Television, My True Love

The Tim Gunn Show Project Runway is back on tonight and that means one more season of me talking non-stop about how Tim Gunn is the best/most hilarious/classiest mentor/human/host (sigh, he's a man of so many talents) for 90 minutes each week.

When Tim Gunn is the screen I'm full of love and wonder, caught in a fantasy world where Tim Gunn is my life mentor, patting me on the shoulder and telling me to make it work or making a frowny face at my outfit choice (Tim, I seriously didn't have time to get ready today) When Tim Gunn is not on the screen I'm waiting for him to come back and spout out something profound about fabric choices and draping.

Ha ha, oh Tim.

An offer

I was thinking about how when I was little my favorite books were about ponies. Then, inevitably, I thought about what a good band name Pony Club Secrets was ( or even The Pony Club if we were venturing into copyright infringement territory). I even MySpaced it to see if it was taken and it was not.

Album cover?

So I guess that means our first album will be titled "Angel and the Flying Stallions." I'm okay with that. In fact, think how many band names could spring from that alone. The Flying Stallions.

Right, I know I don't play any instruments and I sing in a fake voice ONLY, so here is my offer- someone with talent contact me and I will let you use my idea in exchange for money and a part in the band where all I have to do is fake play piano (because no one can really see what you're doing with your fingers.)

In our band's spare time I would like if we could thrift for matching stage costumes and reupholster furniture. 

Ha ha ha just kidding. (No, I'm not. Please someone help me all I can ever be in life is a traveling fake musician.)

Other books I loved that can potentially be band names:

The Silver Slippers, Walk Two Moons or If You Only Knew anyone?

Doing stuff, listening to indie rock

Last night was craft night. It was lots of wandering around Michael's and picking things up and putting them down and thrift stores and this picture:

We made magic corpse windows, so that when you look through them you can see what you will look like as a ZOMBIE CORPSE.

Also I half-painted a unicorn picture. Crafts!

The rest is still unwritten

It's almost concerning how many people I have talked to about The Hills today. What will I do after the series finale ends? Who will I be without Audrina to imitate?

Although a little piece of my heart already died the day LC left, I'm still feeling lost. So, in honor of the show that brought me so much joy, a tribute.

 “Jeans can be really addicting. There’s always new ones and you feel like you have to have them. I can’t do it.” ~Whitney

I can hardly even look at this one. Oh, the days when Heidi and Lauren didn't even have to photoshopped into photos together. A simpler time P.K.C. (pre-Kelly Cutrone) when Whitney mostly just blinked as LC regaled her with stories about Jason/Brody and would never dream about putting her private life on display. Look at those pigtails and tell me you knew that someday Whitney would be a diva.

No words, no words for that sparkle in Heidi's eyes that has been surgically removed. No words for that flat chest that would someday house so much silicone that even Pamela Anderson, upon seeing it, would cast her eyes downward in silent defeat.

And who could forget this grainy scene, when it all fell apart. As thick black tears streamed down LC's face, I cried for all the shopping trips and fake-eating scenes that would never again happen between Lauren and Heidi.

"Truth and time tells all."- Justin Bobby

Here's to truth and time. There were so many photos I could have chosen to represent Justin Bobby, but this one captures the essence of JB. The half ponytail, the nonchalant eyebrow. At that moment the wisest thing he thinks he has ever thought was probably coming out of his mouth.

Pretty sure I should stop googling The Hills pictures at work, so in closing- goodbye les deux, goodbye Audrina staring at random things, goodbye Speidi when you were just a little appalling and not so sad/awkwardly hard-to-watch, goodbye Brody...have fun with your new girlfriend avril lavigne, goodbye Kristen and the way you could never measure up to LC because you were in love with Justin Bobby and Brody Jenner, goodbye Lo "I'm Switzerland" Bosworth, goodbye Ryan Cabbrera's spiky hair-you were never "bad" enough for Audrina, goodbye matching jean vests, goodbye Stephanie Pratt wasting away more with each passing episode (good luck with your purse designing business), goodbye gratituous bikini shots with a top 40 song playing in the background and goodbye all the wonderful, wonderful jokes I made on behalf of this show. I loved you.

Severe anxiety, I have it

Does anyone else have alarm clock neurosis?

I am so terrified of not waking up that I literally have to set two alarms on my phone, two minutes apart, every single night.

Never mind that I am usually awoken by the blind people bus that stops in front of my house every morning, announcing it’s route loudly. Or that sometimes when my fan rustles a piece of paper it violently wakes me up, in a panic that someone has broken in and is now rifling through my magazines with wild abandon.

Last night though it spiraled into scary OCD territory as I realized my phone was nearly out of batteries and my charger was nowhere to be found. I set the two alarms anyway and then proceeded to set the alarm clock in my room. Then I dug out an old alarm clock and set that too, just in case maybe the first one was broken from not using it for so long.

Then I settled into bed. And started realizing that I had no clue if the alarm clocks I had set really worked so I went about testing them all, several times, then resetting them, then double checking it.

I honestly spent half an hour ensuring I would wake up in the morning- It was all so unnecessary, I see that now. And then this morning came…it was like a war between the four most annoying sounds in the world. I was simultaneously awoken by bells, a gentle harp, a shrill beep and mariachi music from the Spanish radio station.

How do you even go about your day when THAT is how you are woken up?

A little reminder

So, lately I have seen overalls popping up here and there on fashion-type blogs. I am being serious when I say this is one trend I can NEVER, ever subscribe to. And to remind myself of that, here is a list of why:

1. I have a picture of myself, on the first day of second grade, wearing the following combination: Green sunflower print overalls, scrunch socks, patchwork quilt Converses (as horrible as you are imagining) and a neon colored backpack. One side of my overalls is unbuckled, telling my classmates that I was much too cool to bother fastening both sides. I should never be allowed to even utter the word ‘fashion’ again.

2. When I was in fourth grade I wore a sassy white pair of overalls to school. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was at lunch contemplating how I was going to avoid grass stains and playground dirt (a. stand by a portable with the cools girls talking about how hot Jonathan Taylor Thomas was or b. play kickball and sneak to the back of the line over and over so I would never actually have to play) when I dropped an entire carton of chocolate milk on my lap. I had to waddle to the office with drippy chocolate milk pants and call my mom, crying hysterically, and ask her to bring me new clothes. Traumatizing.

3. Buried deep in a box at my parent’s house is a photo of me in a dressing room stall wearing overalls with an embroidered Eeyore on them, circa 1999. Next to it is a picture of Ali wearing the same thing. Maybe we were joking, but probably deep inside we actually wanted to own these items of clothing. As I look at that girl, with gigantic eyebrows and white sparkle eyeshadow, I know that to own overalls now would be to unleash that inner 12-year-old. No thanks.

4. A problem I have run into with my recent romper addiction is how unnaturally long my torso is. My solution for this as a young overall-wearing child was to adjust the straps to make them as long as possible. That presented a whole new conundrum because not only did it look stupid, but now I had a gaping patch of skin on the side where my shirt was not long enough. The solution? A bodysuit. Please tell me you remember those. Well, things went from bad to worse when one day in second grade the snaps holding it in place began to come undone as I sat in class. I could see it going very badly, so I casually slipped my hand down to try and fix it. As I struggled, my teacher looked over at me, hand down my pants, and asked if I was okay. Seriously mortifying for a little girl.

I could go on, seriously, but this is dredging up some painful memories. I think I have sufficiently made my point.

bike bike bike

you guys, I have a bike. Dreams are coming true this summer.

It all began when I was at my parents house. I was out in the garage spying on my little brother who was practicing ninja rolls in the front yard*. Just as I was considering how to get him on a reality show, I looked up and there, in the rafters, were two bikes.

These bikes have been in my life since 1987, silently hanging in garages, but never before had they looked so full of promise and joy. Fast-forward, we fixed the tires, cleaned it and now I can awkwardly cruise around Salt Lake like a little bird. A little bird with a sore butt. Who maybe looks really out of shape breathing heavily up small inclines.

Bike!


*Shortly after the ninja roll, I watched him throw a football at a rock only to have it bounce back and hit him in the face. Completely unaware anyone was watching.