Finding Zen

Photo Update

 

Anthropologie. Eat Your Heart Out.

This is what 'freelancers' and 'carpenters' who spend every dime they make to live in their pricey neighboorhoods can look like if they shop at USED CLOTHING STORES.

The tag says FOREVER 21 - I scribbled over it and wrote FREE PEOPLE - to make myself feel better.  No one will ever know the difference.

So here are your bangs people.  The only thing missing from this first picture is a caged parakeet in the background.  Or the President.  Or an apple pie a gin & tonic.  Don't you just LOVE my stately columns?   

The second is entirely for the sake of THE DRESS.  Can we not spend any time discussing anything from the neck up or the knees down?  My legs haven't seen the light of day since August.  Preciate ya.

The third...is just proof that the frown lines OWN MY FACE even when I'm smiling.  SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!

 

*For the record.  FULL SKIRTS are the next big thing.  SEE.  Don't hate cuz I'm FASHION FORWARD!

Stella, The Anti-Virus

I woke up this morning and came to the computer to find a gigantic blow up of my face on our desktop wallpaper.  This one...

And I can't help but wonder if this is the way he sees me - if this is the sort of version of me that he loves most. 

In this photo, we are in France.  Not sure where.  Someplace...camping.  And cooking a burrito dinner.  Life is good.  I have worn that shirt for weeks.  I love France.  We are talking about driving a BREAD TRUCK to deliver fresh baguettes and pastries when we get home - because thats the sort of thing the French do while we Americans consume shitty overpriced muffins from Starbucks.   I am traveling the world with my best friend.  The 'doo-rag' looks just like that.  DOO.  But he doesn't care, and neither do I.  I am nostalgic for this moment.  It makes me smile.

Exploding Ovaries

All he wanted for Christmas was a book on how to make a BOW so he can get his own food (Omnivores Dilemma really did a number on him).  Mr. Pitts.  My hippy husband who looks good in anything...who can hang with Chris Sharma (bad-ass rock climber dude) and kayaks and makes beautiful furniture, who doesn't really have much to say that he hasn't thought about LOTS, and longs to just go BE in the mountains somewhere.  He'll be 32 soon.  Would like a little bit of land nearby some running water, some chickens and a pig.  And I want babies. 

(Oh shut up!  Show me a heterosexual woman of child bearing age who wouldn't want to co-mingle genes with some of that business up there?  Anyone?  Buehler?  I can't help it.  Biologically my body is like, YO - you need to do something with this fine brother already!  And I'm all like, YAH no shit!)

Can you just see it?  I'll be like Pioneer Woman before you know it. 

Before Black was Goth

There was Robert Smith and The Cure.  And black was just cool, dammit.  Especially BLACK EYEBROWS and blonde tendrils at the Christmas Formal when you are 14.

This is Antonio.  My first love.  My first kiss.  And my first heartbreak.  And I will learn all the words to Pictures of You and look at this picture 8,000 times as I wail into the night "i've been looking so long at these pictures of you that i almost belive that they're real i've been living so long with my pictures of you that i almost believe that the pictures are all i can feel.."  I'm really excited he agreed to go to the formal with me.  Can you tell?  No one has EVER touched my boob before, and I might just let him if he wanted to. Okay, who are we kidding...there isn't really much of a boob yet to touch...but I'm down, if he's down.  Turns out he's just not into me, or my boob.  I think maybe he's just intimidated by my eyebrows.  We were 'going out' all of maybe 12 days.  And when he left me started ignoring me, the only person who could console my fragile broken heart was Robert Smith.  God bless him.

   

And this is Darren two years my senior at my Junior prom.  He has about as much of a shot at getting lucky as Mr. Stoned Chucks from the year before.  Later that night, he would check us into a Travel Lodge (with another couple friend of ours) and then LEAVE ME in the middle of the night to 'go see about something'.  He never came back.  I sat up alone in my queen sized bed sipping Boones Farm Strawberry Hill while my friends made-out in the bed next to me.  It had to be the dress...

PS.  As if Modern Bride wasn't enough ego-stroking...NieNie is doing some more.  I've asked my agent Marley to hold all my calls this afternoon, so just give me a few days to let this soak in - it's just a bit too much today, you know, being (air quotes) SELF-EMPLOYED and all.