Category Archives: clothing

I got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight, I hope I don’t get in a fight…

I’ve been so busy I totally missed back-to-school time! What WILL the kids do without my back-to-school fashion roundup, I ask you? I mean, they’re probably going back to school this week wearing pajamas, all, “AMY DIDN’T TELL US WHAT TO WEAR” and that makes me SO SAD. I’m sorry, youth of America. I’ve been busy working and working and working and sometimes sleeping. I know I’ve let you down. Here, I’ll fix it. Better late than never. I hope some of these things are still on the shelves.

(via random websites on the interwebs that all say they know what’s up)

Boyfriend jeans

I like that you have to peg the legs. We did this when I was in school. TWENTY YEARS AGO. What was old is now new! I AM COOL AGAIN! (Pee ess I was never cool.)

Apparently this is what they call jeans that are all slouchy and distressed and fit all loose. I don’t have an issue with these. They look comfortable. Although I don’t think you could actually wear your boyfriend’s jeans. They wouldn’t fit. How often do people date someone that’s exactly the same size as them? Also, high school boys smell weird and you shouldn’t be getting naked with them anyway, you’re only a kid. Stop that.

Skinny jeans

I guess you don’t sit down when wearing these. That would make taking classes a little difficult.

This website calls skinny jeans “Spanx you can wear on the outside!” and I think that’s misleading because the point of Spanx is that your clothes cover up the Spanx and also all of your random fat-rolls that are thrown asunder by the Spanx. If you’re wearing your Spanx on the outside, people will see all MANNER of ills. Also, I feel like skinny jeans are cutting off circulation to your hooha, and you’re going to want that for teen sex. Also, look, there’s like scientific proof that skinny jeans are bad for your health. SCIENCE KIDS! It’s not just a class you take after homeroom! Skinny jeans pinch one of the nerves in your outer thigh and make your legs tingly, not the good kind of tingly like when Jimmy McGee walks by in his letter sweater, either. (What? Kids don’t wear letter sweaters anymore? Shut up, I don’t know.) So I’m saying no no no nein on the skinny jeans, even though they’re supposedly what all the cool kids wear. Who wants to be a cool kid, anyway? If you watch any afterschool specials, the cool kids always die from driving while texting or whatever anyway.


These look so tight. Look at the pocket on the left, it’s all poking up out of protest.

STOP TRYING TO MAKE FETCH HAPPEN. IT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. Oh, wait, shit, fetch happened? These stupid things are actually popular? Ugh, I feel like if you wore these you’re walking around with only tights on. They make me nervous. I didn’t understand them last hear and I don’t understand them now. Just don’t wear them. Ignore them and maybe they’ll go away.


ZOMG THIS WEAR THIS. Because when the other kids see this, you’re totally elected queen of the prom. No question about it.

This site tells me that bangle bracelets, big brooches, and wicker handbags are all the rage. GRANDMA DID YOU WRITE THIS? Seriously, if these things are in style, my grandmother is CUTTING EDGE BABY. I don’t know too many teens but the ones I do know aren’t wearing grandma-chic. Ignore this tip. If you wear these things, people are going to laugh at you. THEY’RE ALL GOING TO LAUGH AT YOU, CARRIE! THEY’RE ALL GOING TO LAUGH AT YOU!


Here we read that thigh-high boots are in for 2012. You know who else wore thigh-high boots? Vivian Ward.

She says who..she says when…she says…who…

I don’t think you need to be wearing thigh-high stripper boots to high school. If you want to wear them on your time off, that’s your call, but you’ve got like 80 more years of your life to be skeezy, so why don’t you wait a few years? Wear practical shoes to school. I don’t even know that any of us wore heels when I was in school. We wore sneakers. Sometimes we wore flats, if we were dressed up. Is dressing like a teenage prostitute the thing? We here at Lucy’s Football do not approve of you looking like a teenage prostitute. We think you are much too classy for that.

Puffed shoulders

Adorable, if you’re built like a waif ballerina, I guess.

Apparently, puffed shoulders are the thing? I don’t approve. What do you think this is, the 30s, and we’re all in leg o’mutton sleeves?

Let me know when these come back into style, I’m going to hide in the closet.

No no no. This is foolish. Listen, I feel like a lot of these tips come from Gossip Girl. YES. The clothes on Gossip Girl are gorgeous. But they’re totally impractical and no one dresses like that. Everyone thinks they’re a Serena or a Blair but in all actuality everyone’s either a Vanessa or a Dorota. You know it’s true.

Superdistressed jeans

Oh, come on now. Really? Really, truly?

Um. These are a mess and if you want jeans that are a mess I’ll give you every pair of jeans I’ve thrown away after spilling something on them that I can’t get out of them. You look like you had an accident while bleaching evidence of a tub-murder out of the hotel where you work. When I was a wee Amy, I wanted jeans that were acid-washed and my mom said the same thing to me and I was all “PARENTS JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND” and now I understand. Sorry, Mom. These look ridiculous.

A natural, clear complexion

Because skin like this just HAPPENS. Or you can buy it over the counter, like NAILPOLISH.

OH THIS IS AN EASY ONE BECAUSE YOU CAN BUY IT ANYWHERE! Ugh, come on, what the hell? Listen. Some of us (I’m not pointing FINGERS, here, but ME ME ME) had something catastrophic happen when puberty set in, and the acne fairy visited. Now, I know you’re all saying “oh, yep, me too, Amy, me too.” No. I’m not saying once and a while I had a little zit like in the Judy Blume books. I’m saying, you know those terrible before-and-after photos they show on the Proactiv commercials that are probably photoshopped where the person looks like he or she was ground zero at a nuclear bomb test site? NEWS FLASH. There’s a slight change they’re not photoshopped. Because SOME PEOPLE (ahem me ahem) looked like that in their teen years. Well, some of the teen years. It got so bad that my parents shelled out major buckaroos and brought me to a fancy-schmancy dermatologist who prescribed me the medication that saved my remaining two marbles of teenage self-esteem. However, I’m pretty sure it will cause birth defects to any future children, so I’m not having any. Among other reasons. So for five years, I used this medication religiously, and it worked SO WELL that people were all “UGH AMY HAS THE BEST SKIN” which made me laugh and laugh because it was all a TRICK brought on my MEDICATION and I don’t use it anymore because the side effects were that I couldn’t go in the sun ever and it randomly made pieces of my face peel off and plus it was very expensive, and after the teen years my face stopped revolting (and BEING so revolting) for the most part, but now sometimes randomly I’ll break out, like my face will say, HA HA, just wanted to let you know I’M STILL HERE YOU JERK, and I’ll sigh and say YOU STUPID GENETICS. So, in case you were wondering, kids, I know people tell you that acne stops when you’re out of your teen years but it’s totally a lie. My mom’s in her sixties and still breaks out. Sorry. I hate to break it to you (HA GOOD ONE! Break!), but it’s true. Some of us are just more blessed than others in the ways of disgusting breakouts.

Anyway, it’s mean to put “glowy skin” on a list of things kids need for back-to-school. Because it’s not like all the kids can just get that. It’s genetics. And it’s who can afford the fancy dermatologist who’s willing to prescribe medication that’s not quite legal in the States yet. THANK YOU DOCTOR WHATEVER YOUR NAME WAS!

Yes, there’s a possibility I went to Dr. Nick.

So there you have it, kids. Apparently, you need to wear stripper boots and tight tight pants and shirts with poofy upper-arm areas and my grandma’s jewelry. You are going to look ridiculous, so I suggest as soon as you put all of this on, you take it all off again, put on some nice khakis and a t-shirt with something geeky on it and a pair of comfy Chucks, and you go back to school RELAXED. And if one of the chicks walks by with puffy sleeves and stripper boots you can laugh and laugh because you KNOW she’s going to eat it on the stairs. Those stairs are slippery, yo.

Comfy and classic. You can’t go wrong.

HAPPY BACK TO SCHOOL KIDDOS! Learn all the things! Have all the fun! Be nice to each other, please!

Clothes shopping with Amy: a primer

You can argue there are other train stations prettier than Grand Central, but I won’t believe you.

Well, I’m in New York City right now. My train arrived approximately half an hour ago. I am writing this days in advance, because I couldn’t leave you all without a post. What would happen? Likely the universe would implode. Oh, wait, what. It wouldn’t? Nevermind, then. *I* might implode. I don’t know what would happen if I didn’t post for a day. I might wither like a plant hidden in the dark and denied water, I don’t know.

You’ll get a total NYC recap later in the week, as soon as I sort through my millions of photos and tweets and memories and such. I want to do it up right. If you want to see what I’m doing, pop in and peek at my Twitter feed. The link’s on the right. Susie and I plan on tweeting up a storm today. Well, unless my phone battery dies. It’s pretty shitty. I bought a backup battery so I could switch them out halfway through the day, as I know I’ll need to do that, but I bet I still run out of battery life if I’m not careful. Silly battery-sucking phone.

Oh, before we get to the main event, let’s discuss this nonsense, since I’m in the city so nice they named it twice today. 

Mayor Bloomberg – kind of a dork, in my opinion, but whatever, I don’t hate him, he’s just kind of a dork – has decided the reason people are so fat is that they drink big sodas, so he’s proposed that restaurants, delis, and movie theaters (and I would assume food trucks and kiosks that have fountain drinks, if there are any) are banned from serving any full-calorie beverages in cups over 16 ounces in New York City.


Now, listen. I don’t drink soda. I can’t. My migraine medication interacts with it, strangely enough. Anything carbonated tastes bitter. Soda, seltzer, whatever. It all tastes bitter and makes you make a bad face and gag a little. So I can’t drink soda anymore. And even when I did drink soda, I didn’t drink regular soda, because my stupid pancreas stopped working so I’m not allowed. I was a little addicted to diet soda, though. Which would have been allowed under Bloomberg’s diabolical plan.

Isn’t he just kind of goofy? He looks like a cartoon rat or something.

I just find this all very confusing. Is someone going to police the self-serve soda fountain? Or are those going to be outlawed, too? What if you went back up to one 47 times, to make a point, and drank all the soda? Would you be arrested? Are they going to allow people who say, “diet soda please” to have a big cup, but then choke-hold them if they attempt to fill it up with regular soda? Will there be some sort of alarm on the fountain if someone tries to dispense more than 16 ounces at a time?

Also, and here’s my biggest issue. We’re grownups. We can choose what to eat and drink and what not to. If some adult, plus-sized or not, wants 72 ounces of Coke? Oh, for the love of Pete. Let them have it. Who the hell cares. Part of being an adult is being allowed to make our own choices, for good or for ill. SHOULD people be drinking that much soda? Well, no, probably not. But people shouldn’t be doing a lot of things. Right after Bloomberg proposed this, he went to the big National Doughnut Day giveaway in New York and gave a whole speech about how New York City LOVES DOUGHNUTS! And, EVERYONE EAT ALL THE DOUGHNUTS NOW! Come on, dude. Really? Doughnuts are ok, soda’s not? Doughnuts are actually worse, with the fat and the sugar. At least the soda doesn’t have the fat. My dad’s very up-in-arms daily about how THE MAN is watching us, and THE MAN is taking away our liberties, and THE MAN wants to implant chips in the back of all of our necks, and sometimes that’s annoyingly endearing, and sometimes it’s just annoying, but seriously, every time something happens where someone in charge treats those he or she is in charge of like babies, I have to wonder how much of the nonsense my dad spouts has basis in reality.

OK. Enough of that. Let’s talk about the point of the post. Almost 700 words later. Sorry.

Clothes shopping!

I went clothes shopping for New York City clothes today. Don’t even “pics or it didn’t happen” me, I hate that, plus you’ll see what I bought, I’m sure, because Susie and I will take copious photos today. But as I was shopping (which went surprisingly smoothly, for once), I thought about shopping. And life. As you do.

I hate clothes shopping. Well, I hate most shopping. Shopping for things I need sucks. Shopping for fun things, when I have the money for it – I like that. Book shopping. Ooh, nailpolish shopping. I like those things a lot. But clothes/food/toiletries shopping? Blergh, no thanks.

I can do serious wallet-damage at Sally Beauty Supply. Happily, too. Not a complaint in sight.

But clothing is my least-favorite thing to shop for. Mainly this is because I have the weirdest body in the history of the world. I blame this on genetics. Also cheese. And the hatred I have for physical activity.

I am top-and-middle-heavy and yet have no butt so pants fit oddly. I am all front and no back. I need voluminous tops so the girls don’t get squished but then the rest of me looks like I’m swimming in the top like it’s a circus tent. Different parts of my bottom half are completely different sizes. I AM A CIRCUS FREAK.

Luckily, I’m not alone in this. The top half of me looks like my mom’s side of the family; the bottom half, my dad’s. I’m not a total genetic aberration.

Anyway, I go to the store. And NOTHING EFFING FITS. So I get super-cranky super-fast. My mom hates shopping with me. HATES IT. Yet she’s always all, “let’s go shopping!” because she thinks it’s the most fun thing ever, I don’t know.

So, anyway. Tops. Let’s talk tops.

Google Images bought this up when I searched “plus-sized tops.” Um. Why do you assume I want to look like an extra on “True Blood?” An extra that would probably get killed in the first five minutes? No thanks. I’m not a goth teen. I AM A GROWN PROFESSIONAL WOMAN.

Dear plus-sized top manufacturers: here are things we don’t want in tops.

  • Elastic waistbands. This tends to make us look like we’re super-fat and pregnant. Or five years old and trying to be cutesy.
  • Cap sleeves. We have chubby upper arms, buckaroos. Cap sleeves just highlight that.
  • Turtlenecks on summer tops. WTF? It’s HOT out. Why would we want that? Also, turtlenecks make chubby girls look fatter. They highlight our double chins. Unless they’re a cowl neck, and again, WHY WOULD I WANT THAT IN THE SUMMER.
  • Button-downs that aren’t cut a little wider in the chest area, because, well, chest. With curves. If you don’t factor that in, I can’t button the buttons, dude.
  • Shirts with stupid sayings right across the boobs. Come on, really? I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t need that nonsense. I like a motto tee as much as the next person, but I don’t need it to be garishly ridiculous.
  • Shirts that think “plus size” means “just make it mega-huge, that’ll do.” NO. You need to still make it FLATTERING. Ass. Aren’t plus-sizes outnumbering non-plus-sizes now? Sheesh, start marketing to us, already.
  • Also, this is a thing we WANT, not DON’T WANT. Fitted plus-sized ringer tees. I love them. I can never find them. The ones I have are falling apart from overuse, I love them so. Come on, really? This can’t be that difficult.

Now, pants.

From the same site that brought you chunky goth tops, we have these pants. Really? Zebra-print? That’s not flattering on SKINNY chicks. It’s sure as hell not going to look good on me.

Things we don’t want in pants:

  • Pants that make us look like we have a penis because they have, for some reason, a yard and a half of extra fabric in the crotch.
  • Pants that are so tight we have no circulation to our babymaker and/or a super-pretty cameltoe.
  • Pants that are either so long we have to get them hemmed or so short they might as well be culottes. Why can’t they just be normal lengths? Everyone else can just walk out of the store in their pants. I am 5’8″. This is neither super-tall for women, or super-short. I shouldn’t need to visit a tailor after I shop.
  • Pants that have a mile and a half of extra fabric in the ass. (This might just be me. Cause I have no ass. NONE. Sorry, people that are imagining me as baby-got-back. Baby got NO back. None. I go straight from head to heels. Not a curve in the back at all.)
  • Stupid shit like grommets and bedazzling and creative weathering and nonsense like that. NO NO NO. Just PANTS. I just want some damn SLACKS. Maybe with pockets. I’m a huge fan of khakis. I like to put things in my pockets.

So, anyway, today, after an hour of trying things on, I got two tops and a pair of khakis. A patterned teeshirt with swirly flowers and a pretty v-neck; a purple jewel-toned top with a v-neck and kind of a tie-thingy (and an elastic waistband, which seems to be THE IT THING, but it was somehow actually sort of flattering in this case) and a pair of chocolate-brown khaki-type pants that are very comfortable. A little too long, but that’s par for the course. Plus-sized clothing manufacturers assume that if you’re a fatty, you’re also 7 feet tall, apparently. Which is, of course, true. We’re all Sasquatches. Oh, also, I got all of those things for LESS THAN $30. Win! Total win. They were all buyout and all 20% off.

I also didn’t try to stab anyone at the store, although the other shoppers were annoying and driving me nuts, and the music was SO EFFING LOUD I couldn’t hear myself think. I was just so excited about getting clothes that would be worn in New York City I think I was a lot more forgiving.

Clothes shopping with me, if it ever happens for you, needs to go thusly: you leave me the hell alone. I’m going to get cranky. I’m going to cuss under my breath, get hot and tired, and probably need a beverage. Nothing’s going to fit. I’m going to fall in love with the most expensive things in the store. I’m going to get cranky at the other shoppers and the salespeople and the racks and the dressing rooms and probably the air. I HATE SHOPPING. Just smile and nod. I promise I’ll be ok once we leave the store. If you promise me we can buy nailpolish afterward I might be more tractable.

Anyway, so you probably don’t want to go shopping with me. It’s the worst. BUT, I was successful, and I will be cute as a button today. Well, no. I’m never cute as a button. I’ll be presentable, let’s put it that way. Totally presentable. And I’ll be wearing my best accessory: a HUGE SMILE. Because I’m seeing Susie! Hooray! NYC, I AM IN YOU!

Oh, let’s continue our Bloggiversary week!

Remember, you have until Friday at midnight EST to comment on this post (no, not THIS one, the one in the preceding link!) to be entered into the drawing!

Today’s post of popularity – number five, in case anyone’s counting – is one of my favorites. Not only because I like the topic and am proud of how it turned out and all the work that went into it, but because it led to a collaborative series of posts a week or two later that still remains one of my favorite things about the entire damn year.

Feline Fatal Attraction: Dumbcat is Trying to Kill Me With Brain Parasites

If you click on that, you have to read the comments. They’re the best part.

What did we learn about the popularity of this post? Lots of things. You love things that are awesome. You love Dumbcat. (And why wouldn’t you, he’s fantastic.) It’s worth my time to do an hour or two of research and highlighting and reading of scientific articles, sometimes, because look at the awesome post that resulted. That you love sciency stuff. That Andreas is the best Science Fellow and this blog wouldn’t be half of what it is without him. Lots of things. We learned lots of things with the continuing popularity of that post. Thank you for the continuing popularity of that post.

Happy Tuesday! Go check in on me on Twitter, what do you think I’m doing now, I wonder? Having an adventure? I BET I AM!

Oh golly! Gee, damn! (Or, how to watch a movie with Twitter and vodka)

So last night was Sarcastic Movie Night. Which you know, if you follow me on Twitter. You probably wanted to kick me in the head last night, actually, if you follow me on Twitter. SORRY. Sarcastic Movie Night! Only fun for people participating!

Here’s the genesis of Sarcastic Movie Night. I tweeted a while ago about whipped cream vodka, which I’d had in a mixed drink out one night with my friend C. The drink tasted like an alcoholic Dreamsicle, and was amazing. If I remember correctly, the food was not so amazing, but who cares! Alcoholic Dreamsicle! @lgalaviz and I started talking about whipped cream vodka, and she came up with the idea of how much fun it would be to watch a movie and make fun of it while drinking whipped cream vodka. WELL. I am never one to back down from a challenge. Well, no, that’s a lie, if the challenge is something like “I challenge you to climb a rope ladder” or something, I’ll back down. Effing moving-all-over scary rope ladders.

Choosing a movie was not easy. When choosing a movie for Sarcastic Movie Night, you have to choose a movie that everyone can make fun of, that no one has extremely strong positive feelings about, and that is readily available to everyone. This is only really a problem for me, since I am the only human left alive without Netflix. (SIGH, FINE, I will explain my aversion to Netflix. I don’t have any gaming systems and my computer’s a piece of shit and I can’t afford one of the boxes you need for your TV, therefore the streaming option is out for me. And I don’t have enough time to watch all the series and movies, and the one time I signed up for the free trial, movies sat unwatched for weeks watching me with their accusing DVD-eyes and I felt HORRIBLE. So I didn’t pay for it when the end of my free trial happened and it POOF went AWAY. Also, if you’re totally patient – and I am – you can get anything you want, pretty much, free from the library. And LISTEN. I love free, more than I love penguins.)

So we discussed and discussed, and @lgalaviz said she thought Breakfast at Tiffany’s would be a good idea. Now, I blogged about this before, but I HATE Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I know! Everyone loves this movie. It’s like on everyone’s short list as the best thing since kitten unicorn rainbows or whatever. But all I remembered is that Audrey Hepburn threw her cat (that she refused to name, argh) into the rain, and that Mickey Rooney played an Asian stereotype.

So @lgalaviz won out (mostly because she promised I could make fun of it) and we chose Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Now, at this point, we had talked about it on Twitter, and both had blogged about it, so TWO OTHER PEOPLE were interested. I KNOW. We’re totally inspirational. I mean, that’s like double the people we’d started with. Since everyone else has Netflix they just added it to their queues, but I had to either get it from the library (and you only get them for five days, and who knows when we were going to be able to match schedules to watch it?) or I could go online to buy it. And since I was pre-ordering the Bloggess’s book anyway, (by the way? Get your asses over there and pre-order this book and let’s get Jenny’s pre-orders up to like astronomical numbers, because I love her just about as much as any of my imaginary internet people and she deserves all the good things, and also, it’s going to be HILARIOUS) and needed to fill up my cart to meet the free shipping total (yeah, I hate paying for Amazon shipping, as mentioned, I LOVE FREE SHIT) I found it for $9 and purchased it. A MOVIE THAT I HATE. I’m totally committed to Sarcastic Movie Night.

Then I had to buy the whipped cream vodka. At the store, there were many choices. One of which was Swedish Fish-flavored vodka. I am not kidding. It was scary. I believe this might have confused @heinakroon who thought it was actually fish-flavored. However, like a mighty hunter, I stalked and murdered my prey. Or, found it on the shelf and brought it home. LIKE A BOSS.


Then we had to wait for Amazon to get their shit together and ship it to me, which took forever and a day because I foolishly ordered it with my pre-ordered book, and they were GOING to wait to ship it all together – IN APRIL – but then I went nuts and ordered three more books (by the way, who has too many books? That’d be me, thanks. But they were on SALE!) and then Amazon was all “FINE WE WILL SHIP ALL YOUR SHIT TOGETHER because you are AN OBSESSIVE SHOPPER DAMN” and I got it yesterday.

I'm already Siskel and Eberting this movie, before we even had movie night.

Then we set a time. 8pm! Saturday night! I work until 6 on Saturdays, so that worked out FINE. They wanted me to work late but I was all NO WAY SUCKERS. Sarcastic MOVIE Night. And they were all, whatever, Amy, I think you’re making shit up right now, and I was all NO I AM NOT.

So first I made a nice glass of whipped cream vodka. What did I mix it with? NOTHING. Why? I DIDN’T PLAN THAT FAR AHEAD. I know. I suck. See, all I had for mixers were fruit punch and cherry limeade? Those would be HORRIBLE with whipped-cream vodka. Right? Totally.

Um…whipped cream vodka…tasted like burning. Like barely whipped-cream flavored burning. This wasn’t going well at all.


So! For our crew, we had @lgalaviz, @patrixmyth, @julierosesmk, and myself, and then @zippy219 (who didn’t have Breakfast at Tiffany’s but was watching Carrie and snarking at it WITH us, so she was participating IN SPIRIT, because she is AWESOME.) Then we had @lahikmajoe, who lives in Germany, and who was asleep. But we included him in EVERY SINGLE TWEET. Why did we do this? I have no idea. I don’t think he ever showed any interest in being involved in Sarcastic Movie Night. I think someone just started including him and he got swept away in the tide of tweets. So poor @lahikmajoe is waking up tomorrow to probably 200 or so tweets. SORRY, @lahikmajoe. WE MISS YOU WHEN YOU ARE SLEEPING.

(SIDE NOTE! @patrixmyth ALSO lives in Germany. However, he participated. I think this is because he is made of magic. Seriously, the man never seems to sleep. I’m in awe of him.)

Now, here was the first problem. Well, other than the fact that my father, who you KNOW thinks everyone online is a., imaginary, and b., a psychokiller, thought the whole plan was a trick to get me murdered. No, I’m not kidding. He said that the next thing my “imaginary friends” were going to ask me to do was to drink “Jim Jones Koolaid” and he hoped I didn’t do that. I told him I already had Koolaid in the cupboard so I was ready in case that plan was put into place and he didn’t think that was funny at ALL. So first I had to calm him down by explaining that watching a movie with people on Twitter while drinking whipped cream vodka was not, in fact, very dangerous, and it was more dangerous, probably, to go to a bar and pick up a stranger and have unprotected sex with them in a bathroom stall, and then he was all “WERE YOU PLANNING ON DOING THAT, TOO?” and I had to explain that no, I was NOT, actually, planning on doing that, it was just a COMPARISON, to show him that I could be doing things that were a lot scarier. This took a lot longer than I’d planned and almost caused me to miss Sarcastic Movie Night.

Back to the problem. Have you ever tried to coordinate four people starting a movie at the exact same time when you’re all in different places and times? It is not an easy thing to do. We were, on average, five minutes difference from each other all night. So one of us would be all “whoa, look at that hat” and the other one would be all “why is that person crying into a mirror” and no one was on the same scene in the movie, ever. I can’t imagine that any of us would be very good spies. You know how spies always have to synchronize their watches? We would not be good at that.

Also, it is VERY HARD to tweet and watch a movie at the same time. I think I missed important things. Like, at one point, everyone but me noticed that one person at a party was wearing a watch on her ankle. I didn’t notice this important plot point. I’m sure I was busy tweeting. The movie probably would have taken a very different turn for me if I had noticed an ankle-watch. Also, @patrixmyth noticed that at the end, Paul paid the cab driver, and I thought they just ran out of the cab without paying. It’s hard to pay attention to both a phone and a television at the same time.

Anyway. Sarcastic Movie Night was a grand success. Much hilarity was had; I would put tweets in here to show you how awesome it all was, but again, Twitter hates me and won’t allow me to put tweets into my posts yet, so you’ll just have to imagine how awesome it was. Because it WAS.

But here is what I learned, during Sarcastic Movie Night. YES, I learned something. I KNOW. It was like a Very Special Episode of Blossom, what with the learning.

Are you ready?

Breakfast at Tiffany’s isn’t as bad of a movie as I’d thought, the first time I watched it.


Are there horrible things? YES.

Mickey Rooney’s racist landlord character is still the worst thing ever.

It's worse than this. He also used an offensive accent, and ran into things with his head.

“Moon River” is a very annoying song. “My huckleberry friend?” Give me a break. If someone called me their huckleberry friend, I’d poke them in the eye. Except for Doc Holliday in Tombstone. As previously stated, he can call me his huckleberry ANYTIME.

Holly Golightly’s character is flighty and doesn’t care much for others for most of the movie, and this is annoying. Characters who are so devil-may-care make me stabby. There are no CONSEQUENCES! Nothing matters but ME! Aren’t I CUTE! Look at my adorable WHIMS! Gag.

This is really a movie about two whores who fall in love, and I’ll fight you if you say otherwise. They might not be streetwalkers, but Paul and Holly are whores. They sleep with people in exchange for money. That’s whores.

“Sally Tomato” is a very stupid name for a gangster.

The scene where they pilfered from the five & dime was annoying, because I hate thievery. But then they wore these masks, which reminded me of that scene from The Shining that gives me nightmares, and THANKS A LOT BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY’S.

There is nothing cute about these masks. These are Manson-family-style masks.

Refusing to name a cat because you have issues with owning things because YOU are a wild thing that REFUSES TO BE TAMED and then throwing your cat into the rain isn’t cute, it’s animal abuse. You suck. Along the same lines, refusing to call someone by his given name, and calling him “Fred” throughout the movie, is not cute, it’s affected and annoying.

Paul telling Holly, “I love you! You belong to me!” was just about the worst admission of love, ever. I’m with her when she freaks out over this. Telling someone this is a lot like saying “I love you! I want to wear your skin like a cape!”

Their relationship is not doomed to end well. Neither of them has any money; she has very high-price tastes, and he seemed to have $50 to his name and be not-a-very-successful writer. I mean, love’s grand, but it doesn’t put tater tots in your belly at the end of the day.


The movie was gorgeous. Not just the costumes, or the actors (although they were) but the set design and dressing as well. And the city, of course. I love New York, and I can see how this movie made people want to visit it. New York is a character in this movie, for sure, and you fall in love with it (more than Hepburn or Peppard, actually – about as much as Cat – because it is blameless in the “I’m so CUTE!”-ness of the two of them.)

Audrey Hepburn was really, for a completely annoying character, just stunning. I mean, those costumes! And she’s just exquisitely beautiful. Look at her. I mean, just look. How can anyone, even me with my heart of stone, not be charmed by this?

I usually hate hats, but DAMN can she pull them off.

There aren’t a lot of photos where she doesn’t have that dumb cigarette holder that’s a mile and a half long that she kept setting shit on fire with and I refused to put a photo of her up here with that thing. Also, I like this hat.

Also, George Peppard. Can this guy ever wear a suit. Whoo!

Yes, I'm aware this scene wasn't in the movie. LOOK HOW HANDSOME. I couldn't resist.

If you only know Peppard from The A-Team, well, listen, he used to be Mad-Men handsome, I’m telling you right now. *swoon*

@lgalaviz was in love with the cars in the movie. I promised her I would make her a remixed version of the movie with only cars and card catalogs and dial phones and such. I don’t know how to do this, so it was an empty promise. The idea is sound, though. At one point, there was a red cab with fins. It made us happy. (Also, when they went to the library, there were card catalogs, which made me drool.)

For all the annoying pre-hipster hipsterism, there was some genuine emotion happening in the movie. I know. I even noticed it being all drunk on whipped cream vodka and making fun of it on Twitter.

I’m not sure what happened. I HATED this movie the first time around. This time, I actually didn’t mind it. I hated the things I listed above, but the beauty of the movie itself kind of won me over. Am I mellowing with age? Was it the vodka? Am I broken now? Was I broken the first time I watched it?

ANYWAY. Sarcastic Movie Night! A success!

Also, the whipped cream vodka progressively got less offensive. I mean, it never got GOOD. But I think it burned off the first layer of my tastebuds so it got less horrible to taste as the night progressed. I can’t say I went back for a second helping, though. (Oh, and by the way, who was the classy broad drinking it out of a commemorative theater coffee mug given to her by the cast of a show she’d worked on recently? That’d be ME. Yeah, I have no glasses appropriate for liquor-drinking. I thought it might eat through a plastic Tupperware tumbler. I KNOW, I AM THE CLASSIEST.)

This morning, @lahikmajoe wasn’t even mad he woke up to about 200 tweets (just another sign that he is my secret sibling) and I had the headache from hell for the first couple hours of being awake, THANK YOU WHIPPED CREAM VODKA. I’m sticking to magic wine from now on. Ugh.

We’ve chosen the next movie for Sarcastic Movie Night! Are you ready? I know you’ll want to join in, because it is sure to be MISS KITTY FANTASTICO. Ready?

Dun dun DUNNNN.

I haven’t seen this movie since 1996, and that was the first time (and only time) I saw it, and I was forced to watch it (along with the other two movies in the original trilogy) all in a row by the boy I was in love with at the time and I was SO TIRED and he kept saying “Come on, this is BRILLIANT” and I was all “I AM SO TIRED WHATEVER” and so I have this weird irrational hatred of all things Star Wars. But I have been assured I’m allowed to make fun of it if I want. Also, I suppose, if nothing else, I can drool over young Harrison Ford, right? RIGHT.

So this is how you watch a movie with Twitter and vodka and snarking. Aren’t you glad you know how? I know you are. You, too, can do this same thing with YOUR friends! Only, I’d avoid the whipped cream vodka. It seems like a good idea, until you’re actually drinking it. Trust me on this. I made that mistake so you don’t have to.

One of the top songs of 1938: “Whistle While You Work” by the Seven Dwarves. This says a lot about 1938.

OK, before we get started, let’s tell a story about THE WORST 8 HOURS OF MY LIFE. Ready?

So I went to work yesterday, and that sucked, but whatever, I need the money, as I am a very poor person and all, and so I got to the parking lot at work. And I had some time to kill because I thought, ZOMG I have to leave the house on BLACK FRIDAY DUN DUN DUNNNNNN so I left hella early (like that? I’m totally hep, yo) and then there wasn’t any traffic so I got to work half an hour early. So, when I have half an hour to kill, I inundate the people I love with tweets and emails and texts. I mean, as you do. THAT’S HOW THEY KNOW YOU LOVE THEM IT’S NOT AT ALL ANNOYING. But! When I pulled my phone out of my bag! NO Gs. Usually, I have three Gs! No. No Gs! So usually that’s fixable by turning the phone on and off and also glaring at it because I’m totally the scariest but THAT DIDN’T WORK YOU GUYS. AT ALL. All DAY. And there’s no internet at my second job.

Just take a minute and let this soak in. I WENT 8 HOURS WITHOUT INTERNET OR TEXTING CAPABILITIES.

Somehow, at lunch, two tweets snuck through the Iron Curtain of evil and I could SEE THEM, as TEXTS, but I could not RESPOND to them, and I could see that they were AWESOME, and I WANTED to respond, but COULD NOT. The dingoes totally ate my baby.

So as the day progressed I got scratchy and started seeing bugs climbing out of the walls, you know, like the addicts in the filmstrips they used to show us in health class, and then on the drive home the Gs returned. WHERE WERE YOU Gs. I don’t UNDERSTAND.

My father assures me that this was not some sort of conspiracy perpetrated by my employers to keep me from checking my phone by employing G-blocking technology even though they were TOTALLY digging a big hole by the building for no apparent reason the other day that I think probably could house some sort of cloaking device. And my dad is all about the conspiracy theories so if my DAD tells me I’m being cuckoo-bananas, then probably he’s right.

ANYWAY. I totally survived the DAY WITHOUT PHONE SERVICE. I’m pretty sure I deserve a medal. And NO, people who thought I hated them all day because I wasn’t responding to you, I don’t. Well, MOST of you, anyway. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

OK. Moving on! So, my wonderful friend @melme found this article yesterday on Alligator Sunglasses called 1938 Dating Guide for Single Women. It is full of very, very helpful advice. And photos! Of women being BAD DATES! And men SCOWLING AT THEM! I’d gank all the photos but that seems rude. I don’t want to get eaten by some alligator wearing sunglasses. So click. It will make your WEEK.

I’m totally ganking the advice, though. I’m not THAT scared of an alligator in sunglasses.

“Don’t sit in awkward positions, and never look bored, even if you are. Be alert, and if you must chew gum (not advised), do it silently, mouth closed.”

Um…what’s awkward? THIS IS UNHELPFUL. I win the gum thing, though. I have TMJ. If I chew gum, my jaw locks shut like a trap. IT IS HOT.

“Careless women never appeal to gentlemen.”


“Don’t use the car mirror to fix your make-up. Man needs it in driving, and it annoys him very much to have to turn around to see what’s behind him.”

This bugs the shit out of me. What kind of woman is all pulling the rearview mirror around to fix her lipstick while someone is DRIVING? I get pissed if someone ADJUSTS THE PASSENGER SEAT in my car. I’d probably lop their hand off with my ice scraper if they decided to rearrange my rearview mirror. That’s set just so. STOP TOUCHING IT.

“If you need a brassiere, wear one.”

Helpful! Thanks.

“Don’t be familiar with your escort by caressing him in public.”

I’m pretty sure they don’t mind unless you’re all “snuggy wuggly cuddly cuddlums” or something annoying like that. It means you want to fuck them later. They like that, because it’s not always obvious to them that you want that unless you flat-out say “hey, I want to fuck you later.”

“Don’t be sentimental…men don’t like tears, especially in public places.”

I’m very weird about crying about sad things in front of people. I will seriously run a Chariots-of-Fire like SPRINT rather than let people see me have an actual sad emotion. However, that being said, Jesus, men in 1938 and I would NOT have gotten along. I have totally overactive tear ducts. I cry over EVERYTHING funny. Especially horrible things like people falling. Men in 1938 would NOT have wanted to see my brassiere at ALL.

“Don’t be familiar with the headwaiter, talking about the fun you had with someone else another time. Men deserve, desire your entire attention.”

Hee! Headwaiter! If someone brought me to a place with a headwaiter, I’d be more excited about the fancy salt and pepper shakers than chatting up the headwaiter, let me tell you. Also, “deserve, desire” my entire attention? They might desire it – and well they should, I’m amazing as shit, and when I’m into you, you feel like a million bucks – but they DESERVE nothing. Screw you, 1938.

“Please and flatter your date by talking about the things he wants to talk about.”

Oh, good. Can we talk about cars, please. And also maybe sports. And to top it off let’s talk about really cool things your friends said when you were hanging out the other night. HEADWAITER GET OVER HERE.

“Don’t drink too much, as a man expects you to keep your dignity all evening. Drinking may make some girls seem clever, but most get silly. The last straw is to pass out from too much liquor. Chances are your date will never call you again!”

If I went somewhere I was “expected” to keep my dignity, I’d be flat-on-my-ass drunk before the appetizer course was served. I’m really bad at living up to expectations. AND I AM TOTALLY ALWAYS CLEVER. “The last straw.” Hee! Well! Isn’t THAT knicker-twisty. Just think, this boring sap MIGHT NEVER CALL YOU AGAIN. OH THE HUMANITY.

I want to go back to 1938 and give this chick the following set of rules:

  1. This dude’s probably going to get drafted in 3 years. Don’t waste your good brassiere.
  2. Look bored now, so he can get used to it. Imagine the letdown when you start looking bored AFTER the wedding. Best to get it out there early on.
  3. Careless women totally appeal to gentlemen. Don’t be fooled. That’s why the words “shameless hussy” were strung together originally. Men LURVE a shameless hussy.
  4. If he won’t let you use his car mirrors to touch up your makeup (which, what the hell, you should know better, Grabby-Hands McGillicutty), either get your own goddamn car and drive YOURSELF to the date, pop a little compact mirror in your purse, OR DON’T WEAR SUCH HIGH-MAINTENANCE MAKEUP. I solved it.
  5. Wear a brassiere, don’t, I don’t give a shit. Those brassieres in the 30’s looked like total torture chambers anyway.
  6. If your guy doesn’t want to be caressed in public, even a little, maybe introduce him to your nice friend Steve the hairdresser. Then you’d have totally fabulous friends and be invited to the best parties.
  7. Why are you even CRYING in public? Go to the damn BATHROOM. Unless you’re crying because you’re laughing so hard because someone fell down and/or ripped the ass out of their pants. OBVIOUSLY that’s ok.
  8. If you need to slut it up with the headwaiter, be polite and go back at the end of his shift. That being said, NO ONE DESERVES YOUR ENTIRE ANYTHING.
  9. If you want to talk about the things your date wants to talk about, more power to you. If your eyes are glazing over from boredom, TELL HIM TO SHUT HIS EFFING CAKEHOLE AND IT’S TIME TO TALK ABOUT MUTUALLY PLEASING THINGS NOW. Ugh.
  10. And you know what? Yep. Drinking too much does make an asshat out of you. I’d like to go back and tell little college Amy this as she falls asleep on the bathroom floor because it’s closer to the toilet, you know, for the all-night vomiting. Mostly, though, it’s for your own damn protection, little 1938 lady. Hard to fight someone off when you can’t even stand on your own two feet without being all “the world! So SPINNY!”

Do we even HAVE dating rules now? There’s the milk and the cow thing that my mom still says (don’t get me started, I KNOW) and, like, the three-date rule or something (I was never very good at that, sorry, propriety) and probably don’t go on a date with someone who asks you if you’re cool with being stabbed to death HA HA JUST KIDDING GET IN MY WINDOWLESS VAN NOW. I need MODERN DATING RULES. I’m going to research this for tomorrow. Or how about you all comment or tweet me some, because that’s a hell of a lot easier than researching? DO MY BIDDING MINIONS.

This is likely the only back-to-school fashion article you’re going to read with unicorn sweaters in it.

It’s back-to-school time for the kiddos of the world. I know this because it is ALL YOU HEAR ABOUT EVERYWHERE EVER. The women in my office were discussing it this morning over their coffee. “When do YOUR kids go back to school?” “Oh, MY kids go back to school TODAY.” “Oh, MINE don’t go back until TOMORROW.”
This is all very interesting OMG I can’t even breathe with the overwhelming excitement please someone get me one of those paper bags so I can hyperventilate into it.
Fine, fine, the kids of America need to go to school, if only to learn the difference between “their” and “they’re” and that “alot” isn’t really a word and that Europe is a continent, not a country.
But you know what the back-to-schoolers need? Fashion tips. Because it is a scary world out there! A world full of options! What is in? What is out? HOW CAN I BE COOL?
Well, I am nothing if not helpful. And I enlisted AN ACTUAL TEENAGER to help me with fashion tips for the back-to-schoolers. You are welcome. Please mention me in your valedictory speech.
According to R., our helpful teen and a very stylish young lady, the place to shop is Delia’s. This is a store I have never heard of, because I am old and I’m pretty sure it’s the kind of place I would speed past when I go to the mall because it would frighten me. So I went to the Delia’s website to check out what fashions to endorse for the upcoming school year.
First, I am confused by the layout of the name of the store on the website. It is set up thusly: dELiA*s. AND IT IS IN MY SPELLCHECK LIKE THIS. That means Microsoft Word knows about this travesty of spelling. Is it code? I tried to decipher the code. ELA. dis? It is apparently a code that only teens can understand. DENIED!
R. – who was sporting a Flashdance-style off-the-shoulder shirt/tank top combo (but when I mentioned that they were popular when I was a teen as well, and how fashion is cyclical, said, “This is INSPIRED by the SEVENTIES” and when I said “Flashdance wasn’t in the 70’s – how old do you think I AM, anyway?” looked at me like I had two heads and each was spouting nonsense syllables) informed me of the following:
  • Skinny jeans and jeggings are the “in” thing this season.
  • Kids like “fun” t-shirts. But only if the “fun” is in air-quotes.
  • Fourteen-year-olds are too old to wear unicorn sweaters unless they’re wearing them ironically.
These are important tips. You can pass them along to your children, if you’d like. Or use them yourself, if you want to act younger than you are. But that’s kind of pathetic and you’re better than that, don’t you think?
So anyway. dELiA*s. Skinny jeans and jeggings (or, as my guide informed me, “Jeggings? You DO know what jeggings are, right?” *eyeroll*) look UNCOMFORTABLE. My stars. Example:
I picked these because wow, what a color! Like Big Bird!
THESE ARE TOO TIGHT. Look at the wrinkles of tightness! These would only look good on someone with NO BODY FAT AT ALL. Otherwise, you’d look like a sausage stuffed into these things.
When I was in school, the in thing was stirrup pants. They were AWESOME. Here, check this out. These are MUCH BETTER AND MORE FLATTERING THAN JEGGINGS.
See? They were awesome for many reasons. One of which being they never rode up. Because of the stirrup. Multitasky! No, I don’t KNOW why this photo is so fuzzy. It looks like a Barbara Walters interview subject. Probably because it’s vintage and doesn’t want you to know its real age.
Also, we liked tights with no feet in them but with a wide band of lace around the ankle. Then you would peg your jean cuffs and wear your feetless tights so that when you sat down, the lace peeked out. IT WAS JUST ABOUT THE SEXIEST. I would show you a picture but the only one I could find online was from some website that I’m pretty sure was a weird fetish website because IT WAS JUST THAT TITILLATING. BAM! We were the sexiest, yo.
Well, if you can’t dress in super-sexy stirrups or feetless fancy lacy tights I suppose you need to turn to anorexia and get yourself some jeggings because they are the in thing this season. If you don’t get them, you will not have any friends and also someone might throw tater tots at you in the lunchroom and wasting tater tots is a capital offense. Also you will never get a boyfriend if you don’t have tight pants. Sorry. SORRY! JEGGINGS. R. says you cannot call them tight pants. That makes you sound like an old person.
Next, let’s talk shirts. R. likes shirts with sayings on them but not stupid sayings. Well, I approve of that. dELiA*s apparently caters to all kinds of teens. Here are some examples:
This is from the television program Pretty Little Liars. Ezra is a teacher. There are a LOT of these shirts in different styles.  If I was in high school, I would get one of these, and if anyone asked, tell them it was referring to Ezra Pound? Because that would be AWESOME. Then they would throw tater tots at me. Also, I don’t know if dELiA*s should really be endorsing the underage teacher-student illegal relationship on its tees?
This is called, according to the website, the “Shinging Star Tee.” Well! That is a good name and not at all misspelled! We all like to shing. Shing on, you crazy diamond! Also, WHERE IS THE REST OF IT. Crop tops? These are still in style? Really? Well, I suppose if you have no body fat because you took my advice about the eating disorder in order to fit into your canary-yellow jeggings you’ll look just delectable in this top. You’ll totally shing like the sun.
OMG ZOMBIES TOTALLY TOOK BITES OUT OF THE SHOULDERS OF THIS SHIRT. “Live Free!” Well, until the zombies get you. Up until then, live free, though. Have a good time!
This one is wrong on a lot of levels.
  • Not enough sleeves!
  • Not long enough!
  • But what. BUT WHAT? Very vague, shirt. Is it an abstinence shirt? Like, “I love you, but don’t touch me there, please, because I don’t want to be on that MTV Teen Moms show?” Or, I love you, but not LOVE love you, and I was only experimenting, Jennie, I’m not really a lesbian, I’m sorry you got my name tattooed on your lower back? Or I love you, but I’m going to give you some constructive criticism right now like “when you talk it sounds like you’re gargling with razor blades please stop that?” SO MANY POSSIBILITIES.
dELiA*s also had a thing for any pun on the word “moustache.” Apparently, one of the marketing people got really high and realized that “moustache” sounds kind of like “must ask.” So there are a lot of things like this happening:
Ha! Whoa. What WITTY WORDPLAY. I am BLOWN AWAY by this.
And now, what NOT to wear, per R.
Unless you wear these ironically, these are NOT OK.  (And I don’t know how anyone could wear these ironically. Maybe draw wee horn-rimmed glasses on the unicorns?)

And there you go! This has been very helpful on many levels. I can’t even imagine all the things you’ve learned, probably there are SO MANY THINGS, but I’ve learned that going into dELiA*s would most likely cause me to run around tugging down the hemlines of all the t-shirts because I’m pretty sure all the girls would have chilly tummies. Also, that I miss the super-sexiness of high school. You don’t even know sexy until you’ve got your footless tights, pegged acid-washed jeans, baggy sweater, gigantic plastic earrings, and hair to the sky courtesy of Aqua Net and a ratting comb. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY I MY FRIENDS AND I WERE NOT MORE IN DEMAND.

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