Thursday, June 30, 2011

Girl on the Go: Part Deux

*If blogger calves out on me this time prepare for mass exodus from the blog world:  party of Carrie.*

Despite having only one tiny project left on my desk, I still seem to have more things to do in a day than time allows for.  How is this possible? (ahem, naps) Yesterday morning the Chef and I were going over some odds and ends when suddenly we looked at the clock and realized we had somewhere to be in under an hour.  Two words:  not pretty.  As much as I like to comb my hair and think over an outfit, apparently those days are over. Thankfully during closet purge 2011--which may in fact take all of 2011 at the rate I'm going--I came across a couple of my favorite summer staples:  J.Crew sunwashed skirts from what? 5 years ago?  I stocked up on those mothers and basically live in them during the warmer months.  It's not always cute outfit time here at the bird, people.  This is life in motion.

Here's a peek into an average day these days:
Woman has 10 minutes to get ready.  
Slaps on go-to skirt, tank & scans 14 denim jackets while hanging off 
side of bed to look in full length mirror.
 Boyfriend tries not to lose it.
Making a final selection while bf waits outside woman emerges with keys in hand
muttering in annoyed tone, "damn deck, yes you have your keys, needs a cocktail, windy again".
*note to self: stop furrowing brow*
Seizing the day, woman notes bf on side of deck that has been destroyed by derelict no-show
painters (thanks again landlord) and begs him to take a look "at that bloody mess...can you imagine??"
aka can you pleeeeeeeease help me someday *hint hint*?
Exhibit A + a side of exasperated look on woman's face.
No time to dilly dally boyfriend uses his skills to rush woman off the deck.  
This is the look of :  are you trying to avoid helping me?  
You know I know what you're trying to do now don't you??
O-kay fine we can figure it out later. * huge sigh*
Racing down stairs woman says in smug tone, 'If you're in such a hurry why am I in front of you?'
Boyfriend laughs maniacally spotting tear in girlfriend's denim jacket.
What-ever I already knew that. 
Somewhere in Canada girl's mother screams at daughter stepping on backs of sneakers.
Total no-no back in the day.  So liberating to be an adult.  Love you Mom!
Looking up woman sees neighbors are still parking parallel to the garage.  
Wait a second they got married...and the wife wrote this on the side of his vehicle?
Newsflash:  no one wants an ill-mannered guy that can't park.  He's all yours.
*shakes head*

My arm's going numb.  I'm not sure if it's from the carpal tunnel or seeing this nonsense.  Either way I returned late in the afternoon and proceeded to lie on the couch watching Casey Anthony trial coverage for hours before drifting off to nap land.  I could get used to doing nothing...if only it wasn't for the bills. Maybe Nancy Grace needs an assistant.  Dream!!

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Bachelorette: Death of the Dot Dot Dot

This b*tch blogger.  I just finished the entire post, went to click publish and it erased the entire thing.  I am so over this piece of crap!!  I can't even remember what I wrote. Nooooooooooooooooooo

Here we go again:  suffice it to say it's a good thing I purchased some Ketel One prior to the show.  It helped me get off on a good foot and apparently I'll be downing it for the remainder of the evening.  I would just like to note from the get go that Ashley is in no way, shape or form ready for a mature relationship.  'Of course she isn't Carrie,' you say to yourselves 'She's on tv attempting to launch her career find love'. Well yes that too, but how about her faulty mentality in regards to complete honesty.  'Hey guys I just wanted to let you know that while I've been dating and sucking face with most of you I've been pining away for Bentley since the first time I saw him and even after he left, but he dumped me for the last time earlier this week right here in Hong Kong so I am now sure my husband is in this room!  Let's do this!!'  Good grief.  What is wrong with her?? (sorry we don't have all year to discuss).

Immediate thoughts:
  1. Ashley is wearing pants.
  2. Ashley should have stuck with the shirts dresses.
  3. Winnie the Pooh is in theatres July 15th!!
  4. Don't mess with Lucas.
  5. Or the Dylan McDermott look-a-like.
  6. Kentucky Grilled Chicken looks amazing.
  7. Holy crow Jaycee Dugard is doing an interview with Diane Sawyer on the 10th.  WOOT!
  8. Ashley is clueless.
  9. JP is so, JP.
  10. Is she really going to leave this trainwreck with no one?? Somewhere Mike Fleiss laughs maniacally.  

Tonight's show opens with ominous music and for a second I think I'm watching The Crow.  Nope here comes Ashley.  She's wearing pants.  Wait a second.  Pause. Rewind.  Yep those are pants.

This entire first segment can be summed up in one word:  Bentley.  Harrison shows up in Ashley's room dropping the bomb that Bentley's in the hotel.  SHUT UP she says.  No Ashley bachelorette YOU SHUT UP.  We've been waiting for weeks for you to get dumped.  Get over to that room and don't you dare take your pills before heading out.  We want the full breakdown!!  Off she tears down the hallway:  she can't believe he's here (even though she demanded Harrison produce him so she could get closure him back in the process),  she feels the same way she did 4 days ago when he was here, if he wants to stay there's still hope and she doesn't care what anyone thinks.  She knocks on the door and line of the night goes to Bentley:  'who is it?' He bloody knows it's her and is already trying to send her the message.  *passes out laughing*

Once inside she clings to him then tries to play it cool with whack lines like 'do you come here often?' when suddenly it dons on her:  this guy left of his own accord and is less than enthusiastic to see her.  For a second he says they were on the same page and he misses her.  Wha?  Do I need to put down the Ketel One??  Nope--seeing the cuckoo bird look in her eye Bentley quickly recovers 'imploring' her to see what she has here in the guys who remain.  He's in Utah, she's not and that's the way it's going to stay.  The lightbulb goes on and rage fills the room.  Ashley bachelorette realizes she's been dumped!  How dare he?? He's put a period at the end of her dot dot dot and she's not havin' it!!  She drops some cuss words, possibly an eff and stomps out the door telling him he should have called.  Wait a second lady--you had them call him.  He actually made it pretty clear he didn't want to talk to you anymore when he left last time.  This is your own fault for not knowing how to take a hint--hel-loooo!

Back in her room she's feeling embarrassed as all hell liberated as she thumbs through her shirt dress collection.  Enjoy it while you can lady.  Someone's about to rip you a hole or three, but first it's date time.

First up:  Lucas



Or as I shall refer to him after tonight -- Don't Waste My Time

Lucas has never been to Hong Kong, New York or, I suspect, Disneyland.  Off they go and I immediately notice Ashley is wearing pants.  Not a good sign for Lucas aka mercy rose and easy to eliminate near the end of the process when someone's gotta go, but preferably someone strong so it's not messy (west bawling his eyes out in that one clip? horrible!).  Back at the date Lucas is merely hoping for a kiss and a dance.  She needs to feel the romance with him and thinks it could happen because she's not thinking about Bentley at all anymore even though she can't stop talking about him to the camera.  Summary:  Lucas gets his kiss after having to ask for it and then they dance.  He's on cloud nine, she likes his 'manlihood'.  I can't even go there *dies laughing*. 

Back in the hotel Blake and Ryan pee their pants wondering which of them will get the one-on-one.  Neither of you two sissies--it's JP for the win!  Ashley needs to regain confidence with her main face sucker after being ruthlessly dumped yet again by Bentley.  But first we have the group date.

Dragon Boat Racing.  Why?  Sigh.
Wait a second.
This looks like the dragon that was yanked out from under me by a certain obnoxious...
*blacks out*

Ashley's on the beach in her pants with midriff hanging out as she's tossed on a bikini top to take on the day.  Back in sport mode she's divided the guys into 3 teams of 2 directing them to dart out into crowds and recruit rowing teams that will race for her love.  I'm going to need 14 Ketel Ones to make it through this mess.  The twins Ben and Constantine can't recruit squat so opt instead to purchase red kimonos that then attract their ensemble of characters--primarily women.  Blake lets Ryan use his annoying electric personality to rustle up a bunch while Ames and Mitch, the brains and brawn, go for the throat assembling a group of actual dragon boat racers.  Taking to the seas Ames and Mitch blow it out of the water and later, as they sit on the beach in a huddle, a proposal takes place just kitty corner to their group. Ashley thinks it's a sign seeing as she has totally forgotten about Bentley even though she's still yammering on about him non-stop.

Cut to scene and it's evening.  Ames tosses Ashley into an elevator hitting floor 48 and attacking her face in, quite possibly, the most awkward kiss scene in Bachelorette history.  All I remember is his nose smushed into the side of her cheek *turns embarrassed face*.  His head is spinning, she's starting to think these guys are really here for her and is so glad she's stopped thinking about Bentley as she brings him up for the 36501284 time on this episode alone.  Back at the group Ashley sucks face with Ben for awhile.  He's wearing a pastel yellow sweater.  He's gotta go.  Ryan's next once again whining about not getting a one-on-one so she in predictable Ashley bachelorette mode she hops up, grabs the rose from right in front of the others and gives it to him.  The others are half stunned/pissed mad.  Ashley bachelorette has once again proven her knack for zero intuition and ability to read others.  Must have been quite the awkward ending because next thing you know we're on JP's date.

Around this time it hits me:  JP looks like the Chef.
How did I not notice this before??

This guy warms my heart.  Please Run JP, RUN!! Can she for once stop wearing sweatsuits and leggings around him?  He's the best:  sweet, kind, a good listener, wicked smile, he thinks they're meant to be and that he'll be down on one knee in a month--he's ballsy too!  We like, we like!  She of course has to kill it in every way possible by asking the last time he cried and is he over his ex for reals??  What is wrong with her?? I can't stop throwing this question into the night!!  Next thing you know she blurts out that Bentley was in town and she just neeeeeeeded to tell him so that everything is in the open at the end when she picks him so there are no surprises.  You can see the kicked gut look on his face, but he takes it in stride.  He's the one.  I'd bet money.  They end up on some tram ride to the top of a mountain where they overlook Hong Kong, drink champagne and make out.  Can we just cut to the end and tell me she doesn't eff this up??  Better yet tell me he runs away.  Please!! Someone?  Anyone?  Anyone?? Bueller??

I look at the clock and it's 9:40.  Out she strolls in some silver sequined mess that does approximately zero for her broad shoulders, but certainly has her boobs hanging out.  Has she had a boob job?  I'd bet...oh whatever.  She has a great idea!  Let's tell all the guys how hung up I've been on Bentley and now I'm over it and am certain my husband JP is in this group.  Um heard of Hiroshima there Ashley?  Not a smart move.  They all go nuts and several of them call her out:  they're there for her and she's pining away after some guy who left the show? They're not stupid.  They know she's the one who got dumped by Bentley and if he wanted to come back she'd have tossed him right back in the mix.  She excuses herself to fake cry.  Lucas is pissed!!  His #1 pet peeve is someone wasting his time.  He is second to no one!! Well, except everyone in that room.  Blake tries to rip her, but she starts up with the fake crying and he gets sucked in only to be scathingly eliminated less than 5 minutes later as she tosses him the evil eye for daring to call her out.  Mickey the chef rips her and asks her to send him home because he's nothing like Bentley and that is clearly her type.  She gets on her broom and demands that he excuse himself--so he does.  Good for him!! She's a classless fool pretending to "care so much for all them" when the truth is each and every one is her second choice to Bentley who she is totally over, but still talking about every single chance she gets.  

Oh JP please be the one who gets on that plane and flies away.  PLEASE.  Oh yes--didn't I mention?:  they show flashes of the remainder of the season and it appears as though she still cannot make up her mind in the end.  It showed clips of almost every guy except JP, her being conflicted, and finally her bawling in the end as she goes running out of the rose beachy Fiji circle when a plane flies away with one of "The Ones"--or maybe both.  A girl can dream!!

Monday, June 27, 2011

Eight Dollar Pants

What can I tell you?  It's Sunday night as I type this and my wrist is feeling slightly better.  In fact it's already seizing up and I'm only on sentence number two.  So much for that idea.  Pardon me while I pull myself together for a quick weekend rundown:  slept for hours with windows open and a light breeze blowing, ate pint after pint of raspberries, threw a few more things in the closet purge pile, watched waaaaaaay too much Dateline and am contemplating joining the FBI, and on Friday night seated someone at a table at the Chef's restaurant when everyone else was busy with other customers (where's my tip? hehe). 

Things are going well for him--so far so good as the saying goes.  It's incredibly exciting to watch it all play out from the sidelines.  The crazy start-up hours have left me with a lot of time on my hands and even though there are plenty of things I could be doing *ahem cleaning* somehow I'm just taking a moment to do nothing much.  It feels nice to pause and regroup for the first time in over a year.  Last Sunday I woke up with hours of free time and instead of racing off on an errand rolled down to the flea market to take a gander.  More like a jackpot.  There were so many treasures to be found that day.  What was supposed to be a simple jaunt turned into a 3 hour marathon.  I left with bag filled with 70's vintage gems--amongst them these $8 pants.  Yes I said EIGHT DOLLAR PANTS.  My own little dream come true.

~Outfit details:  Hat-Hat Attack, Vest-H&M, Chambray Blouse-Gap, Belt-Anthropologie,
Pants-Vintage, Sunnies-Target, Bracelet-Brooklyn Thread~
Who ever let these go?  WHO?? I spotted them after pilfering through racks and racks of
crazy ol' 70's dresses and skirts.  Unable to believe my eyes I screamed out, 'HOW MUCH?!?'
while a young Hispanic guy laughed hysterically and said the word 'eight'.  
Unable to contain myself I screamed incredulously, 'EIGHT? EIGHT DOLLARS?,' 
as he nodded wildly.  He had a live one.
'SOLD!!!,' is the final thing I remember hollering while rooting for my wallet.
Somewhere in flea market land the word loco was used a lot that day.
They're the perfect pants for spotting shed snail shells in the dirt.  
Eye of the Tiger.  
For some reason I feel like saying, 'Ahoy Matey' every time I look at this picture.  
Land ahead?

Off to continue resting my wrist and staring at the eight dollar pants.  Let's see how long this can go on for.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Sharp Realizations

~image via serena and lily~

I'm having a serious moment here at the bird.  Okay I'm having several.

My parents are big believers in alternative medicine.  It's not that they won't go to the doctor or hospital, but in terms of daily living they are definitely vitamin takers and proponents of overall wellness that comes from non-traditional methods.  When I was in my early twenties I finally allowed them to convince me to see an iridologist.  At the office she put a blown up view of my eye on her computer screen and proceeded to tell me how the different parts of the eye related to different parts of my body, and what deficiencies seemed to be apparent.  It was quite interesting and, remarkably, quite accurate.  She said something that day that has stuck with me ever since:  Listen to your body.

My freaking wrist doing what it's doing with the carpal tunnel is my body screaming at me to slow down.  Easier said than done.  People have to work, right?  In the past 24 to 48 hours all but a couple of projects have managed to miraculously clear from my desk.  It's a weird feeling.  As things have slowed down I've been able to go to bed earlier, rest my wrist (I'm reading your blogs, but trying to keep my wrist still), and actually have some quiet time to just sit with my thoughts.  

The other day while reading Sarah's blog the strangest thing happened:  out of nowhere I experienced a pang of sadness when she talked about surprising her son with tickets to an advanced screening of Cars 2.  Unlike a lot women I've never been one who cared if I had kids.  I mean I like kids just fine and all, but it's never been a priority or even desire to have my own.  I'm more that person who, on any given day, is trying to figure out a way load my bike like so up top and just run away from it all.  You can't imagine how bewildered I was to feel the way I felt reading Sarah's words.  Hmmmmm.  I don't quite know what to say or think about this.  It is absolutely uncharacteristic of me.  And I've just blurted it out to the blog world.  Good thing I don't have thousands of readers.


Now that I've completely freaked myself out I'm going to continue purging my closets (pile of over 10 things so far!) -- and perhaps allow my mind to continue to venture into serious life things in the days ahead.  I'm scaring myself.  I need a nap.  


I'm trying to listen to my body.  

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Ow Ow Ow Ow Red Pants Ow Ow Ow

To be clear I'm ow'ing over my freaking carpal tunnel'd right wrist.  It's gotten so bad that at one point today my hand and arm were numb from fingertips to part way up my shoulder.  I'm trying not to whine, but I don't think I'm being very successful.  Sigh


It hurrrrrrts like a biznatch.

That being said I have to cut this mother short so I can work today which, coincidentally, involves mad amounts of typing at times.  How can this thing heal without downtime? Can cats be trained to type?  I wonder if they require a salary and/or mandatory breaks under CA state law?  Things to ponder while my brain continues trying to regenerate after last night's bachelorette.  When I got up this morning I was so disoriented I couldn't remember what day it was.  No jokes.  Good thing my brother called during which time my 18 month old nephew sang a few words from Justin Bieber's 'Baby'.  To be exact he sang out 'Baby, baby, baby woooo'.  I almost passed out laughing.

Enough rambling.  Let's cut to the pants.  I've had these things sitting in a bag by my desk for a month during which time I've toyed with cutting them to wear cropped and frayed, or just hemming in general.  The thought of returning them has crossed my mind more than once too...I mean how much will I really wear red pants?  On Sunday I bit the bullet and threw them on for a Father's day dinner with friends.  It's official:  they're keepers (the pants and my friends).

~Pants-J Brand Skinny Twill, James Perse-Tank, J.Crew-Heels (3 years ago?), 
Brandy & Melville-Fringe Bag, Anthro-Sunnies~
~PANYC-Studded Wrap, American Eagle-Friendship, Motif 56-Braided Bracelets
Melinda Maria-Link Oxidized Ring, Free People-Necklace (5 years ago?)~
Admission:  I stepped foot in AE on Friday night and went nuts in the bracelets.  Buy one/get one free.
I have nothing to say for myself.  I swore I'd never give them money again after
they ripped 1000's of hearts out by closing Martin+Osa.  The price tag made me do it?
Shameless
Once I put the pants on I remembered every reason I drove into the middle of nowheresville
late one Friday night on freeways I'd never even heard of before just to get the last pair.
In the fitting room I jumped up and down with glee.  I have no problem admitting that.
Should I cut them off?
And yes I realize these pictures are redundant, but the other one reallllly
showed the belt I got for $9 at the flea market and later spotted for $140.  
I'm so glad I'm newborn cheapskate--I'd have missed out on so many good things!!
This is the 'oh yes we do have enough pictures I'm done' look.
Nothing's worse than having a couple of cars circle the block repeatedly to stare.
Awkward


Okay is anyone else having issues with blogger inserting extra spaces between paragraphs?  I just don't understand how to make it stop.  Anyone?  Anyone??

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

The Bachelorette: What the Hell Was That?

I'm sitting here dumbfounded.  I honestly don't know what I'm going to write.

Ashley's a duh  head.  Okay there's a start.  Pull up a chair and let's discuss.

Other immediate thoughts:
1. Every one of them is too good for her.
2. Have all these guys been on the past couple weeks??  I swear there are 3 I've never seen before.
3. My mind is numb.
4. Ashley deserves Bentley.
5. Who even PUT a pair of pink shorts in that boxing layout??
6. Nervous giggles are for 2nd graders *ahem Ashley*
7. William is rat b*stard.
8. Buh-bye William!
9. Can Ashley think for herself?
10. Can Ashley think?
11. Does Ashley know what pants are?
12. Is there not a wardrobe stylist attached to this show?
13. Is Chris Harrison in love with Ashley??
14. Pills please.  Ben F can share his with me.
15. I thought those b*tches at ABC told me Bentley was this week?? I have to watch this mess AGAIN NEXT WEEK??
16. I really don't know if I can do it.  My head's aching and I feel like I ate garbage.

Welp, here's how I'd sum up tonight:  BUZZKILL.

The show opens and it's over before it starts.  Ryan goes off on how exciting it is to be flying around all over the world looking for love, quickly adding "following Ashley".  Tell on yourself much?  Off they go to Chiang Mai where Nick states he wants to take the relationship to the next level.  Um Nick, have I seen you before?  More importantly does Ashley know you're on the show?  You better dye your hair and curl it or you're out the door.  You don't look anything like Bentley.   Speaking of Ashley here she comes in one of Bentley's old shirts belted at the waist.  You know, the one she pilfered from his bag as he tried to shake her from his leg as he ran out the door.  Why me?  Once again Ashley makes zero sense as she's clearly miserable yet states if things keep going the way they have been this could be a very happy ending for her...she's medicated.

Next thing you know Chris Harrison pops into the man pad announcing the the date rundown.

  • A one-on-one
  • A group date
  • A dreaded two-on one date where one of them gets sent packing.
Men become women and begin quaking over who's going to get the dreaded two-on-one.  I want to slap all of them and scream, "she doesn't like any of you fools!!" Instead I try desperately to fast forward a show that is only just being recorded.  Help me


First up we have Ben F.
*Notice I can't even be bothered to seek out appropriately sized images.  
That's how exasperated I am right now.* 

Date summary:  zzzzzzzzz.  I almost fell asleep 3x. Here's what I remember:  Ashley rolls in wearing some atrocious pink top and a white skirt that does not cover her rear end.  No it did not.  All the men go ga-ga over her chemistry with Ben F.  Little do they know she's in love with his hair because it reminds her of Bentley.  Ben/Bentley--don't tell me you didn't catch that correlation.  He wants to build on the foundation of love.  I see he's wearing Crocs and zone out.  I come to and they're cruising the market.  Her butt's hanging out keeping watch on what's to the rear.  I'm embarrassed for America.  They stand outside an ancient temple, the camera pans up her skirt.  Thankfully she's in the distance.  They sit on the bench, the camera crew can't film the side of her leg because her uncovered *ss is quite literally on the bench seeing has her skirt is too short to cover it.  Despite her sacrilegious skirt at the temple she claims they cannot kiss because they are on sacred ground.  Instead they kiss mentally.  SOS.    I come to and they're on part two of the date.  Hold the phone:  she's wearing pants.  He says something about being an emotional zombie last year.  I concur on the zombie part.  She says he's saying all the right things and for the first time in a long time (you know since yesterday when she almost sucked JP's face off on the beach in front of everyone) she's feeling hopeful.  I'm feeling the need to check myself  into a mental hospital.

Date Two:  The Group Date

That's how we're going to sum it up.

Ashley's planned a day of Muay Thai which is essentially kickboxing + regular boxing + b*tch slapping to the death.  After some practice with professionals it is apparent that Ames is going down.  Between Harvard and Yale he's never even had time to fight, much less scrap around in a ring with a bunch of meatheads who want to prove themselves to someone who couldn't give a rip about a single one of them.  She's taken the liberty to lay out gear for them...one of these outfits is pink and Ames, of course, gets it.  After being taken in an open air taxi to a ring in the middle of town square, Ames can be seen frantically searching for his credit cards and/or the trap door to escape back to the Hamptons.  Everyone's paired off to take their turn fighting each other as Ashley squeals on the side claiming she doesn't like it.  Line of the night award goes to Lucas:  "You're the one who set up the date".  Gotta love those oil patch kids.  I'll skip the details because who cares about boxing.  Bottom line:  Ames gets thumped in the head several times by Ryan the desperate lunatic and moments later is whooshed away by Medivac to the emergency room.  


Ashley's really scared right now...so scared she doesn't accompany Ames to hospital despite the fact that he has clearly had his bell rung (no pun intended). She has no time.  She needs to speed this thing up and get it over with:  Is Bentley back yet??  Two seconds later we flash forward to the evening/cocktail party gathering of the date.  Ashley arrives in her black t-shirt, hair flapping in the wind.  She hopes Ames is there so it doesn't ruin the mood.  Self-absorbed much?  Ryan the beater proceeds to show her all the damage Ames did to him...uh Ames was a set of flailing arms and legs.  He didn't connect once thereby proving that Ryan beat himself up in his room to further himself in the race to Ashley giving him the hand and sending him home.  Blah blah blah Ames shows up with a concussion.  It's actually sad.   Blake whines about something and gets a rose.   End scene.

The Dueling Death Date--whose gonna get the rose??





  The Roaster 
                     vs. 
                          Mr. Flash Mob









William's had his man claws out ever since this date was announced.  Off they go paddling Ashley down the river and William's p*ssed!  He's paddling in front while she sits closer to back where Ben C.'s paddling.  He's doing all the weeeeerk.  *Except the little Thai man wading down river next to you is guiding your raft in the water because neither of you can paddle worth sh*t*.  Pardon my French.  Within moments of docking William wants a moment of Ashley's time.  He doesn't want to throw Ben under the bus, but you know Ashley Ben's been telling everyone he can't wait for this to be over and he's gonna get busy internet dating once back at home.  Oh.hell.no.he.did.not.just.pull.this.  Oh yes he did.  She, of course, takes the bait and cuts the date short snipping Ben on the spot without giving him a chance to defend himself.  She's on her broom tonight folks.  By this time Ben is equally, if not more, disgusted with her and sails off.  Moment's later it's night time.  Ashley's wearing a short pink spandex t-shirt and no pants as she and William sit down to dinner.  Moments later she ruthlessly snips him too, takes her broom and sweeps his sorry behind into the van with barely a bye bye muttered in her baby voice.  William calls himself a bunch of names as he speeds off--admitting he's a loser, a child, and wants to go to bed and never wake up.  Hope ABC has PTSD counseling for these people.  This guy has serious issues...and to think he was her favorite at one point.  Big shocker.

Back at the ranch Ashley's insecurities are rearing their ugly head yet again.  She's a raging lunatic.  Out she stomps in yet another t-shirt and some cheesy stripper heels blabbing on about how not everyone is going to love her, but they need to be real.  FAIL Ashley FAIL.  Newsflash Ashley:  men do not find massive unjustified insecurity to be attractive.  At this point all remaining look at each other with the crazy eyes knowing she's missed her afternoon pills.  She fakes a few conversations with Ryan the cuckoo bird, Nick the fuzz mop who she all but told was going to be sent packing, and JP who she clams to like but, of course, dun dun dun---can't stop thinking about Bentley.  

At this point I glance up and there are 12 minutes left.  Where the hell is Bentley?? Chris Harrison promised me Bentley this week.  How is she supposed to do a rose ceremony PLUS have a massive breakdown in just over 10 minutes.  I've been robbed!!  She and Chris sit down to have a have a heart to heart dot dot dot about Bentley.  Harrison looks like he's falling in love with her.  I see it with my own two eyes--that guy looks like he's under the Ashley spell.  Those $5 boxes of wine are wreaking havoc everywhere in Bachelorette land!!  Once again she's going on about her intuition (which is non-existent), her connection with Bentley (also coincidentally non-existent) and how she "just doesn't know what's going to happen".  No duh lady.  I'll tell you what's going to happen:  I'm going to lose my mind and rip my hair out watching you make a bumbling a** of yourself on national television!! Flash forward and Nick gets snipped.  He's devastated despite having pretty much been told point blank to bugger off just moments earlier.  Apparently intuition is dead everywhere because he was pretty sure they were falling in love even though he's only talked with her for two seconds once before when he got out of the limo two weeks ago.  What on earth?

Next stop:  Hong Kong and the return of Bentley.  How much you want to bet they drag that out until the second to last show?  I really and truly might be over this sniveling mess otherwise known as Ashley.  She doesn't know if she's going to end up with anyone and that just scares her.  Why??  Ya came in with no one anyway, you're seeing the world in the fanciest way possible, and you're showing a massive audience your lack of pants collection on a weekly basis.  Can someone cancel this show?? I want a new bachelorette.  I want a drink.  I want my mom.  *whimper*

Monday, June 20, 2011

New Day/New Way

It's become increasingly obvious that if I want to get any outfit pictures done for this blog I'm going to have to be prepared at all times.  That's like telling a 4 year old on a roadtrip to 'hold it' until the next rest stop.  Uh, yeah--probably not going to happen so have to plan in advance for accidents.  There I was on Saturday morning fresh off a night of Dateline, 20/20 and Nancy Grace Casey Anthony updates...sheer bliss.  The last thing I wanted to do was hop out of bed and coordinate for a picture.  The only thing on my mind was sleeeeeeeeep.  You know, in order to avoid having to purge my closet any further.

Enjoying the silence I began mentally planning posts for the upcoming week when it hit me:  I had none.  Up out of the bed I hopped.  After glancing out the window to see miracle of all miracles - the SUN shining (seriously it's been in the 60's for a month) - I popped the closet open and stared down a skirt I've been hankering to wear ever since spring supposedly sprung.  At approximately a half past I'm not quite ready yet the Chef rang me to say he was ready.  Cut to scene and there I was zipping off down PCH in hot pursuit of wherever he was--ever tried coordinating locations by cell phone?  Um, I don't advise.

Me:  'You're where?'
Him:  'Well where are you?
Me:  'Who cares where I am? I'm driving toward you, aren't I?!"
Him:  'I'm parked on the side of the road at xyz'
Me:  'I have no clue where that is, ya know.'
Him:  'Where are you?'
Me: 'Haven't we already been over this?  Fine.  I'm at ab and cd.'
Him:  'Look up the road and to your right.  I'm on the side of the road'

....he says as I zip on by, surrounded by traffic, unable to stop.  Oy vey people.

Fortunately we were able to find some open field thing that looked like the middle of nowhere.  Totally reminded me of the desert.  Palm Springs?  Is that you calling?  Hope to see you soon.  Love, Carrie.
~Jacket--Forever21 (10yrs ago), Tanks--Gap, Skirt--Mes Demoiselles, Shoes--Matt Bernson, 
Necklace--Melinda Maria, Sunnies--Anthro, Bag--Brandy & Melville~
Note the No Stopping Any Time sign.  As an avid nerd and follower of the law, signs like this
breed fear and guilt in me.  If the sign says NO then why are we stopping here??
What if the Poliiiiiice come?? *cue carrie breaking into a sweat*
Look into my eyes.  What do you see?  You see him calmly taking a photo while I nervously
glance down the road to see if the black and whites are coming to haul us to the clanker.
Serious moment:  skirt.  
Skirt, skirt, skirt infinity.  
Total score at 75% off at Calypso.  *tears*
Do you check their sales?? Must.do.
~Bracelets (from top to bottom):  Motif 56, PANYC studded leather wrap, Bluma Project blue~
Here I am on the verge of a breakdown waiting for some authority figure to jump out and holler 
that he's got us on tape and we're going down.  Who's gonna make the food then, huh Chef?!?
hehe. little dramatic over here at the bird sometimes.

Anyway this was Saturday complete with disheveled hair and a side of wind.  I've got a confession:  I hit the jackpot so hard at the flea market on Sunday.  $8 pants.  EIGHT DOLLAR PANTS.  Now if I can only find someone to take a picture of me wearing them...

Friday, June 17, 2011

Pink Pants and My Wrist Fell Off

I've been quiet on the blogger front this week for a couple reasons:  the Chef opened his restaurant and it's been a bit of a crazy (yet exciting) time, and I have the worst case of carpal tunnel ever.  That bachelorette recap took so much wind out of the ol' wrist I was actually feeling a little sick after typing it up--and not from the show itself.  Or wait a second...

Anyway, thanks for bearing with me.  As coincidence would have it I've got an outfit post at the end of the week for the first time in a long time.  Big shout out to my friend Kelly for pitching in with these pictures late Sunday afternoon before we indulged in copious amounts of Mexican food at our fave place!  Interesting note: we took these things in no time flat leading me to believe maybe it's easier to take outfit pics with girls?  Thoughts?  I guess we shall see going forward.  Prepare to see Kelly and Carrie passed out laughing somewhere near you.

Before we get to the dish let me say I am seeing so much 80's resurgence it's left me winded at times.  I lived through that time period and definitely embraced fashion to the fullest.  When I saw these pink chambray pants in Madewell I tried them on a whim, took them off, had the sales associate beg me to put them back on, did so, came out and was hit by a wave of "you have to get those!!" by customers and employees alike.  Um, okay?  Peer pressure made me do it.  There's a new one.  These days I spend an incredible amount of time thinking about Pretty in Pink for some reason.  It's on my list for this weekend.  I wonder if these are a rendition of something I saw on there?
~Madewell-City Slouch Trousers & Tank, J.Crew-Denim Jacket, Cynthia Vincent-Wedges
Foley+Corinna-Mid-City Tote, Tom Ford-Sunnies, Bhati Beads~
These are so against the grain of anything I would normally wear, but somehow when I put
them on I could just see them with Converse running shoes and a simple tank, right?
They're lady man pants!  I even love the bit of wrinkle from the chambray.  
New fave pants.  Confession:  Wore them 3x this week.
Tried them with these for a night out (seen here and here); classic summer faves.  
Even though summer seems to have forgotten us again this year...*cough* 60 degree days *cough*.
Most accurate display of their true color...they're kinda like chameleon pants!
And finally...I need a haircut.  Which is akin to saying tomorrow will be 98 degrees 
- Southern California is not the home of the good haircut. Easier said than done.

On that lovely note me and my lady man pants are off.  My wrist is whistling dixie (not even sure what that means, but just love the way it sounds) and I've got a heap of laundry calling my name.  Thrilling

Thursday, June 16, 2011

The Bachelorette: Intuition is Dead

Oh, and I'm a hypocrite.  A hypocrite who almost cut her finger off in the shower and has now come to realize the value of the pinky finger, but a hypocrite nonetheless.  I swore that ABC wouldn't get the better of me, but the Chef's back at work and when the bachelorette (can't even be bothered to capitalize it) trainwreck came a callin' I caved *hangs head*.  Even worse?  I dvr'd that mother to watch Tuesday night.  Confessional over and out.

Let's begin with a brief summary of immediate thoughts/reactions:

1. Ohhhhhh gawwwwd she's still bawling over Bentley? (cue eyes and ears bleeding)
2. Does Ashley ever wear pants?
3. Does Ashley realize Bentley is gone?
4. What exactly is a "man claw"?
5. Where are my pills?
6. Ashley is barely clothed for her meeting with the Thai date planner. *dies inside*
7. These men behave like women.
8. Will she ever stop blathering on about Bentley? help me
9. Constantine is an advocate for the word 'like'.
10. Ashley has arrived to the group date in a mesh covered bikini.  Hooker.
11.  OMG this fool is going to tell her date she's still thinking about Bentley.  Is this over yet?
12. Ames seems like quite an intelligent man.  Why is he on this show?
13. Does Ashley know the meaning of the word "intuition"?
14. I wonder if Ashley will kick Chris Harrison in the nuts after seeing what a fool he's making of her.
15.  Better question...(dot dot dot annoyballs) I wonder if she even realizes it??

The show opens and within three minutes she's back on the short bus bawling over Bentley -- at this point I begin yawning because it's telltale...his a** will be back within two weeks.  Why on earth has no one told this fool Ashley that Bentley can't stand her? One word:  ratings.

Next up Harrison strolls into the boypad mumbling something along the lines of 'you all must know how serious she is by now.' When were they supposed to catch that - before or after the flashmob date she planned revealing her dance aspirations? Um, Chris Harrison everyone knows she's not serious seeing as she's been clinging to a hairball Bentley up until this point and blatantly bawling her eyes out ever since his departure.  They just want their free trip.  Hand it over.

Cut to scene and Ashley's in Phuket wearing some barely there top and shorts. I blocked out the rest cringing at what the poor Thai lady must have thought of American women based on the mess otherwise known as half-naked Ashley.  Clearly ABC has some deal with Phuket to provide aid, etc. however they send a representative with next to no clothing to be the main face *cringe*.  Blah blah blah and we're at the men's accommodations where they try to one up each other like cats in a bag over who's kissed her and who hasn't.  Oh wait. Imagine that?  Everyone has, except Ames and a couple other guys who haven't gotten more than 2 seconds of nervous glance airtime.  I gagged a little at this point and hit FF on the dvr.  Do these men not realize they're all basically kissing each other?  Pride is dead.

First lucky date:

In a word: noooooooooooooooooooooooo.  Or is that like?  He seems to be a nice guy, she seems to be bored to tears.  Oh wait, she gives him a rose.  Of course she did.  His hair reminds her of Bentley.  She can't stop thinking about him and wonders if she should tell Constantine her feelings.  That's all I remember about this one because I slept through it--I was just following Ashley's lead.  To sum up:  Like.  He said it about 50 times.  Poor thing.  Casualty of bachelorette filler rose--easier to heartlessly badger and then snip the poor guy whose wife passed away. 


Next it's the Group Date aka the place where men shamelessly backstab each other like women over some broad who doesn't like any of them anyway.  Or so she says seeing as she can't stop thinking about Bentley.  Except when she's getting her magical kissing in with JP who is hands down the best kisser, but two seconds later she's back on the Bentley violin playing right into the script of his return.  So predictable.  I sum the Group date up with men bickering and this:


Ashley in her mesh with JP in the rain making out wildly on the beach less than 50 feet away from all the other guys, but less than 3 ft away from the cameras.  10 minutes later she rips off her mesh and goes frolicking into a pool with all the men racing behind her as she splashes around.  Awkward.  Earlier they also did some wonderful charity work for a Children's orphanage called Baan San Fan and some other guy who looks like Constantine got a rose.  Theme:  she's tossing roses at anyone who has hair like Bentley or kisses like him.  shakes head.


Final date:  Ames or as I like to call him, "SHOCKER HOW DID THIS GEM GET ON THE SHOW?"


At first I thought he looked a little cuckoo, but this guy is off the hook.  He is smart, reeks of an Ivy League education, well-spoken, thoughtful, confident yet not overly secure, and what on earth is he getting caught up in this for? *might be a red flag* He is, at this point, the most well-mannered of the bunch and the most well-rounded.  If she doesn't pick him she's nuts.  JP's my gut choice.  I bet it's him--he would be much more inclined to go along with her Hollywood aspirations without any push back.  Ames is a Portfolio Manager so he is not moving to LA to do a flashmob.  Is flashmob one word or two?  By the way--best date ever.  Kayaking through those tunnels? Wow.  Chris Harrison should be giving us all a trip to Phuket for sitting through the Bentley diatribes.  

Now for the best part of the night.  The clincher >>> Chris asks Ashley if she's over Bentley yet?
Somebody keep me from gouging my own eyes out.  Really Chris, REALLY?? How much more can we take?  Just spill it already! You're bringing him back next week. Yawwwwwn.  

Ashley's response (paraphrased): I'm not over him, our connection was so great, I was certain he was The One (there she goes with that again), my intuition says there's something more there.

Pause and reflect.  Now pray tell dear Ashley where on earth has your mighty intuition been up until this point?  Can someone please tell this child she doesn't have any intuition?? If she did she would know Bentley was a pig.  She would know not to get hung up on someone she's been warned about.  She would have the gut feeling he was a liar and that he, essentially, cannot stand her.  Intuition my foot!!  I laughed out loud.  She's out to lunch.  And not with her intuition.

Moments later I then wept as she relentlessly swept poor West out the door without so much as a heartfelt goodbye after badgering him about his readiness for a relationship after the death of his wife.  Not only is Ashley on my nerves, I think this experience has gone to her head despite her constant claims of insecurity.

Stay tuned for next week when Bentley returns.  Yes it was the "big reveal" at the end of the show and am I the only one who thought she was totally faking when they told her he was back in the hotel?? She knew it--my intuition told me.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Where Are the Police When You Need Them?

The blog's gone off the tracks people.  I was all set to confess my sins of watching the Bachelorette again tonight when all hell broke loose.

I'll get to the recap later today, but have to take a rabbit trail for a moment to tell you about the mayhem that occurred outside my house last night.  I know what you're thinking, "Oh lawdy not the neighbors again".  Oh no.  Not the ones downstairs and not the metal heads, but this time the fake rapper and his girlfriend.  Here's how it all went down.  Note:  Usually I wouldn't bring this up, but I think attention should be brought to violence.  Especially violence against women.



There I was all prepped with blanket, a bowl of cherries and the DVR when I heard the following:

"EFF (the full word, but for the sake of blog semi-cleanliness I'll just use eff) you Gary! Get the eff out my house b*tch.  I mean it GET OUT." bang clank slam bang clank slam bang clank slam "I MEAN IT GARY OUT NOW!!" What on earth has happened to my neighborhood? "You mf, this, that and the other thing.  Get away from me Gary!! Do not come near me, just GET OUT NOW! I am tired of you calling me names and threatening me.  I'm a professional, I'm too good for this.  I'm up here and you're down there--this has to stop once and for all." 

At this point I get up to look out the window into Pat's yard (those little attached bungalows) to find the chronic smoking neighbors in a full on brawl.  She's throwing his stuff out the door and he's hauling it back in.  Rinse and repeat.  Until he assumes position in the doorway and turns the tables on her.  She can't get back in.  This is the same nasty guy who was trying to rap to the death metal of the other neighbors when I had the whiteout and ripped them all a new one.  I knew he was a hitter.  Don't ask me how I knew, I just did.  Cut to scene and he shoves her out the door locking her out, lifts the blinds and refuses to leave HER HOUSE.  She's scared of him and you can tell.  I watched him shove her and threaten her.  This ended in me calling 911, her leaving and HIM calling 911 to cover his own tracks.

I called the Police three times tonight.  She would leave and come back and this maniac would not let her into her own home.  He would throw things at her out the window and she would leave.  The police would come and he would lie to them blaming her.  It's so telltale it's revolting and you think they would recognize the pattern by now, right??  One time he met the Police in the street and they didn't even get out of their car.  He was going off so loudly I could hear with just a window open in my house...yet they still just drove away and left him alone.  IN HER HOME.  On the 3rd visit they finally went to the door and he proceeded to holler about how she on antidepressants, has anger management issues (pot/kettle), how she got mad because he was playing a song(?), and that he tried to "calm her down", but she just left.  Oh yeah and "I don't live here.  It's not my place.  I don't have a job--well I actually I'm a martial arts teacher (ahem beater) but should have a job this week."  He tells everyone and their mother that he's a martial arts teacher--including the mailman.  I overheard him again the other day higher than a kite in the backyard.  I mean how many of his own statements--which are basic admissions to guilt-- in addition to his yelling, screaming and puffs of marijuana smoke should have had this guy in the back of the car hauled in for questioning and possible charges on domestic violence??  Finally I called the Police again to explain what was really going on from the point of view of a sane neighbor who had been witnessing this all evening and you know what the 911 operator said to me--wait for it:

"It seems to us based on his account that she's the problem.  We only have his account and he's the only one sticking around to give it."  Pause for a moment and absorb this.

What in the hell was this guy talking about?  They had/have my account - a front row witness.  A sober person --and one of several neighbors who called on her behalf.  If she would have slowed down I would have yanked her into my house.

This 911 operator proceeded to tell me that even though the guy doesn't live there because he's been staying there they consider it his home and won't remove him.  Even better? They believe him--because he's the one who has stayed to talk to them.  I just lost it.  What kind of rationale is that?  The guilty sick bastards always stay around.  Scott Peterson much?  This guy next door is a name caller, a pusher, a shover, a drug abusing, out of control individual who is now squatting in the home of the woman he abuses and the 911 operator thinks this same guy is in the right.  Someone pass me an antidepressant.

Here is where our system is broken.  Here is where women end up dead after calling 911 so many times and having zero protection from the law.  When is this ever going to change? How many bodies will it take?  This 911 operator was clearly discriminating against the female and siding with the male.  He called HER out of control.  HER.  I could barely contain myself when I responded, "Sir with all due respect this woman is terrified of this man when he gets angry and she should be.  I have overheard him berate her with the most profane language in the six weeks they have lived here.  I have watched him smoke massive amounts of marijuana in the yard daily.  I have witnessed him harass a 72 year old woman and her husband to such an extent they no longer sit in their own yard. I have heard her ask him not to push her, to get his hands off of her.  And now tonight I watched him forcefully remove her from her home and you're telling me because she is scared to stay and talk to you for fear of what this man will do to her she is in the wrong and he is in the right.  Am I understanding you correctly?"

And this person responded...yes.

As a survivor of domestic violence I am disgusted that nothing has changed in the past 15 years.  Nothing.  I can only hope she has a car to sleep in or else she's on the street tonight while that sick bastard sleeps in her bed.  What is wrong with this picture?  If  you are brave enough to discuss it I want to know if you have ever experienced the same problems getting the Police to help out in a domestic violence situation.  It is appalling the way they repeatedly side with the abuser.  And if you don't want to say anything that's okay too.


We will resume regular Bachelorette trash talk later this afternoon.

Monday, June 13, 2011

In a Pinch

It's official I did miss my calling:  throwing outfits together in a minute or less has been confirmed as one of my gifts. Who knew? Suffice it to say, as I'm pretty sure I say every weekend, the weekend went by far too quickly.  It's as though the clock speeds up as soon as Friday afternoon hits.  Apparently peoples' brains fall out of their heads at record speed on Sunday nights as well.  The ding-a-ling neighbors took it upon themselves to get in a screaming match with another neighbor who kindly asked them to move their hanging-in-the-alley-inconsiderately-and-horribly-parallel-parked-vehicles so that the other person could get out of their garage.

Response:  We pay for this space so it's not our problem.  

Are you for real?  

Honestly my heart (and ears) just bled.  How on earth can you be so nasty to someone you have clearly wronged and are completely inconveniencing?  Truth be told I'm still baffled sitting here thinking about it.  I don't know how it all played out in the end, but I don't think it was pleasant.  This is not Beverly Hills so they had seriously better wise up.  People don't play down here.  You might get away with a little childish writing on someone's car in West LA, but not in my neighborhood. Word

Anyway.  There's a little neighbor update for ya. It's been quiet on that front because a. I'm trying to avoid them and b. My activities have ranged from exhausted and hanging off the couch to exhausted and racing out the door.  Carrie needs a break (preferably not a breakdown thank you very much).

Back to the outfit.  I guess we're going to start calling the outfit portion of this blog "Beat the Clock" or "How Many Different Ways Can You Try Not to Kill Yourself While Trying to Pull Yourself Together In Under 5 Minutes In Order to Get a Quick Picture".  Queen of the run on sentences in the house! On Saturday afternoon I had 752 errands to run when the Chef dropped the bomb that he had a limited window to take the picture.  Welp, here's to killing 752 birds with one big a** stone -- Carrie live and comin' at you from outside the water brewery.  Exciting times here at the bird. yawwwwn
So many of my favorite things all in one--the makings of the best outfits, right?
Zara-Blazer, James Perse-Tanks, Belt-Flea Market Find, Shorts-Current/Elliott, 
Foley+Corinna-Mid-City Tote (four years old and still an all time fave), 
Motif 56, PANYC & Bhati Beads-Bracelets, Melinda Maria and MarcxMarc-Rings
Uh-oh stray hair at one o'clock (I'm really loving this o'clock thing of late--as I'm sure you've noticed).
Unbeknownst to me I walked around with that hair sticking out for 12 hours.
No worries though--the shoes stole the show. Show stoppers is more like it.
These Sophie Theallet for Nine West's continue to get mad play.   
I think I sent a stampede over there on Saturday.
Woman ponders deep hidden mystery:  
"Where did all my wonderful neighbors go and how can I find a way to lure them back?"

And now I bid you a good Monday.  Tomorrow I will dish on how the downstairs neighbors came home at 3am on Sunday and were so thoughtful to give me an early wake up call by running up and down the wood floors so hard I could hear them upstairs. Ahhhhhh.  The good life.  Is it too early to ask for a cocktail?

Friday, June 10, 2011

Feng Shui--Ya Habibi for the Closets

I have to say I think there's some validity to Feng Shui.  Now don't get all, 'of COURSE there is' on me--I get it.  I really do (as much of it as I understand anyway).  I know it's more than just my mildly OCD brain craving order because even when I can't see the chaos I can actually feel it in my brain no matter where in the room or space I'm standing.  Weird, right?  Or maybe not.

Take for instance the storage closet in my laundry room.  Even though I didn't unpack the items that went into it, somehow I just knew it wasn't in order every time I walked by.  Miss Cleo at 3 o'clock.  Sure enough--2 months after moving into my place--last Saturday I got a bee in my bonnet (always wanted to use that because it's so Ma and Pa Ingalls) to get some things in order.  Confession?:  the place is mostly in disarray.  Due to work, blogging and wanting to get fresh air who has time to truly unpack and organize?  Not me.  And it's been messing with my head.  I can't think clearly, I feel unsettled, and frankly it makes me confused and somewhat tired a lot of the time even if I'm in the rooms that are in order.

It doesn't help matters much when I step outside every day to this.  In fact I can see it off the kitchen:
I know what you're saying to yourself:  what the h*ll is she doing?
Oh it's not me.  It's the landlord.  His painters were supposed to be here 3 weeks ago to finish painting.
Instead they showed up on Saturday at 8am, ripped a bunch of wood off and left.
Today he told me he's not sure when they'll be back.  Um, okay.  
Pardon me while I spend all summer trying to avoid plunging to my death via that gaping hole.
See what I mean?  Messes with my head.  

Rather than continuing to try to nap it out, I've decided to tackle one small area of disarray at a time...
beginning with that laundry storage closet.  
Let us begin with a simple question.  Who does this?
I'll tell you who:  the Chef--he can organize a kitchen like no other.  
My storage closet, however, not so much.  This top area is next to the 12 foot ceiling. 
To begin:  I'm 5'3''.  I need to seeeee the grocery bags in order to remember to take them.
It also helps if they're not balled up and indistinguishable.  Just a thought.
Upon removing said balled up bags I discovered 800 other bags within them. 
756 Martin+Osa bags from the good old days (RIP), 1 FEED Bag, 1 random burlap bag, 
1 cat print bag (score!) and 1 Whole Foods bag...tag still on.  Effective.
Post organization...I even feel better looking at it. (disregard laundry on your left)
I know what you're thinking:  it's still a hot mess up top, but I swear it's not.
Very top is next to ceiling and contains party favors and paint supplies aka rarely used.
Next shelf: reusable bags, awesome old school Banana Republic Potpourri and electrical stuff.
Third:  cleaning supplies I can reach just above my head--no ladder.

In organization frenzy 2011 I got caught up and didn't get a picture of the lower shelves in disarray, but here they are all cleaned out.  They're what the bag door closes onto:
Glorious isn't it?  
Are you still with me or have you checked out into the zzzzzz zone?
All you mild to moderate OCD'ers give a shout out--I know you're out there!!  Hello?
This however?  NOT GLORIOUS.  
All heading to the trash except the lighter fluid and odd paint supply.  
After that it's home freeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Seriously though--I wanted to sleep in this room so many times this week.  I felt peaceful and calm in there simply because it is organized.  I know you think I've lost it:  where's the clothes lady?  Where's the fashion?  One of my old bosses in retail used to drag us into the backroom and ream us if it was unorganized.  He always said he could tell how efficiently a store was running by the condition of the stockroom.  'If the backroom is a mess, the sales floor is a mess--even if it looks good on the outside it's just a cover for the truth.' And he was right.  It's a philosophy I've carried with me ever since.  If my closets aren't clean, my rooms aren't organized.  Similarly, if my interior life--my heart and spirit aren't at peace--what I'm presenting externally, even if it appears put together, is only masking internal chaos that is wreaking havoc throughout my life.  Truth, right?

So there's my armchair psychology for today.  I'm going to try to put it to good use when I watch The Real Housewives of New York tonight (did you get my ya habibi reference in the title?!) and when I move onto phase two of closet clean out 2011 on Saturday. May the cleaning fairies be with me.  

Have a great weekend everyone!  Remind me next week to tell you what the Chef found shoved down the drain at the restaurant today.  Niiiiiiiiiice.

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