Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Perhaps it is a pull of the moon, the extensive rain, or just luck itself but I've got a disproportionate amount of friends wearing tin foil hats as of late.  I mean, their local grocery runs out of white bread and it turns into a conspiracy to make them fatter and starve them out.  The aforementioned rain makes the wifi slow, it must be government spies looking in to see what they are buying online.  And then, while using an iPhone, proclaiming that we are all being controlled by machines.  Yeah, there's a relative tin foil hat parade happening around me. I look to my left.  I look to my right.  I've got a match people. Late last week I thought that, perhaps, I was at the apex of it when some ballsy assed mother fucker blew on my shoulder blades.  Why yes, while on the seven train and sporting a sundress on a 90+ degree day, I clearly needed a fucking burka.  I know . . . I know . . . I totally asked for it. That being said, I came up with ...

These days, as they are shorter and the darkness longer, the temps are dropping and the once brilliantly colored trees are starting to drop their seasonal garlands.  I've always loved fall, which admitting it probably makes me a little basic white bitch.  Usually I would say oh well, but these days . . . eh.  National events aside, the power to persevere in the face of life itself is sometimes lost on even me.  Moments in between, and stopping to literally smell the falling leaves, has kept a balance.  Not a metaphorical one--as that one is just crazy, spiraled, and ugly--but a literal moment in time to stop and stare. A little array from a Long Island campus (left to and far right and the Bronx in the middle).  Yet, these days I've got an ugly planner . . . one that is colored, just about indexed, and as I'm told every minute of the day is planned.  Just about . . .That being said, a crushing schedule comes on the heels of needing to find norm...

As this story goes the bra and lingerie rabbit hole is a deep, twisty, and long one.  But, of course, that rabbit hole is filled with lace and pretty colors so . . . yea, my juvenile side is pleased.  Though, this time I tweaked things to see where I could go with an already good pattern. With that in mind, I made a quick fix, quick make body suit . . . yea, judge me later, as ya know there are times you just don't want to bother tucking in a shirt.  Also, the lines of it  . . . sometimes you just want a line that gets lost at the waist and only a body suit can do that.   That's a sweet ass print . . . though, it's so damned cold these days I won't be wearing this one until there's a multi part thaw.  Though, I'll be in Europe next month . . . I foresee some body suit wear-age for sure.  And, yea, it's a near identical print run of the fabric Heather used on her samples.  I made my first Nettie in the white version of this print. ...

Bras.  Now there's a thousand dollar subject.  The cost of them, the shape of them, of the fit  of them . . . last ready to wear bra I bought set me back just shy of a hundred bucks.  Yea, a bill man . . . And, to make it even better it was just okay.  Like every other bra I've ever owned it was comfortable for about two wearings and then the real personality appeared.  Yea.  Every woman knows that pain.  Wires digging into you, cutting into the chest bone, or . . . the dreaded jiggle and gap at the cup top.  Okay, the other side . . . spillage.  There's a classy, sexy image.     Any woman will admit--though many will need a bourbon or two to really say it--that a favorite bra, one that fits will get worn until it stinks. You know what I mean. Years later, no amount of soap gets the sweat smell out. Yea. The bra. It's like a woman's inside arm. Of course, 99 percent of bras make us want to rage, pull our hair ou...