So, let’s just say, hypothetically and all, that I’m headed to an afternoon high tea get-together. Then I might need something stylish and subdued, flirty yet elegant, colorful but not bright. Classy! That would be what I might want. You know, if I were going. If I were going to such an affair then, I definitely wouldn’t want something handmade, or revealing, or trampy, or too obvious. Most assuredly, I would not want this:

What’s with me and crochet? I don’t have any particular affinity for it, but, man oh geez, do I have a lot of this knitted specialty. Also? Pink? Now, it used to be my favorite color. One might say, I used to be a skosh obsessed with the color, but then I realized it wasn’t at all unique to like pink. Generally, hearts like pink, Valentine’s has laid claim to the color, and most girls are friendly with it as well. So I changed! Now I’m a Big Fan of Turquoise and Red. It’s lovely. I don’t know– it just IS. But, I digress.

Also, notice the slight difference in tone between the top and the bottom. See it? It’s there! I promise it is. It’s just enough to be obvious. And it’s annoying. It’s also fashionless, ugly, holey, and weird, but I’m only addressing the color change between the top and skirt right now.

And what might one wear UNDERNEATH the sweater? Obviously whatever it is had better be pretty to make up for all that pink ugliness. Seriously? This outfit is altogether too busy. It gives me a headache. And really? There aren’t ENOUGH words to talk about how hideous this is. Let’s just forget it, shall we?

Alright, I’ll admit it: I had a hard time deciding exactly what disaster I was going to showcase today. Should I go with something Red, White, and Blue to celebrate the Inauguration? Should I give a nod to the chilly weather up there and show you my extensive, and so very tubular, collection of leg warmers? How about another hand made affair (man, have I got a real piece of ugly)? There’s just so much hideousness in my closet that it’s near impossible to decide.

Today I am not choosing one outfit, but an entire style that I developed while mired in the depths of my eating disorder. (Wait, you didn’t know about that? Just add that to the list of my character defects! Yay!) As a ninety pound waif, I arrived at the conclusion that 1950’s Housewife Wear would be fashionable. On the one hand, this meant plenty of pencil skirts and killer high heels; however, the downside was itchy, stifling, unnatural fabrics and eye-bleeding prints. Not to mention the fact that I’m not particularly keen on wearing dresses and heels all day long. I’m just not that grown-up.

I now present you with a selection of dresses from this period in my life. I’m sorry that the quality of the photo isn’t better and that I didn’t take individual shots, but I didn’t feel like taking the time to upload each one, so here it is:

Clearly, comfort was not a priority. Also? These dresses are a negative size. There’s just not enough fabric to cover my entire left leg. Not that there’s anything wrong with people who are, but I’m just not that girly. What’s more? I can’t believe I tried so hard, for so long. I now wonder what the people I encountered were thinking. I wonder if they too felt visually assaulted by all the swing and polyester.

Here’s another one in which the pattern causes you to blink rapidly to focus your eyes. It’s that kind of migraine inducing. Blech.

The skirt might actually be alright, if paired with the right top. And by the right top, surely I mean something without polka dots. Oh, the polka dots. Good Heavens, wearing this dotted nightmare might cause some innocent, unsuspecting toddler to go crazy with a marker, mistaking me for a Connect-the-Dots. Although, a bit of marker might be an improvement.

I just can’t for the life of me fathom what I was thinking. Sure the style might not have been all that bad if I wanted to look like I stepped off the pages of Women’s Wear Daily in the 1950’s, which I didn’t. But the effort required to look this way! Oh it must have been tireless! As if I didn’t have enough to do! In between all the dress making, cookie baking, and child tending, I needed to apply lipstick and smooth out the wrinkles on my dress too? (Wait! I know I do those things now, but I do it in sticky blue jeans and stained nursing tops. Sweet.) In fact, that’s probably why this style of dress went out the window: I just didn’t have the energy to keep up with myself. Frankly, I just don’t care that much how I look. And, I hope, neither do you. Care how I look, I mean.

Next week, My Crocheted Nightmare! Awesome.

There are some amazing pictures entered over at Greeblemonkey’s for this month’s photo contest. Check it out! I chose one of my biggest inspirations. If you want to see a bigger version of this same picture, head over here.

Shoes! I love shoes! I am such the typical female that way. My closet is close to bursting with them and I have boxes and boxes stored under beds and in cabinets throughout the house. It’s actually kind of pathetic really, but there’s no reason that I can see to get rid of a pair of Christian Louboutins. I may have worn them into the ground, but they’re much to precious to give up.

Except these:

There are 1759 reasons to get rid of these uglies. I mean, “Woof!” They have everything: lace, beads, frill, leather, ribbon. Everything shoes shouldn’t have. Sadly, I did not buy these to wear with any costume or gag outfit. I saw them in a shop window and thought they would make the perfect accessory to a skirt I used to own. And then I wore the outfit in public. I was in a shabby-chic/cowgirl phase (two styles which should never meet). I only wish I had a better excuse story for them.

I don’t even know what to say. I think they pretty much speak for themselves.

I don’t have much to say today, but was feeling the need to write. After a quick glance through my Drafts, I realized I had the perfect material right in front of me. I spend most of my day repeating mundane tasks: changing dirty diapers, nursing, making baby food, helping with homework, racing cars around the house. Riveting stuff, really. A good portion, if not all, of this time is spent tripping out on my own thoughts. Trust me, my mind is like a dangerous neighborhood: always bring a friend and some pepper spray. Occasionally inspiration will hit and I will save a post title with a few, short, descriptive words to remind myself what I wanted to write. I almost always forget what the hell I was talking about. Thus, my Drafts Folder reads like the thoughts in a crazy person’s head. (Hmm. Well, that explains it.)

Hole In The Pants For Him
What hole? Whose pants? His pants? His pants have no fracking hole!

Things I Am Thinking About
Um, I think I’d rather not know. Also? I think we all know how that turned out.

Baby Moo: Month 6
I know! I’m a little bit late. Whoops!

Something Fishy
I’m guessing that would be our dearly departed fish friends, Sonny and Crockett. But! Who knows!?! I might have been referring to the time Baby Moo pooped and it missed the diaper and slid out the side and landed on the floor! How do these things happen? I also might have been wondering who was the genius going around stealing tires off of cars in our development. I opened the front door to take Bugsy to school and was met by our Acura up on cinder blocks. Awesome!

Slippers
Oh, wait! That is a good one. I’m saving that for later.

No Title
But I did write something! It starts off, “Growing up in my house. . .” Growing up in my house, WHAT? It was crazy? We had fun? I have two sisters that no longer speak to me? WHAT?? Was I about to regale you with the time I sent my father to the E.R. when he was about to spank me? Oh! A real knee slapper! Or was I going to tell you about the time the police brought me home, drunk (me, not the police), on Thanksgiving break? WHEN I WAS IN EIGHTH GRADE! Good times! Who knows, but I bet it was a really juicy tale.

Three Purple Socks
Huh? I have NO CLUE. Clearly, my ever helpful titles aren’t ever really helping me to remember whatever it is that I wanted to write about. I once knit a sock. One sock. And it was kind of purple in color. But I definitely didn’t knit more than one, so obviously I didn’t knit three.

Ba-Dum-Shee
Apparently I was about to tell a joke. Although I now can’t remember what joke that was because I KNOW NO JOKES. So whatever. On second thought, perhaps I was going to relate something that recently happened. I might just be the clumsiest person alive, so a lot of mishaps go on throughout the day. I tripped and fell down the stairs yesterday, I rolled off the bed the other morning, I was trying on a pair of my Jimmy Choo stilettos when the heel got caught up on the rug and I took a tumble, and I nearly broke my ankle trying to maneuver a nursing baby and myself up ONTO the bed and OVER the guard rail last night. I have no excuse, other than standing vertical is clearly a challenge and throws me all out of sorts.

And that concludes our walk through my brain Drafts Folder. I now know I need to write a short blurb before I hit save to give myself a few more clues as to what I was thinking. Because if these titles are anything to go by, clearly I’m cross-eyed crazy clueless.