Stellar News, Everyone!

I was rejected from the charity singles auction!!  At first I was all, hey, no big deal.  It's like not getting a job that you weren't sure you even wanted in the first place.  But then I realized that no, it was much worse.  It was like being told that you are neither hot enough, nor interesting enough, to spend your time raising money for sick children.   It is saying that you are ugly and boring.  It is saying that no one would want to date you.  It is saying mull over everything that you did and said infront of these complete strangers until you can pinpoint exactly why you were rejected.  At least I didn't devote a lot of time to agonizing over what to wear or how to answer my questionnaire.  I mean, it's not like my friend jokingly texted me to make sure I got an acceptance email and then I spent the next two hours refreshing my inbox and checking my junk folder only to have to face the empty reality.

You ever feel like you can't mention anything good going on that hasn't happened yet because if you mention it, it won't happen?  Or if you think something bad may happen, you have to imagine every awful scenario that could transpire because if you cover all of the bad imagined bases, then they can't happen?  Yeah, me neither.

I hope it rains on auction night.  No I don't.  Sprinkles would suffice.

*True story:  My mom actually gave my that picture as a gift when I was younger.  She said the loser girl looked just like me when I got mad, and she thought it was so cute.  I wanted to ask her if I should write my suicide letter on the back of it.  Kidding!  I wanted to use it as the kindling that would burn the house down.  Kidding!  I wanted to hang on to it so I could grow up and be super-desired and prove her wrong.

Yay or Neigh?

This post will be 100% shoe-related.  No sads.

1. Review of Maybelline's Lash Stiletto mascara: 3.5 out of 5 stars.  I had to get the waterproof kind because I (obviously) have a problem with crying in public.  It is pretty decent for a cheap mascara.  I also like the packaging because I like shiny high heels, and the container itself is shaped like a stiletto.  So clever!  I also saw a girl who had amazingly long, shiny lashes and this is what she used.  I surfed in it today and it wasn't as waterproof as I would like it to be, so that's why it didn't get 4 stars.  But it's not clumpy, and it will lengthen your lashes.  It didn't give mine the promised patent shine, though.  So if you're bored and want a mascara that will lengthen without gooping, I'd say try it.  In Very Black, of course.

2. I was bored on Saturday and ended up at Neiman Marcus' shoe department.  I go there every few months and try on shoes that I never buy.  Instead, I hunt for them on ebay or wait for Saks' holiday sale so that they're half-price.  The same guy is always working in the shoe department and he always half-asks me out and give me his card.  He has earrings, a pit bull, and Versace glasses.  Not exactly my type.  Last time I was there, it was right before Valentine's Day (shocker, right?), and he said I should come hang out with him for Valentine's Day.  Now, what in the hell does this mean?  Was he preying on my retail therapy/relationship needs and trying to make a quick commission?  Was he asking a total stranger out on the most romantic/unmet-expectations-for-dates day of the year?  Was he gay? 

The gay thing isn't as cut and dry as it seems.  Yes, he works in the shoe department and wears pink ties and maybe had a silk handkerchief.  And yet he would constantly pick out the trashiest stripper platform strappy shoes for me to try on.  But they were the kind of shoes that a gay man who is pretending to be straight would pick out, because he's assuming a straight guy would like shoes like that, but no guy would actually like those shoes unless they were a creepy foot fetishist.  And then he could also be a creepy foot fetishist working his dream job, but if he liked strappy whore shoes, he'd have better luck at Bakers or Aldo.

So I walked in and he was so excited to see me.  And he asked how my Valentine's Day was.  Awkward.  He said I should have hung out with him because he didn't do anything.  So now I'm assuming he's straight.  Anyway, I tried on shoes that I had no intention of buying for about an hour.  And I realized that he is awesome on many levels.  We discussed Louboutins because they are every girl's dream, but they really aren't my favorite because the amoutn of toe cleavage that they show seems obscene to me.  But I do have a tax return coming.  And they are a great investment, and when you wear them everyone knows what they are and they are red with envy.  So I was thinking of getting a sensible pair so I could wear the eff out of them and get my money's worth.  But he reminded me that wasn't really the point of having a pair of Louboutins.  And if you're going to get a pair, you should get the fushcia, six-inch platform ones with sequins because they are so outrageous that everyone will want to look at them. 

We talked for quite a while.  It got quite philosophical.  He even remembered that I had already tried on a pair of Valentinos but didn't like them.  I also was the first to try on the new Manolos that have men's suspenders as straps.  He gave me his card for the third time, but this time he put his number on the back.  At first I was going to call him to see if I could get a major discount out of our date.  Although it'd be much easier to just have the alcoholic surgeon that I met on Friday buy me a pair of Louboutins.  But where is the story for my blog in that?  But I've decided that I don't want the discount (I'm lying), and that it will be great to go out with someone who will have a deep appreciation for my heels.  We shall see.

3.  Shoe guy made me try on a pair of platform heels.  They were quite comfy and made my legs look a bazillion miles long.  It is not fair that this trend is only for short people. The one trend that is for every woman is nude heels.  They shouldn't have any straps to break up the line of your leg, and if you have tiny feet, you should get pointy-toed ones because that will elongate your leg line that much more.  (If you have big feet, get peep-toes so you have more room, as the pointy toes tend to curl up like elf shoes on larger sizes.)  D'Orsay heels look more conservative than sandals because your heel is covered, but you don't get sweaty feet or blisters like you would from a pump, because they're pretty much like wearing a sandal.  I like Manolo's d'Orsays because they run a bit bigger in that style, and they have a little elastic band on the inside of the heel that keeps it from slipping off.

Anyfashionlessonsasideway, I broke down and bought a pair of platform heels.  And they are nude.  And they are beyond adorable.  But they are L.A.M.B. and I've hated Gwen Stefani ever since I saw the premiere of "Just a Girl" on 120 Minutes fifty years ago.  (But at least my students can spell bananas because of her.)  I guess buying her shoes isn't as bad as buying Jessica Simpson or Fergie shoes, but still.  I know I complain about my height, and it makes no sense to even wear heels, but I don't think I should have to miss out on fun shoes because I'm tall.  And these shoes have a little sea foam green logo on the sole of the shoe, which makes me happy.  But I'm not just tall in them - I'm scary tall.  Like I had to bend over slightly to pick up something on my counter.  I read what all of the celebrity bloggers say about Khloe Kardashian, and I don't want to remind people of her when I wear these.  Shoe Guy said that there is not much of a difference between 6'3" in heels and 6'5".    And if I'm already taller than every guy that I meet anyway, what is another two inches?  I don't want to look or sound like a Clydesdale while clomping around in them, though.

So, what do you think?  Keep them or take them back?  Could I wear them to work once I get a real job?  Or would that be too scary?

Sad

The end of the school year is supposed to be fun.  The pressure of passing standardized tests is out of the way, and 95% of the kids have been whipped into semi-passable academic shape.  However, this last week was especially draining because I decided to bring my personal life into the classroom.  I am known as a strict teacher, but after the first few weeks, they realize it's just an act, and things will be good so long as they are respectful and make an attempt at with their homework.  But I am not a touchy-feely, nurturing, maternal type of figure in any way.  There are mom teachers at the school that don't mind giving out their cell phone numbers, along with hugs and kisses to anyone that's having a bad day.  Not really my style.   And even though I don't take the kids home with me at night, sometimes it's hard to leave their problems behind.  They get in your head and you worry for them, have nightmares about them, and hope none of them are hurt in a car accident before graduation. 

And I know I joke about my job a lot, but I take it pretty seriously.  I've failed if they don't come out of my class with a different perspective on how they see themselves and others.  Whenever I teach a book, I get obsessed with it.  It's hard not to, because you're constantly trying to think of ways to relate its themes to the students' lives in a way that effectively fights their narcolepsy.  The end of the year is when I hit them with a pretty controversial book that sparks some heated discussions in and outside of class.  There are always a few parents who are not happy with my book choices, but if they want Sally to stick to Tom Sawyer, they can homeschool her.  And I don't want to mention the book that I'm teaching, because even though my students don't understand that you have to research things in order to write about them intelligently, one of them might actually decide to google a book one day and I don't want them to find this blog until I'm no longer their teacher.

One of the things we've been discussing is school violence.  A nearby community has experienced two horrific incidents of teenagers doing shockingly inhumane things to each other, as other students have watched.  My school is unique in the fact that everyone gets along with each other pretty well.  I was pleased (I guess) to see a few of my students step in and try to break up that fight.  I was not pleased to learn that one of my students was involved in it.  Not physically, but I guess she was expelled for online bullying that led to the fight.  I, of course, feel like I didn't make a strong enough impression on her during our discussions.  And you can say oh well, it's not like everyone can be saved, but what is she going to do now that she has an expulsion on her record?  She was a little rough around the edges, but she had really started to put a lot of effort into school, and I was looking forward to approving her for AP next year, and I know she would have been proud of my recommendation.  Except now she's going to be stuck in a school full of gangs, drugs, and violence.

This whole incident made me second guess whether or not they even listen to me.  Should I let my students know about something that I've been dealing with for the past several days?  I mean, no kid wants to see a teacher's vulnerable side; they just want to be entertained and get an A (or, in my school's case, a D is okay).  But the issues we've been talking about everyday have hit too close to home to not bring up.  So I cried infront of every single class last week.  The first two classes were the hardest, but it got easier to talk about it after that.

Last week a post showed up on facebook saying that someone was missing.  I saw the first name, panicked that it was a friend from my restaurant days who was just an amazing guy, but then saw the picture and breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't him.  But then another post on another friend's page popped up, and I took a closer look and saw that it was him.  He was working on his master's and was known for being intelligent, hilarious, and pretty awesome in general.  He was walking home and crossed paths with three career criminals who saw him as an easy target.  He has been missing for two weeks and it's pretty obvious that he didn't go on a surprise vacation.  Seeing his grinning baby face juxtaposed with their empty-eyed mug shots outrages me, and everyone who has been following the story.  Knowing that his last few minutes alive were spent being scared and in pain makes me break down whenever I think about it.

Feeling helpless, I sat refreshing the news links all week - waiting for a glimmer of hope to show up in the growing number of headlines concerning his whereabouts.  I also started to feel disgusted at the hateful, racist comments that were starting to pop up in the discussions following the articles.  Bigots were calling for widespread violence against all of the "monkeys" who thought that they were in power now that we have a black President.  "Blacks are lazy thugs who who are responsible for all of America's ills."  This type of ignorance and knee-jerk reactions would have outraged my friend, as from what I can gather, it looks like his grad school work examines how rhetoric is used to perpetuate these stereotypes.  I thought that not sharing his story with my class would be a cop-out, and I'd be failing my friend if I kept it from them. 

I showed them the news clip and some pictures of him.  Some of them were crying.  Some of them were thinking about people they'd lost to violence.  Some of them wanted to give me hugs and presents.  I still don't know if I made the right choice.  I mean, school is where a lot of them go to get away from some pretty bleak situations, I don't want to take that escape away from them.  And I don't know if I want to, or even can, deal with this everyday.  It's a lot harder to be objective about issues when it's someone you know.  But for now, instead of lightening up for the last six weeks, we'll be working on trying to figure out what how to understand all of the issues that my friend's disappearance brings to light. 

And I'm sorry to bum anyone out.  I wrote this instead of going to a vigil for him tonight.  I don't do well at public gatherings like that, so I thought that writing this would be my way of thinking about him.

Neighborhood Trash

I took this last Saturday because I promised to show you how ridiculous my neighbor's stupid Jeep is.  Pink Shirt informed me that this is actually called  a buggy.  Whatever, neighbor.  Go drive around in dirt after you bought this and then declared bankruptcy and then attended your KKK Tea Party meeting and railed about how all them lazy coloreds are working the system.  (It is through my screen door because I was scared he would see me and shoot me.  Journalistic integrity, people.  I've got it in spades.) 

Notice the truck tires compared to the size of his tires.  Imagine having to nose your car in between this, and a gold, extended cab pickup truck with a gargoyle painted on the side of it, every day of your life.  The even-though-I'm-from-New-York-I-really-want-to-try-to-fit-in-with-all-of-the-rednecks-so-I-talk-with-a-fake-Southern-accent buggy is on its way to get a new paint job.  I guess he doesn't like to drive it on asphalt if he can help it.  Might ruin the treads. 

In other neighbor news, we are having trash wars again.  His new roommate, which is a hole (I'm aware of the typo) other story, put all kinds of rotting carcasses in MY trash can, which is easily distinguishable from his trash can because it is in my parking space, with MY address on it.  It is overflowing and full of flies.  It is so disgusting and there's no way I'm dragging that down to the curb.  So I'm going to just start putting all of my trash in his can.  I haven't yet decided if I'm willing to take it to the level of tampon applicators scattered all over his parking spot due to the "wind" knocking over his trash can after I leave for work.  (Cardboard applicators, of course.  Anyone who uses plastic applicators is a selfish jerk who should just endure the discomfort of using cardboard, knowing that the earth will be a better place for her efforts.)

And somehow my recycle bins went missing because I was hurrying from my job to my charity work, and didn't have time to take them in on Monday.  I don't think this is the work of my next door neighbor, because his bins are full of pillows (??), and he thinks recycling is for homos and communists.  I think I'm now going to have to go take a picture of all this. 

None of this is my trash!  Who buys boxes of meat?  What is so hard about putting the pillow in your own trash can?  And before you get judgmental with me, I don't have a lid because it was attached to my can and he ran it over repeatedly and it ripped off and doesn't fit anymore.  So don't think I'm the kind of person who leaves their trash out in the open.  And now that the lid doesn't fit, I'm too scared to put it in my shed b/c I don't want to open my shed door and be attacked by rats that have taken over due to the open trash can.

In the meantime, I should start recycling the way everyone else in my neighborhood does, and just throw my empty beer bottles on the front lawn.  Also, I really hope there is no way for my neighbor to trace the internet signal that I poach from him back to my blog.  And I wish I could take the time to draw on the Jeep picture so I could point out that I have white trash plastic blinds, literal white trash on my front lawn, and live across from a house with a boarded up window that has been there since the '05 hurricanes.

Dramazon Takes on Online Retail Giant / "Intellectual" Property Laws

Not really.  But if there is one thing you must know about me, it is that I am one vindictive bitch.  When I first decided to make a blog, I just wanted to have a regular .com website, but amazon.com said I wasn't allowed to use any form of their name.  You know, because the word "amazon" means online marketplace, and I figured that my tall tale target audience would be a bunch of geeks looking to give their cutting-edge take on the latest Dan Brown novel.  Of course my blog's name is a thinly veiled attempt to trick people into reading my crap by piggybacking on amazon.com's customers - it has nothing to do with my wordplay proclivities.

And now I'm trying to be more responsible in my blogging.  Meaning that since I obsessively research things, and think it's ridiculous to pay full price for anything, I'd like to start sharing direct links to stuff that the three of you would really like.  Blogger had something on my dashboard (yeah I don't know what that means, either) the other week about amazon.com coming up with a program that makes it easy for bloggers to add links to products.  I thought it sounded like a good idea, plus I could probably make an extra $1.35 in 2010 from my kickbacks.  I signed up.  And then I got this email:

"Hello,
When you filled out our online application form, you listed the URL for your web site as:

 http://dramazon.blogspot.com/

We do not allow anyone with a URL that includes "amazon," "endless," or any other trademark of Amazon.com, Inc. or its affiliates. This also includes variations or misspellings of any of them. Please review our Operating Agreement for further details:

https://affiliate-program.amazon.com/gp/associates/agreement

Additionally, we do not accept URLs which contain our competitors' names or any misspellings of our competitors' names as a gesture of goodwill to the Internet industry.

I hope this helps. We look forward to seeing you again.
Best regards,
 Bert G.
Amazon.com
We're Building Earth's Most Customer-Centric Company"


Well, I immediately replied to Bert G., telling him that my blog's name had nothing to do with his lame, soul-sucking monopolistic employer, promising, "I will be sure to let my readers know about your 'customer-centric' company's draconian co-opting of the English language. And then I will be steering them to other online retailers." 

Apparently, customer service doesn't accept responses to your customer service issues, and my eloquent email was returned unread.  So now I am making good on my promise.  While I didn't really care that much about letting you know where to shop online, it has now become a mission to tell you where to buy stuff that I like.  In the meantime, I will be boycotting amazon.com until they stop discriminating against tall women with blogs.  (Until I get bored and need to buy some books.)

(This isn't actually Bret G.  I think.  From ssqq.com)

It's Raining Vent

I totally forgot to share what ignited my Ladyfingers tirade.  Several months ago, I gave him a copy of my New Yorker because he likes Kandinsky and it had an article on his new exhibit at MoMA.  He looked up from my generous gift with scorn (his only true expression), and proceeded to mock the pretentiousness of a teacher in Florida reading The New Yorker on a regular basis.  I told him that my mom grabbed old copies from the library, and I tried to catch up on them whenever I could, since subscribing to something that must be read every week was too overwhelming.  I was all, "At least it's not The Atlantic."  With another heaping of disdain, he pointedly informed me that The New Republic was the only suitable subscription for an intelligent adult (which I don't find to be all that exciting because TNR doesn't have David Sedaris or "Table for Two").

So this week he makes a great show of pulling out his umbrella infront of me.  I don't even think it was raining.  He loudly announces that it was his free gift for SUBSCRIBING TO THE NEW YORKER.  Of course, he doesn't really enjoy it, as it has too much fluff for him, and he will most likely cancel his subscription next week.

If Bill Murray Were a Femme British R&B Singer

From the year 2000.  This is the worst video and I can't stop watching it.  Those eyebrows!  I think I thought he was hot when this came out??

• How can the model be so skinny and still have jowls?  Did she just have her wisdom teeth pulled?
• Jeep Cherokees will always let you down; don't ever buy one.
• The wine spilled on the bad boob job was a classy touch.
• Premise of video makes no sense once he pulls a Zach Morris and rewinds!

Sweating, Fights, Cookies

Exciting week at work.  I broke up my first fight at school on Wednesday.  Our school has no security guards, and we have no training on what to do for a fight, so when all the kids in my class started yelling "Fight! Fight! Fight!" and pointing out to the hall, I was less than thrilled.  I mean, it's not like I have spent any time in or near fights.  I couldn't even tell who was fighting so I just started pushing kids out of the way, faintly wondering if I was going to be sued.  Finally figured out that two girls were brawling over some guy.  The female teacher who used to manage a strip club, and I'm assuming has experience with catfights, had the aggressor in a bear hug and was having a hard time controlling her.  I tried to help subdue her, and got kicked and thrown against the wall by the annoying girl, who I vaguely remembered because I had to yank her out of the restroom by her hair last year because she was trying to start a fight.  Finally, a male member of the faculty showed up and had to tackle the girl to get her to calm down. 

Seniors who I hadn't seen since last year were suddenly stopping by all week to chit chat.  And then they would try to get the lowdown on the fight.  Some kids said they heard that I just stood there; others heard that I tackled the girl - the high school rumor mill was hard at work.  Some of the students wanted to thank me for helping them out, and said that they were grateful to have had a teacher who taught them how to write for college.  This type of praise  is supposed to be the reason why teachers teach.  It worked on me last year, but now it just makes me feel like a sucker.  No other boss tells you that you will never ever see a raise, you will not be compensated for your degrees, nor will you ever get promoted, but you should be happy because someone will thank you for helping them.  See?  I am way too cynical for this profession.  

Delicate Hands has also been annoying me.  I think I'm going to switch his nickname; henceforth he will be known as Ladyfingers.  Although Ladyfingers annoys me, I am starting to have separation anxiety, as most days he is the only adult I talk to.

Annoying Ladyfingers Behavior

1. 
   
   Ladyfingers asked if I were giving his AP class a guest lecture on French philosophy one day because I wore a black turtleneck sweater with black pants.  (Listen, I know no one has bought a turtleneck sweater in the past decade, but this sweater is actually ten years old, but since I've only worn it twelve times before this awful freezing winter, it is not as bad as it sounds.)
2. 
   
   Ladyfingers almost got into a car accident on principle.  We were going to lunch at the sandwich place I told him about, that he now refers to as "his place," and decided to make a U-turn infront of someone who had the right of way.  He actually wagged his finger at the other driver, saying, "No no! You can clearly see that I am turning now," and just missed having my side of the car crushed by the person obeying the law.  He reasoned that there was no confusion on the other driver's part, the other guy could clearly see that Ladyfingers was going, and it was the other driver who was being a dick.  He also gleefully pointed out that his side of the car would have been fine, so he wasn't really concerned if there'd been an accident.
3. 
   
   Ladyfingers (he would so kill me if he ever found out about me calling him this) started laughing when a student told him I got manhandled in the girl fight.   
4. 
   
   Ladyfingers said he could not wait until I emailed him from CA to say that I had to take a teaching job, but only temporarily, as I go on to become a career teacher since I will be unable to get any other type of job. 

*I am feeling self-conscious because someone said my blog color scheme was ugly and it pretty much made them vomit in their mouth every time they looked at it.  Blogger doesn't have a lot of options for blue/brown color schemes, and I'm sure I could make it look better, but I would rather make people sick.  I have no idea why the spacing is so wonky, either.  I did my best to fix the spacing, but blogger ignores me.*

Lame Update Because I'm Sick

That title should really hook you!  Anyway, I'm pretty worn out today, so don't expect much.  I think the time zone change / sinus infection combo, along with the fact that my Florida life is so uneventful is taking its toll.

Photo shoot kind of belongs in the fail category.  Apparently there was a mix-up and I was the only person there getting my pic taken when everyone else is going next week.  They thought I couldn't make it next week for some reason.  So the four organizers also came to get their pics taken.  And they are all super nice, successful and well-coiffed.  I mean one girl had perfect hair, makeup, body, etc., making me feel like Sir Frumpalot.  I kept looking around for a mirror, but didn't see one.  And then I didn't want to seem vain (you know, because I get my picture taken all the time and I am naturally beautiful and am not worried about the fact that I haven't had my hurr did in two months and I am incredibly clammy and sound very nasal thanks to my sinus issues, not to mention the Sudafed made my mouth really dry, so I was also trying to clutch my water bottle to play it off like it was condensation and not warm sick sweat covering my hand), so I just walked right up and started smiling my lipless smile for the photog.  Apparently all of those hangovers spent watching America's Next Top Model marathons did nothing, and I tried in vain to smile with my eyes.  Which made my nose run.  And I knew I would have to keep shaking strangers' hands, and who wants to grab a clammy snot hand?  In the back of my mind I could hear Tyra screaming, "I was rooting for you!  We were all rooting for you!!!"

Of course I want to see the pics, but again, it's for charity, so I didn't think it would be appropriate to ask.  Good thing they did because the photographer (loved him!) pointed out how shiny my forehead was.  He said I could take more pics after I applied some powder.  Of course I don't own any powder.  Naturally beautiful people (who are really just lazy but try to play it off as being unsuperficial -not a word?-) don't own compacts.  Luckily the perfect woman let me borrow hers.  I hope that didn't gross her out.  I mean, it's not like borrowing someone's lip gloss and giving them herpes, right?  Or a cold.  Then the photog was all, "Uhm, maybe you can go fix your hair (!!!) and we'll take some more pics."  He pointed to the bathroom which was hidden behind a bunch of pictures of naked women, which I was trying not to stare at in case these people suspect I'm a lesbian because I don't have a compact.  My hair (went with waves) was looking pretty drab and my black shirt really brought out my roots.

More pictures.  He keeps telling me to put my chin down and I keep trying to fake putting my chin down because it gave me a double chin and chub cheeks in the other pics.  He has to get a crate to stand on because I'm so tall.  Duh, I wore heels.  But they were only headshots so all of the outfit agony was for naught!  Sorry guys!!  Anyway, these pics had less shine and chin fat. 

Now the fun stuff:  I decided that since everyone is going next week, and it's going to be catered and have alcohol, I will also attend.  You know, just to get to know my fellow philanthropists.  And I am going to practice my poses and watch Tyra clips on youtube all weekend.  I already bought a compact on the way home from work today!  I was thinking I should maybe buy one for the perfect woman, but hers probably cost $200.  She gave me the lowdown on the auction, since she did it last year.  She seemed to understand my pressing need to determine whether or not there would be alcohol on hand (plenty) before we have to go onstage infront of hundreds of strangers and get people to pay for the privilege of paying for us to go to dinner during The Great Recession.  She seemed concerned (and rightfully so, I might add) that there were no tall bachelors for me to partner with.  So now I have to strategize with this new info in mind.  I'm thinking I should go with the shortest guy and let that be our schtick.  Except short strangers trying to get dates may not appreciate this.  But you never know.  Perfect Woman also gave me a questionnaire to fill out.  This is where shit got real. 

I have to pick out a song to walk out to!  This is the closest I will ever get to picking my very own first dance song, since let's face it, I'm not hearing wedding bells anytime in the near future.  (I feel very honored to have been consulted by some very close friends regarding their song choices for their first dance at their weddings.  I mean, maybe they may not have listened to me, but at least they asked.  I think The Cure are pretty festive, no?)  Alright, back to the task at foot:  What song??  "Hot for Teacher" is the obvious choice that will probably get me fired and/or on the local news.  I think "No Scrubs" would be funny.  Or "Closer to Free" by the Indigo Girls.  "Welcome to the Jungle"?  I wish I were a cop so it could be "Mrs. Officer."  Anyway, before I bother you about what I should wear that night, I thought I'd bother you for amazing song choices and witty things to write on my questionnaire.

This would be a great song choice, and I swear I would totally fall in love with the first guy who recognized the song.  Which would be no one in South Florida.  Aiiight, I'm going to go hit the Nyquil and have some stress dreams about a teeny black and white photo going into a program that no one will look at.  Kisses.

Too short?

I'm thinking I might need to get these "shorts" for my Florida swan song - that is, my last night of going out in South Florida.  Yes, they are underwear.  Super-expensive underwear, at that.  But they will definitely be on sale shortly for 70% off, and then I can justify buying them.  They are Kiki de Montparnasse and they are exquisite.  People would be like, wow, is that girl wearing panties as shorts?  And they'd be wrong, because technically, these are pajamas.  Not that I haven't worn undies out in public and tried to pass them off as hot pants.  But in my defense, I was on vacation; it was a costume party; and I had about five minutes to come up with an awesome costume idea.  And just in case you don't believe me, here is one of my favorite pics EVAH!

Need your help with picking an outfit!

Things are about to get crazy.  Just got back from CA where I picked up a sinus infection even though I didn't surf Cardiff.  I took some Nyquil and am trying to pass the time until it's my CA bedtime so that I can wake up at 2:30 a.m. CA time and start off my week.  I am not excited.  Except I have a photo shoot tomorrow!  That may sound waaaay too impressive; but I am going to a studio to get my picture taken, and then they may select me for this auction thing.  Now, I wanted to be all diva-like and tell them that I am not wasting my time going to some studio if I'm not going to be picked.  But it's for charity, so you can't be an asshole to volunteers.

Of course, I am overthinking the whole thing.  I'm not sure if I should wear my hair straight or wavy.  Wavy looks good in CA, but not in FL humidity.  Especially after working all day.  I am probably going to be the only person who shows up with an array of outfit options.  I am definitely going to bring crips white shorts and a black tank/blouse.  Other than that, I'm torn between two sweetheart neckline fun dresses, and two workish outfits (as this is an auction of professionals which means I may have to lie about my job).  And then I have one cold weather option in case it is cold in the studio.  You never know!  Please tell me what you think.  But don't be jerks.  Thanks!

Option A  I look pissed off because I am.  My camera takes the blurriest pictures and is so annoying.  I like this one because it has pockets and that will give me something to do with my arms.  However, my tanlines look tacky, but I cannot get rid of them.  No, I don't have any bronzer or cover up.  I am also thinking this might make me look too little-girly?

Option B  Which I like because it's new and I don't look as little girly or wide.  But it might be too short?  (I know, I know - like I should talk.)

Option C  The C is for conservative, and this one is kinda boring.  Pink sweater with pencil skirt.  Should I tell people I'm a teacher?  I don't want any pervs trying to live out some English teacher fantasy.

Option D  Black skirt, black top with billowy sleeves, special whore shoes that make me feel special.  Pretty basic.

Cryophobic Option  You never know.  I'm thinking I might look like a pregnant biker dominatrix?