tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12946482429418262292024-03-19T02:10:09.768-07:00of Mice and MinutiaeAlexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-3930610868042207372017-02-24T20:21:00.000-08:002017-02-24T20:21:03.264-08:00StuffocatedOHMYGOD. How has it been almost four years since I've blogged? <br />
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A lot has changed. Well, maybe? It is hard to quantify whether I have had more or less change in the last four years than is typical. I did finish school (so now I am a doctah!) and I did get married to that out-of-this-world, sweet boj-o-mine, Bahb (so now I am misses doctah!).</div>
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See! LOOK! Wedding stuffs!<br />
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But anyhoo, looking through my old posts the changes in myself are a bit more striking...</div>
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I see in my last post I indicated I wanted to live a cleaner, simpler lifestyle, and I actually ran with that. I haven't used shampoo in over three years and I have made all of my own beauty products, toothpaste and laundry soap for a few years now. I freaking love being able to make myself something when I run out instead of having to run to the store, but, DEAR GOD, is it ever a hassle to go through airport security with a baggy of white powder (i.e. baking soda).</div>
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One of the wildly unexpected down sides to this, however, is solely that of my own doing. I LOVE TO SHOP. In fact, I am Alex and I straight up have a goddamn shopping problem. I have spent years getting little twinges of sadness that I don't get to buy adorably packaged body lotions or pricey facial serums with lofty promises of somehow shaving decades off of my face. I shit you not, I would get a quantifiable satisfaction from purchasing an unnecessary beauty indulgence, and without that these past 4 years, I have had to turn to purchasing other things to fill that void.</div>
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Other things, you say? OH, NOT JUST OTHER THINGS. ALL OF THE THINGS. With the once-hallowed halls of Sephora no longer holding anything of use to me, I turned to over-priced, hand-poured, small-batch candles, dresses from obscure designers, leopard print booties (for reals, I have nine different pairs of leopard print booties) and all of the sterling silver rings from local Navajo artisans that my little fingers can handle. I mean, there are other things too, like my obsession with Soleri and utensil-based wind chimes (I have to just hang them around the house at this point, there is just no more room outside) and, not to mention that I have a seeming inability to <i>not</i> purchase a travel coffee container when I happen across one.</div>
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The point is, even though I know <i>why </i>I shop, it doesn't make it easier to stop. And I need to stop. It's not a financial thing (although that isn't terrible motivation!) but rather a piece of mind thing. I feel goddamn suffocated. STUFFOCATED, if you will. </div>
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I am making concerted efforts here to get rid of some items by giving them away, however. A lot of things can go straight to charities, but it is also deeply gratifying to match some of the amazing women in my life with clothes they would love. In fact, I filled up a closet in a spare room with clothes I want to give away to girlfriends the other night, and I shit you not, the clothes broke the bar. I hung up the clothes, snapped a pic to send to the gals to whom I want to give the clothes, closed the door and then heard a loud crash. The bar had broken from the weight of all of the clothes. </div>
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See! </div>
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We hope to eventually give away all of the excess in our lives, and, admittedly, I find myself fantasizing about tiny home living someday with Bahb and the pups. But going from 2000 square feet to 200 will take time. Maybe we will shoot for 1000 square feet first...</div>
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At any rate, there is <i>sort of a point</i>. I want to go from mindless online shopping to very concerted and mindful shopping. You know, only buy something if it is absolutely needed, purchase second hand when possible and do everything in my power to make sure my purchase has as little of a negative impact as possible. I know how unbelievably fortunate I am to have had the means and freedom to purchase these items, but unfortunately, it is becoming increasingly inadmissible that there are steep environmental and human impacts on consumption.</div>
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Maybe I will blog about that, I mean, after all, I need <i>something</i> to do online instead of shopping...</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-26861737938900827762013-07-15T21:43:00.002-07:002013-07-15T21:43:27.806-07:00of Shoes and Ships and Ceiling Wax, of Organic Cabbages and Kings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
So I never post in the summer because it is just too hot and too sunny here in the Phoenix area. There is literally nowhere good to stand where there will be a homogeneous covering of shade to take normal looking pictures, and besides that, it's HOT! All I wear are cutoffs and loose tees everyday, so really, what is there to blog about??</div>
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But I do hope to actually change that a bit. </div>
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I love that this blog has been a great way of recording my life and subsequent style transmogrification (for example, I started this blog with a bleached mohawk, then went from a super cropped black pixie to a bleached bob and now here we are with the bleached pixie). However, no matter how much I enjoy the premise of this blog, it really hasn't been enough to keep me continually posting. </div>
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Enter a new premise...</div>
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Case in point for weird pictures due to desperation for shade... this completely unnatural stance was the byproduct of me trying to completely fit into a slightly large sliver of shade by my front door. Also... THAT'S A BEAR CARVED FROM WOOD! Bahb got him from a friend for me because I've always wanted one!</div>
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<b>Top</b>: Anthropologie</div>
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<b>Shorts</b>: One Teaspoon</div>
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<b>Shoes</b> Salt Water Sandals</div>
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<b>Sunglasses</b>: Ray Bans</div>
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But I digress. This new "premise" I am speaking of is based on a recent health decision of mine. After almost a decade on hormonal birth control, I decided I want to get off it. This decision, however, was not taken lightly. For starters, I've always had problems with my skin, so I can't even imagine how bad things can become once I remove the synthetic hormones. Then, of course, the non-hormonal options are either inconvenient or not reliable enough or super scary to think about. But it's the latter (THE SCARY TYPE) that I will inevitably take the plunge with. </div>
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But enough about that, because before you know it, we will be rapidly entering that awesome... HOLYSHITIDON'TWANTTOKNOWALLOFTHISABOUTYOURCERVIX territory. Anyway, in researching what I should do to ease my body back into estrogen production and make the whole transition as minimally horrific (both for me <i>and</i> for those who have to be around me) as possible, it became clear how much of what I ingest and come in contact with is mildly toxic to natural biological processes.</div>
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Now is the time where I should make it clear I'm not going off on one of those CHEMICALS KILL witch hunt tangents, because, holy shit, that is just asinine; there are bajillions of wonderful, life giving/sustaining/nurturing chemicals out there. The scary stuff is when I realized that a Mario Badescu product I am smearing all over my face contains triethanolamine. I find it hard to believe it is safe for me to get it in my mouth a little bit when I'm rinsing my face off, but when a kid in my lab uses it he puts the hood down and writes "CAUTION" on a bright orange piece of paper. Stuff like that sketches me out.</div>
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So in investigating further all of my beloved products, I've found more and more of those nasty little molecules creeping in. Basically all I've learned from packaged products is that the label is at least 79% (rough estimate) touchy feely propaganda. The governing rules behind labeling something as "natural" grant so much leeway it's incredulous and from this I decided that it may be interesting to try and find out for myself what I should be putting on and in my own body.</div>
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SOOOOO, what I'm getting at here is that I have a goal. I want to document my slow and inevitably bumpy journey into this completely unfamiliar terrain.</div>
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Good bye, my beautiful and extensive assimilation of Mario Badescu and Renee Rouleau products. We had a good run. </div>
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*sniff* </div>
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...go on now... don't make this harder than it needs to be...</div>
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...don't give me those basset hound eyes, Mario Badescu Caviar Night Cream, I said git.</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-38599730011481550522013-04-25T22:44:00.000-07:002013-04-26T11:17:50.141-07:00Chillinois.<div style="text-align: justify;">
My family pretty much all hails from a five mile radius of one another in Illinois. Growing up in Phoenix, my brother and I were always the "odd cousins out" and it's been a slow go getting Bahb to meet everyone.</div>
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SOOOO, when my grandpa's 90th birthday came around and my mom (who lives in Maryland) decided she would go out to Illinois to be with everyone, it sounded like the perfect time to drag that sweet lovin' man of mine out there to meet the whole kit and caboodle.</div>
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The first day we arrived we puttered around Chicago a bit, and it really reinforced my hatred for crowded cities. We both are decidedly spoiled, as even though the Phoenix area is rather large, we were both raised within a mile or two from the edge of town and the start of a seemingly endless expanse of beautiful, open desert.</div>
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Perhaps if we spent more time in Chicago I would have been more enamored with the city, but as it was, we only mustered up the energy to get over to Millennium Park and see that damn bean. But it made for what is easily the best picture of Bahb ever... look at that face!</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">The rain was rather relentless throughout our trek through Chicago, but on the walk back to the car we got blueberry macarons and coffee, and it helped warm our soggy little souls.</span></div>
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About that rain... holy hell. Illinois was a soggy shit show. There was flooding everywhere. I heard on the news that 44 counties declared a state of emergency. During our drive from Chicago on the 80 we saw the extent of damage clearly. Every little town looked just like the last; the tops of street signs sticking out of water, ruined cars that had been long since abandoned littering the streets. Our little destination, LaSalle, was no different. The Illinois River reached record levels and washed into the city further than it ever has before, and Bahb and I were left to marvel in amazement.</div>
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The houses of my aunts and uncles and grandpa and cousins all fared well luckily, save for some slight flooding in the basement, so our trip, along with my Grandpa's birthday celebration commenced as planned.</div>
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Bahb and I had some family activities to attend to, like my Grandpa's birthday dinner, a large family BBQ on Sunday and an all-day all-women (plus one <i>very</i> understanding and patient Bahb) shopping excursion, but besides that, we were mainly left to explore on our own.</div>
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We drove around county roads, getting lost and thrown all around by a wonky GPS. We stopped in little ice cream shops and found a soccer field and soccer ball to entertain ourselves.</div>
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I showed him all of the places from my childhood, like my grandmother's house. My Noni passed away on Christmas this year, and it ached way more than I thought it would to drive by her house and know I can't go inside and that her fabulous chocolate chip cookies aren't sitting there waiting for me. That house always made me happy; that field on the right could occupy me for hours, whether I was just laying and reading or catching fireflies as the sun set. We would always joke that we flew 1500 miles to sit on a porch, because when we would visit we always found ourselves sitting on the porch in rocking chairs for hours. <br />
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But on that day, we just drove by and I took a few pictures.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSjCYuj6bCjyK-MmCyN9R0WSxcPoYBf9MaWEs8S3F0j2b9WFlxzyoy_29HbceHTFWMCkn9bSo-EUUxn8_vygCXWm0EcxJ3A0seQC8eh9qJZh9C5KouLxlhK3RXqICLJrjgBDZcqGKyhVY/s1600/IMG_1493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSjCYuj6bCjyK-MmCyN9R0WSxcPoYBf9MaWEs8S3F0j2b9WFlxzyoy_29HbceHTFWMCkn9bSo-EUUxn8_vygCXWm0EcxJ3A0seQC8eh9qJZh9C5KouLxlhK3RXqICLJrjgBDZcqGKyhVY/s640/IMG_1493.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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We also paid a visit to another place nearby that I have found myself surprisingly fond of over the years, Lock 3 of the I&M (or is it Hennepin...) Canal. That particular area did not fare the deluge well, however. The parking lot was flooded, the water levels were at least twice as high as usual in the canal and the influx of flow had taken its toll on the sidewalks which were, at least partially, washed away in areas. Lock 3 is usually lush and overgrown and has a meandering, paved path that practically begs for it to be leisurely strolled upon. Although the weather had yet to warm up and restore the area to all of its green, leafy glory, we still ambled along the path lazily until we were brought back to reality by the amount of ticks we saw and hurried back to the safety of our economy rental car.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUO5kTpZ2wXQCTXDPg3TckUU59XvWNLLJlxuzWrSFWWGodCF5pWvqgR3xub36EKsJBbIGIzhzEgCOp7mEyPEhAOVkowqAK1NUGfa8tKjBhdJMcuLYA5rsoGu2s98grvNV_c_JBL3rt-g/s1600/IMG_1497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbUO5kTpZ2wXQCTXDPg3TckUU59XvWNLLJlxuzWrSFWWGodCF5pWvqgR3xub36EKsJBbIGIzhzEgCOp7mEyPEhAOVkowqAK1NUGfa8tKjBhdJMcuLYA5rsoGu2s98grvNV_c_JBL3rt-g/s640/IMG_1497.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Another area not even remotely restored to an iota of its potential beauty is Matthiessen State Park. When the leaves fill in, I can't imagine a more striking place. The waterfalls and vines and dense covering of leaves makes it as close to a rainforest as you can get in the middle of goddamn nowhere Illinois. Maybe its due to me being an Arizona kid who sees very little green at any given point in time, but this place is a fucking sanctuary in summer.</div>
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During the tail end of winter, however, it leaves a little bit to be desired. Meh... But we still wandered around and saw some waterfalls. It was oddly reminiscent to hiking in war-torn Poland, at least as near as we could figure. It is <i>remarkable</i> the difference a month will make to this place...</div>
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So Bahb and I had some crummy weather (some snow, quite a bit or rain, temperatures in the 40's), some crummy scenery (dead trees as far as the eye can see and endless amounts of mud), a bit of family drama (as can be expected when seven female relatives are thrust together for five days), an astoundingly low-quality rental car and a GPS possessed by Satan, but I love the time we got to spend together. </div>
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A man who is willing to enter with you into a veritable treasure trove of familial issues and weirdness just to make you happy and get to know your relatives is such a goddamn keeper it's not even funny. </div>
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But next time... we're probably going to pool our resources for a bit longer and head to Spain... :)</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-76376481735632348042013-04-17T01:14:00.000-07:002013-04-17T18:44:13.333-07:00Buen Viaje<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
So after a good six weeks or so of working on my comprehensive every night until I passed out on my keyboard from sheer exhaustion (maybe a bit from boredom too...) only to jolt awake moments later and immediately resume frantically working, they are finally over.</div>
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They went as well as they could have, and I am now an official doctoral candidate and I received my masters in passing, so... sweet! But it was a huge endeavor, not only on my part, but also on Bahb's part. He was there every step of the way to bring me food to the lab or proofread my paper and he was even the only other person in the room besides my committee members when I took the examination. So first off, let's hear it for that guy (he <i>best</i> guy, you see) whose support makes all the difference in the world to me. Second, this whole comprehensive thing, needless to say, really put a cramp in our babby hang out time, so the light at the end of the tunnel for us? A weekend in Mexico on the beach, just the two of us, and Rosie, of course!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUc2edIyx_qJSyIgdodGuTUTYBSiu64ZlFsAWc16fF1Nhlt_HrL8iqToadIBVc0aSwVABY2QRPCmrRmlJGSEKtw1STszL_xEoxLDMZte8Fzoiz7OxP-uSjC5cfryYXJy57qUtS6qJWcNU/s1600/IMG_1231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUc2edIyx_qJSyIgdodGuTUTYBSiu64ZlFsAWc16fF1Nhlt_HrL8iqToadIBVc0aSwVABY2QRPCmrRmlJGSEKtw1STszL_xEoxLDMZte8Fzoiz7OxP-uSjC5cfryYXJy57qUtS6qJWcNU/s640/IMG_1231.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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To say it was a relaxing weekend is an egregious understatement. There was not a single moment of cell reception or use of electronics to speak of. The most high tech aspect of the weekend was our virtually nonstop listening of Billy Joel's smooooooth 80's hits on cassette. I mean... Uptown Girl?? Tell Her About It?? You May Be Right?? It's Still Rock'n Roll To Me?? <i>Come ON.</i></div>
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We played rummy and drank Dos Equis and smoked menthols and ate ridiculously awesome tacos and got massages on the beach and slept 12 hours each night and walked around collecting seashells and had a bon fire and mainly just took naps on the sand under an umbrella. In short... we were really busy guys!</div>
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And Rosie was such a good girl the whole trip. I love that dog, and I am infinitely glad she is in my life, but make no mistake... she's a terrible dog. She will look you dead in the eyes and hate-piss all over the carpet. She will claw at your face at 3 am because she wants "fourth dinner." There have been nights where she would literally not let me sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time. And, given her age and her diminished faculties, there is no real way to discipline her without seeming cruel, because she has zero idea what's going on. It's been a slooooow, rough process but I've more or less learned how to work around her needs to make sure I sleep most nights while making sure she's always my happy little girl.</div>
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BUT... in Mexico that was all different. She never ran off, she slept the entire time we did at night and even politely scratched at the door when she wanted to go potty. What. The. Fuck. </div>
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Bahb and I kind of think it has something to do with her acute awareness of how far from home she was. She knew she had to be a good girl if she wanted to come back with us!</div>
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Oh and she HATED the ocean. HATED it. It was hilarious. <br />
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But we didn't torture her too much with water fun, we mainly just all curled up in the sand and snoozed the afternoon away.<br />
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The trip was beyond wonderful. It was relaxing and rejuvenating and restorative. It fully enabled me to turn off whatever bullshit I ordinarily allow to fester in my mind most days and just be truly present, and slightly drunk, I was always slightly drunk.</div>
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Buen viaje is right.</div>
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<br />Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-59089501995581875382013-04-04T19:02:00.001-07:002013-04-05T22:18:58.266-07:00You KNOW I hate your hats...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
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<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/2479317/?claim=2z6fk278zav">I just re-added Bloglovin and they make me put this "Follow my blog with Bloglovin" thing on my latest post to get them to recognize my blog.</a></div>
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I was told that once by my roommate. For some reason she hates this hat I'm wearing. Whateva, refrigerators gon' refrigerate. That's the saying, right?</div>
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I love this hat simply because it is ever so slightly reminiscent of a cloche, and goddammit, there is nothing I love more than the 1920's. That decade was my shit. In high school I read EVERY PUBLISHED WORD written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I read letters he sent to friends, his largely hit or miss short stories, his literary masterpieces... everything. I could not get enough of the man's tales of the Jazz Age. </div>
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But I have always been drawn to the 1920's. I mean, a girl like me? I can <i>really</i> get behind a decade devoted to short hair and flat chests. Me, my perpetual pixie cut or bob, and my 32As would have been the pinnacle of hotness, I tell you what.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFraZxGbrnTOuShjXs5choVF2PFcXvIAE30KOr6A4ElwIA1_gwtRsuYeJCMtIJfYQr0ekg7dxjFpHBC_tdIzsWYb4KTVlgHZoGtzZUGslnjFuSF831WoiKo_v109ySzKYjibv8n8QXSio/s1600/IMG_1175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFraZxGbrnTOuShjXs5choVF2PFcXvIAE30KOr6A4ElwIA1_gwtRsuYeJCMtIJfYQr0ekg7dxjFpHBC_tdIzsWYb4KTVlgHZoGtzZUGslnjFuSF831WoiKo_v109ySzKYjibv8n8QXSio/s640/IMG_1175.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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In fact, me and the Roarin' Twenties kinda got a weird thing going on. Bahb and I were driving in Mexico once on a long, deserted stretch of highway with sand dunes on either side; there were a few worn billboards, and besides that, little else. After a while of contemplation, I turned to him and said, "I've been here before, but it was in the 1920's." It just came out, it felt right, but seriously, <i>what the hell</i>. Bahb gave me a non-committal response on par with, "that's nice, hun."</div>
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I mean, is there anyone else out there with an unhealthy obsession with a particular decade?! That's normal, right? RIGHT?</div>
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<b>Dress</b>: Dear Creatures</div>
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<b>Sweater</b>: Scrapbook</div>
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<b>Hat</b>: Pins and Needles (Urban Outfitters)</div>
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<b>Purse</b>: Vintage Coach</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Jeffrey Campbell</div>
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Yeah, so anyway, it's starting to look like Rosie is probably going to be popping up into all of these posts from here on out. She is one curious little bean and always wants to know what's going on... and, well, between the deafness and the cataracts, she legitimately needs to get within inches to feel out a situation. Aww, my dear, sweet, geriatric boxer puppy!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx2DRpz27qQcPmuyGHxNBk2trUnT4OJ1wXQuLa96cszShalTQvpxd8AlUXZrpxT5MrRgqdPnhPh9AtIqbIm5nv7euqHlU4RwKciKu3j7ZRdJgd9gBARdrIGL5TglO0wC7CIoNkRPu7lns/s1600/IMG_1189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx2DRpz27qQcPmuyGHxNBk2trUnT4OJ1wXQuLa96cszShalTQvpxd8AlUXZrpxT5MrRgqdPnhPh9AtIqbIm5nv7euqHlU4RwKciKu3j7ZRdJgd9gBARdrIGL5TglO0wC7CIoNkRPu7lns/s640/IMG_1189.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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All of this talk of my 20's fixation makes me want to revisit the Beautiful and the Damned. While there is currently no time leftover for leisurely romps through imaginationland with my friend, Reading, once my comprehensive is over I intend on making much more time for leisurely reading. There is little more depressing than reading research publication after research publication. Where is the whimsy in that?! </div>
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Have wonderful days anyone who may or may not stumble across this.</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-64247094174806244592013-04-02T22:36:00.000-07:002013-04-04T18:20:18.355-07:00Compul-stories. WHAT? What does that title even mean? I'm sleep deprived.<br />
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I guess I am writing stories about studying for my Compulsories. Hence Compul-stories... except they aren't called compulsories, I mean yes, they <i>are</i> compulsory, but, they are called Comprehensives. My mom just insists on referring to them as my compulsories, "how are you're compulsories goin' hon??" she'll ask sweetly, and I'll cringe like a little ingrate at the faux pas. </div>
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My mom is wonderful... my brother used to work at a popular night club called Pussy Cat Lounge and my mother would often ask him how things are going at the Pussy Club. The last time I met up with her and my stepdad for dinner when they were in town she requested we meet at the Big Johnson's Steak House on Main... </div>
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"You mean Bill Johnson's Big Apple?"</div>
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"That's what I said." No, no it wasn't, what you said was definitely more awesome, Mom.</div>
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I love it and her and unintentional sexual undertones.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqzCHSiMwO2b0zzDbzxkg7UXjalcw6MlxUznt0TJ93qYQ9jNIYxDU03zxyp4vbiQqY1s6E999STqMsABymZCeVZXF_bOCO8Hrcmf1ZURtpx2yDfSqCvbDOudLwfhvaviPDdgdhR-NDA8/s1600/IMG_0793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqzCHSiMwO2b0zzDbzxkg7UXjalcw6MlxUznt0TJ93qYQ9jNIYxDU03zxyp4vbiQqY1s6E999STqMsABymZCeVZXF_bOCO8Hrcmf1ZURtpx2yDfSqCvbDOudLwfhvaviPDdgdhR-NDA8/s640/IMG_0793.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Isn't it kind of warm for a get up like that, you may ask...</div>
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And you'd be right, except these were taken (relatively) early in the morning, and it is still lovely and freezing then... the layers come off quickly, I assure you.</div>
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Like so...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsn9rUjlWTFbbcX_J5jyq99kxvHj9xX5FA4K6NlikFmXqYLimJUJlhwwxCvvRKLK1L3rcDXlRnlcShnJ0L9l3P5WOfyY3adO8ghbG4ii0NGnq8ls382psPsGnq9i34Sb7ObEHEUGRcIlQ/s1600/IMG_0787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsn9rUjlWTFbbcX_J5jyq99kxvHj9xX5FA4K6NlikFmXqYLimJUJlhwwxCvvRKLK1L3rcDXlRnlcShnJ0L9l3P5WOfyY3adO8ghbG4ii0NGnq8ls382psPsGnq9i34Sb7ObEHEUGRcIlQ/s640/IMG_0787.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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I still hate taking pictures, so some dumb looking stuff serves as passable with me. Anyway, my compulsories... they have been literally all I've done the month of March. I work on the paper, which is essentially my dissertation prospectus, basically until I fall asleep, then I wake up and go "OH SHIT, I FELL ASLEEP!" and begin working on it again immediately. </div>
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<b>Tank top: </b>Free People</div>
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<b>Cardigan: </b>BDG (Urban Outfitters)</div>
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<b>Pants: </b>Free People</div>
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<b>Scarf: </b>Forever 21</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Jeffrey Campbell</div>
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This has proceeded day in and day out for the last month. It's getting to the point where I have zero enthusiasm. I am an automaton. It's gotten pretty bad, there was even some panic attacks in there... but thankfully I have the most supportive and incredible boyfriend in the world. I'm serious, Bahb, will have earned a PhD just as much as me by the end of this. He has literally been there for me every step of the way these past three years, whether its bringing me Samoas and orchids after I have a really rough week, or leaving the bar to come over and help me when I'm freaking out about my Comprehensive presentation; that kid is goddamn incredible. </div>
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Long story short, after April 10th, the date of my Comprehensive examination, I hope to rejoin the ranks of those who live full lives, filled with a myriad of varying activities! The most exciting decision I get lately is whether to fall asleep reading about the growth kinetics of the microporous materials I'm studying, or the resultant adsorption behavior. Oh man, I'm starting to tense up just thinking about it... I have to go study...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-pCP4fRpnBBCSfT_bApLoZbsGfVfrNTqk4fqt8avLVCfAAZ_ZrNpH6XTCL_jM3vRy00zLwain2TGPddF7K6knq-UHTz7NupuVfeIJDPcFcxqtBhCLo4QbZIn5TaMnid6IWQ3AHemuqk/s1600/IMG_0792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-pCP4fRpnBBCSfT_bApLoZbsGfVfrNTqk4fqt8avLVCfAAZ_ZrNpH6XTCL_jM3vRy00zLwain2TGPddF7K6knq-UHTz7NupuVfeIJDPcFcxqtBhCLo4QbZIn5TaMnid6IWQ3AHemuqk/s640/IMG_0792.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Oh, before I forget, you see that little guy in the left corner?? On November 14, 2012, I adopted a geriatric boxer puppy named Rosie. She is old as shit, basically deaf, partially blind and can't even smell worth a damn, but she is so fucking cute and rambunctious it is unbelievable. More on her later though, this guy has compulsories to study for. </div>
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Have good days anyone who might stumble across this.</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-51208619332962388712012-11-06T15:59:00.001-08:002013-04-04T18:20:18.353-07:00I've been everywhere, man.Crossed the deserts bare, man.<br />
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I've breathed the mountain air, man.</div>
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Of travel I've had my share, man.</div>
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I've been everywhere.</div>
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OK, I haven't been TOO TOO many places over these last few weeks, but I've been pretty busy. My mom was in town and we took trips to Tombstone, Bisbee and Sedona. Then the next weekend Bahb and I went down to Mexico. Between work, school, my mom's visit, my stepbrother's wedding, the trips and Halloween stuff, it's no small wonder I haven't had time to a spare minute to post.</div>
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Not to mention the complete disarray my room and bathroom have been in, oh, and my absolutely abysmal laundry situation...</div>
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Thankfully the cable went out last weekend, so I got to stay home all morning while I waited for the Cox guy (who was basically awesome, by the way) and that gave me a chance to get caught up on some cleaning.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCQjrxXe4Pf3amwoIiG_UnPYzysLYi8l5XEv9DSvelIOTr8W2VKNnfyqW2yzO291T9sdw8vOp2Nv32UBJ1oHF5UPxJwrCMv_K6rHMCY7P48SziMZXYwSugItigy7Gb_l2E-ihjGsjq-M/s1600/IMG_0604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCQjrxXe4Pf3amwoIiG_UnPYzysLYi8l5XEv9DSvelIOTr8W2VKNnfyqW2yzO291T9sdw8vOp2Nv32UBJ1oHF5UPxJwrCMv_K6rHMCY7P48SziMZXYwSugItigy7Gb_l2E-ihjGsjq-M/s640/IMG_0604.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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This outfit is pretty stock, nothing to write home about, just a good running errands/going to the lab type of a thing. Although I probably shouldn't wear it to the lab, because I have a nasty habit of wearing beautiful, blousey tops with gorgeous drape to the lab and they inevitably get ruined because, well, the lab is filthy dirty. OK, it's not filthy dirty, but if you rub up against the wrong counter top, believe you me, that'll be the end of whatever unfortunate article of clothing took the hit.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLsBNI7crFndbD4Azhm0cpdXS5sytEPLIwIfCnIUFVUmrXGlRrg1jUZsZ_5X-mmkIP1RoJMW-sUzqCLdCE_sfyNJA8HJFf_Kvi9QWh8y27XjVDeD7YiWbKec_4VVQp1IJfzE6vr5kBBQ/s1600/IMG_0605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKLsBNI7crFndbD4Azhm0cpdXS5sytEPLIwIfCnIUFVUmrXGlRrg1jUZsZ_5X-mmkIP1RoJMW-sUzqCLdCE_sfyNJA8HJFf_Kvi9QWh8y27XjVDeD7YiWbKec_4VVQp1IJfzE6vr5kBBQ/s640/IMG_0605.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Top: </b>Free People</div>
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<b>Jeans:</b> J Brand</div>
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<b>Shoes: </b>Ecote (Urban Outfitters)</div>
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<b>Necklace</b>: This incredible shop in Bisbee, AZ<br />
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I wanted to do a closer up picture to show the new necklace I got in Bisbee when I went with my mom, and the result is the derped out picture you see below. But anyway. the necklace was from this little jewelry shop with the most exquisite assortment of beads I've ever seen. The shop's owner, and creator of all of the jewelry, was quite literally the raddest little old lady I've ever seen, too. She was dressed ADORABLY, had the most insanely cute white pixie cut, and was in a convent, the star of a long running Broadway production and posed for Playboy all before 30.</div>
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I could have listened to her for hours. She had the most mind-blowing collection of beads I've ever seen. "This necklace is constructed from beads found in the Fertile Crescent that date back to 2000 B.C...." and "this collection of coiled beads was constructed from wiring removed from the wrecked remains of the Titanic." OK, while those might be <i>slight</i> exaggerations, that was still the gist. My mouth was agape most of the time while she was showing me her work and explaining its origin.</div>
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The necklace I am wearing is made of 1920's cobalt glass star beads, and I am completely enamored with the thought of the modern, darling shape of the puffy stars being made generations prior. </div>
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I have a ton of pictures from my past month's adventures, and I may put them on here still, but there is one that I can't help but share immediately. The picture below of me and Bahb was taken at an After-Halloween costume party we went to this past weekend...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjIa-Z-dYlSOF78p-6tnDWchh7ySChXMFI9u65VC-sS7_or79aZlu355hiHZ9mQ8d1R2IEB13nyKfPm5D4rJ8Hnz6h5haLZ1p_wdFgK7h3_5C9klTEPmfn7El55IfGBuopbcfNIdyg_Y/s1600/IMG_0592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjIa-Z-dYlSOF78p-6tnDWchh7ySChXMFI9u65VC-sS7_or79aZlu355hiHZ9mQ8d1R2IEB13nyKfPm5D4rJ8Hnz6h5haLZ1p_wdFgK7h3_5C9klTEPmfn7El55IfGBuopbcfNIdyg_Y/s640/IMG_0592.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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We're Ninja and Yo-landi Vi$$er from Die Antwoord. Bahb even shaved his head like Ninja's, which turned out fantastic. </div>
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After we left the house, we stopped by the QT down the street because we needed gas and beer, and when I walked into the convenience store some kids yelled "Hey Blondie! You look like Yo-Landi Vi$$er!" and asked to take a picture with me. It was fucking awesome to have complete strangers pick up what we were putting down. Also, check out those sweet gold shoes. I was wondering where I'd get gold shoes when Bahb suggested we get a haggard pair from Goodwill and spray paint them gold. It was GENIUS. And now we're kind of on a spray paint things gold kick...</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-55576895199671972822012-10-17T22:50:00.000-07:002013-04-04T18:20:35.551-07:00I'm just tellin' you tings.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Wait... Oh Gurl. Is that- </div>
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Uhhh, yeah, yeah it is. It's another Dear Creatures creation. This one was purchased via eBay for $30. Weee! I did mention that I've gone off the deep end with this Dear Creatures shit, right?</div>
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So, anyway, I have only had this this little frock of perfection for a week, and it has already been through the ringer...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvqhx4qZEoHc6G0lP9si9swRFkI9bydRhKLnlu0fTbZdigW6KBDryYR_MsYMqYKu8KbkMZYPaA4kvsDiU5D93wJ8ydNKxQLZt24rEQ3cjPQAYDd3GRDQGLaIxd4EHIXXNT1LcAzUNy_4/s1600/DSC_78451.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvqhx4qZEoHc6G0lP9si9swRFkI9bydRhKLnlu0fTbZdigW6KBDryYR_MsYMqYKu8KbkMZYPaA4kvsDiU5D93wJ8ydNKxQLZt24rEQ3cjPQAYDd3GRDQGLaIxd4EHIXXNT1LcAzUNy_4/s640/DSC_78451.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It's a small, and I usually can't do smalls because I'm built like Justin Beiber from the waist up (make NO mistake, from the waist down I am ALL J.Lo, it feels weird to reference J.Lo past 2005... Also, I'm sure my dump is nowhere near as spectacular, but I'm just trying to convey I done got me something back there, this is a long parenthetic sentence, I literally did not know parenthetic was a word, I just typed it and it didn't have squigglies and looked it up, and that shit was spot on, now I'm just being a dick and typing to type, sorry), but the measurements said the waist was 24 inches, so I figured it would be fitted enough. Well, the dress arrived, and it is just everything I could hope for in a dress, the cut, detailing, quality, colors... <i>everything</i>! Then I go and try it on... and it's... it's... <i>HUGE.</i></div>
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I mean, beyond just a little roomy, this dress was incredulously large. If I stood still in the dress, I could stand there with the dress not touching any portion of my body from the shoulders down. That's how large it was. This was, needless to say, a pretty big let down. Then I got myself one of them ideas...</div>
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I'll wash it in hot water and then throw it in the dryer!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRx1qhL8pPGE4-28oU64jbEiCPDL1LJz365xm_fmsezGkCPT6jiXYAMqCU7gLLNYwqD6BHgGkZ-K2VgsxiXGBD3uEjZ62OLUPfNHSoJZJbbKifroyKLco85SZoRN4Kv5engwJZ24xCKiA/s1600/DSC_78531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRx1qhL8pPGE4-28oU64jbEiCPDL1LJz365xm_fmsezGkCPT6jiXYAMqCU7gLLNYwqD6BHgGkZ-K2VgsxiXGBD3uEjZ62OLUPfNHSoJZJbbKifroyKLco85SZoRN4Kv5engwJZ24xCKiA/s640/DSC_78531.jpg" width="410" /></a></div>
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<b>Dress</b>: Dear Creatures</div>
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<b>Sweater</b>: Random Ross find from like 2006</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Jeffrey Campbell</div>
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<b>Purse</b>: DKNY</div>
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It really did resemble a pile of throw up when I opened the dryer, what with all the tan and subtle bits of green here and there, but it did the trick, the dress shrunk to almost perfect!</div>
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Following a really strenuous ironing... we were good to go! Weeee, again! <br />
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I wore it to Tour de Fat the very next day. For those of you not familiar with Tour de Fat, it's a good fucking time. It's a Fat Tire beer festival that is heavily bike themed. There is this huge bike parade that Bahb and I took part in this year, and a lot of people deck out their bikes as well as themselves in just ridiculous costumes. It's a lot of dudes with handlebar mustaches wearing Speedos basically.</div>
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Anyway, it was hot as hell that day and I did my share of drinking, so this dress took a beating. It got every beer flavor I enjoyed doused on it, it got some lovely grass stains and, my favorite, I dropped a beer in my purse (ruining my phone, but that matters far less) and it caused the black leather to bleed all over the side of my lovely, newly fitted Dear Creatures.</div>
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Then I got another one of them ideas...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPvMmue03Uf_sNcYgSP_wVNgso3-VnqlMXQxEW-ytDptHl-x0ZtWoX63hSc47_bUdBiDRSgILP8MWtn-z1P-1x3h6F0vDEx0PL7WPn1IhV3CjLTotbOWmf04W49qvLGteeqQHQJ3KxWw/s1600/DSC_7860dfg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDPvMmue03Uf_sNcYgSP_wVNgso3-VnqlMXQxEW-ytDptHl-x0ZtWoX63hSc47_bUdBiDRSgILP8MWtn-z1P-1x3h6F0vDEx0PL7WPn1IhV3CjLTotbOWmf04W49qvLGteeqQHQJ3KxWw/s640/DSC_7860dfg.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And I washed it just as I did before, and it looked almost good as new! I tell you what, this dress took a licking and kept on ticking. </div>
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I feel strange typing so much about a single dress, but to be fair, I am just always around guys. Between work and the lab and school, I have so precious few opportunities to just spew nonsense about clothes, so when I do, I go to town; the <i>entire</i> history of the dress needs delved into and discussed. It's kind of like those days when I would stay home sick or something and wouldn't interact with any humans until that evening when I'd see Bahb and I would just start to tell him every last fucking thought I thought that day, and he so politely goes "uh huh, oh, really? uh huh, that's neat..." </div>
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So every now and then when I start rambling and going on and on because I get so happy to see him and I feel need to share <i>every</i>thing with him, and he'll just go "you tellin' me tings, huh??" and I get the hint. I don't by any means stop talking though. I talk a lot you see. A lot a lot.</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-12882853746469194742012-10-14T00:01:00.000-07:002013-04-04T18:20:52.316-07:00A Farewell to Bean...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
I was not going to post anything about this because I generally feel the less negativity I emit out into the ether, the better... but then I realized how disingenuous it would be to omit something that I am going through for fear of seeming unpleasant.</div>
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As any of my bloggy buddies might know, I have spent the last six years being mama to the two most remarkable boxer puppies in the whole wide world, Gertie and Tonka Truck.</div>
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They have been there for me through some painful and strange experiences associated with a tumultuous time in my life. They wiggled with me happily as I moved into a lovely home and got an amazing first job out of college and they were always there to lick away my tears (mainly because they are salty and yummy, but also to comfort me) as I attempted to find my bearings living on my own, going back to school and enduring some rough break ups. </div>
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Without any question, no matter what I was going through, those beans were there, lickin' and cuddlin' their mama. They were, and are, so much more than just dogs to me. Those little wiggle-butts were the first pets I ever had, and I was shocked at how much they understood and could convey despite all that "being different species" nonsense. </div>
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And although having joint custody was hard, knowing I was never more than a week or so away from seeing those big brown eyes and darling, saggy-cheeked smiles made it all okay. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifk-9ixikVZPJCsTp2vv6wG2aT4ve00EfN90WrPPEc_o2iomr0zVTeyJKLZDDe09pdw58oY1reD4qid2czjps27TSKV4_pfD8i8AyGvCNGbasIdLaMjPhCu8xwIn6IVie6e7FoBmwqdlw/s1600/427821_10101815914340001_1244756537_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifk-9ixikVZPJCsTp2vv6wG2aT4ve00EfN90WrPPEc_o2iomr0zVTeyJKLZDDe09pdw58oY1reD4qid2czjps27TSKV4_pfD8i8AyGvCNGbasIdLaMjPhCu8xwIn6IVie6e7FoBmwqdlw/s640/427821_10101815914340001_1244756537_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I can't describe the pure, unadulterated bliss I would feel when I would stop by to pick them up for the weekend. Those car rides with the evening sun making them look extra fuzzy and darling, the <i>HUGE</i> smiles they would have on their faces because they were so happy to see me again. I am tearing up thinking about how they would want to be close to me so bad, that it was often very difficult to shift, and I'd roll down the windows while we were on the main roads so they'd be distracted and I could focus, but as we got to the tiny roads by my house I would let them come back and have at me, because having boxer puppies sitting on you and licking you while driving is always better than <i>not</i> having boxer puppies sitting on you and licking you while driving. <i>DUH.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKxdKRoziRy43tQfGpUMvBSvBrCD8FzdoTS5qmLVEleg-fD6rVFDtJdgOBQ0Xc0jpU52xNj_Kt9tlDpmjfo7KYEzfre-PZyVgAbf1Xd1H3vLzzQ1lFZqXqJL4p7r7rhPrZfVwPbqjYcI/s1600/185294_10101815915817041_118951465_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKxdKRoziRy43tQfGpUMvBSvBrCD8FzdoTS5qmLVEleg-fD6rVFDtJdgOBQ0Xc0jpU52xNj_Kt9tlDpmjfo7KYEzfre-PZyVgAbf1Xd1H3vLzzQ1lFZqXqJL4p7r7rhPrZfVwPbqjYcI/s640/185294_10101815915817041_118951465_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And now is the part that I am still unsure of how to convey. I really don't know how to express how this ended without sounding bitter. I guess I can't. I got fucked over.</div>
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I got the text a little over a month ago, a spineless text, from the guy I bought and cared for them with, saying I was no longer welcome in their lives. As annoying as it may sound, it really was the cruelest thing anyone had ever done to me. I still have a hard time rectifying the thought process behind the only person in the world who truly understands just how precious those dogs are deciding that I have no right to see them anymore.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuU6cIByz6dxccBhBI3z6izWXSXNnb0FVDhO6JrvzllyVLCiRILKA6Od7M-ueap3AyDj3Sw9o0ZvpCZsLxT1wqqmKOKrc-jnbTVuwFpkTDqd70S5aUCV_U8oFfH6MhDd0wPTd_KWTGjYc/s1600/10282_10101815915342991_1818284832_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuU6cIByz6dxccBhBI3z6izWXSXNnb0FVDhO6JrvzllyVLCiRILKA6Od7M-ueap3AyDj3Sw9o0ZvpCZsLxT1wqqmKOKrc-jnbTVuwFpkTDqd70S5aUCV_U8oFfH6MhDd0wPTd_KWTGjYc/s640/10282_10101815915342991_1818284832_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And that was that. I just have to accept his decision. It's so hard to accept though. Those dogs were just as much mine. Even if you look at it from a crude financial point of view, I literally purchased my sweet little boy. Not to mention pup check ups over the years, and the times they lived with me full-time.</div>
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But there is nothing I can really do except be thankful for the six years I did get to have with them. I still find myself bringing up Trude and Tonk stories all the time. It feels weird, like it is keeping me from moving on, but they are remarkable puppies who do a lot of funny fucking shit... so there's a good chance that those bean stories aren't going anywhere any time soon.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKSTdd8BL4Pxigd-Sr2Nlf3tthuFh0PSR4-IzdstRlYVqwaMd5ZRS8F8C1L6lr9o3869WdpYtM6UESIZorLC1ucgfYv9mNynTgi1zNOhxBBGZq-uZ0nUVYPtB5-Ly1FMSeNxHITL6gWsQ/s1600/397255_10101815916176321_1983934042_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKSTdd8BL4Pxigd-Sr2Nlf3tthuFh0PSR4-IzdstRlYVqwaMd5ZRS8F8C1L6lr9o3869WdpYtM6UESIZorLC1ucgfYv9mNynTgi1zNOhxBBGZq-uZ0nUVYPtB5-Ly1FMSeNxHITL6gWsQ/s640/397255_10101815916176321_1983934042_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I was allowed one final weekend with those two, which is where the photos in this post came from. It was a wonderful weekend, we had a lot of cuddles, a lazy day and an adventuresome day, but it over far too soon. No amount of time would have been enough, though. On the car ride to drop them off for the last time I was crying pretty hard and Tonka came across the bench seat of my truck, sat his little bean ass down right next to mine and put his head on my shoulder. I can still feel that darling little boy's breath on my neck and see those huge brown eyes that were filled with such concern over why mama was so sad. It kills me to think of him wondering why mama never came back to get him after that night. "It's not that I don't want to, buddy," I'd tell him if I could.</div>
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Because I do... every last stinking bit of me wants to stop by and just check to make sure they're happy and safe and have plenty of treats and tennis balls to play with.</div>
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But I won't, because while I don't agree with the decision, I, for some reason, feel compelled to go along with it. Those dogs were a huge part of me, and they always will be, and when I'm ready I hope to have many many more boxer puppies. There will never be another Gertie, or another Tonka Truck, but that doesn't mean there won't be other, just as amazing, baby beans. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN5AGwns8KxHD6aYpwsc4TzIPxwDfBtrpJdsOpGCSW7x7Yg_MO66-1q9_OpxHv0wb6KZmDO5_yUY-XdMepjHVks9qlUfRnzvugKETb12GeCUziWYmOsKWGCMxJ__hukliNo4A2fejKw4Y/s1600/552162_10101815915427821_1129584639_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN5AGwns8KxHD6aYpwsc4TzIPxwDfBtrpJdsOpGCSW7x7Yg_MO66-1q9_OpxHv0wb6KZmDO5_yUY-XdMepjHVks9qlUfRnzvugKETb12GeCUziWYmOsKWGCMxJ__hukliNo4A2fejKw4Y/s640/552162_10101815915427821_1129584639_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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As far as I know, they are healthy and happy, living and wiggling around just a mile or so up the street. For that I am so glad. And as I wake up each morning, all I can do is imagine them as they always were; a fussy, sleepy little Tonk hiding under the covers trying to be left alone to sleep, and a sunny, happy little Gertie jumping up and down, wiggling with all of her might, screaming with every fiber of her doggy being "HEY! HEY YOU! IT'S A NEW DAY!!!!"</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-32665503411390219642012-10-09T13:23:00.001-07:002012-10-09T17:45:05.959-07:00Ain't Nobody Got Time for That<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Full disclosure here: these pictures are from yesterday. Today I am home sick... blech...</div>
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So this is basically as close to lab appropriate as I get. I have on pants and closed-toed shoes... we're good to go! I am so used to having to first change into pants or put leggings under my dresses or switch out my adorable strappy shoes for a pair of beat oxfords I keep constantly at school, that it was very strange to be able to walk right into the lab!</div>
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Fashion and function so very rarely collide for me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4V4Ir0cpIPLwMPOYIBaOf3YUpiMww_YcpCNwnzFuy_wV_EQR76BD-GVMj4OoUUPHCHdoK_uEUMCsOUDY2aAmscidiNLQhJ4AM11dlOSTPel5qH7g3oDKUcBQRHSt_ZsPTTMd_zL4xAdI/s1600/DSC_78111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4V4Ir0cpIPLwMPOYIBaOf3YUpiMww_YcpCNwnzFuy_wV_EQR76BD-GVMj4OoUUPHCHdoK_uEUMCsOUDY2aAmscidiNLQhJ4AM11dlOSTPel5qH7g3oDKUcBQRHSt_ZsPTTMd_zL4xAdI/s640/DSC_78111.jpg" width="416" /></a></div>
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So although fall in Phoenix isn't like the fall some of you lucky gals are enjoying, I'm still fully interested in pretending, and found myself looking up yummy soup recipes during some down time at school yesterday. I found a tomato soup recipe on <a href="http://delightfully-tacky.com/">Delightfully Tacky</a> that sounded doable as well as delicious and that was, uhhh, that. I was sold. The rest of my day was spent dreaming of soup makin'.</div>
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As soon as I got home from school I dragged my roommate to the grocery store and we began. Two hours later (counting grocery shopping and driving time, the soup itself took like 20 minutes) we were happy as two bugs in a rug eating our amazing tomato soup and watching the new Bridezillas.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXfoZl2QeibilXY-ptlPCJ941hyua6CDKcth1sD7amvvG3PikRSKnlk00TmtxDvbLO3O1_QFCMg73iADi1shD8tbYEYNQrBtpLZAZzz7hpkL5_8ejfJ0ahcSY9Al0eEQ0-CA61732Z1o/s1600/DSC_78121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXfoZl2QeibilXY-ptlPCJ941hyua6CDKcth1sD7amvvG3PikRSKnlk00TmtxDvbLO3O1_QFCMg73iADi1shD8tbYEYNQrBtpLZAZzz7hpkL5_8ejfJ0ahcSY9Al0eEQ0-CA61732Z1o/s640/DSC_78121.jpg" width="374" /></a></div>
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<b>Chiffony Tank Top</b>: Collective Concepts</div>
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<b>Jeans</b>: BDG (Urban Outfitters)</div>
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<b>Socks</b>: I just have no idea at this point...</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Dolce Vita<br />
<b>Sunglasses</b>: Ray Bans<br />
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That evening, after I had dropped some of the soup off at Bahb's, I started to feel a little sick. I was getting a little nauseous and started to get that feeling like I'd been beaten with a bat all over and even though I had a ton of reading to do for school, I laid down and immediately fell asleep.</div>
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At 4:30 a.m. I woke up to go to work, but my nausea had only gotten worse, and I was running a fever. So it was back to bed I went... although, who the fuck am I kidding, it was 4:30 a.m., it wasn't going to take much to get me back in bed.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFOThNYD8daO8C3PwdqtmKV1zJqdlGl6_bWDIXJta7UfgL842QaS-65LSEgLHi3rBkLbYuYeptPDiv95Quewo2fplgyyo45IYd5yrrGyialh8kXJjHZlCzET4-HLKqMTmAccBD3apu8A/s1600/DSC_78131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFOThNYD8daO8C3PwdqtmKV1zJqdlGl6_bWDIXJta7UfgL842QaS-65LSEgLHi3rBkLbYuYeptPDiv95Quewo2fplgyyo45IYd5yrrGyialh8kXJjHZlCzET4-HLKqMTmAccBD3apu8A/s640/DSC_78131.jpg" width="410" /></a></div>
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So here I am, laying under a whole bunch of blankies, feeling an enormous amount of guilt for not being at work or school!<br />
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On an unrelated note, I was just on the phone with my dad, and I was telling him how I'd made tomato soup last night, and without skipping a beat he said "That's great, Al, you finally learned how to use the can opener!" Haha, oh Dad...<br />
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Anyway, I really do need to try to stay awake and do some school work. Have great days anyone who sees this!Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-18208842206360661182012-10-04T14:39:00.004-07:002012-10-09T17:44:41.569-07:00Dear Creatures Feature: Part I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Oh my GOODNESS, where the hell have I been? How did I let the Dear Creatures train pass on by for so long? </div>
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I mean, <i>my word...</i></div>
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I very infrequently find myself admiring the quality of the clothes I own, which is mainly due to my love of Free People and Urban Outfitters (great styles, simply abysmal quality), but I am seriously smitten here.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1bc7o-WS9xCsgT_Ofdo-wFFEK5tWkBbsLzMqlJyqBBFwzfTXBKnJkYuE7YY4rHwwuwTXNNL5Sa9o0GIPP9jTQ2HRbBVzFIOgOY8QQitcxflbJ2xMMzasi8CEmE-74RTE5FZqG5hDduI/s1600/DSC_77641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1bc7o-WS9xCsgT_Ofdo-wFFEK5tWkBbsLzMqlJyqBBFwzfTXBKnJkYuE7YY4rHwwuwTXNNL5Sa9o0GIPP9jTQ2HRbBVzFIOgOY8QQitcxflbJ2xMMzasi8CEmE-74RTE5FZqG5hDduI/s640/DSC_77641.jpg" width="406" /></a></div>
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I bought my first Dear Creatures dress this past month to wear for my birthday from Modcloth, which I will at some point wear again and put on here I'm sure, and from there it just snowballed.</div>
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If only the Dear Creatures phase would've kicked in when mama was still making it rain as a full-time workin' gal! Because as it is? I have to resort to scouring the internet for sales and markdowns. Take this romper, I bought this romper off eBay for $18! <i>$18</i>! </div>
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The pattern is so precious, the detailing so perfect and it's wonderfully constructed. This is not a piece of clothing that I need to be ginger with. This is one rough and tumble romper! </div>
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But seriously? A romper off eBay? That's a serious risk. Especially for me and my elongated torso. To illustrate this let me mention that my boyfriend and I are almost the same height when we are seated, which isn't exceptional in and of itself, until I mention that he is a full 11 inches taller than me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoN98LCd07jZwIThavSknvZPzloA8j_wsq2Xyjgrt-jpaKUIQuqqfBNDe9I44VAjGlUGCjFMaP2o1oQQ1Gk3fAf6XXCjPwGrWM5fDTFEeO9wEmSaXgDoB4k0TfBH18-gSWup6R61fWngk/s1600/DSC_7755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoN98LCd07jZwIThavSknvZPzloA8j_wsq2Xyjgrt-jpaKUIQuqqfBNDe9I44VAjGlUGCjFMaP2o1oQQ1Gk3fAf6XXCjPwGrWM5fDTFEeO9wEmSaXgDoB4k0TfBH18-gSWup6R61fWngk/s640/DSC_7755.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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<b>Romper</b>: Dear Creatures</div>
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<b>Jacket</b>: Target</div>
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<b>Hat</b>: Free People</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Frye</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_ZJF1f-BV95PzI0wi9qH3EJBhE4V3AqIjFkzZmF95JrmXCCAT9qSovDWXBwkarbwOgKJ_70Jd5TqzaYppZPq8NjP_vSGXput4ssH61qLW1QJ_TGaFAEhvTNdd_eOT1kh8cnt2VORp6Y/s1600/DSC_7749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_ZJF1f-BV95PzI0wi9qH3EJBhE4V3AqIjFkzZmF95JrmXCCAT9qSovDWXBwkarbwOgKJ_70Jd5TqzaYppZPq8NjP_vSGXput4ssH61qLW1QJ_TGaFAEhvTNdd_eOT1kh8cnt2VORp6Y/s640/DSC_7749.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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It seems so trivial now, but when I couldn't wear cute one piece swimsuits or track uniforms, or when I'd get sent home in high school when my stomach inevitably showed because the Abercrombie shirts I lived in all through the early 2000's were just <i>not</i> designed to fit my body, my torso length really bothered me. </div>
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When I was growing up there always seemed to be something bothering me about my body. I spent my tween years praying to develop, hoping every summer that I'd be able to come back to school with a shiny new pair of boobs in August. That lasted until high school when it occurred to me that I love not having to wear bras and then I started to fixate on how I'd look so much better if only my inseam were an inch or two longer to even me out a bit.</div>
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I am realizing that now, as I type this, that I am in no way insecure about my long torso and short legs anymore. I don't know whether it comes with being busy and not having time to pick apart my body, or if it comes with the shifting paradigm of priorities associated with adulthood, or if it comes with just growing into one's own skin. It might be a mix of the three, but it never hurts to realize you are so much more than your outward appearance (says the girl who blogs what she wears everyday). </div>
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Take away point? I need every Dear Creatures creation ever. EVER.</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-34255310765139222632012-10-03T01:34:00.001-07:002012-10-09T17:45:20.684-07:00Captain's Blog, Stardate 9522.1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
So it really does appear that I am more or less incapable of creating a post that <i>doesn't</i> have a cringe-inducing, over-the-top, corny-as-fuck title. It's kind of my "thing." </div>
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Anyway, so this last year I didn't really post on here. At all. I mean I was, and still am, really really stupidly busy. Like really busy. Like a "SHIT! RUN HOME! CHANGE! GO TO LAB! RUN HOME! EAT! SHIT! GO BACK TO LAB! RUN HOME! CHANGE! GO TO WORK! RUN HOME! GRAB KETCHUP! BRING IT TO BAHB'S FOR SAUSAGES!" kind of busy, so it was only natural that this fell by the wayside. </div>
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And that's fine, because while blogging is a thing, it's certainly not the be all and end all of things. It's a great outlet and such, but I pretty much wrote it off as a thing I tried that didn't really "take." However, as time passed, I was surprised to the extent I found myself wishing I had kept on top of it, if for no other reason than having a living document of what I've done and where I've been. </div>
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I don't keep journals. Every attempt at keeping a journal has started and ended the same way. I see an adorable journal/notebook/writing tablet of sorts at the store and go "OH! you know what, I should keep a journal!" so I buy it and begin writing in it... write away (I can't stop with the puns). But that only lasts a matter of days and before long I lose it, along with my interest. </div>
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This blog doesn't seem like that for me. I mean, yes, it was this shiny new thing at one point, but upon looking back at it, it still makes me happy and I do wish it were a bit fuller. So frequently I have a habit of getting ahead of myself, I plan and worry and fret and I am constantly either living in the burden of the past or being horrified by the inherent uncertainty of the future.</div>
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<b>Dress</b>: Funktional (Nasty Gal)</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Ecote (Urban Outfitters)</div>
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<b>Necklace</b>: Hannah Makes Things (Modcloth)</div>
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<b>Bangle</b>: I got it at Dillard's forever ago</div>
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<b>Bag</b>: Gift from my mom</div>
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<b>Sunglasses</b>: Ray Bans</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yDMaoU0MaMAno5X5AG__Xr9O4kY0As4DYGZ9jL8hb8vx7Rfc4m_9m_lSK7jrjGXpoGEhjfIaBHXWuBKNccdg7OsGnNyxXoDFrLnysc2NXfet1uflvqCP5CZcOxeoaXTzfZSzzemaRXE/s1600/DSC_77291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1yDMaoU0MaMAno5X5AG__Xr9O4kY0As4DYGZ9jL8hb8vx7Rfc4m_9m_lSK7jrjGXpoGEhjfIaBHXWuBKNccdg7OsGnNyxXoDFrLnysc2NXfet1uflvqCP5CZcOxeoaXTzfZSzzemaRXE/s640/DSC_77291.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This blog really does help me extricate myself from useless worry and allows me to actually exist in the here and now.</div>
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With that said, I do understand that blogging is realistically the first on the chopping block when things get harried. So in looking through all of the blogs I have followed over the years, I understand why some of those bloggers I developed interwebs relationships with haven't posted in a year or why they deleted their blogs altogether, but it still makes me a little sad. </div>
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I guess I learned through trial and error that there are some things in life that won't allow you to just pick up right where you left off. It makes me feel kind of shitty for quitting blogging cold turkey and not at least keeping up with those wonderful ladies while I had a chance. </div>
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Fortunately there are still a whole shit ton of the amazing gals I used to follow who are still posting out into the ether, and I am so glad to be able to follow those blogs again (like <a href="http://spinning-threads.blogspot.com/">Claire</a>, who was probably my very first blog friend and the incomparable <a href="http://andthisispeak.com/">Lydia</a> and the darling <a href="http://thisandthatmostlycats.blogspot.com/">Kimi</a> and, of course, <a href="http://tinfoiltiaras.blogspot.com/">Emily</a> and <a href="http://sartorialsidelines.com/">Erin</a> and at least a half dozen others). So really? I'm just being drama. </div>
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Whatevs, I'm just feeling my feel feels. Basically, this is yet another annoying "Alex learned some shit" post but at least my dress is perfection. <br />
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Seriously, I eyed that thing for the better part of the year, visiting it at Nasty Gal often. Watching, waiting. For that beautiful markdown. When at long last it came, I sold some clothes on eBay to negate the cost, and long story short, I, uhhhhh, got me some dress. </div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-57539893425125045042012-10-01T17:12:00.001-07:002012-10-01T23:27:20.510-07:00The Solstice with the MostessI'm a little late... but... FALL! It's FALL!<br />
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The best season ever. <br />
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Since I've spent the last 26 years living in the greater Phoenix metropolitan area I have basically never had a good and proper fall. It's sad to admit, but leaves don't even change colors here until well into January, when it is finally cold enough. So even though I say I love fall, I basically love the <i>idea </i>of fall.<br />
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Seriously though. It's an obsession. I love everything fall. The sights, the smells, the tastes...<br />
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As I type this I am burning a Cashmere Woods candle by Glade (oh my GOD, it smells delicious) and sipping on the Republic of Tea's Pumpkin Ginger Spice black tea from my orange hued owl mug. Even though the air conditioning is running, we are in FULL FALL MODE over here, people.<br />
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My love of the season extends to clothing as well. The burnt hues and mustards! I can't... I just... there are no words for how much I love autumnal hues. This outfit made my day so much more fall friendly. Despite the temperatures being in the low 100's, I was <i>convinced</i> that every breeze had a subtle tinge of chilly attached to it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL392zZgiXYZksXKM46so1QjIglqWh0w6plEz4EYkHV52IsjTahdwxO6W6tyq6o2OsNwFob9h2vb0cSHRTYdC2Wf_H5qoTrSl87HqVhKBq1InZUwGqkYbkRm8JhgS1jyru2gjuXfWsLE4/s1600/DSC_7658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL392zZgiXYZksXKM46so1QjIglqWh0w6plEz4EYkHV52IsjTahdwxO6W6tyq6o2OsNwFob9h2vb0cSHRTYdC2Wf_H5qoTrSl87HqVhKBq1InZUwGqkYbkRm8JhgS1jyru2gjuXfWsLE4/s640/DSC_7658.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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<b>Blouse</b>: Tucker for Target</div>
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<b>Skirt</b>: Tracy Feith for Target</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: MIA</div>
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<b>Bag</b>: Vintage Dooney & Bourke</div>
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<b>Sunglasses</b>: Ray Ban</div>
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<b>Earrings</b>: Electric Ladyland</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-u31_FmD_HCZrttQRcaAXwgVy7fFRr__JfftPehLYCEZKSBg5AgkdySUDqSht_X9L3LWGHYiFgT-1UkgfBI5kAWNb7X-Q9UzlQf7-BuwNnIuk6Y6BviTukqYwerN2qbgL4Jrf3CYXy0/s1600/DSC_7679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-u31_FmD_HCZrttQRcaAXwgVy7fFRr__JfftPehLYCEZKSBg5AgkdySUDqSht_X9L3LWGHYiFgT-1UkgfBI5kAWNb7X-Q9UzlQf7-BuwNnIuk6Y6BviTukqYwerN2qbgL4Jrf3CYXy0/s640/DSC_7679.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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There is just an excitement attached to fall, perhaps it is the barrage of occasions. Starting with school starting and my birthday and continuing on through Thanksgiving, there seems to always be something to be excited about during fall. </div>
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And boy howdy does fall go by quickly...</div>
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Between school and work and midterms and blah and blah and blah, I really need to be on top of things to get the most out of the season. The last two years in a row I haven't been able to carve pumpkins or dress up for Halloween with Bahb because I had stupid projects and tests, so this year I'm determined to keep shit under control so I can have time to indulge in all of the trappings of autumn.</div>
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Even if I have to keep the damn air conditioning down extra low to make sweaters and hot tea bearable, I will be doing that. Because it's fall, weather (HA! a pun!) the Phoenix metropolitan area chooses to behave accordingly or not. </div>
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Am I alone in this fixation?! Fall is freaking fantastic, right?!</div>
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Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-64979733365059083092012-09-27T20:45:00.001-07:002012-09-30T15:05:11.139-07:00My Doppler Shift<div style="text-align: justify;">
This dress always elicits the most confusing observations from men. I know that black and white vertical stripes are a lot for the eye to take in, but seriously guys? It's not <i>THAT</i> out there. For instance, take today...</div>
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I was walking to the bathroom in the ERC (the engineering building where my lab is located) and a man with a very heavy accent murmured something in my general direction. He had a smile on his face, so I assumed he wanted me to hear whatever he said....</div>
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<i>"eesdatyoursldfkjsdlfkjsdlfkjsdlfkjslkdfjs?"</i></div>
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<i>"Excuse me?"</i></div>
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<i>"Is that your sdflkjsldfkjslkdfjslkdf?"</i></div>
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<i>"HUH?"</i></div>
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<i>"IS THAT YOUR DOPPLER EFFECT COSTUME?"</i></div>
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<i>*awkward laugh* </i><i>"I guess so! uhhh... bye!" *quickly scurries off*</i></div>
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For how brief of an exchange it was, it was way more awkward than it should have been. While I will concede that I have a tendency to be super awkward when bombarded with unplanned human interactions, the problem was more that it served to underscore the fact that so much of who I am sticks out like a sore thumb around all of the other engineering grad students.</div>
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I mean, I have had people straight up ask me "are you lost?! I always see you walking around the ERC, are you looking for something?" <i>JEEEEZ.</i> You <i>always </i>see me walking around the buildings relegated for engineering research and study and you can't allot me the benefit of the doubt that, <i>oh, I don't know</i>, I know full well where I am and I have actual reason to be there? </div>
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So while this guy was probably just being congenial and making a super nerdy joke about the busyness of the starkly contrasted, thin, vertical stripes on my dress, it struck a nerve. </div>
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<b>Dress</b>: KNT by Kova (Urban Outfitters)</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Lovely People</div>
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<b>Awesome Watch</b>: Casio</div>
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<b>Scarf</b>: Goodwill</div>
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Also, you know when you think of the perfect rebuttal long after the moment has passed? Like three minutes later I had completely moved on mentally when BAM...</div>
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<i>"ACTUALLY... this is my Doppler SHIFT!" </i>popped into my head.</div>
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AHHHHH! That was it. THE PERFECT RESPONSE. And I missed it. Although, to be fair, technically this dress is not a shift because it has sleeves, and there's a good chance (A REALLY GOOD CHANCE) that the dude would have had no idea that a shift is also a type of dress...</div>
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Whatever, I am still MASTER of puns.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-oFRwgS9dP2v5JyroL9fqgKKN46fpXRnT-pmjFABAfwpOJAj0gc3FzVzlbjBUPn_-Gy8Xd_XnshnPG00XhTCLvd8DshSwu-efmPFYb7GuJnlwCThX9Af8ohjcJNoVMqac3L8ObIeeE3k/s1600/DSC_76481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-oFRwgS9dP2v5JyroL9fqgKKN46fpXRnT-pmjFABAfwpOJAj0gc3FzVzlbjBUPn_-Gy8Xd_XnshnPG00XhTCLvd8DshSwu-efmPFYb7GuJnlwCThX9Af8ohjcJNoVMqac3L8ObIeeE3k/s400/DSC_76481.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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On an unrelated note, these shoes are wonderful. Just wonderful. Every time I look down at my feet, which, to be honest, is pretty damn often when I have these shoes on, I think of those awesome long balloons that you can make roses and creatures and hats out of. One time a complete stranger told me my shoes reminded her of the same thing (<i>"you know! like the ones that they make balloon animals out of?!"</i>) and, in that moment, we were one. She <i>GETS </i>me.</div>
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Anyway, I'm goofy as fuck and wear weird things. I decided a good while ago that life is too goddamn short to waste a single second worrying about what assumptions people will make about you based on your appearance. As a mere mortal I do have moments where I feel insecure about the stark contrast between me and my constituency, but then I look down at my sweet ass shoes that look like they are made from those long balloons and I completely forget what I was thinking about and skip off happily. </div>
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It helps to be easily distracted. </div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-78994069953857160962012-09-14T18:39:00.000-07:002012-09-30T15:05:27.576-07:00Back in the Saddle<span style="text-align: justify;">So the other day after a random, fateful Google image search, I saw a picture of me from this blog and went "Oh, SHIT! I forgot about that thing!" So OF COURSE I took a few minutes and went back through all my old posts with increasing nostalgia... as I went further and further back it dawned on me that I started this blog over two years ago. </span><br />
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I know that in the scheme of things, like the universal time frame and such, two years is a mere pittance, an inconceivably inconsequential amount of time, but for me, these last two years and some odd change have been characterized by a marked amount of transition.</div>
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It seems that eternal polarization is a constant for me. When I started this blog I was completely put-together and self-sufficient, but mentally I was just a mess... now, as a 3rd year PhD student, I am pretty unsure of where rent is going to come from every month, but I am slowly but surely learning how to just chill the fuck out about it and enjoy what I have going.
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I was worried that my 26th birthday would send me into the same spiraling sinkhole that the big 2-5 did, but such was not the case at all. I turned 26 last week and my birthday was every bit a wonderful, low-key, happy day. I found myself strangely proud of my age (like the natural passage of time has anything in the least to do with me, my word, the EGO on this one), and the more easygoing acceptance I slowly began working to foster within myself this year. The stupid, suffocating, self-imposed expectations I have put on myself over the years had really begun taking their toll, and that kind of stress and self-loathing is so inconceivably detrimental and unnecessary that it became painfully obvious that I needed to change something.</div>
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I have to accept that grad school means I won't have the control I had when I was a full-time workin' gal. That's all. Grad school means less money, not less life. I have often referred to grad school as a sort of prelude to a legitimate, adult life. I found myself thinking asinine thoughts like, "I can't wait to graduate so my life can begin," but what the hell is the point in that? There is no waiting for life to begin, it is an evolution of circumstances and situations, some well without the realm of our control, and I need to just live it and enjoy it. To toil away waiting for life to begin is as futile as it is wasteful. </div>
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Anyway, boring, winding, unfocused and long story short, in this last year I really feel I've gotten a little more outside of myself. In revisiting my blog posts this past week I was reminded of how much I love having a chronicle of such a dynamic and random time in my life. I regret not blogging since January. If I would've blogged since January I'd have documentation of one of the more interesting years of my adult life. If for no other reason than I will have an awesome archive of a hugely transitive time, I am hopefully going to get back in the saddle here. OH! Horse pun 'cause I'm wearing a horsey shirt! That has post title written ALL OVER IT...</div>
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Seriously though, with my boyfriend, my partner in crime and adventure, I did some incredibly uncharacteristic things this year, and I couldn't be happier. I am so thankful that I have someone like Bahb in my life, because left to my own devices, I wouldn't do a damn thing that was slightly outside of the very rigid confines of my comfort zone. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmEAPrXlbeahDPJWH6KzNG7GQ8GvNE4SgDBSEZdbutan7r58X2T27_cg-hs-PjW6cglECcWaP2icFk6-CEcFAKngDZ_YI-0cp0-KXrQTaE9uNtOBH8Mfu0zLj09B8V7CCAnE1bOAFhIA/s1600/DSC_7557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmEAPrXlbeahDPJWH6KzNG7GQ8GvNE4SgDBSEZdbutan7r58X2T27_cg-hs-PjW6cglECcWaP2icFk6-CEcFAKngDZ_YI-0cp0-KXrQTaE9uNtOBH8Mfu0zLj09B8V7CCAnE1bOAFhIA/s640/DSC_7557.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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<b>Awesome Horse Tank Top</b>: Free People</div>
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<b>Less Awesome Horseless Tank Top</b>: Forever 21</div>
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<b>Skirt</b>: Francesca's (a birthday gift from the wonderful Erica!)</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Dolce Vita</div>
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Speaking of the eternal juxtaposition in which I exist, I would love to say that I also opened myself up to new things stylistically this year, but the truth is that no matter how compulsive and neurotic and paranoid I can be, I always dress and style myself with reckless abandon. Case in point, I decided I needed a change, so this year I decided to go back to ULTRABLONDE! SQUEEEEE! I more or less destroyed my hair's very will to live with all of the processing that was needed to eradicate all of the black dye I put in my hair in the spring of 2011... but I prefer to just call all of that extra damage added texture.</div>
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So here I am, blogging again after a few unceremonious and short-lived comebacks... it makes me feel a little fraudulent, but there we go again with all of the pressures I put on myself for no real reason. And, to be fair, one of the bigger reasons I didn't blog this past year is because I haven't had a reliable camera. After barreling through two different point and shoots, my photography fanatic father very sweetly gave me his spare DSLR last month. Needless to say, bumbling around with that camera and figuring out how in God's name it works is high on my Blogging To Do List.</div>
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Anyway, that was my requisite, angsty, mid-twenties, corny coming-of-age post, I promise those will be kept to a minimum...</div>
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Have great days anyone who sees this!</div>
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Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-61896306783448897102012-01-03T15:48:00.000-08:002012-09-28T13:54:55.168-07:00I forgot...whatta nuisance taking these pictures can be!<br />
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I really am only posting these because...<br />
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1. They have my beautiful boxer puppies in them<br />
2. LOOK WHAT I'M WEARING ON JANUARY 3RD!<br />
3. If I don't I'm sure I'll fall into a blogging oblivion once again... <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w-lPyOinBaQ/TwOQvg2UeJI/AAAAAAAAAks/SqHP7G3azKA/s1600/DSCF4095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w-lPyOinBaQ/TwOQvg2UeJI/AAAAAAAAAks/SqHP7G3azKA/s640/DSCF4095.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Yeah, it's almost 5 p.m. on January 3rd and this is what I am wearing. Arizona might be an absolute shit show in many regards, but can you beat this weather?!</div>
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Sure, we are probably the most boycotted state of all time, and perhaps people are specifically refusing to hand out auto loans to anyone living in Arizona (I heard allll about this from a frustrated colleague today), but shiiiiiiit son... look at that sky! It's gorgeous out! I was just driving with the windows down with my puppies with the biggest shit eating grin on my face. It's just weather that makes you happy inside and out!</div>
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I mean is anyone else enjoying filmy little open-backed dresses sans tights and a jacket today?! I hope so! </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5wMCDYxXFDQ/TwOQt3pRE9I/AAAAAAAAAkk/DBYUyVaudlY/s1600/DSCF4092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5wMCDYxXFDQ/TwOQt3pRE9I/AAAAAAAAAkk/DBYUyVaudlY/s640/DSCF4092.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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One little, two little, three little bean asses, well two bean asses and a mama ass. But I mean really, how in God's name does someone forget how to take a damn picture effectively in only five months? Holy rusty!</div>
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<b>Dress</b>: Reformed by the Reformation (Urban Outfitters)</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Dolce Vita</div>
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<b>Sunglasses</b>: Ray Bans</div>
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<b>Bracelets</b>: Mexico and Goodwill</div>
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As I look at this photo I know, unequivocally, that my ass had to have been just <i>completely</i> exposed to anyone on the other side of me. Eeeesh. This is one of the shortest dresses I own, so I guess I should have assumed that would be the case. </div>
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Really, this post wasn't necessary, but I need to get some momentum here...</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-9622324281878640502012-01-02T11:58:00.000-08:002012-09-28T13:51:58.778-07:00save the llama for your mama...I excel at bad puns...<br />
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So you know when a dear old friend texts and you see it and go "awww!" and you mean to text back but then you get a phone call or somehow otherwise distracted. Then you remember it later but you get distracted again because you have quinoa burning on the stove, and then like a week later you remember you never texted back and you want to text back right then but you're in pretty heavy traffic. Then months pass and you just feel like a piece of shit and you want to text back but you feel so much time has passed it would be insulting to text back, and it slowly and painfully gnaws at you...</div>
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Anyone with me on that?</div>
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Well that is what blogging turned into for me... and you eventually just have to man up and text back, or man up and blog, rather.</div>
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I feel that since this is conceivably the last New Year's for which we will make resolutions, since the hysteria surrounding that 2012 bullshit may just lead to the downfall of mankind, I should actually make and carry out some myself. That includes less fucking around.</div>
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You know when you are just so overwhelmed with things to do and you are spread so thin that instead of rolling up your sleeves and getting down to business you just shut down? That's what I've been doing these last five months... just been operating on autopilot. I haven't been giving anything in my life 100%, which is a shame. My New Year's resolution is essential to stop fucking around. <br />
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That's pretty reasonable, right? Anyone else got some pretty awesome and super vague resolutions?</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bBMKB--X84A/TwIJWwqz7YI/AAAAAAAAAkI/IAzuwUzUg_k/s1600/DSCF4064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bBMKB--X84A/TwIJWwqz7YI/AAAAAAAAAkI/IAzuwUzUg_k/s640/DSCF4064.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Sweater</b>: Madewell</div>
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<b>Skirt</b>: Urban Renewal (Urban Outfitters)</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Swedish Hasbeens</div>
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<b>Sunglasses</b>: Ray Bans (Prescription! Thanks Bahb!)</div>
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Oh, I just realized that the title is even <i>WITTIER</i> than I originally thought! I know what you're thinking, "<i>WITTIER </i>than replacing one word with another word that rhymes in a pretty popular saying?! <i>IMPOSSIBLE</i>!" Well, it is, it really is because... DRUMROLL PLEASE... my mama actually bought me this llama sweater at Madewell in Annapolis! </div>
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Anyway, Happy New Year's everyone and seriously... how the hell have you guys been?!</div>
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Here's to less fucking around :o)Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-75964424859284534752011-07-06T15:48:00.000-07:002012-09-29T17:43:24.234-07:00Sup.<div style="text-align: justify;">
Please read the above "Sup" with a distinct masculine bravado and, might I add, it also helps to imagine I'm grimacing and giving a head nod as I say it. And of course, it is not so much a question as a salutation. Hence the period in lieu of a question mark.</div>
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Anyway, it's been a while. I suck.</div>
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I blame the heat... well the heat and how unbelievably busy I've been. Between work and research and studying for the PhD qualifying exam (i.e. THE hardest test I will ever take in my life. Period.) I have kind of shut down on extraneous activities. If I have free time I chill, hard. But I missed blogging.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMH3haKMTsn0byiSFFf4mGnvSzQlJmSvxwr1L6pYWD3rqAZF_jnXACwNI7unHPjmpGkPAvT3f2dz2d5YR5hyphenhyphen4OPHzXO5XmELBBPXmChwWSHqq421kJDb6AYMRh71e57CqqrrQ3nsices8/s1600/DSCF3505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMH3haKMTsn0byiSFFf4mGnvSzQlJmSvxwr1L6pYWD3rqAZF_jnXACwNI7unHPjmpGkPAvT3f2dz2d5YR5hyphenhyphen4OPHzXO5XmELBBPXmChwWSHqq421kJDb6AYMRh71e57CqqrrQ3nsices8/s640/DSCF3505.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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It's strange now because it is so ungodly bright that I really have no homogeneously shady spot in my backyard to take pictures. If I'm fully returning to bloggin', Imma hafta figure this sun thing out.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBp0gY7J9GDLFTYI9MIxIpgMBPuTzSe0eaOCsQ20q372SbcoJIWrbTFp-xCBTvG-23vaSBajhL8sMJJhpF3cXLDLB5dwnLtm90nMA3HNq49dNQiNHhy2KUo7O4v0-bBqu1Ah2FlBhW-8/s1600/DSCF3504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfBp0gY7J9GDLFTYI9MIxIpgMBPuTzSe0eaOCsQ20q372SbcoJIWrbTFp-xCBTvG-23vaSBajhL8sMJJhpF3cXLDLB5dwnLtm90nMA3HNq49dNQiNHhy2KUo7O4v0-bBqu1Ah2FlBhW-8/s640/DSCF3504.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Dress</b>: Urban Outfitters (Cope)</div>
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<b>Bag</b>: Lucky Brand</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Nicole</div>
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<b>Necklaces</b>: one is from an Indian Reservation at the Utah/Arizona border and I made the other two</div>
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<b>Bracelets</b>: I got one in Venice Beach and the other I made</div>
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<b>Sunglasses</b>: Forever 21 </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1QLHu_jmwoce4bJw749afYWLJq0ua0hwZNguA6dk5EKMuSpjYC0S2eu_rr8JCgGQDgEIlRT971p_vKIBp3kfPLrQ_Yc-pANnrWwBgDKeZ7B_fx82vEMC0BLXBgewJDi9C863Cj5tZOg/s1600/DSCF3507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC1QLHu_jmwoce4bJw749afYWLJq0ua0hwZNguA6dk5EKMuSpjYC0S2eu_rr8JCgGQDgEIlRT971p_vKIBp3kfPLrQ_Yc-pANnrWwBgDKeZ7B_fx82vEMC0BLXBgewJDi9C863Cj5tZOg/s640/DSCF3507.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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How was everyone's 4th of July? Back to that whole "shutting down completely" thing I mentioned above, that's totally how my long weekend went... it was nothing but pool parties and going out to the bars and relaxing with Bahb.</div>
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Speaking of Bahb... please see my Bahb-let below. I made it! Seriously, the best investment of my life had to be this bag of alphabet beads. I now have bracelets that read... Ahem...</div>
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BITCH TITS</div>
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TRUDE N TONK</div>
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BOX LUV</div>
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and of course, BAHB</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEI_S9NQSMwKj8KKJWJhRJzU3NecNB3c3-FlH3X0PZUunVkpZ4LTkBeoohd_QtT6zJ6kXF9ImLlc41zucAvCMqug04UsCKr7GhOwj67JNDdyK6sq8Sc-bCrzq4BYQoPwFxs024PjnbH0/s1600/DSCF3519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEI_S9NQSMwKj8KKJWJhRJzU3NecNB3c3-FlH3X0PZUunVkpZ4LTkBeoohd_QtT6zJ6kXF9ImLlc41zucAvCMqug04UsCKr7GhOwj67JNDdyK6sq8Sc-bCrzq4BYQoPwFxs024PjnbH0/s640/DSCF3519.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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I also made Bahb a bracelet that says RAZ (a Raz-let, if you will) and gave Bahb's roommate a rainbow colored bracelet that says BAHB. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-Pa1_jdIX_Uogk8Q9xuOKXW3_HfTsCuIUSk6ssPQvRQBhEYcmnCvCNRQstpJdlweXRgXRZPzDwZFeFQ1zqDfcdGkotcZywzZ6e9kXD6iZOv6Edz4DaE_FSst_1QSVPveMtHATUFuRHY/s1600/DSCF3521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR-Pa1_jdIX_Uogk8Q9xuOKXW3_HfTsCuIUSk6ssPQvRQBhEYcmnCvCNRQstpJdlweXRgXRZPzDwZFeFQ1zqDfcdGkotcZywzZ6e9kXD6iZOv6Edz4DaE_FSst_1QSVPveMtHATUFuRHY/s640/DSCF3521.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Anyway, a thousand apologies for sucking at blogging. I have missed you guys and I especially thank <a href="http://littlewitches-tinywizards.blogspot.com/">Dimi</a> for her understated, yet genius, suggestion to just blog when I feel like it... </div>
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Seriously, that's such a great idea, it felt like a responsibility for a while there and there is really no point in that. This should be an enjoyable outlet, not a chore. So blogging when I feel like it is then!</div>
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How has everyone's summers been?! </div>
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Have great days anyone who sees this!</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-16624564770209085282011-06-08T09:49:00.000-07:002012-09-30T15:03:56.711-07:00Oh no! Mi Ojos!Yesterday was a red letter poopy day for my eyes!<br />
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First... I left my samples in the oven for what would be a run involving five different cycles of ramping to various temperatures and holding for various amounts of time that would add up to around 40 hours total... needless to say I programmed the oven and left. Well, I returned the next day to check on it and it said POWER FAILURE across the screen, so I go "Oh no! My samples!" and open the oven only to find my face greeted with 1300 degrees Celsius of blazing heat. HOOOOOLY crap. There is no way to adequately describe the awesomeness of that kind of heat assaulting you from 6 inches away.</div>
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My eyes still kind of hurt and my vision was blurry and watery for awhile... I am horrified there might be permanent damage, but Bahb assured me the same thing happened to him plenty when he used to fire his own pottery (have I ever bragged about his pottery?! It's beautiful and he gives me some from time to time!).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5t33ACiKKAnEb2b6XQa6R72WXhXpS00_YXoAdVx1T0ygrBleaXSDT458lzPVsUyVmfCfJljKX3VP5z3qGK6ZjH3TDtuIIklSUdVfxLL88z8DdoDg5pqoStBeWsVEjZrlrdXPeBrGttg/s1600/DSCF2891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV5t33ACiKKAnEb2b6XQa6R72WXhXpS00_YXoAdVx1T0ygrBleaXSDT458lzPVsUyVmfCfJljKX3VP5z3qGK6ZjH3TDtuIIklSUdVfxLL88z8DdoDg5pqoStBeWsVEjZrlrdXPeBrGttg/s640/DSCF2891.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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THEN! Then I noticed I didn't have my glasses in my purse and I remembered I was struggling to put them back in their case at the checkout at Target when I was buying a sun tea jar (I just HAD to have sun tea, didn't I?!). Since the sun tea jar was too big to carry with one hand, I guess I didn't notice in my fumblings that my glasses didn't make it into my purse. </div>
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By the time I noticed they were missing they were long gone. Even though they were prescription, they were still Ray Ban Wayfarers and the lady at Target broke it down for me when she said "look, many people have lost Ray Bans here, but none have ever made it to the lost and found."</div>
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People these days! I need those to SEEEEEE!</div>
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<b>Button Up</b>: H&M</div>
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<b>Dress</b>: Urban Outfitters (Nom de Plume)</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Jeffrey Campbells</div>
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<b>Bangles</b>: Forever 21</div>
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I need to rush off to get my hair cut and dyed right now. I am trying to grow it out, but I just want to cut it short so much. It will be an epic battle to see how long I hold out before I have an ultra-pixie again. </div>
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Also, I need to go get some glasses today! My old ones look terrible and make me dizzy. I'm kind of tearing up thinking about my old glasses, they were with me through a lot. They were tear-stained for months after a really bad break-up, but they were also cutely misshapen from falling asleep (in jamroom, duh!) countless happy, snuggly times with Bahb after watching marathon amounts of To Catch a Predator or The Office. Good or bad, they were my key to understanding and interacting with my world and I never would have imagined my connection with them would be this profound.</div>
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I'm literally tearing up! I mean, really? Who cries over lost glasses? It's like they were my security blankie... my reassuring comfort that no matter how random and strange my new "adult" life might become they would always be there and I would always look out from behind them unchanged. </div>
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As I sit here, squinting at the computer screen trying to see what I'm typing, I implore you, go hug and kiss your glasses, tell them how much you appreciate them.</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-61353591925982863312011-06-07T08:10:00.000-07:002012-09-29T17:44:43.322-07:00If you grew up with holes in your zapatos...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
I am still being a bad blogger... it was so easy to get out of the habit of blogging and now I'm finding it's almost impossible to get back into it...</div>
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So the wonderful Dimi at <a href="http://littlewitches-tinywizards.blogspot.com/">Little Witches/Tiny Wizards</a> so graciously bestowed upon me the Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award, and I definitely need to do a post about that asap!</div>
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But today me and my messy lookin' hair need to be real quick.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ7QPZPa3fv3_XI3mLrRRBLNQlhfsXPb_M8d5LjloO17R983-sik75O4Jt9tihZBwmPnKyrNr39O0zjor1EQDgNFKCW-vGUOslvcfhjgy2v7UpfHg4WlGxior_231z5LTjdUsnVTSCrF0/s1600/DSCF3497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ7QPZPa3fv3_XI3mLrRRBLNQlhfsXPb_M8d5LjloO17R983-sik75O4Jt9tihZBwmPnKyrNr39O0zjor1EQDgNFKCW-vGUOslvcfhjgy2v7UpfHg4WlGxior_231z5LTjdUsnVTSCrF0/s640/DSCF3497.JPG" width="402" /></a></div>
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I'm meeting an old friend of mine who moved away for college years and years ago for frozen yogurt and a stroll around Tempe Town Lake tonight, which is why I referenced a Jay-Z song from the early 2000's. We listened to so much bad music together back in the day that it now makes me basically bubble forth with nostalgia when I happen to hear it again.</div>
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Like Taking Back Sunday? Like The Used? Yup, and even like Cam'ron's "Hey Ma" and Paperboy's "Ditty" and Nappy Roots' "Aw Naw." Awesome.</div>
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And of course Jay-Z's "99 Problems." And I actually have two prominent (peep-toe) holes in my zapatos today.</div>
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We were <i>so </i>cool driving around in my 30 year old Mercedes singing along with all of these mainstream rap songs while we drove to Wendy's for lunch or as we rushed off to Superstition Springs Mall as soon as school got out.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4F6WdSYZd-Bc-zropM6i9GxkrjkEKtev204iDxm1QlEpkdNd2iSP4e-PTE1uUB_DEaErYmH53BHNU5sSqj4VIZRZ3uxlhO9JRI7LL3YnU-4h1btY2rNP6-WBoJDy-a_Q-m6Kq6K0pWE/s1600/DSCF3498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4F6WdSYZd-Bc-zropM6i9GxkrjkEKtev204iDxm1QlEpkdNd2iSP4e-PTE1uUB_DEaErYmH53BHNU5sSqj4VIZRZ3uxlhO9JRI7LL3YnU-4h1btY2rNP6-WBoJDy-a_Q-m6Kq6K0pWE/s640/DSCF3498.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Tank Top</b>: Blue Cult</div>
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<b>Skirt</b>: Urban Outfitters (Lazerade)</div>
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<b>Necklaces</b>: a little gift shop in Tombstone, AZ and Buffalo Exchange</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Sam Edelman</div>
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<b>Sun Glasses</b>: Ray Bans</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXc0Zdh15PtN1j3Cynn7OKc9xapdyKusAw_1ahknKBQuA6YAByUs7em1mS80kgLBdyQJReh9B8ZXAJf__KyA9wf36F8gwasy7IJ7xexPe2Tp9RYBcgqYTVkpJ6tfEe3R4VNTZvh9ax4pM/s1600/DSCF3499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXc0Zdh15PtN1j3Cynn7OKc9xapdyKusAw_1ahknKBQuA6YAByUs7em1mS80kgLBdyQJReh9B8ZXAJf__KyA9wf36F8gwasy7IJ7xexPe2Tp9RYBcgqYTVkpJ6tfEe3R4VNTZvh9ax4pM/s640/DSCF3499.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Whoa, "Ditty" is going to be stuck in my head <i>all day</i> now. It's my own fault, I keep hitting "Replay"on YouTube. I have been basically listening to it all morning. </div>
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Just bob your head for Paperboy and the Ditty, you know?</div>
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Anyhoo, I feel a little bit like <a href="http://www.andthisispeak.com/">Lydia</a> with all them there necklaces, but I have to say I like it. I always appreciate how Lydia pulls them off so here's my homage.</div>
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Have great Tuesdays! Holy shit, is it really Tuesday? I thought it was Monday until I typed Tuesday. </div>
<span id="goog_277109570"></span><span id="goog_277109571"></span>Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-6270208031970447552011-06-02T17:12:00.000-07:002012-09-30T01:15:09.944-07:00Arizona Adventures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Oh no! I've been a terrible blogger lately, haven't I?!</div>
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This past week I had my amazing little cousin, Emily, come to visit from Illinois. She had never been to Arizona before, and I did everything I could to make sure she saw just as much of it as possible! I took her down to Tombstone and Bisbee, just a few dozen miles from the border of Mexico, all the way up to Lake Powell at the Utah border. </div>
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My dad took us to the Grand Canyon and Antelope Canyon, which was a first even for me!</div>
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Here's how you get into Antelope Canyon... what the fuck, right?</div>
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Here's some of my pictures of the canyon. Emily and I scampered off in the canyon taking snapshots and climbing and exploring while my dad took his time taking beautiful photographs.</div>
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I took all of these though, so compositionally correct they are not.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wuzFj3i_tqIcA0FURkFwqne5pi42Ev0dknP1m1SN82WvM7T8FeS7I8h0th6aaStVM0yoQcsvCgTzmSiZLkW3dY6jf9cu_TtcM99QIAcFXhbBM0kV7rqMM7qsuJRdC6twXktmlJYGCwY/s1600/DSCF3326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2wuzFj3i_tqIcA0FURkFwqne5pi42Ev0dknP1m1SN82WvM7T8FeS7I8h0th6aaStVM0yoQcsvCgTzmSiZLkW3dY6jf9cu_TtcM99QIAcFXhbBM0kV7rqMM7qsuJRdC6twXktmlJYGCwY/s640/DSCF3326.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Emily leadin' the way.<br />
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Three showers later and I <i>still</i> have dirt in my hair... but it was totally worth it.</div>
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Me leadin' the way.<br />
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We climbed on stuff!</div>
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Here's the pictures from the Grand Canyon.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-J6AJQCKneK3il1R-AYMUqreL4VQWO4ddHCn8n5DmXtXX1WagiVSuz1DLqajmhpp2iZa1X83TK8QsA5SVXBtocZKgT9CBYbz2yXE-vuhq_jTWTrNwDUa96LW2S_DSCgbGiSOV_Dbjjd4/s1600/DSCF3075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-J6AJQCKneK3il1R-AYMUqreL4VQWO4ddHCn8n5DmXtXX1WagiVSuz1DLqajmhpp2iZa1X83TK8QsA5SVXBtocZKgT9CBYbz2yXE-vuhq_jTWTrNwDUa96LW2S_DSCgbGiSOV_Dbjjd4/s640/DSCF3075.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Doin' sum lunges... noooo big deal.<br />
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This seemed like a very appropriate place to practice me some made up Tai Chi.</div>
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While my dad was taking his photographs, Emily and I took embarrassing pictures of each other.</div>
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Stereotypical tourist pose.<br />
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Cuz Love!<br />
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Best picture. Ever.<br />
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We saw nature! Then we chased nature.<br />
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Eeeeesh. I made the mistake of looking in before I went potty. <br />
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It's cute how much of a little ham in front of the camera my cousin is... probably because she's an aspiring Broadway actress.</div>
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More pictures of the canyon that my camera couldn't really do justice. I can't wait to see the photos my dad got.</div>
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Last but not least, especially because we went here first... Tombstone and Bisbee!</div>
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These were taken at the Birdcage Theater. There is an episode of Ghost Adventures (with Sexy Zac!) that was filmed here, as it is notorious in regards to paranormal activity.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNHb_eS2qOQYoUdBuLbPsSGtRidjjm1HAX0v0A2tcm90YZSMW8IX_-ZTrCNqJ6RQcJGSornJQPjBcsqrGJZ6-9OW2NXJ1mUoI6Vr0l2pkoJ7D_45L036fkFIS0sQR8J25Pxb9oCT_Wpw/s1600/DSCF2899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiNHb_eS2qOQYoUdBuLbPsSGtRidjjm1HAX0v0A2tcm90YZSMW8IX_-ZTrCNqJ6RQcJGSornJQPjBcsqrGJZ6-9OW2NXJ1mUoI6Vr0l2pkoJ7D_45L036fkFIS0sQR8J25Pxb9oCT_Wpw/s640/DSCF2899.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The Black Moriah. This horse-drawn hearse is one of six created in the 1880's, and the only left in existence. It is worth upwards of $2 million. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCj2VpZnmvtcQRkcMJINjUz3x4BGpvrg9QChfEW3fzJ5Rs6vCQ4ZIpgywnjE73FydokIjNzfkP_pCAgTI3ucWAfKyDRrRFVUFTHuDJSGmyOiM0-muP8mTR1Xa0r5TYRdwwxbGk5xVfwQk/s1600/DSCF2918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCj2VpZnmvtcQRkcMJINjUz3x4BGpvrg9QChfEW3fzJ5Rs6vCQ4ZIpgywnjE73FydokIjNzfkP_pCAgTI3ucWAfKyDRrRFVUFTHuDJSGmyOiM0-muP8mTR1Xa0r5TYRdwwxbGk5xVfwQk/s640/DSCF2918.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Apparently the naked figure of one of the "soiled doves" who, ahem, entertained in the Birdcage Theater's private rooms is seen down here from time to time. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxWvK9VppDhktlRAs9MC9FWW5ak0Z6U9kOKQG2hLxvHqELYj09m0CdtEP3SHH480mLLnBmPPNbzHNrmFy744qC-Ig3YcOGhX7MWqYLgkgcf74ZzkAgH8ynNvKk8RqfC1CgTTbQFTz-DQ/s1600/DSCF2944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxWvK9VppDhktlRAs9MC9FWW5ak0Z6U9kOKQG2hLxvHqELYj09m0CdtEP3SHH480mLLnBmPPNbzHNrmFy744qC-Ig3YcOGhX7MWqYLgkgcf74ZzkAgH8ynNvKk8RqfC1CgTTbQFTz-DQ/s640/DSCF2944.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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That table is where the world's longest poker game took place. It lasted 8 years and 5 months. There was a $1,000 buy-in, which in the 1880's was over $30,000.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5u1zwonZcx6-E2scDkTpRm_R2dBBw6UrhvTh1BgzgXKSVg-MdcpWnvRLdzXUT7bc3lcwOhjQ1D0BjnQdE-U4Ksoth0lif7xa-0MD1ZfvuJcTKBPWNlbthre8b-d1k-sHOJ2t0BtRktA/s1600/DSCF2950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5u1zwonZcx6-E2scDkTpRm_R2dBBw6UrhvTh1BgzgXKSVg-MdcpWnvRLdzXUT7bc3lcwOhjQ1D0BjnQdE-U4Ksoth0lif7xa-0MD1ZfvuJcTKBPWNlbthre8b-d1k-sHOJ2t0BtRktA/s640/DSCF2950.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Where the magic happened. In this room Wyatt Earp solicited a prostitute named Sadie Jo, for whom he later left his common-law wife, Mattie Blaylock.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMVze0qUQuZ1LiKX8RF-asAW_EGeUXP36T9O7y3QPRf1Dlp3_sC_1cCpAtx6JSf631BZSywf0CZDpVRuPfeLaL2bnkNsdtUgReXjKVkQaHrzy6EwCqWP5f8RwYeAnW3RbYvyKFw20uAw/s1600/DSCF2956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMVze0qUQuZ1LiKX8RF-asAW_EGeUXP36T9O7y3QPRf1Dlp3_sC_1cCpAtx6JSf631BZSywf0CZDpVRuPfeLaL2bnkNsdtUgReXjKVkQaHrzy6EwCqWP5f8RwYeAnW3RbYvyKFw20uAw/s640/DSCF2956.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Birdcage Theater, or, apparently, Theatre.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDEUWFM6ObDbCUrNf2uzEdbl4DTaiWgskpmx0UfXpRUNogHnrWz6rEnmuYq8Op7M8NY0Ygpy-_jauo6MDtC1THG3aAU9UAhOBAWUCALd-c8XI-oz2q73yPHyfJeZ6MZXeLdF0iR9EXyL8/s1600/DSCF2960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDEUWFM6ObDbCUrNf2uzEdbl4DTaiWgskpmx0UfXpRUNogHnrWz6rEnmuYq8Op7M8NY0Ygpy-_jauo6MDtC1THG3aAU9UAhOBAWUCALd-c8XI-oz2q73yPHyfJeZ6MZXeLdF0iR9EXyL8/s640/DSCF2960.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Wonder Buns! </div>
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I didn't get many pictures in Bisbee, which is an uh-mazingly photogenic little town, because I was pms-ing real bad and wanted to get started on the 4 hour drive home sooner rather than later.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjud-oWK8lIfN-OasgGAhyphenhyphenCnovrvyZrOOU7bkytk-AuiLO3Z0OdJpea2bpxUVTn6HVrJcunSHqTTByv31p4l7MtpEXWO0qup7OmnNvzyCnM-YFsVGoM1u6cyh7qa5rY3PyKUGCd0RAO0Ek/s1600/DSCF2962.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjud-oWK8lIfN-OasgGAhyphenhyphenCnovrvyZrOOU7bkytk-AuiLO3Z0OdJpea2bpxUVTn6HVrJcunSHqTTByv31p4l7MtpEXWO0qup7OmnNvzyCnM-YFsVGoM1u6cyh7qa5rY3PyKUGCd0RAO0Ek/s640/DSCF2962.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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But we still wandered around a little and went to a few antique shops.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZs-ZriAoJI9KE9N-NkF4KLU6iTBVhUijbp1v_oUtSmnXld-TI_2ymAuNTBsiu3OK_LyTuWUhK4enE-1qBAGF4BewHquW4tpKHmZABw1fKohpo4kaPbQvwTPUgdchrobbu59kl6ChyphenhyphenAU/s1600/DSCF2963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZs-ZriAoJI9KE9N-NkF4KLU6iTBVhUijbp1v_oUtSmnXld-TI_2ymAuNTBsiu3OK_LyTuWUhK4enE-1qBAGF4BewHquW4tpKHmZABw1fKohpo4kaPbQvwTPUgdchrobbu59kl6ChyphenhyphenAU/s640/DSCF2963.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Anyway, that was what I've been doing! I hope everyone has had great weeks, and sorry if this post is a little discombobulated... I took over 520 pictures and had a hell of a time picking my favorites!</div>
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Have great days anyone who may see this!</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-19248316129014991632011-05-25T14:28:00.000-07:002012-09-29T17:47:20.403-07:00Dumps Like a Truck<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So I recently gained like 8 pounds. Well maybe "recently" isn't entirely accurate, since Christmas let's say. </div>
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Now I am usually <i>ridiculously</i> hard on myself about my weight, but this time I kind of just let it slide. I haven't wasted much time worrying about it or starting in on this vicious cycle of self-loathing that sometimes I tend to do. I've kind of just accepted that my bum and thighs have filled out a little bit, and at 24, that's probably completely normal. Besides, I weigh the least when I'm unhappy, so I can't really complain too much... :o)</div>
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But now that it's getting hotter and my outfits will <i>need</i> to get correspondingly smaller, I'm starting to get a little bit insecure.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBegwKzb0SZM4NCXU_4sJQVCzzqzFrKRb-FuBGxMXLawLaQ3y3ysz7IhQo9m97DDOwVGKB_9uq1GrZuyh8xB_ORGODKuN_W_a2aACxQBbvGBGoM07CxUQn7VJOCDsNxPrQtXKQ44Sf7MY/s1600/DSCF2876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBegwKzb0SZM4NCXU_4sJQVCzzqzFrKRb-FuBGxMXLawLaQ3y3ysz7IhQo9m97DDOwVGKB_9uq1GrZuyh8xB_ORGODKuN_W_a2aACxQBbvGBGoM07CxUQn7VJOCDsNxPrQtXKQ44Sf7MY/s640/DSCF2876.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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I mean I put on these shorts and wondered, "should I actually go out in public in these?" </div>
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But it is such a long walk from where I park to the lab, that unless I am fine with being a sweat-soaked mass of fussiness by the time I get there, Imma need to show some skin.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVB9qTUbW4f7_IYnWUxOw8KzIU8Ljx_ENOWi77j04mURdkqgZpCQWXCKBefYt0fkBUt-SS-NUFZaoqP4DtNff2TNb6J_5IMJN6dN9NRxJrpCOZOzTD3J9GKgAcIBj_hCjimyQYVEjXZU/s1600/DSCF2877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVB9qTUbW4f7_IYnWUxOw8KzIU8Ljx_ENOWi77j04mURdkqgZpCQWXCKBefYt0fkBUt-SS-NUFZaoqP4DtNff2TNb6J_5IMJN6dN9NRxJrpCOZOzTD3J9GKgAcIBj_hCjimyQYVEjXZU/s640/DSCF2877.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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My main reason for photographing this outfit today, although I'm pressed for time, is just to try and see if it is offensive for my newly thicker bottom half to be showcased thusly... </div>
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Meh, I'm sure it's fine. I'm also sure that no one give a shit what I look like from the waist down.</div>
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Like a wise woman I once knew said, "I can't see behind me and see how fat my ass looks, so why should I waste time worrying about it?"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEherindQsW2t7vh14AwQ67wVwIz8S3muB7qqSprTwpdL4vW2jiLE65kuIlhFGda-P3SCXUpJ6hRaqJIAqj7VXgJRcO7k2T8Jy4wELrZIeiOyl1qei6AzhJEmo66hN7_qJGePuLURcL4h0g/s1600/DSCF2878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEherindQsW2t7vh14AwQ67wVwIz8S3muB7qqSprTwpdL4vW2jiLE65kuIlhFGda-P3SCXUpJ6hRaqJIAqj7VXgJRcO7k2T8Jy4wELrZIeiOyl1qei6AzhJEmo66hN7_qJGePuLURcL4h0g/s640/DSCF2878.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Shirt</b>: Thrifted Ecote</div>
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<b>Cami</b>: Express circa 2002</div>
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<b>Shorts</b>: Urban Outfitters (Nom de Plume)</div>
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<b>Belt</b>: Thrifted</div>
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<b>Sun Glasses</b>: Forever 21</div>
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<b>Sandals</b>: Coach</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsToOPB54gS5O0WTL6B6EdqCuXYUntFHVoR9x2JLnpwUc_VNQZc4eQ1dQPaJlW_yAQInaGKF6_8mUejwT0tNy2NS8dbO0CPpKDqhaJxRYyVzBnMZjwA6HOrguSytvUo0afW9t5ECiYX-4/s1600/DSCF2881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsToOPB54gS5O0WTL6B6EdqCuXYUntFHVoR9x2JLnpwUc_VNQZc4eQ1dQPaJlW_yAQInaGKF6_8mUejwT0tNy2NS8dbO0CPpKDqhaJxRYyVzBnMZjwA6HOrguSytvUo0afW9t5ECiYX-4/s640/DSCF2881.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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So I am still ridiculously burned on my back, a little tiny bit on my chest and all over my bum, so bras, form-fitting shirts and rigid denim were completely out of the question. </div>
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I have to say that this outfit is soft and comfy and probably the most perfect post-sunburn outfit I've ever concocted!</div>
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Sorry if I seemed whiny about the whole weight thing...</div>
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Twas not my intention, I just wanted to mention it since it was on my mind, anyway, have great Wednesdays anyone who sees this!</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-32756595117158379142011-05-24T00:25:00.000-07:002012-09-29T17:47:55.599-07:00if sexually explicit sand structures offend you, please read no further<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Hooray no Apocalypses! </div>
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So Mexico was freaking awesome... I'm <i>so </i>glad I went! I also didn't spend the whole time worrying, in fact, as soon as we got to the house, I was totally over my terror of Mexico.</div>
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The weather was perfect; breezy and in the low 80s. Me and Bahb spent both days just lying on the beach drinking Corona and playing in the ocean.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0lwMF8cprY0dNOimjWdkjsBwx5O8kT0zOFrGyL01BGt7XnbxAaXnBMUGdiajnqdDZfJN5KUs4HDgYtnNCob_pHBpff5Tl-V6jDEozw0l8D3iTz44ka4KnMYCmRfO9fCmvfrQFML7AXks/s1600/DSCF2829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0lwMF8cprY0dNOimjWdkjsBwx5O8kT0zOFrGyL01BGt7XnbxAaXnBMUGdiajnqdDZfJN5KUs4HDgYtnNCob_pHBpff5Tl-V6jDEozw0l8D3iTz44ka4KnMYCmRfO9fCmvfrQFML7AXks/s640/DSCF2829.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The beach. </div>
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I am a masterful picture taker. I actually didn't take that many pictures, maybe like 10 total, because sand and water and portable electronics do not mix effectively.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GZIbWnUMtLTlv4PU4hQ1AwJmQHFHqL06EkEH0jwqfGU_9hLvJviAh8Md76ENCw1xzfN54xJ21Lg_AQfwmjUvZbCBk6NcGNNMJq7Gj3k1_qhZg-z3z7LPt9HkLU9NZ-Exfm7ybOoxTwE/s1600/DSCF2842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GZIbWnUMtLTlv4PU4hQ1AwJmQHFHqL06EkEH0jwqfGU_9hLvJviAh8Md76ENCw1xzfN54xJ21Lg_AQfwmjUvZbCBk6NcGNNMJq7Gj3k1_qhZg-z3z7LPt9HkLU9NZ-Exfm7ybOoxTwE/s640/DSCF2842.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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All of the houses were so random, and the vast disparity from one to the next made it a really cute and eclectic little beach.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo55854lJbABVL6sxHzRYPuwdAbZaIKEoX5puZQLQ2TjYI0T4wEZRRZKf9w10IfpQVfAxGpvbuByKv5NMwUiz0Xvs_Vdkztj-LQT-siCKuQ-0zKtXGkcW4ecJl24pyTaIuo1cnRB0SKLk/s1600/DSCF2848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo55854lJbABVL6sxHzRYPuwdAbZaIKEoX5puZQLQ2TjYI0T4wEZRRZKf9w10IfpQVfAxGpvbuByKv5NMwUiz0Xvs_Vdkztj-LQT-siCKuQ-0zKtXGkcW4ecJl24pyTaIuo1cnRB0SKLk/s640/DSCF2848.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I'm running off to play in the ocean. I wish I had a close up of me in my swim suit... it's adorable.<br />
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So it kind of hurts to look at these pictures, because holy shit, the sun did a number on me. I got burned all over. I know it's my own damn fault, I was too busy playing with clams and crabs and burying Bahb and being buried and frolicking in the low tide and drinking Coronas to remember to put on sunscreen. </div>
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I am pretty much purple right now. Even my little bum is burned! Oh no!</div>
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Here's me and Bahb, we're ludicrously good looking... duuuuuh...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfRPuSUV4BRie6lrv_vVjXgI1D29Q_9j2ssy7VBKqFPK2agCLiLfJFCGzURa1wt3UkaQeIjw2mgiFF6r8iNyUsLv2k6a9qiOjHdbBHmqw5NrfK18vCaZMFRyYcpqnDkCMAy7qfV4UHHM/s1600/DSCF2852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNfRPuSUV4BRie6lrv_vVjXgI1D29Q_9j2ssy7VBKqFPK2agCLiLfJFCGzURa1wt3UkaQeIjw2mgiFF6r8iNyUsLv2k6a9qiOjHdbBHmqw5NrfK18vCaZMFRyYcpqnDkCMAy7qfV4UHHM/s640/DSCF2852.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I know what you're thinking, and why yes, Bahb's sunglasses <i>are</i> Prada. What a dapper fellow! He also knows what a "tiered mini" is thanks to a shopping trip to the Juicy Couture outlet that he found particularly boring.</div>
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So anyway, in life we are given so few moments of perfect clarity, I mean, after all, it isn't it the human condition that we eternally thirst for insight into the where and whyfore of our existence? But when I climbed the stairs to the roof of the beach house and looked down and saw this...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPbh9968Qspck6yBjd6em6aZTWATC-pjP_aJSteXM1ohfjY4F_Mo-fWs03_ZpwMXMfxo1mI__6c5NNqvhy56ICfdc3AS1cSiWPyiO09kuwFSJzEjcLSjKY3ua13LlPkj95N4oE7Q5kiM/s1600/DSCF2836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPbh9968Qspck6yBjd6em6aZTWATC-pjP_aJSteXM1ohfjY4F_Mo-fWs03_ZpwMXMfxo1mI__6c5NNqvhy56ICfdc3AS1cSiWPyiO09kuwFSJzEjcLSjKY3ua13LlPkj95N4oE7Q5kiM/s640/DSCF2836.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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In that moment, I knew. That's my fucking dude. </div>
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To completely forsake the toilets located mere feet away and walk outside to spell "Bahb" in the sand? That's basically the most poignant example of what makes a "Bob" a "Bahb."</div>
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This doesn't hurt either...</div>
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Here he is just diggin' a hole to put me in.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTa4w9ZPqzG7y0YCHcboxaXR5jMMM8yUkshtLsDmy-Aaf78q-UWZr9XfHOP0IkmTkEbeBB5yTA4g1xt-5UIDFztyBYHcdUQnMUOZvW6gSrQvlRsSCfd8CVNCLTYAQCKkA-zASvCIcFTvw/s1600/DSCF2843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTa4w9ZPqzG7y0YCHcboxaXR5jMMM8yUkshtLsDmy-Aaf78q-UWZr9XfHOP0IkmTkEbeBB5yTA4g1xt-5UIDFztyBYHcdUQnMUOZvW6gSrQvlRsSCfd8CVNCLTYAQCKkA-zASvCIcFTvw/s640/DSCF2843.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Then we proceeded to make anatomically exaggerative sand bodies for each other.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjImaWk8hcZhs82Q-ymYpPzf_lULL8LTUoj8J9u5PgulmMiTOD17waSenqtF9Z41ohvreyeJrAirsftSm-Pf3VuGbxGtJHasujuh_NnS9IvxBCTqpED291ECHziTY46F1RI7ziCI-dYE20/s1600/DSCF2847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjImaWk8hcZhs82Q-ymYpPzf_lULL8LTUoj8J9u5PgulmMiTOD17waSenqtF9Z41ohvreyeJrAirsftSm-Pf3VuGbxGtJHasujuh_NnS9IvxBCTqpED291ECHziTY46F1RI7ziCI-dYE20/s640/DSCF2847.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Well, at least <i>my</i> sand body was anatomically exaggerative... HEY-O! COUNT IT!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QYsUYFfB_IlhHsxKxL7jhOtmUX1E0wTlTAI4VzB0t-Dz9rUeewv4dE_p59keJ7qVfFeAym-i7SfY1_9bLnQOfHii_qW7nWl85F1W7skBvFoyUvhr08d3IckKB-Orz3Y3dqD7PuSXniw/s1600/DSCF2850+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QYsUYFfB_IlhHsxKxL7jhOtmUX1E0wTlTAI4VzB0t-Dz9rUeewv4dE_p59keJ7qVfFeAym-i7SfY1_9bLnQOfHii_qW7nWl85F1W7skBvFoyUvhr08d3IckKB-Orz3Y3dqD7PuSXniw/s640/DSCF2850+%25282%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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It's really hard to tell where the classy ends and we begin. </div>
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Anyway, I hope I didn't offend anyone who might have stumbled across this, however, I did tell you in the title what you could expect!</div>
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Have great days anyone who reads this, and I will be back with more outfit posts just as soon as I can start wearing things that aren't my C&C french terry drawstring pants and a threadbare shirt that says "Polish TShirt" upside down. Wah, muh skin hurts! </div>
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Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-13439998235837081902011-05-19T21:10:00.000-07:002012-09-29T17:48:38.470-07:00That's great, it starts with an earthquake...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
These pictures basically suck, but it's night time right now, so it's not really my fault. </div>
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So apparently the world is going to end tomorrow. Well technically, it's scheduled for May 21st at 6 p.m., which means that the world will actually start the process of ending tomorrow when the first time zone hits the 6 p.m. mark.</div>
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Now, don't get me wrong, my personal beliefs are very much against any of this being even remotely true, however, the power of suggestion, and the crazy things it makes people do, leads me to be disproportionately uneasy as the time approaches.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QiQQfyfh8RAnrhyphenhypheneCNzHmbSHDz_ahwXYqcnF665jcBKojvYgShziAaGHROVFVtVZnYXFeQTrUFS4q1uZCHdnbM-58CYq77mjesrzbKscamFtxCxKki3DZUgxNmf3bP4rUjl4Lah8wjU/s1600/DSCF2804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QiQQfyfh8RAnrhyphenhypheneCNzHmbSHDz_ahwXYqcnF665jcBKojvYgShziAaGHROVFVtVZnYXFeQTrUFS4q1uZCHdnbM-58CYq77mjesrzbKscamFtxCxKki3DZUgxNmf3bP4rUjl4Lah8wjU/s640/DSCF2804.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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So I <i>was</i> pretty excited about my day tomorrow. I have a long day ahead of me, which is why I posted this the night before, but I was hoping for it to be a productive one. You know, get to work by 5 a.m. work until noon, then head to the lab and work until 5 or 6 p.m., but now that I realize the potential implications of tomorrow, it, oddly enough, makes me <i>not</i> want to spend 12 straight hours working.</div>
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With that in mind I chose my outfit for the day. What better to wear on what could conceivably be my very last day within this realm of existence than these bitchin' Rock n' Roll Mickey suspenders?</div>
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Pfffft, just try and apocalypse those babies. </div>
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Also, please note the leather jacket perfection. I scoured high and low for a close-fitting cropped leather jacket, and finally, one day late in April of 2009, I stumbled across this... this... <i>masterpiece</i> at Express. </div>
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I wear this jacket with everything in the winter. It's funny it has never been on this blog before, but it just hasn't been cold enough. On that note, it is May 20th, in Phoenix, AZ, mind you, and I need to wear a leather jacket because it is only 50 degrees outside right now. Maybe there <i>is</i> some validity to this end of times thing? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEh0dBjNnL30sWcqU-5cCEQY8AakzqTK7EnLFqRu4Vte64-z_7Mua08YkBFa5VirFVfTmurW1SXPBFe_F0_qq9Y3FJoQwbPpifs88rtf2gmglkQo8mfIOpZ6V2xEbVG8a4G0yPrxp65-0/s1600/DSCF2802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEh0dBjNnL30sWcqU-5cCEQY8AakzqTK7EnLFqRu4Vte64-z_7Mua08YkBFa5VirFVfTmurW1SXPBFe_F0_qq9Y3FJoQwbPpifs88rtf2gmglkQo8mfIOpZ6V2xEbVG8a4G0yPrxp65-0/s640/DSCF2802.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Skirt</b>: American Apparel</div>
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<b>Shirt</b>: American Apparel</div>
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<b>Suspenders</b>: the Goodwill by my house</div>
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<b>Leather Jacket</b>: Express</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Chucks</div>
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<b>Glasses</b>: Ray Bans</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLpHuavQGc5AjPdbsQ4VzGoAn_jixdk4Hhe41-zav75z_q36tZo1XPErfz1mMk11j3pMz3zYMH85LLKR4p3WmoHQHSy4RQF2h3d6c4spqd2nM6V1yH2Ozx2nRD06Mq7rVcOgMsKWBm1LE/s1600/DSCF2808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLpHuavQGc5AjPdbsQ4VzGoAn_jixdk4Hhe41-zav75z_q36tZo1XPErfz1mMk11j3pMz3zYMH85LLKR4p3WmoHQHSy4RQF2h3d6c4spqd2nM6V1yH2Ozx2nRD06Mq7rVcOgMsKWBm1LE/s640/DSCF2808.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Let's have a round of applause for muh Chucks. These sonsabitches have been a staple in my closet for as long as I can remember. I originally bought them expecting to buy a new pair every year, but before long I realized that I could never own another pair of black Chucks. I mean the sole has been glued on, the plastic heel pokes out and the word "box" has been written on them in every color of ink imaginable, but that's just all part of their charm. </div>
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I feel fraudulent... I realized just how short and <i>not </i>work appropriate this skirt is, so I put something else on this morning...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8ujqJts45BySrynA3PQM7phDzrvDaPG9XTGhsUncHiW9wN0nBfkZEojb_coRzv2nUT-bWR0qQUTjB7rxUB_xLmyxr6XsRVqv4eA2w6yaLBdeWhQ129eGARhM6N15ml8ohRYcmHAIWMU/s1600/DSCF2812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ8ujqJts45BySrynA3PQM7phDzrvDaPG9XTGhsUncHiW9wN0nBfkZEojb_coRzv2nUT-bWR0qQUTjB7rxUB_xLmyxr6XsRVqv4eA2w6yaLBdeWhQ129eGARhM6N15ml8ohRYcmHAIWMU/s640/DSCF2812.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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Don't worry, the Mickey suspenders still got did.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBFB4vt4hf2KfdGOKj1tCdzSPWec-KbD1bDA0YP2iZNcwNtjyrZX5KRLuLFpC3QBBaduaqZUFFcYBfPPU5RGovQi_9rlOgEldE4kAIzAMnPI5RbttT_zHN3QxSOoS9VGOsJxzRwpHSTU/s1600/DSCF2814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBFB4vt4hf2KfdGOKj1tCdzSPWec-KbD1bDA0YP2iZNcwNtjyrZX5KRLuLFpC3QBBaduaqZUFFcYBfPPU5RGovQi_9rlOgEldE4kAIzAMnPI5RbttT_zHN3QxSOoS9VGOsJxzRwpHSTU/s640/DSCF2814.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Shirt</b>: H&M</div>
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<b>Jeans</b>: BDG</div>
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<b>Hat</b>: Buffalo Exchange</div>
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<b>Suspenders</b>: the Goodwill by my house</div>
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<b>Shoes</b>: Chucks</div>
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<b>Sun Glasses</b>: Ray Bans</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKc7k5pdqmqj1sFHfTlT5oXC8yX9mYw_L4koDhexshsCZX1UiaIOGu2eTt5JHj2R7_yagF2BltXsk0ZuHyrUeMZFVNbZXIQwUiz-KrxFUf3X0RsIFsDIwMWdXPJBFNXw9kfjv5JPiu5M/s1600/DSCF2815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKc7k5pdqmqj1sFHfTlT5oXC8yX9mYw_L4koDhexshsCZX1UiaIOGu2eTt5JHj2R7_yagF2BltXsk0ZuHyrUeMZFVNbZXIQwUiz-KrxFUf3X0RsIFsDIwMWdXPJBFNXw9kfjv5JPiu5M/s640/DSCF2815.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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So in summation, this weekend would be the best weekend ever if, and realistically <i>only if</i>, there is no apocalypse and chaos <i>and</i> Bahb and I don't get killed by the Mexican drug cartel.</div>
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I hope... very very very much so in fact... that I will be here to blog on Monday!</div>
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And now... because why the fuck not?</div>
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Have great weekends/apocalypses anyone who sees this!</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294648242941826229.post-28734644013336037672011-05-19T13:04:00.000-07:002012-09-29T17:49:07.307-07:00Impromptu Puppy Party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
So remember that time I was worried about going to Mexico, but then couldn't go because I had finals coming up? Well this weekend is finally the rescheduled Mexico weekend. </div>
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I'm equal parts excited and scared shitless.</div>
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Anyway, <a href="http://ofmiceandminutiae.blogspot.com/2011/03/bean-people.html">the kids</a> are going out of town this weekend too. They are going on their first trip to the ocean, and I am kind of sad I'm not going to be there to see them get confused by the tide and bite at the sea foam and dig holes in the sand to try and figure out what's beneath it... so many curious bean activities!</div>
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I stopped by after work to drop off their leashes and when I turned around they snuck out the front door (which I could have sworn I shut all the way) and by the time I caught up with them they were sitting patiently by my truck. <br />
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I <i>couldn't</i> just leave them!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgstvgdOTz-RQuRnH-uAON9KiWEk01EPcRvVYN6JQx0GhEvwXWeNZQHxa25ZT9rYVklpKzvQvwKPQ5BOj6O9m56UU4yNRZeoAvlKxg8sMhrynZgNO-DE3sJaGZkKJi-8sj7Gmkye_y_XJk/s1600/DSCF2773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgstvgdOTz-RQuRnH-uAON9KiWEk01EPcRvVYN6JQx0GhEvwXWeNZQHxa25ZT9rYVklpKzvQvwKPQ5BOj6O9m56UU4yNRZeoAvlKxg8sMhrynZgNO-DE3sJaGZkKJi-8sj7Gmkye_y_XJk/s640/DSCF2773.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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So despite having things I need to do in the lab, I took them with me to my house to have a quick nap.</div>
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But first I took pictures, and they just did <i>not </i>want to be photographed! There was construction next door so every time something would drop or a buzz saw went off they would dart off to investigate. I would have both of them sitting politely and then *CRASH* and my little protectors would go see what was going on. Eventually Tonk tuckered himself out and laid down so I could at least get one of him.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAopmJJgybrV1KFTo6khFsk2nChVf1ZYhH8vJmBTOsxn1ubr5apjoPRTfPFf9YtFdsiaKb21LFDaTqc0v1lwOgr33orUe-807CQ4VqM_ztP8iMQ15QitYuYTonrier3GbMj8EVPlTW7f4/s1600/DSCF2776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAopmJJgybrV1KFTo6khFsk2nChVf1ZYhH8vJmBTOsxn1ubr5apjoPRTfPFf9YtFdsiaKb21LFDaTqc0v1lwOgr33orUe-807CQ4VqM_ztP8iMQ15QitYuYTonrier3GbMj8EVPlTW7f4/s640/DSCF2776.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Dress</b>: Butterfly Dropout</div>
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<b>Bolo</b>: the Goodwill by my house</div>
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<b>Socks</b>: Target</div>
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<b>Boots</b>: Jeffrey Campbell<br />
<b>Sun Glasses</b>: Ray Bans</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosMB9jeuVCq2uqtyiJXuFbbVufR8nq6X1_QwRSGWuiJ9QpdTK5j3b_6x48ugRLaBiHrLfUmRFTe_oAa5Qgzy1lqbfSJgNvRh44wxu0WF90t_rZJcfnNVv1DhXAOVJ0j9O53AeHQ8VJHU/s1600/DSCF2786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosMB9jeuVCq2uqtyiJXuFbbVufR8nq6X1_QwRSGWuiJ9QpdTK5j3b_6x48ugRLaBiHrLfUmRFTe_oAa5Qgzy1lqbfSJgNvRh44wxu0WF90t_rZJcfnNVv1DhXAOVJ0j9O53AeHQ8VJHU/s640/DSCF2786.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Look at that buddy! He loves his mama! <br />
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Anyway, Gertie is whining up a storm right now... <i>someone</i> wants some lunch meat... so I need to be short today and go try and defuss her without giving her all my damn sliced turkey.</div>
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Have wonderful days anyone who sees this!</div>
Alexhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16455069249601679099noreply@blogger.com10