, dotcoms in their formative years (before they learn to conform to labor laws), non profits also in their early years, women owned cooperatives and vegetable companies run by a gaggle of people who have all been each other's lovers at various times in their histories... yet I've also worked for a monolithic school district, in which I was just a number (and hell, my number got transposed, resulting in my not having any reported income for a year), and for a huge cable company, but those were long ago. I say it's my lot in life, but of course, I've chosen to work where I have.

My latest gripe is that in my office (in its 6th year, and has only 12 full time staff), we work at weird, huge desks from a bygone era. Now I'm all for mid century modern antiques. These are not mid century modern antiques. They're ugly, huge, clunky veneer-covered desks like teachers or barristers or office people may have sat at in the early 80's. There are no height adjustments. There are no rounded corners. I don't have any drawers, for god's sake (no, I have a little Rubbermaid bin under my desk with all my office supplies in it). You can see our legs from the frontside, and if we were to let our legs fall slightly open, you could quite possibly see the crotches of our panties, in some cases, or just a fabric-covered crotch, in others. Either way-- CROTCH. There are no cozy little walls around us, no "modesty panels" as they are called in the office furniture industry, no surfaces to which you can tack or stick any of the papers you need to look at daily. One cannot slump, have any sort of a messy desk at all ("OH, WE NEED TO ZEN YOUR DESK!" bellowed by boss one day, pointing at my papers as if she were pointing at a pile of dog poop. As if "zen" is a verb for casual use in the Judeo Christian world... as if I am not the person in charge of reconciling our credit card bills and our petty cash, a task that involves the spreading out and deciphering and proper budgetary coding of many many receipts! As if I WANT to have a messy desk covered by everyone's receipts!)

To people who complain about working in cubicles, just know that there are office workers out here who are envious of your little cubicle, your modicum of privacy. There are workers who are envious of Dilbert, who long to be surrounded by some dull gray fabric, who long for a drawer in which to put their stuff, who long to chew their lunch without everyone else watching.

Supposedly, we are having some sort of office reorganization soon. I hope that involves a more ergonomic and productive set up, but I fear it simply means something like someone deciding to place all the printers and fax machines on my desk.

Happy Frickin' Thursday.

I have tomorrow off, as a comp day for my work weekend from Hell last weekend. Whee!

For today's blog post, I decided to show the most unflattering (and yet I find just it so funny) photo of me ever taken. This was a few years ago, and in my defense I will say that it was earlier than 7:00 am and I hadn't showered yet. Um, and feel free to donate to my haircut-and-styling products fund at any time!

The staff goes to a baseball game

Next Thursday, all my coworkers and I are going to a baseball game. We're not playing in the game, and no one we know is playing in the game... we're going to a professional baseball game. It's not that I don't like baseball... I like playing and I liked going to games when I was a high school teacher and the kids I actually knew were playing in the game, so I actually cared if they did well. I don't care about professional baseball and I haven't been to a professional baseball game since I was a child. My family used to go to Dodger games; the only things I remember are the name "Steve Garvey" and playing with a long red licorice rope the whole time, and being smeared with sunscreen by my mother at intermittent intervals.

Since I am fairly new on staff I don't know whether this decision to go on an outing was made before I landed there... I remember some discussion about what days were best for everyone. I'm a bit envious of my coworker who is off in Greece for a few weeks, not just because she's in Greece but because she gets to miss the game! Following the game is a barbeque at my boss' house. She has her good attributes, but she's a sarcastic, frequently high strung, more than occasionally micromanaging, self-described bitch. Yes, she's one of these people who revels in calling herself a bitch, and in embodying that state of being.

I could call in sick, but I've had a cold for a week and I called in sick last Tuesday and again this Monday, and another sick day would be excessive (and suspicious). I could also take a knitting project with me to the game, because everyone knows you can knit and watch TV or knit and talk, and presumably knit and watch a baseball game, but what about the barbeque? I could eat a hotdog early on in the day, not feel well, and leave with a stomachache (only to go to a nearby salon that I like a lot and get a manicure and pedicure!)... I'm a terrible actor and an unconvincing liar... just planning the ruse would give me a real stomachache. We're expected to RSVP for the barbeque today (she sent the invitation late yesterday)... what do I do?

Yummie Tummie vs. the muffin tops

I don't actually watch the Oprah Winfrey Show, because I don't actually own a television, but apparently She (Oprah) promoted a shapewear garment called Yummie Tummie on the show. I learned about Yummie Tummie while searching online for "long camisole" or "long tank"-- Yummie Tummie comes in regular length and long length, so my searching turned up this intriguing item. The basic idea is it's a tank top or camisole with regular cottony straps and about a three inch hem like any other cotton camisole or tank, but from right below your breasts to the cotton hem there's this thicker, opaque microfiber-and-lycra/spandex STUFF that holds in all your fat. It's main and most celebrated purpose is to squeeze the batter back into the muffin tops!
The muffin tops are the bulge of fat and skin that pop over the dent created by the waistband of low-rise, non-stretchy cotton denim jeans.

Of course I'd rather have my own built in yummy tummy made of muscle and sinew, but for now I figured I'd try a Tummie Tummie tank. I got mine in white, regular hip length. It's plenty long; I can't imagine needing the long length unless you have a really long torso or are very tall. It's hard to get into the thing, but once in, it feels pretty good. The best thing about it is it kind of helps you remember to stand straight and have good posture. It's also long enough to cover the muffin tops and allay any of the cool breezes around the middle that often result from jeans + average tight tee shirt or velour hoodie. (Not only did you bake up some muffin tops, but you also set them out on the windowsill to cool.) The downside is the top made me a little sweaty. It was kinda hot in there. I can also imagine it could be rather ungraceful trying to get out of that thing in semi-public in the locker room or in front of a lover. I still think I liked it enough to want a few more.

I got my Yummie Tummie from an online retailer of lingerie because the shipping was free, but in perusing Yummie Tummie's official site, I was struck by the similarily in the imagery, compared to that of Stila Cosmetics. Both use cute illustrations of women, of various hair and skin colors and hairstyles, but all with the same slim-curvy bodies and similar facial features. I think it's designed to say, "You women in our target market group come in different colors but you're all basically the same in that you're not as slim as these illustrations, but you COULD be, nor are you quite as pretty as the women in these illustrations, but you COULD be if you buy our products! And we're all just the same in that regard, which is why all these pictures actually look the same even though we've made a concerted effort to make them look sort of diverse!" Yay, and the whole marketing team does a toast with their Diet Cokes in hands. Well, it's better than nothing, nothing being the complete denial that people of color even exist, but it still just feels oh-so-chick-lit ish to me in a way that feels slightly over-played already.

I'm on hiatus while I'm working a hellish three day stint of 13 hour days! Update on Sunday!