Monthly Archives: December 2010

Last Days

Before my exciting, arbitrarily fresh new year begins, I’ll just wind up this year by posting some pictures from the final days of December, which have been spent largely with my family and my dogs.  January–tomorrow–will kick off a year of great change, some of which I already know about and some of which I have mere dreams of, but today I’ll just think about 2010 a little more.  Happy New Year*, everyone!

our lights show...two deer/unicorns

...aaand the lights show across the street

first white Christmas in Atlanta in over 100 years

*New Year?  New Year’s?  This problem comes up every time I try to write a blog post on New Year’s Eve.  WTF.  This is exactly why I often state that I am not fluent in English even though it’s my native language.

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Murder Mystery

Last night I headed over to my friend M’s house to meet up with some of my high school friends and acquaintances for a rousing mystery dinner.  M has a tradition of hosting these: apparently I’ve attended another one years ago where I was the murderer, but I have no recollection of it, even though my mom seems to.  M got waylaid by all the snow in New York and figured that she could use the extra days in the ATL to host a dinner party.

I was given my character description the morning of the party.  It included such words as “mysterious,” “bohemian,” and “bring something to munch on.”  I didn’t have anything bohemian, per se, but fortunately, I do have a lot of random crazy clothes around the house.  I sort of went the mystical route instead, which worked out quite nicely for me.  And I showed up with spinach artichoke dip.

I. went. all. out.  Nobody else went quite as out as I did, but I was pretty much expecting that.  Y’all know that I like dressing up, though, so I didn’t mind.  You may even recognize some of these clothes from previous posts on this little blog.

We played The Icicle Twist. (SPOILER ALERT: the murder weapon is an icicle!)  I wasn’t the murderer this time, but I did end up having a pretty sweet ski bum lover and a promising career as a double agent.

Mystical Alicia with Buzzy, the coke-dealing, blackmailing ski bum a.k.a. my almost high school prom date

Flight attendant, Buzzy, Alicia

Director of National Defense enjoys his s'mores

This was really, really fun.  I would like to do more of these at some point when I am in a position to host dinner parties and have a lot of friends over.  Which isn’t right now because things are definitely in flux.

Tea party

Maybe a week ago, I went to high tea at the St. Regis with A.Sals and our two moms.  It seems that whenever we get together, the talk doesn’t stop for hours and hours.  A.Sals and I have come up with some pretty awesome business ideas (è vero, d’oro!) and we, both living with our parents, get the opportunity to shoot the shit while the moms get to talk about mom things.

Tea was cool.  The hotel was pretty swank, and the tea itself was lovely.  The food was strange, diminutive, and entertaining, and the lacking service gave us sort of a common rallying point.  It’s pretty fun to get dressed up, so I was really glad that A.Sals dreamed up this excursion.  Unfortunately, there were no great pictures of me taken, so I can’t show off what I was wearing, even though it’s one of my favorite dresses.  I did get plenty of pictures, however, of the beautiful opalescent interior of the tea room, the plush chairs, and obviously A.Sals herself, who seemed to instinctively dress to match the hotel.

I think that’s it’s pretty important to find excuses to dress up, especially if you feel like you’re stuck in a rut at work or at home, or if you’re at the lowest depths of winter introversion and all you want to do is watch Skins.  I am too good at talking myself out of social interactions in favor of sitting in bed and being boring, and so I tend to make myself some iron-clad appointments so that I’m forced to get out of the house.  I just wish that more of my outings included a fancy dress code.

Merry Christmas!

One of my few Christmas traditions is putting on this one pair of underwear every Christmas morning.  I’ve had the underwear since before I can remember, and by some miracle of metaphysics, it stills fit me.  They live year-round in my drawer, the one possession that I can put my hands on instantly if I need to.

CHEERS has become sort of a joke in my house, so it’s with great [joy/mirth/slight embarrassment] that I pass it on to you.  Merry Christmas, everyone!

Your e-present is an optical palate cleanser, an undo button for your eyes: a more normal holiday picture of me, wearing my gift from Allison and Kevin.

Smile! You’re on candid screencap

More from the It’s Not Just Me; It’s Also You files…a.k.a. my desktop full of screen caps of gchat conversations… No gchatting friend of mine is safe!  Not when I can still command-shift-4!

This week’s theme: proof that I’m not the only crazy person I know.

I’m not actually sure if this first friend reads my blog, so I don’t want to volunteer her name without her knowledge and I tried to blur it out.  (But hello if you do!)

This second one reads better if you think of it as a collaborative poem of sorts.  (I am joking but the last few lines really amuse if taken as such.  Bear with me.)

Dan is winning the contest for most philosophical gchat musings, by the way.  Anyone else wanna step up their games?

All I want for Christmas is for everyone to shut up about their teeth. For real.

It seems like everyone in the blog world is making a wishlist for the Amorphous Holiday Season, and I’m nothing if not a sucker for sparkly peer pressure, so I will too.  Look at my life, look at my choices er…what?

I’ll kick it off with this kickin’ harmonica necklace.  Travel in style, with squeaky music.

This turban, since we all know I’ve had a penchant for eccentric headwear since birth.

Granny glasses.  So antimodish.  So delightfully naff.  I’ve somewhat masochistically wanted glasses ever since childhood.

He who procures me this sweatshirt will not only receive my firstborn, a la Rumplestiltskin, but will also be entitled to all of my beautiful long hair without having to give up his dandy pocket watch, a la O. Henry.

Gjetost.  asdfjkl;fbhlfbfd aaaaugh  SO GOOD.

This harness.

Wedges in anticipation of summer/my upcoming vacation (TBA).

Absinthe + slotted spoon for all tomorrow’s parties.

Given that I had a tutorial this spring that had the unofficial theme of black leather (wish I had more black velvet), I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have a whole section dedicated to wearing on the outside how I feel on the inside.

The picture won’t upload, but this necklace is lovely, given that black is my [non]color of choice.  I would accept anything off this site, really.

Manimal moccasin booties.

Snoozer Loser key blouse.

Lacy men’s t-shirt.

Deep V eco dress.

Black chiffon harem pants (!).  (Again, picture doesn’t load.)

And I would have a conniption if I could have these pants:

Also included in my nifty gifty wishy listy would be: a tiny house on wheels for travel and a tiny Bichon to keep me company on my travels.  A DSLR camera.  Maybe an apartment.  Access to great public transit.  Living in Berlin again in a sunny apartment.  You know, the things [the amount of] money [I have] can’t buy….

Happy Hazy Holidays, Bros and Ladies.

Oh, I can smile about it now, but at the time it was terrible

Snow has come to the Southern lands.  The title of this blog post sums up how I tend to feel about winter weather.  These days, I am really missing the blizzardy Williamstown weather–the kind that means you have to take a few nips out of the ol’ flask before you head off to the library because it’s just that damn cold.  (Was that just me?)  I remember that winter weather at college reduced me to talking to myself.  Mainly I would mutter, “It’s too fucking cold.”  And then I took to abbreviating that: “It’s TFC.  Christ.  God.  T…F…C! Jesus.”  Nobody else found that as amusing as I did when I tried to explain it, so I just stopped trying to explain it.  You had to be there, and you had to be me.

Fast forward a year to me driving across town the other day to get some mid-afternoon snackage at West Egg with A.Sals.  (BTW: Bourbon chocolate milkshakes are okay any time of the year!)  It’s 50 degrees and sunny, the kind of winter weather because of which people move to Atlanta in the first place.  I roll down my windows to get a nice breeze, but that’s not enough, so I put on the air conditioning.  AC.  Short sleeves.  December.

Anyway, I was thrilled to wake up at noon and see that it was snowing.  I miss the nasty winter weather, chiefly because I do not deal with it for half of the year anymore.  I threw on my winter uniform (black on black, fur hat) and headed out to–you guessed it–take some pictures frolicking in the snow.

And of course, I had to photograph the photographer, the dogs, and the proto-suburbia which envelops my postmodern existence.  Chip closes his eyes whenever I take a picture of him recently.  Smart little guy.  I guess he subscribes to the idea that photos steal your soul.