Monday, September 15, 2014

A quick note on blogging...

Blogging about blogging is the absolute WORST thing a person can do other than flicking babies in the ear or making fun of a dog to its face but here we go.  It'll be relatively painless, I promise.  But I had a come-to-Jeebus moment during my blog break about how much time I was willing to spend blogging and some things had to change.  

My life in perpetuity. Here.
Proper sourcing of images is really important to me but thanks to shitty pinners and bad blogging manners finding the true original source of ONE image can take up to fifteen minutes... twenty minutes... if ever at all.  I'm a master reverse image googler by now, I assure you.  I sometimes get distracted by cool internet adventures during these hunts *cough* tumblr *cough* but I didn't include that time in the number above.  Swearsies.

Now multiply twenty by the number of images in yesterday's post... I'll give you a minute...  yeah...  I have often spent HOURS just sourcing pictures (not including the time for gathering the images) for a post it takes less than two minutes to read.  This is not a humblebrag of blogging life (too late?) or a criticism of readers - my posts are meant to be absorbed quickly without a lot of effort and easily forgotten so you can go back to eating your bagel.  

But frankly, I just don't have that kind of time anymore and I'd like to eat a bagel too.  And have a life.  So my new rules for sourcing are:

-In the case of image dumps, "mood boards"/ inspiration posts or lengthy illustrated stories of some kind (hey, it could happen) I will credit in the caption where I got the image regardless of supreme ultimate source.  If the pin where I got the image has information I can't verify but think you might like then I'll link to pin (or We Heart It page or Tumblr post or whatever).  It might alert you to a cool pinner person anyway.  The Design for Mankind graphic is smart and I can't argue with it but not necessarily practical for these kinds of blog posts.  I also sincerely doubt a single person actually uses it. 

- But if there isn't any more info and the "source" isn't almost immediately known, then it's captioned as 'unknown.'  Done.  Sorry.

- If you know of a source and I don't please let me know and I'll be happy to fix it.  Random images are the hanging chads of the internet and it drives me fucking crazy.

- If I'm featuring the specific work/thing/artist/designer/etc then I will absolutely source it to the best of my abilities.  

I don't think anyone will actually care about this since very few people actually click through to the source in image dumps but blogging is a community that I enjoy being a part of and I believe in manners. Thanks.  *curtsy*

And although I know that everyone reading this blog is supremely intelligent and amazing, please tell your less fortunate friends to PIN FROM THE SOURCE, YOU GAWDDAMN FILTHY ANIMALS!!  If the URL to an image says 'media-cache-i3ur2ij3lkjerojweirj' or 'tumblr.3rujefkwejrouoru' that is not a fucking source.  Do NOT pin from that.

Or note this other example of pinning fuckery.  I found this image on Pinterest and loved it for my bedroom and wanted to exchange money for this bit of merchandise.  


Source? Unfuckingknown.
It is actually for sale, I was surprised to find out, because I was indeed taken to Etsy only to discover it was pinned from the general search results and not the photographer's shop.  So now this artist who I, and possibly thousands of other appreciative internet people, would like to give my money to will not receive my money.  Way to go, original pinner.  You make this world a terrible place.  I hope the dressing for your kale salad is actually made of piss and vinegar, shit-for-brains.

So the TL;DR version of this post is that I'm spending less time on sourcing and this will impact you in no way whatsoever.  Except that it might help me post more often...!  Consider this my confession just to clean my soul.

Now, back to our regular scheduled and partially-sourced programming!

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Soft Fall. Like summer but more beige.

I know our almanac Starbucks has already declared it Fall as well as my grocery store with its cinnamon brooms and mums but I'm not there yet.  For ONCE in my adult life I'm clinging on to Summer with all its boob sweat and thigh chafing glory.  

It's certainly not because I enjoy the heat - I've crafted a plastic bubble suit to get to and from my car so I don't have to actually feel the humidity or outside air.  Maybe it's because I've actually had a really enjoyable summer thanks in part to having a seasonal bucket list.  I traveled, I soaked up the sun underneath my hat and SPF 70, I saw Beyonce, I drank a LOT, I wore a lot of white and pretended I was warm, chubby fairy.  

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I wasn't able to fly into the sun and become immortal but I guess that's rollover bucket stuffs for next summer.

Whatever the reason, I ain't feelin' your punkins right now. My summer flowers are still blooming, there's still ice in my coffee and my thighs say nay there is chafe left to be had here.  You'll have to drag this season out of my limp, sweaty hands.

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I'm all about a pre-Fall right now.  It's like a soft opening to a new restaurant - slower pace and quiet.  Possibly with bad service?

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Wait, even pre-Fall feels too much for me.  Maybe we'll say the sun is setting on summer.  I don't know if you got that from the incredibly blatant images above...  

It's not because your'e obtuse - I have the bestest and smartiest readers on the innernets.  I just have a great need to over-explain myself and ruin a perfectly good thing with more me.  It's a curse.  I'll add it to my autumnal bucket list.  #1 is less me in all things I do.

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I love traveling this time of year because your legs don't stick to car seats as much and it's the last bit of freedom before holiday season demands all of your money and weekends.  

This bag is really speaking to me and I'm sure I can't afford it but maybe Santa should bring me some new luggage.  My current weekend bag I got from Chinatown about seven years ago and is literally falling apart.  A nice man helped carry it for me last month and a piece of the pleather came off in his hands.  He tried to act nonchalant about it but I could tell he was like "gross, never doing that again sorry all future ladies of travel."

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"Scarf season" is something I'm actively rejecting as well.  I actually had a scarf picture in this image dump and took it off.  Fucked up my flow.  Know what IS my flow?  More white with some beige.  Gotta have a beige outer layer this season.  

What are we calling this season now?  Summertime slumbertime?  Soft Fall?  Um... September?
Mexican feather grass here
One thing I'm pretty stoked about is grass.  Late Summer and Soft Fall means all the grasses are at their prime and grasses are to me what flowers are to other people.  Some people like gardens of color but I'd like gardens of beige muppet hair.  

Don't you just want to snuggle with that grass up there?  I bet it tickles.  That's the kind of feeling I want from September.  Sunsets and tickling.

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Also, this feeling.

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But mostly this.  All about that beige, 'bout that beige, no color.

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And this.  Fall seems like something that would require you to wear a bra and I'm DEFINITELY not ready for that kind of structure in my life.

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Some old linens though...?  Soft Fall is also about wrinkles.  Wrinkles and sagging boobs.

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I think this is also Mexican feather grass.  An appropriate name for tickling.  Oddly, grass makes me more excited for this season than pumpkin spice dick.

This is what being a homeowner does to you... 

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I could talk about grass all season so I'll spare you the additional grass I bought at a plant sale this weekend.  UNTIL MY SOFT FALL GARDENING POST MWAHAHAHA!

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Me, working in the yard and gettin' tickled by grass probly.

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Something about this room is speaking to me right now - maybe it's the nice neutrals and contrasting styles but also a hint of cozy fire.  It's certainly not the abundance of weirdo chairs wandering around the room...

It also doesn't have a rug but this kind of space needs a cold floor.  

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I may not be ready for scarves but I'm very pro-socks right now.  Could be that my feet are looking for moisture again or that my tap shoes look best with funky socks.  Possibly both.  Prepare for lots of Instagrams of me in legwarmers and tap shoes next month.

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Regardless of toe situation, I can manage this.  Well, I mean I can't manage to look as effortlessly Soft Fall Casual but I have a beige leather-ish jacket and tshirts.  And some weird socks and tap shoes so...  somebody call Bill Cunningham!

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Nothing says Soft Fall like ankles.  Yeah, I'm wearing two shirts but keeping my ankles nice and breezy.  Fuck your sweet potatoes and cinnamon, me and my ankles are living the beige dream right now.

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Soon, my punkin-headed friends.  Soon.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Dream cars and pastel bombshells.

During my blog vacation I went out and "did" things like a "real" person and one of those things was a trip to the High Museum in our favorite city of Southern sprawl, Atlanta.  

I'm so cultured.


You may remember my unexpected lust for automobiles this summer where I squeed myself sore over some cute motorized cartoon cars.  At that time I learned that the High Museum was having a dream car exhibit so I vowed to go.  Thanks, serendipity!    

So I got in my very sensible, boring and completely-paid-for car to go visit some fantasy rides and it was entirely worth it.  They extended the exhibit through THIS Sunday (the 14th) and I highly recommend you go if you're in the area and have $20.

Feel free to hum the Dreamgirls song while viewing the cars.  I couldn't stop myself.

Remember, I don't even like cars but look at these beauties...


Here's the Edsel Ford Special Speedster looking like a badass alligator.  Oddly, it was my favorite color of all of them - a deep, saturated olive green.  I'm partial to green right now so I'm sure it was a boring color to everyone else but I found it incredibly sexy.

Imagine a smartly dressed WWII blonde bombshell in military uniform and bright red lips - that's what this car is.  I have a whole Indiana Jones thing going on in my head.  Nevermind that this is from 1934 and perhaps too early to fight Nazis but time has no value in my fantasies.


I took a surprising amount of wheel shots.  I just can't resist a good detail.

1948 Tasco
Or butt.  Nothing but car butts for me, please.  The one above is kinda smiling.  Cheeky little bastard.


You may have thought the Apple Watch was an exciting piece of future design but this 1953 Firebird looks like a jet so kindly fuck off, Apple.

Also, here's the "Electric Egg" designed by French artist and industrial designer Paul Arzens in 1942 as his personal car during the war.  An electric car more than 70 years ago so think on that for a bit...


Also, look at how cute that little silver butt is.  I'm in love with this little teardrop.  It was fairly rusted and definitely showed its age which made me like it more.

If you're interested in something more traditional-looking here's the 1941 Chrysler Thunderbolt.


It has a roof and headlights controlled electrically by buttons on the leather-covered dashboard.  

My driver side visor is broken and just flops around when I hit a bump.  Or when there's thunder.  

A highlight of the exhibit was the 1936 Stout Scarab - something I got excited about from researching this summer's post.


It was the precursor to the modern minivan, obviously, except this version's back seating could convert into a couch and a table.  I have a cup holder filled with sticky pennies.  Scarab: 1. Lacy: 0


The Scarab's smiling face.  I'd like to see that sunny disposition slide by me in oncoming traffic.   This handsome fellow really was modeled after the beetle with the same name as indicated by cute scarab detail on its nose in the center.


More wheel lust.  I do have pictures of the butt but I have to draw the line somewhere.

Not here!


This 1955 Chrsyler "Gilda" was said to be shaped by the wind. 


How come the wind always shapes me into a mess?  Fuckin wind, man.


Arrow door handles were shot by Cupid straight into my heart.

I also really appreciated a trio of American-made cars in the center of the exhibit.  Straight-up jet airplane meets Mad Men meets spy cars.  I actually felt very patriotic during much of this exhibit because 'yay America actually did contribute something positive to the world one time!' and it was very shiny.

1951 GM Le Sabre
One of my favorites was this ivory and cherry red 1956 Buick Centurion.  See a full picture of it here.


I'm dying over this all glass top.  It had a rear-mounted camera and a viewscreen on its dash...  In 1956.  Doesn't it kinda make the same features in today's cars seem less exciting?  I guess we spent the last 60 years working on improving "safety" and "efficiency" or something.

Of course, I can't even play my ipod in my car so I probably shouldn't judge.


Centurion jet butt.

Next to the Centurion is the 1959 Cadillac Cyclone butt.


I have a blurry picture of its headlights but it was starting to feel sleazy...

You know how there are those dudes you see on tv who are sexually attracted to cars and have sex with their mufflers and want to marry them?  Well, I totally get it now because if I had a dick I would totally try to put it in one of these cars.

For the dessert course of our exhibit we have the 2007 recreation of the 1935 Bugatti Aerolithe.  Only five were ever made and most likely they were stripped to create other models so this is what we get and I'm fine with it.



I would say staring at these giant scoops of pistachio ice cream is almost a spiritual experience.  My car also feels like a spiritual experience - more like a Winchester sending my soul to hell feeling but still a spiritual experience.


For the record, there's no way Rick Ross could have got in this car.  I'm pretty sure my ass would have to hang out the window were I to get a ride but I don't care I'd still feel sexy.


Some cars deserve petting and stroking.  

My car deserves a long drive off of a short pier into a lake of grenades.


The superfun detailing that I hope you can see is that it's assembled using rivets.  So it's sleek and pastel but looks like it was forged in a factory that made bombs.  Or an Italian Mount Doom.  

I would like this to be my new aesthetic - sweet pastel bombshell.  Emphasis on BOMB.  

First step in this new aesthetic is that I gotta get a new car.  My side mirror got destroyed by a daycare van driving towards me in oncoming traffic that sideswiped me and then drove off.  So now I have the shards of a mirror glued on and some dangling paper.  True story.  Double check where you send your kids to daycare is all I'm saying.

Now if it was a Stout Scarab that destroyed my side mirror I'd probably thank it just for saying hello and ask to take a picture of its butt.

So now my car lust has intensified dramatically.  

But I would highly recommend this exhibit even if you don't love cars but DO love design.  Or shiny things.  Or history.  Or America.  Or pastel ice cream bombs.  

See more about exhibit and the cars I didn't show you (and better pictures of the ones I did) here.  You will DEFINITELY want to buy your tickets online.  It's a crowded show but everyone was friendly and respectful when it came to picture-taking.  Except for the middle-aged white men who were completely unaware that their dad jorts and weird shoes were messing up my Instagram moments...    

I'd also suggest getting the audio guided tour - a few random strangers were stopping me and telling me about the cars as we walked around, that's how cool the extra info apparently was.  I was more like "yay shiny butts!"

If you actually do make it down to the ATL this weekend or soon, my fellow dream car dreamer and I went over to the Westside and hung out at the new Bellwoods Social House for refreshments and day drinking.  I think I might have been day drunk...



Who doesn't love a good bar shot?  I always feel so fancy.

And nothing seems fancier than shiny bars and shiny cars.

Rhyming is definitely not fancy.  

Neither is a hillbilly in the big city.

Gawd, I'm making this worse...

Enjoy the cars even if it's just here.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

I'm back and ready to party. Or blog. Or both. I'm open...

Greetings and salutations, y'all!  I'm back from my blog vacation. My blacation?  Irregardless, I took an extra week because I didn't really feel like blogging over Labor Day weekend.  I figured you'd understand.

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I'd like to tell you that I took a lot of long baths and read poetry and listened to a lot of Vanessa Carlton songs but I didn't do any of that stuff.  There's a time and place for candlelit baths and cocooning to non-abrasive music but this was not it.  I mean, I listened to a lot of The Black Angels and burned a lot of incense but that's a totally different thing, right?

Anyway, I had to DO something.  Be proactive.  Create something.  Or maybe destroy something.

That sounds ominous.  I meant I just threw away some socks with holes in them that I'd been saving for a long time.  It still felt good.

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Mostly I got dirty, filthy, gross - went outside, played in the dirt, got sweaty, got sweatier.  I chopped down bushes, sanded things and didn't shave my armpits.  [MS sidebar: I get laser treatments done in my armpits so this isn't quite as defiant an act as one might think unless you look reeeaallly close.]

Somehow when you've been on the internet too damn long it's like you forget you're a human animal and that you actual possess a corporeal state.  I tried to remind myself of that. 

We're all made of stardust, right?  That's what a nice mustachioed man on the internet told me one time. But also dirt and toe jam and muscles and too much pasta.

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I took several weekend trips because traveling is my happy place.  I made a lot of new friends (and got rid of some old ones), went to new restaurants and generally tried new things like people do that don't watch Twitter streams all day. 

Like, you know those things that you read about and think "Hey, that would be so cool to do!" and then you never do them?  Well I actually did some!  So weird, I know.

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I went to museums and did my hair different and drove all the way to the middle of nowhere to see something that might have been cool.  Turns out it wasn't but at least I did it.  Same thing with my hair.

I signed up for yoga classes and an adult tap class.  Not a pornographic tap class (although how fucking weird would that be but also I kinda want to watch it on Skinemax...) but a class for middle-aged women with a song in their heart and toes full of twinkle.
Here
I did a lot of productive nesting.  I hung art and styled vignettes and made a big mess in the process that I still haven't cleaned up and I'm okay with.

You know in horror movies when the heroes go to an abandoned warehouse basement in search of an alien mom thing and find it filled with bones and twigs and ripped up newspaper all glued together with alien bile and love slime and they're like "OH SHIT IS THIS ITS NEST?" and then somebody immediately dies to feed her babies?  Well that's what I did.  Not the murder part... the making an alien nest part.  But with candles and vintage trays.

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And I was directed towards a great new astrologist (don't start with me...) who explained why August was terrible particularly as it relates to recent events so I was like "Thank you, Jeebus, I'm not entirely insane!" 

She explained why I was DO-ing all these things as a form of ritual.  And Virgos love some ritual.  

Not ritual sacrifice, if you were worried...

Although maybe it's time to sacrifice some armpit hair...?

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Nah.  I'm good.

And now it just happens to be my birthday month so I'm pretty much a riding the Beyonce birthday wave of flawlessness for the next three weeks.

To sum up: I'm back, full of renewed energy and lots of new age-y goodness (debatable) and ready to blog again in an enjoyable way.  

Well, enjoyable to me.  How much joy it brings others is also debatable but the internet hasn't kicked me off yet so I'll take that as a good sign.

Hope you're all enjoying the slow slide into Fall and the universe it treating you right.  

Or if that asshole isn't, treat yo self right.

Image pairings courtesy of Adapto (where you can find the source of individual images) but I photosphopped them together as one unit just for ease of blogging/formatting.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Let's put the sauce on a low simmer for a bit...

I don't know about the rest of y'all but I've been somewhat of an emotional basketcase this past week and a half.  


I was already on shaky ground last Monday because I'd been watching the entirety of Deep Space Nine this year and saved the final episode for that night.  I came home and made a strong cocktail (ahem) and cried it out while saying goodbye to 173 episodes.  Who would have suspected such a turnaround from a show I despised to me crying over never seeing a Ferengi again?  I always like the weird/terrible ones.

And still with a Claire Danes-style trembling chin I learned of Robin Williams death.  I was too shocked at first to register emotion but then as I watched the reactions roll in I kinda lost it.  There I was drinking blood orange faery pee and making chicken gravy that was heavily seasoned by the salty rivers of my despair.  I could NOT stop crying for hours.

I didn't think I even liked Mrs. Doubtfire that much but apparently I did.  I'm STILL not over it completely and I refuse to watch the video of Koko the gorilla crying.  Every time I attempt to read an article about him I get upset.  I do not even have the capacity for Lauren Bacall right now.  My apologies.  

Then Wednesday I got SUCKED IN to the events in Ferguson.  Obsessed may be the more appropriate word now .  I was aware of the story but watching it happen in real time that night was pivotal.  And still is.

I was constantly checking for updates on the computer but couldn't seem to respond to an email or other basic internet protocol.  I had that last blog post ready to go for a week but couldn't seem to hit 'publish.'  I'm still up pretty much every night til midnight watching the protests unfold on Twitter. If you're interested in the events at all I strongly urge you to get yer ass over there pronto and follow the protesters and journalists on the street.  

Warning: "once you've committed to following the ghastliness of Ferguson, it's hard to think about anything else, watch about anything else, read about anything else."


I'm not normally so emotional but it may have something to do with hormones and spending several days working til midnight at home and being utterly sleep-deprived and Deep Space Nine residual grief.  Maybe I was also going through hot dog withdrawal?  Maybe everything hit at once.

I don't know but I cried when I learned that the Civil Wars broke up and then I cried over the sound of some of their harmonies.  I cried because I liked riding in my car at night so much (...the fuck?) and because my new bed pillows were the perfect blend of soft yet supportive.  I cried when I saw this picture of Janelle Monae and I cried when I read about Mo'ne Davis pitching in the little league world series.  I cried typing that sentence just remembering her smiling face.  There's no crying in little league, Lacy!

So basically I'm a giant gaping soul wound of flayed emotions, half-assed activism and Good Will Hunting references.  

I spent the weekend doing some emergency self care and it was most beneficial.  I need more.

I let out my frustration on a bunch of overgrown bushes in my garden, sweated a lot, helped a friend rearrange her furniture, tried to avoid electronic screens as much as possible, had some quality naked time, went to our local march (fully clothed) in solidarity with the protesters in Ferguson instead of just retweeting news, I made new friends, I drank a lot of water, I was in happy baby pose a lot, I worked out as much as possible - sometimes in the rain - and then I hung out in the rain some more.  

Not only did I check that off my summer bucket list (BOOM) but there's something about NOT avoiding the rain, being purposefully drenched in it, that is quite liberating despite its romantic comedy cliche vibe.  Just what I needed to momentarily forget about tweets.

Good thing I have a privacy fence.

The only things that make me actually laugh right now are videos of Robin Williams and Craig Ferguson together and that terrible Walking Dead 'Coral' meme.  It's so bad.  I can't stop cackling.

Birgit Jurgenssen via Alison Jacques Gallery
In light of these recent events and the fact that if I even look at a computer/phone/tv screen I get a headache, I'm taking a blogging break for the next two weeks.  I expect much more naked time and happy baby pose in my future.  Maybe even at the same time!

I'll be travelling for the next two weekends anyway so I figured this would be a perfect time.  I'll obviously be on Twitter (I CAN'T STOP!) although I'll try to respect my bedtime and  emotional well-being as much as possible.   

Hope everyone is taking care of themselves and I'll holler at you in a few weeks!