What I Wore: Soccer Mom

Ahhh. Monday. I'm home from my girl's trip and it was awesome! We shopped (and broke my shopping fast with a new pair of wedges!) ate a ton of food, talked, did stupid stuff like go to Walmart at 1 am for magazines, and stayed up late. It was exactly what I needed.

But now I'm back into mommy mode.  My daughter plays soccer, and last week I had spent the day running my momma to the airport, running errands, working, and then heading down to the soccer field. Can I just say that soccer is the best invention for kids ever? A couple of years ago we had her in dance and it made me want to poke my eyes out. For one, it was crazy expensive, and for two, I had to sit through four-hour recitals. An hour soccer game is cake compared to that.

And this is what I wore.

Dress: Old Navy

Boyfriend cardi: Local (My Sister's Closet in SF for you local girls)

Earrings: Downeast Basics
Boots: Frye
And lest you think this entire outfit is all solids, the earrings are leopard print. So there. 

I never thought I'd be able to classify myself as a soccer mom, but there you go. I cheer sporadically and check my phone like the best of 'em!

Dresses for soccer games... who knew!?

She's got a practice today. I'm thinking a cocktail dress? KIDDING. If I'm able to talk myself into getting dressed after my Pilates class this morning, I'm calling it a jeans and T-shirt kinda day.  But let it be known. Summer dress + cardigan + belt and boots = happiness.

Freaky Friday

It's Thursday morning and I'm writing Friday's post early because I'm heading away for the weekend with my girlies. I have so much stuff to do still, including finding my camera and having a deep discussion with myself wherein I decide which swimsuit looks best, but I had to squeeze in time to write this post and schedule it for tomorrow... er, today.

Is it weird that I feel like I'm writing from the future? Just so you know, there's flying cars.

Let's do it.

Yeah, I don't care what you're doing or who you are, but these ponchos make anyone look like a stoner. You could be standing in front of a class with your three small children, teaching about the dangers of drugs, and drinking apple juice, and I'll still think you're smoking a joint behind the girl's bathroom on your break.

In the market for a chic lobster bib? This one is a paltry $72! Who says food catchers are just for babies? I'm excited for the creation of adult bottles and scratch mitts.

Sarah sent me these heels, which are made from -- wait for it -- elephant dung. Because, you know, feet usually have such a pleasant odor to begin with.

Also, I think that while disgusting, dung is a much better word than poop. Who's with me?

Yes. This is a very mature fashion blog full of serious fashion.

Anna sent over these ... shorts? My discomfort level right now: High. Not only are these entirely too tight and probably invading places they shouldn't, but they show far too much side-thigh, which I find to be disgusting.

Alisha sent over these bone shoes. As I was thinking about them, I start forming a link between "wearing your heart on your sleeve" and "wearing your bone on your shoe" until I realized that using the word "bone" in a sentence makes me feel gross.

This post is deteriorating by the second.

Aly sent these bad boys, which were recommended to her by ShoeDazzle. I'm pretty sure she didn't specify an obsession with floatation devices as part of her fashion tastes, so it looks like Kim Kardashian got it wrong again. I know, you didn't think it was possible.

This Etsy find was sent to me by Alexandra. Oh, Etsy. Home of terrible fashion with the best descriptions ever. "This shoes is a whimsical portrayal of a faerie land nymph. They'll look perfect while foraging for truffles in the wilderness and casting love spells on that someone special."

Translation: I made this crappy shoe with my glue gun, some pretzels, and stuff I found at Michaels. Can I have $100 now?

Let me guess: You went alone to prom?

(Thanks Colleen!)

FINALLY! Our favorite jumpsuit is back in stock so RUN, don't walk to go look like the fanciest aerobics safari hooker ever!

Elizabeth was devastated, yet strangely empowered when she was diagnosed with a fatal hair tumor. Luckily a photographer was on hand to capture it all. Let's all light a candle for Elizabeth tonight, feeling grateful for our hair health.

 

Ah yes. A holey side-boob shirt that makes a statement. That statement being "I might smell a little."

Alright, I'm off the the races. And by races, I mean spa. I'm only halfway packed and completely unshowered and I'm leaving in precisely 90 minutes. Happy weekend, friends.

I know it'll be happy for me because my shopping diet is officially DONE. Let the binging begiiiiiiin.

Bond Beauty

My husband's family has a cabin about 90 minutes from where we live, and we head up every month or so. Confession time? When I'm at the cabin, I schlump around looking like a total hobo. I wear sweatpants and lounge on the deck reading David Sedaris, skip the makeup and rock the messy bun the entire time I'm up there. And hey, I don't care. It's a cabin, for heaven's sake. No one has to look nice and there's only two mirrors in the entire house.

Here's the problem. There's been times that we're heading down off the mountain and some friends want to meet for dinner or my husband needs to stop by the office, and suddenly unwashed hair and an oily T-zone are not OK anymore. There's been plenty of times where I look and feel crappy, yet I've got to head out into the public without frightening children and small animals.

For this reason, I've developed a way to put myself together in a few minutes, using only a couple of products that I have stashed in my car's glovebox. YES I DO THAT. I also keep receipts, a couple of old pens, and nail polish in my glovebox, just in case.

You know what's missing? Gloves.

But I digress. I thought it would be super helpful if you knew which emergency, spy-esque Bond beauty products I keep handy in case I have to go from hobo to hot in like, 5.2 seconds. OK, maybe not like, Bond-girl hot, but at least natural and presentable to society. Seriously, it takes three products and a bit of maverick hair skills, but it's totally doable.

K first? I grab this super-light foundation. I love this stuff for emergencies because it slathers on quick and evens out skin tone without looking all "done." I'm a diehard mineral makeup girl on a regular basis, but when I don't have my precious Bare Minerals with me, this stuff is perfect. Added bonus? It's thin enough that I can put t on without a mirror if I have to. A lot of times, it's not huge pores or zits that make you look hobo-ish, it's uneven skin tone. Even out and the rest of the stuff is less noticeable. 

I've been using this gel bronzer since I was a teenager - seriously. It's always stashed in my glovebox because it looks totally natural on and takes the place of bronzer and blush when I don't have time or products. You don't need a brush to put it on, which is perfect when I'm workin' with what I got. I just squeeze a tiny amount onto my finger tips and then dab along the tops of my cheekbones and temples to bring some color to my face, which is important when I've spent the weekend napping, eating chips and avoiding exercise. 

Oh yeah, you know I love me some Great Lash. I love my Dior any other day, but I don't just carry it around with me everywhere. That's weird and slightly obsessive. That's why I bought a tube of this inexpensive, perfectly basic mascara. I pull double duty and make it my eyeliner and mascara. I just stick it against the base of my lashes, wiggle to deposit color (ew that sounds gross) and then sweep it on up. Done!

Now, if my hair is totally hopeless after letting it air dry, I go to my old standby and stick it in a diagonal french braid. If you're still working on your self french braiding skills, and you have shoulder-length hair or longer, just tie it up into a low, messy bun. Short hair girls, I would just grab a couple of bobby pins and tie back my bangs when I had shorter strands. Easy! 

Seriously, that's it. These three products have saved me from looking like the queen of the undead when I have to unexpectedly meet up with friends, have been traveling all day, or whatever. Just goes to show that you don't need a ton of products or 30 minutes to primp. When you're running short on time and your makeup bag is nowhere in sight, your Bond products can fix you up.

They can also disguise you as a clever mime to infiltrate a drug ring, but that's a post for another day.

Alright, it's your turn. Have any incognito secrets for perking up fast? 

What I Wore: Spectator Sport

Bat report: After two nights of sleeping on the sofa bed, I can confidently say that the bat either flew out of my room, or is dead in my closet. I am satisfied with either conclusion.

I'm not gonna lie, I wore this outfit because I needed something to match these new shoes. But don't worry, I didn't break my shopping fast. I just made my mom buy them instead. Oh, I'm a crafty one.

Tank: Aeropostale
Top: Charlotte Russe
Skirt: c/o modbod
Shoes: Charlotte Russe
Ring: F21
Bracelet: It's a hairband. lol.
Earrings: Local fair


The shoes remind me of the first pair of heels I bought when I was 16. They were these weird leather sandal thingies with a huge clunky heel that was like, the coolest in 2001. I wore them until they fell apart, so naturally I needed a new pair... 12 years later.


What's that? You want a close up. Oookay, I guess.

 
 I love love love the spectator style in a heel. It's so preppy! I'd be lying if I said I didn't have other spectator pumps, but none of them were brown. And I couldn't say no to a wood heel. And my mom couldn't say no to a carefully worded argument in my favor.

I had to laugh at this. I was taking pics of my daughter, who was all dressed up for a princess tea party. I wonder where she got her mad posing skills??

 

Who, me? Toddlers and Tiaras, here we come!

 

Freaky Friday - NO REALLY

Sorry for the lack of posting around here this week. With friends and family in town, blogging has taken a backseat. Plus I'm tired all the time and I've spent the week eating Canadian snack cakes that my mom brought with her.

So I have the best Freaky Friday story to tell you guys to make up for it. It is actually freaky!

Last night I had been out with my mom and some of our old friends from Canada, and we got home just before 11pm. I kissed the kids and hopped into bed. I'd spent the day walking, so I was totally beat. I fell asleep in like, two seconds. At about midnight, both my husband and I woke up to a weird squeaking sound. It was pouring rain outside, so I thought it was just the fan in our bathroom getting hit with like, hail or something. I told my hubs that it was nothing and to go back to sleep.

Well, the squeaking kept going. Finally, my husband got out of bed and started hunting around the room. We have a little air conditioning unit that we keep in our room because even though we have central air, I'm psychotic about it being cold when I sleep. I saw him stare at the unit for a second, and then announce "There's a bird in here." See, the unit has a hole that vents to the outside, and he figured that the bird had flown into the vent and then somehow into the unit itself.

So, since there is no way to access the inside of the A/C, he went and got a screwdriver and started taking it apart while I hid under the covers. Have I ever mentioned that I'm scared of birds? Well, I just did. I'm SO scared of birds. I don't like erratic movements and they tend to dart around a lot. Plus they have beaks. Beaks are just scary.

Also, my mom let me watch "The Birds" when I was like, a fetus. I feel like I was too young.

Finally, my husband realized that the only way to get the bird out of the AC out would be to turn the unit upside-down and try to shake it out of the little vent holes on the back of the machine. Since he needed my help, I had to leave my safe blanket cocoon to hold the unit upside-down while he shook it. We're pretty technical.

So, I was sitting on the floor, hoisting the AC in the air my my husband started shaking the bird toward the vent holes.

Which is when the BAT flew out.

Now, if I'm afraid of birds, bats make me want to cut my skin off and set it on fire. They are terrifying.

SO naturally, I ran screaming out of the room. Followed closely by my husband. We slammed the door shut and had a short conference in the hallway. It went like this:

Me: What the eff was that!?
Hubs: I think it was a bat.
Me: A BAT!? (Assume fetal position, begin rocking and thumbsucking.)
Hubs: What do we do?
Me: Ummm open the windows! Yes. You will run in there, open the windows and then run out again. I will support you from behind the couch.

My husband decided he would bravely head back into the room and open the windows in the hopes that the bat would fly outside. But he needed protection first. I ran to the mudroom and came up with his leather motorcycle jacket and a broom. Because I always care about fashion like that.

Armed with the broom (WHY is a broom always the first line of defense against bats?) he ran in there like a madman, opened the windows and ran back out again. We stood in the hall for three minutes and hoped it flew out. When we went back in the room, we started searching for the bat, just in case. Then, my husband found it.

Hanging upside-down from our ceiling. Asleep.

Naturally, my husband's inclination was to hit it with the broom. While I waited a safe distance behind the couch in the living room (to be honest, if I could have left the house completely, I totally would have), he swatted at it with the broom. Which is when the bat came flying at his face.

With ninja-like reflexes, my husband managed to panic so badly that he turned to run out of the room, but instead got the broom lodged against the dresser. Which then tripped him. He went face first onto the carpet, while the bat frantically circled around his head. I was hiding behind the couch when he came crawling out with a huge welt on his leg, his leather jacket, and his Buddy Holly hipster glasses a tad askew.

We still had no idea where the bat was. When we went back into the room, we couldn't find the stupid thing. We even went the safe route of putting one of our bar stools on top of the bed. I held it while my husband climbed on top to see if the bat was hiding on top of our closets (I should note that we have a vaulted ceiling in our bedroom. Great for interior design, terrible for bat hunting.) We still couldn't spot it.

So my hubs took the broom and started stabbing at my clothes closet. By now, it was about 1 a.m. and I was tired. Our new plan was to leave the windows open (in 40 degree weather, natch) and go sleep on the couches.  I thought the bat might have flown out, but I was too scared to sleep in our room.

We each downed a Tylenol PM (I WAS HIGH STRUNG OK) and set up camp in the living room.

The best part?

I still have no idea where that bat is. I can only imagine it plans on going on a killing spree when I'm being vulnerable, like getting out of the shower or trying to sneak in an episode of Arrested Development while the kids are sleeping. The windows are still open. My house is freezing cold. I'm excessively tired. And I'm scared of my closet.

So that's my Freaky Friday for today. There is a bat somewhere in my house, plotting my death and wanting to bite my face and I can never sleep in my room again. I swear, if it's chewing on my shoes, I will write a strongly-worded letter to Batman himself.

Batman. You and I are not friends.

Regular Freaky Friday will resume next week, unless I've been turned into a vampire. In which case, I will too busy searching about vampire babies on Yahoo to post bad fashion.

"About three things I was absolutely positive. First, there was a bat in my house. Second, there was part of him — and I didn’t know how potent that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, bats are dirty little rat-birds and I wish they would die."

Actively Bad

So last week I showed you a dressed-up maxi, but here's my version of a dressed-down maxi -- with a hoodie!

I wore this to dinner with my friendsies. We like to call ourselves a "Bunco group" but we kind of suck at it. How does one suck at playing a game of chance? Um, we'd actually have to play in order to be an actual group. Last time we just sat around and ate Chinese food and talked about angry soccer parents and reality TV. Unfortunately, our Bunco will never reach the drama level of "The Real Housewives of OC" which makes me cry into my pillow at night, clearly.

Since I most often end up sprawled on someone's couch eating treats, I look for uber-comfy clothes to wear. This maxi dress is like high class pajamas. To tone down the hippy factor, I added my fanciest hoodie. Oh yeah, that's a thing. A little pattern mixing with the scarf and I was ready to stuff my face with cinnamon bears for the rest of the night

 Maxi dress and hoodie: F21
Scarf: Local boutique
Ring: Charlotte Russe
Watch: Gucci
Flats: Soda (I think.)

 

I officially love the color of the dress that I scored super cheap. It makes it so I don't need to do much in the way of add-ons. I have a really similar one in green too. Oh maxi dress, thanks for making it socially acceptable for me to dress like a hobo. I appreciate it. I'm also glad that my hubs came home just as I was running out the door, because I didn't have a post for today. Thinking ahead guys. Always thinking ahead. Seriously, if you don't have a maxi dress, please get one. It's so much more forgiving than a pair of jeans and it's easier to wear than yoga pants. ONE PIECE, people.

Anyway, our group finally ended up playing one round really late because we had prizes to divvy up. It was our most successful game night EVER. Even though I went home prizeless because I'm actively bad at stuff like that. Other things I'm actively bad at:
-Driving. 

-Controlling my temper.

-Avoiding foods that start with "B" and end in "-ig Mac".

-Keeping my desk clean.

-Finishing bottles of water.

-Removing old receipts and gum wrappers from my purse. 

No one take me to Vegas or a vegan restaurant please. I'll lose my money and leave hungry, in that order.

Alright, I'm off on a crazy day. My crazy mamadukes flies in tonight and there's a baby swing in the guest room. I'd better get on that. 

...also, my mom left me a comment on Friday's post as "anonymous." See if you can guess which one is her. She is shameless.

 

Freaky Friday

My Firefox was acting up today, so this post is coming to you from Internet Explorer. Yeah, I like to party like it's 2001. Sometimes I like to search through AOL.com and use Encarta CD-ROMs too.

OMG, speaking of which, did anyone notice that in the last Twilight movie, Edward used Yahoo to search about vampire babies?

Can we just take a moment to let that sink in.

He used YAHOO to learn about VAMPIRE BABIES.

Me and my brother talked right after he had seen it and we both focused solely on that point. Like, is Edward just learning how to use the Internet? Is his email blood-luvr69yahoo.com? Why is he searching about vampire babies like I search for song lyrics? Why would Yahoo know anything about vampire babies?

The questions are endless.

Anyway, those are the seep thoughts I'm having this Friday. Other stuff I'm pondering:

-How bad is it to eat Chick-Fil-A after getting my yoga on and achieving inner peace? Oh, did I say "inner peace?" I meant "large appetite."
- My mom is coming to town on Monday.  I need to clean my house, muck out the guest room, and hide my switchblades because she will cut you. Seriously. My mom is like, the Incredible Hulk mixed with Bon-Qui-Qui with red hair.

I'm going to get an angry phone call when she sees this.

-I have another gift card. It's totally OK to break my shopping fast if I have a gift card, right?

Other than that, let's get goin' on Freaky Friday.

These are probably the whoriest shoes I've ever posted on this site, which is saying something because I once posted stripper heels with a hamster inside and shoes that had an attached tip jar. Also, does the foot have to be so realistic? Feet are disgusting.

My cousin Stephanie sent me a horrendous jumpsuit, but when I went to look IT WAS SOLD OUT. This is just as bad. This girl is probably 98 lbs. and still is rockin' a front bum.

Colleen sent me this. I can only imagine it's a meeting of "The Sisterhood of the 'Don't You Have an Organic Container Garden?' Pants." Starring a bunch of crunchy lesbians and coming soon to a theatre near you.

I also got this scarf. I've seen T-shirt scarves on Pinterest before and they were really cute, but this is what would happen if I tried to make one myself. Also, dat facial expression! I do the same one when my dog toots and runs away.

Another Pinterest gem from Tracy. The pinner said it was a great way to use up old jeans. Yes. Disembodied legs. SO CUTE RITE? It also had another idea to use them on your deck. It would 100 percent look like zombies were attacking your next BBQ.

Ashley sent me these wonderful clunkers. The first one is called "Burlesque" and the second was like "Sonoma," or something. That has got to be the ugliest wine-themed shoe I have ever seen.

....wait a minute!

Rachel (Hi Rachel!) sent me these lovelies, which look like they need to be stomped to death by me. Seriously, I was stung by a hornet last year and I turned into like, a crazy AMazon jungle woman and then found a milk jug and smashed it to death in a violent rage while my kids watched with their mouths hanging open. These beetle shoes clearly need the same treatment. KILLIT.

Angie sent me these fantastic pants, which make me feel weird about men's room protocol.

Seriously, it baffles me that urinals exist. Like hey, stranger. I'm just gonna go ahead and expose myself out the side of my assymetrical pants here. Nothing to see.

Hey, wanna be a giant d-bag? Walk around talking into your fingers. It's the only thing worse than a Bluetooth in public. Like, I understand Bluetooth in the car. But you DO NOT need one while walking around the drugstore.

Female facial hair. So hot right now.

Alright, I'm going to go load up my mustache glasses and my finger phone and go find a loophole out of my shopping diet for the day. What if I just buy jewelry or makeup? THAT DOESN'T EVEN COUNT.