Blogging while sick is not recommended. I wrote two entries of whining that I promptly deleted. In my undergrad i took a course called Technology, World and Society and I remember the prof talking about how pampered our society is and how outraged we get at much minor inconveniences.

I hadn't gotten sick all winter and if I had to be laid up for a few days, last weekend was as good a time as any. I proctered a final exam all swimmy on cough syrup and I had to miss a shift at the store, but I'm well in time to work my shift tonight, paint my room tomorrow and hopefully move early next week.

I am so excited to go outside.

I'm a little bit dumb

StationAry is not moving. StationEry is for writing. I searched "printable stationery" and found lovely stuff at the Canon printer website even though I use a Lexmark.

Thanks to a certain fourth dwarffor pointing this out so delicately that I didn't even get it at first.

%@^#!

DISCLAIMER: I'm very sick and couldn't get rid of my shifts today and tomorrow; CRANKY.

Hear ye. "Stationary" is not the same as "note cards". One is lined paper for letter-writing. The other is folded cardboard. Where on earth can I find some frigging STATIONARY?!

(Before any Ottawans suggest that I try The Papery, Paper Papier, or any of the art stores on Bank St - I have. Not only have I tried there without success, but I got some of the worst service EVER. Walking into the Papery and Papier Paper alike, I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman; as though this girl with headphones and a nosering or whatever has NO BUSINESS buying paper. Is my appearance really so offensive? Am I supposed to dress up nice to look fruitlessly for decent stationary? Why didn't they have decent stationary?!?)

Even Etsy.com let me down. Searches for stationary yields notecards. Note to some entrepreneur; there is a market for lined paper. Make it happen!

Sweet thrift finds!

1) a length of beautiful brocade fabric, perfect for my Basement Artists setup. Dark, rich and heavy. It's in two pieces, so I'll have to sew them together to make a square. The best part is; it's already fringed (my mom was going on about how fringe is so expensive . However, it should be noted that to my mom, $20 for a pair of cowboy boots is OUTRAGEOUS. Read on)!

2) a REALLY CUTE pair of cowboy boots, which I have been coveting for a long time (ever since I saw Death-Proof, I think). They fit perfectly and were only $20. The only problem; they were pink. PINK. Like an awful peachy-pink. My mom called them "flesh". GROSS. I know I'm not "with it" and all (see blog entry for April 9), but I think people shouldn't wear clothing/accessories that match their fucking skin. Period.

I'm obviously dying them black. I used an entire bottle of leather dye (they're suede, by the way) and I just managed to complete one full coat. They're looking a little bluish, so I think I'll get a second bottle and top them up. They're looking amazing... the decorative gold stitching was done in nylon thread, so it's still gold against the black. I'll post before and after pics when they're done.

Last but not least, 3) a really fun British craft book from 1973. I basically collect craft books. I especially like kitchy ones from the 60s and 70s. Some of the projects are so cute! Check out these jumper-things;



I think they're really fucking adorable. Would I wear one?... probably not. But still. The book calls them "playclothes" which is so Sound of Music. I may make one with exaggerated belt loops for scissors and pockets for pins and such and call it my sewing tunic.

I guess the book is my favorite find right now because it's the only one I can enjoy immediately. The boots will take a while. The fabric was a great find, though. I even brought around my lampshade in the hope of finding some cloth to somewhat match. All I need now is the perfect picture frame to display prices. And the card table, of course. And some stock...

not diggin' the not drinkin'

It's not like it's making me any less irritable. My intentions were good. It was an experiment and it's over. Booze doesn't make me mean. I'm just mean. As for the hangover-days... well, I'll try to keep them few and far between.

Excited to MOVE!

This week a friend messaged me asking who I punched in the face, and someone else was curious who I argued with via text messaging.

I love my little teaser posts. They let me know who's listening.

xo

The key to winning a text-message argument is not having the last word. It's being the one to finally snap your phone shut and not open it again every thirty seconds to see the latest retort. It's being the one to decide that this argument is beneath you. It's resisting the urge to actually call the person, taking the argument to the next level where voices can be raised and words chosen more hastily.

"One asshole is enough"...

...is what I should have told the customer today who tore me a new one.

The lady;
I had just started my shift when I saw a coworker frantically waving someone over. I should have seen the look in his eyes; the look that says 'rescue me from this crazy-ass custie'. I went over, and he explained that this broad was looking for "high-rise jeans" in a 34. "in a 34" means men's jeans, so you can imagine my initial bewilderment. I try to explain to the lady that my extensive knowledge of the various jeans in the store is based mostly on the leg fit; relaxed, bootleg, slim, skinny, etc. She explains to me what high-rise means ("on your WAIST", pointing at my belt) as though I cannot understand english.

So I tell her I'm not aware of any particularly "high-rise" men's pant, but that we'll grab a bunch of 34s and compare the inseams. She goes off about how in New York and LA "high-rise jeans" are all the rage and had I seen the new Tommy Hilfiger denim? I admitted that I had not. She throws up her hands in exasperation and informs me that I'm not "with it".*

So I see the owner/manager in the shoe room. I go up to her and ask if she's aware of any particularly "high-rise jeans" in the store; if anyone knew, it would be her. She replies with a somewhat incredulous "no?". At this point the lady appears out of nowhere and tells my manager that "this one" (me) is giving her "attitude." That she knows what's up and that I don't. That she (get this) doesn't need to "take any shit" from the likes of me. She made this last point with both arms in the air, pointing downward at me, like she's dissing me in some kind of freestyle battle in the street.

So I'm standing there, mouth agape, while my manager tries to stifle a grin. Customers in the shoe room are staring and giggling. As per standard procedure, the manager leads the lady out of the shoe room to a less-populous area to discuss the issue. I went to the back and hid behind the stereo.

Co-workers marvelled that I took this verbal assault with silence when they know me to be... more confrontational. I can sometimes be an ass but I KNOW when I'm being an ass. In this case, I was not. If anything, having just started my shift, I was in a good mood and was willing to help this dumb-ass woman find what she was looking for, even if she was demented. I can return a beating that I deserve, but this wasn't such a beating. Funny how that works.

*- I'm no stranger to being told that I'm not "with it", that I'm "stuck in the 90s". I dressed up normally for Rex Manning Day last week and my parents likened me to mid 80-s Cher. I don't care; I can take it. I'd rather wear what works for me and my body that wear whatever the terrible style "du jour" is. Docs have been "out" for ever, but I'm wearing mine until they wear out. I could really give a fuck.

In the end, I guess my smile came off condescending and my cheery tone patronizing. Lesson learned? - high rise jeans for fellas. Here they come. Camel-toe city, straight from NY and LA.

Makeover!

Both undeadclothing.ca and this blog got a much-needed reno today. I'm so pleased that they now match. Plus, the former banner of the girl eating a hunk of flesh is maybe not terribly appetizing to my enormous readership (haha). I actually had someone ask if it was me. It wasn't.

Undeadclothing.ca now has a functioning image gallery up, replete with thumbnails, closeups and product descriptions! I wish I had pics of my new stock, but my favorite photographer is notoriously hard to book on short notice. Furthermore, I have so much half-completed stock that I feel like I'm better off waiting a while and then having a big-ass photo shoot with pics up in time for the May 24 Basement Artists show.

I'm desperately excited to set up my own craft room and get to work; I have pent-up creativity from almost 4 months ago! The problem is that the current residents of my future home are uncertain about their moving plans, which in turn makes mine uncertain too. I'd like to have a concrete date to tell my parents and friends (to enlist their help moving me) and I'd like to paint.

HAPPY REX MANNING DAY!

Also my last evening of drunken shenanigans. After last night, I can add punching my good friend and co-worker in the face (twice) to my list of booze-infused assholery.

I just deleted a very grumpy post about the weather. I actually don't want this blog to become a repository for all my negative bitchings and ramblings of a given morning, although some people have blogs expressly for that purpose. The occasionaly rant is OK (I stand by my Maxim blast from last year) but from now on, I'm keeping this stuff nice and lively.

On a decidedly more positive note, I realized yesterday that I'm probably more than halfway done my loathed thesis. Big fat theory chapter complete, NOTLD chapter essentially done; one more chap on Day and Dawn and a conclusion. If I hold up to my 2-drink limit, I should be done in no time.

I work this afternoon, and I'm counting on a really busy Saturday afternoon. Nothing gets me pumped for spring like seeing people stock up on sandals, bikinis, shorts, etc. There's one 6-foot snowbank on my street that doesn't look like it's going anywhere though. I'm trying to think of a way to melt it... manually? Blowdryer?