Blog Archives

Life imitates FRIENDS. Also. Mooning.

The Place: Wolfgang’s.

The Day: Labor Day.

The Cast: Myself, the Boo, and HanSolo.

The topic: TV Shows.

Conversation as follows:

Me: FRIENDS.

Han: Meh, I was never really a FRIENDS fan.

Me: Are you kidding? ANY MOMENT IN LIFE. ANY MOMENT. Can relate to a FRIENDS episode. THE ONE WITH THE ANYTHING.

NEW STORY. The Boo is in school. Full day, kindergarten. I walk him everyday with his backpack and lunchbox and it’s adorable. But this means that my Hotch and I have these mornings to do kid-free things like go outfit shooting for her blog (and occasionally mine).

This past Tuesday, we decided to venture out for breakfast before walking around Eastown, because I love Wolfgang’s. Wolfgang’s is the food of the gods.

The sitting and eating and conversation was great. Post eating, we headed out to a gorgeous fall day. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and the wind was blowing.

And Poof and I were dressed like this:

Morning Dates

Skirts. Fun and flirty.

We made it through most of our photo shoot relatively unscathed. We took photos. We found fun new places to take photos.

Poof: This alley is awesome looking.

Me: This alley looks like homeless men have peed in it.

Poof was right. It was a cool looking alley.

Poof was right. It was a cool looking alley.

But then. As most stories go, things have to happen.

And do you know what skirts do in this beautiful fall weather?

I digress. BACK TO THE FIRST STORY.

The Place: Wolfgang’s.

The Day: Labor Day.

The Cast: Myself, the Boo, and HanSolo.

The topic: TV Shows.

Conversation as follows:

Me: FRIENDS.

HanSolo: Meh, I was never really a FRIENDS fan.

Me: Are you kidding? ANY MOMENT IN LIFE. ANY MOMENT. Can relate to a FRIENDS episode. THE ONE WITH THE ANYTHING.

The one in which L.A. moons Eastown on a Windy Day.

Upskirt

You’re welcome, Grand Rapids. You’re welcome.

Sunnies: Target. Sweater, Skirt, and Kneesocks: Forever 21. Boots: Francesca's. Ass: 100% L.A.'s

Sunnies: Target.
Sweater, Skirt, and Kneesocks: Forever 21.
Boots: Francesca’s.
Ass: 100% L.A.’s

Advertisements

in which we don’t need no stinkin’ pants.

I’m not that girly. I’m not going to lie. GoldDust tried once to put liquid eyeliner on me, and I cried before she even got one eye done. I’m just not a high maintenance female. I roll out of bed in the morning, brush my hair and teeth, and head out the door.

I forgot pants once because I was in such a daze.

This means, that when I go to the effort of getting dolled up, it’s a big effort. On Tuesdays and Thursday mornings, however, sometimes I’ll make the extra effort because I know I’ll be seeing my BFF Poof, who runs a fashion blog. It’s nice when our photos don’t feature her being adorable and me in a t-shirt. But that’s happened before.

One Tuesday and/or Thursday (I’m not sure which it was), I happened to be dolled up after playing photographer with Poof, and good things happened to happen. I got tickets to the most epic of epic things in the hockey world: tickets to the Winter Classic.

And you guys know that I love my hockey.

So, in a flurry of excitement and high energy, I headed to the most ideal place: Starbucks.

“Coffbanger,” I tell my barista. “GUESS WHAT I HAVE?!”

Coffbanger happens to have been my barista for a long time standing, and thus, he knows of my hockey love. He guessed within three tries that it was hockey tickets, and laughed at my outwardly excessive amount of glee.

However.

His co-worker was not such a good sport.

“Wait,” the coworker tells me, interrupting Coffbanger’s and my conversation. “You can’t be a hockey fan.”

Eyebrow raise here. The awkward silence says that he should stop talking.

The coworker continues, however. “You can’t be a hockey fan. You’re in a dress.”

Cue the jaw drop. Of course, I would never take this lying down.

Immediately following this trip to Starbucks, I had to inform the masses.

I’m so irritated. I’m tired of having to define icing to prove that I actually like hockey, as opposed to just wanting to hump Darren Helm*.

“Well,” I tell him. I manage to keep smiling. No amount of anger can wipe my “I’m going to the Winter Classic” smile off my face. And then this spills out faster than they’re making my coffee.

“You can’t be a man, you’re in skinny jeans.”

Coffbanger, the coworker, and I are all silent for a moment before Coffbanger lets out a snort of laughter.

Barista2

Mohawk summed it up pretty nicely. Of course I had to text someone about my moment of greatness as I walked away.

Seriously though. Can’t a girl like her hockey in a dress?

And such a cute dress too.

And such a cute dress too.

Seriously. I looked fecking adorable.

Dress: Free People. Cardi: Forever 21. Belt: Banana Republic. Wedges: Charlotte Russe. Comeback: 2000% L.A.

Dress: Free People. Cardi: Forever 21. Belt: Banana Republic. Wedges: Charlotte Russe. Comeback: 2000% L.A.

Sound off, female hockey fans.

Can’t a girl wear a dress and be a hockey fan? Or a sports fan?

I know I’m not the only one with sports colored knee socks for playoff games.

*the writer acknowledges that yes, she would also like to hump Darren Helm.

What Not to Wear

I’ve heard there’s a TV show by this name, but considering that we haven’t had cable at my house since about 2009, I wouldn’t really know. What I do know, however, is that getting dressed is such a pain in the ass.

Poof, SoccerGirl, and I decided last week to go out to eat. Which was a great idea. So great, that we decided we should dress nicely and wear heels since we barely ever get to do that (Except for Poof because she’s a fashion blogger and stuff). But seriously. I’m always in scrubs.

I wanted some damn high heels on my feet.

At least, I did, until it came down to D-Day.

Poof texted me a number of times throughout the day asking what I was wearing.

My silence is due to me having no freakin' clue what to wear. Besides like, clothes.

My silence is due to me having no freakin’ clue what to wear. Besides like, clothes.

I tried to think of my closet and envision what I could wear, but then my head started to hurt because I hated everything single thing in it.

Poof: Did you decide what you’re wearing?

L.A.: No. I think I’m just going to go naked.

Poof: Just wear what you’re wearing now.More Questioning

L.A.: I’m literally in underwear. This isn’t even allowed in public.

Poof: I’m going to burn my whole closet.

L.A.: OH. I want to do that too.

Poof: Did you know you can burn Doritos as kindling? And it makes multi-colored fire?

L.A.: I have heard that. We should burn our clothes AND Doritos. It’ll be a big colorful fire.

Poof: Done.

Silence.

Poof: But what are you going to wear tonight?

A timeline of my evening before going out.

6:21 pm: Get home from work. Acknowledge I will not wear scrubs to dinner. Take off scrubs.

6:23 pm: Glare at closet.

6:25 pm: Candy Crush marathon.

6:35 pm: Above conversation with Poof. More angry glaring at closet.

6:41 pm: Try on outfit 1.

6:43 pm: Outfit 2.

6:45 pm: Outfit 3.

6:52 pm: Outfits 6, 7, and 20394803948.

7:00 pm: Stare at floor in dismay.

Rejected Outfits

7:01 pm: Cry because I don’t know why I have so much laundry to do.

7:03 pm: Put on outfit. Hate it. Leave bedroom.

7:05 pm: Walk out door. Lock door. Realize I have no make up on and have not done hair.

7:05 and 30 seconds pm: Decide I’ve come too far.

7:10: Officially leave. Decide to later write blog. Decide to probably not do laundry.

L to R. Poof, SoccerGirl, L.A.

L to R. Poof, SoccerGirl, L.A.

7:30 pm: Don’t worry. We were both clothed and complete ladies in public.

10:21 pm: Mostly.

Oh, and fast forward a week. Repeat process.

20130703-122313.jpg

 

 

Same story. Different event.

20130703-122319.jpg

20130703-122324.jpg

I really DID NOT WEAR THE TIE.

P.S. You can for real see exactly what Poof wore. Here it is.