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.

State of the Union: Much Frozen. Very Not Okay.

Thanks, Snobama.

You know you want dogeweather.

You might have heard that the South got up close and personal with climate change biznasty starting on Tuesday.  The promise of a feather-light dusting of flurries (yay!) very suddenly became a giant fuckbucket of ice and terror (boo!).  

By 11AM Tuesday shit got real and everyone in my office said deuces up and scrambled back into our cars to head home.  A 25 minute commute took me 2.5 hours.  Dozens of cars already littered the ditches and I think I whimpered out loud most of the way.  Also, I had to pee. Being stuck in traffic and having to pee is my worst nightmare.  I began to think of elaborate plots to pee into used coffee cups or plastic Target bags while remaining fully clothed and not pulling over because the interstate lane was literally the safest place to be.     
Fortunately my crazy pee brain was over-dramatizing a tad and I was okay after I found my second wind and a McDonald's.  Not surprisingly it was the only clear driveway within 20 miles because OF COURSE lots of people wanted fries before they died in the freezing cold. 

The calm white river of terror after the storm.

I turned off on a smaller road before I got home to avoid the standstill of cars and also if I wrecked I'd be near my second homes: Taco Bell and liquor stores.  I may have been visibly shaken but I had enough wits about me to develop a strategery.  

After inching through a few giant wrecks, the cars thinned out and I was able to eventually slide home going about 5 mph with my stomach churning.

Less than two inches of snow might seem like no big deal elsewhere but never in my life have I seen such dangerous driving conditions down here.  Blizzard-like wind gusts of snow that immediately turned to ice on the roads makes everything completely impassable to our 2-wheel drive cars.  Our cities aren't meant to handle that kind of thing anyway and we use our salt trucks for storing cold beer in the summer.  We spend our tax dollars on good Southern, Christian things like community pools filled with sweet tea and Confederate flags large enough to blanket an airplane.

I felt victorious as a storm warrior until I realized that it took some people in town four hours to get home.  Praise be to my fairy goddiva Beyonce for her infinite protection and goodwill because then I started to hear stories coming from Atlanta.  It was a post-apocalyptic nightmare down there of 6, 8, 10+ hour commutes.  Thousands of people stranded on the interstate or sleeping in grocery stores, kids stuck on school buses, sweet tea swimming pools frozen over.

Buzzfeed was not exaggerating:

Pretty much what my road home looked like minus a few lanes.  And minus the horse and Ice Walkers.  Check out here and here for much frozen.

I had actually planned to go to IKE-Rah in Atlanta that night because it was the last night of a sale.  Just think, I could have been stranded in an IKEA eating Swedish meatballs and actually living in their 250 sq ft knockout spaces for a few days!  Sounds like the making of a great iPhone documentary called Stranded Lingonberry Sauce.
But instead I'm at home (boo IKE-Rah dream) and set up a makeshift home office which means I lit a bunch of candles, made some hot chocolate and turned on Star Trek in the background.  During work breaks I did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, cooked dinner, made a quilt and wrote a novel.  You work-at-home freelancers are living the dream! 

(If this is not home telecommuting works, DO NOT SPOIL THIS FOR ME!)

Driving through the heart of shitty weather did not make me want to go outside and play when I got home but SOMEbody was intrigued:

"Da fuq is dis shit?"

Look, Charlemagne!  This is the climate your Viking cat ancestors bred you for!  Don't you feel at home?

NOPE.  DO NOT WANT.

She turned tail pretty quick but it's in her genes.  You can't deny your destiny, Charlemagne.  She gets snow crazy though and will go outside for five seconds only to return inside and race up and down the hall for five minutes.  This is exactly what I do to warm up too.

Go!  Fly like the fluffball of arctic wind that you are, cat!

So I'm stuck at home for a bit longer with the taps still running and wearing two pairs of socks.  I get snow blindness every time I look out the window because I'm stupid and it's like looking at the sun when you're seven - it's so exciting but it BURNS SO MUCH.

It's also amazing to see how picky a person normally gets when there aren't terrible weather conditions.  I have a fully stocked pantry, fridge and freezer that I could live on for weeks and yet three days ago I HAD NOTHING TO EAT WAAAAHHHH I'M SO HUNGRY AND POOR.  Well now everything in my kitchen looks fucking delicious.

The bright part of my forced captivity other than the smorgasbord of food is that my amaryllis is in full bloom!

Even this picture will make you snowblind. At least you can't see the dirty window.

It was a Christmas gift that I haven't killed yet.  Leaving the country was probably the best thing that I could have done for it.  I think my mere presence is enough to distress plants.

After all day of being (gratefully) stuck at home, I may be out of toilet paper (oops) and wine (double oops) but I'll be manage.  

I hope all my local people and Southern comrades are doing okay.  If you can make it here I have a crock pot full of pork and a freezer full of appetizers and vodka.

Please bring toilet paper.

You can't spell vacation without Doritos Locos Tacos and hippie crystals.

So I took a little break but I'm back now.  I know every post in the last three months starts like that but I was literally on vacation so it was legit this time and not before where I was just napping and drooling a lot while on Pinterest too much.

Let's catch up on some things and I'll tell you about me and then you tell me about you.  As long as 'you' doesn't involve going on a real vacation to some resort somewhere involving saltwater and good hair in which case you should just unfollow this blog post haste because your cute beach bangs are pissing me off already.

I had a half vacation/half staycation last week which is like the half-caf of holidays and just as douchey.  For the half vacation part I ventured to the heart of the South, my dear neighbor and inbred cousin, Alabama.  There I partook of lots of fun Alabama things like hugging people, thrifting, drinking, watching Netflix, drinking and looking at trailers.  

That's almost exactly like my staycation now that I think about it...

But there was one spot that I visited that felt special and think you would like. 

I spent a lazy Sunday morning at The Overall Company which is a great little coffee house slash house of hipster jizz and antiques and amazing things.

Way to go, Alabama.  Chattanooga is jealous.

I told you it was a special place.  And not special like the It's Fashion I went to either last week which was special but in a different way.  Special because I felt like a pioneer blazing a trail to a place I'd never been before which was confirmed by the rainbow of colors and the sales associate when she straight up asked "You... haven't been here before, have you?"

To which I adjusted my nerd girl glasses and said indeed I hadn't.  I don't know how she could tell.  But the jokes on her because I bought two dresses and DON'T YOU JUDGE ME EITHER THEY'RE CUTE.

But not as cute as this place.  

A spider also floated down from the ceiling as I was in the dressing room of It's Fashion so... there's that.

But I had a live cockroach fall out of a shirt I was trying on at a Marshall's one time so I think the real lesson here is stop being such a cheap bitch and go to a gawddamned mall  where there are nicer stores like Forever 21 and Rack Room Shoes.

The staycation part of my adventure was really exciting as well.  Between dealing with the torturous pain of an oncoming zit on the side of my nose and cleaning out my closet, I felt exactly like how Kim Kardashian must feel all the time: like a queen.  

Of terrible things.  AKA Kanye West.

But I soon forgot my pain because I had more important things to attend to...

here

...and Benedick Cumbersnatch did not disappoint.  (My snatch)

I'm the lamest vacationer ever but this is what happens when you're poor and don't plan well.

And when I wasn't shifting uncomfortably in my seat thinking about Star Trek, I had a full Game of Thrones marathon that involved lots of Cool Ranch Doritos tacos and a not-surprising lack of pants.

here

I think I cried y'all.  That shit was intense.  I even had to sit down my taco for a few moments.

But on to shit that you really care about - I'm growing my nails out like it's 2012!

I'm on my way to looking like this:

The cashier at EarthFare and I had a deep and involved conversation over my organic beans about the pointed nails and she, having had them before, told me they were great.  

Modern manicures.  It takes a village, y'all.

In other important black events (please don't make an It's Fashion joke - that's racist), I think it's time we start defacing some statues:

These are from a Danish artist Uncle Allan but I bet we could DIY these with some fake limoges from the thrift store and some evil intentions.  Pinterest would probably weep and I would laugh and laugh.

But if that kind of DIY scares you because you're a tiny little crying baby then may I introduce you to my other DIY project that I'm totally gonna do soon...

Like right now...

After I watch this episode of Game of Thrones...

I've been squeeing hard at all of the Ashely G stuff at Urban Outfitters.  Don't judge.

Duvet

I think it's cute but I don't want to sleep with it - I think it would give me indigestion - BUT...  I was kinda tempted to cut it up and wrap a canvas with it.  Maybe shellac it or some shit.  I don't know.  I'm pretty sure I could probably PAINT something for less money but that sounds like it would involve more effort on my part and I just have to click that one Paypal button...

Piller

But I can't make her jazzy pillow so maybe I'll just stick with this lesser priced option that requires no work.

I kinda want to buy said pillow and these Mellby chairs from IKE-Rah for my living room...

They look super IKE-Rah here but are much nicer in person.  Well...  

They're not grey but actually black and white houndstooth which isn't as bad as this swatch makes it look.

Do we still buy furniture from the Swedish gawds?  Do you think it's made of horse?  I don't really have the energy to craigslist for the next 12 months and then reupholster that shit so I'm thinking the Swedes might be winning this deal.  

I'll keep looking for pillows.  And chairs.  I'm sure I'll make a decision soon in June of 2015.

But one thing I AM sure about is all the quartz I've been creaming my panties over.

I want a million of you.

Ebay has a ton of these quartz goodies for relatively cheap ($23) however you do have to pay shipping from China ($14) so I'm not sure if that works out good but I think you're still better than whatever Z Gallerie junk might be available.

And then our bathrooms might look like this:

here

That's looks like how I want my vacations to feel.  When I have money one day.

Only thing that could make that better would be if it was in my house and had one of these on the shelf:

My guests would be so scared they might pee before they even make it to the toilet.

Worth it.

I had the authentic Popeyes experience in New Orleans.

Y'all, I returned from New Orleans and managed to keep my dignity!  (If you don't count the fervor in which I feasted beignets.)  Besides, I didn't want to inflict another devastating tragedy on the city by flashing them just for some shitty jewelry.  

Despite having been born in Louisiana, I'd never been to New Orleans before. When an opportunity presented itself for a long weekend visit I figured why the fuck not?!  Spicy is obviously in my blood so a return to my homeland seems like an important life point or something like that I got a free hotel room okay.

It was a surprisingly easy eight hour drive made quicker by the Boston marathon bombing manhunt that captivated our attention for five hours.  Thanks, NPR.  

We did break for some barbeque at The Shed in Mississippi thanks to an internet friend's recommendation.  

It was nothing but a giant leaking shack made my redneck hippies and their scavenged junk...

...where they played blues and served delicious animal meats.  Y'all people really get me.  Thank you.

Most impressive display of bottle trees I've seen in a long time.  No haints were coming near this place.

But apparently lots of small children were...??

I figured at this point, the trip was worth it in itself even if New Orleans turned out to be full of douchebags with fishbowl drinks.  I have a weakness for Southern eccentricity and shoddy vernacular architecture.

I'd never really had a strong desire to go to New Orleans.  In my mind it was nothing but zydeco and drunk boobs in an endless Zatarain's commercial and as much as I enjoyed processed carbs in a box, that's my 9th circle of personal hell.  

Fortunately it wasn't at all like that.  Although I did see a fair amount of girls in brand new, painted on Forever 21 dresses teetering on impossible stilettos down cobblestone streets, I really had to applaud their determination.

I hadn't been out past 11 PM in probably two years but I once we got to town I put on my big girl party panties (and sensible shoes) to pretend I like to have fun.

And newflash to the girl that calls watching all of SNL a late night, I did have a lot of fun.

I met some internet people and here was some really phenomenal music that included but wasn't limited to these white dudes.  All the bars felt just like college - everything was sticky and there were no chairs except for waaaay in the back where old people* were making out.

*hookers AKA 'ladies of the night' because we're in NOLA so they're fancy.

Surprisingly one place even had a crackhead bathroom attendant which squirted the only soap in the facility into my hands therefore forcing me to tip her.  At the very least she could have attended to wiping down the brown-stained bathroom stall that my elbow accidentally brushed while I was trying to balance during a squat pee while holding my purse in my mouth.  But alas, she was too busy sleeping and dispensing watery soap at people.

Ahhh... college memories, y'all.

We mixed in a little shopping between bars because TAKE ALL MY MONIES, STRANGE CITY!

Now you're speaking my language.

This is the Frenchmen Art Market which probably makes all tourists squee their panties including this one.

It really was cute, y'all.  No frontin.' 

After midnight shopping - my favorite kind - and dancing I worked up an appetite and the only logical place to go was the purveyor of famous New Orleans coffee and beignets: Cafe Du Monde.  The place where all the employees looked like Waffle House waiters in Steak 'n Shake uniforms.

It was kinda charming except for the dirty truck stop bathrooms.

Or BECAUSE of the dirty truck stop bathrooms...??  I like a seedy city so these things aren't necessarily deterrents for me, just observations to give you the complete experience. 

At 1 AM we managed to avoid the usual line of 50+ people during the day which was mind boggling considering it was kinda dirty and depressing and everything you touched was coated in powdered sugar grime.  But now I can mark it off my travel bucket list I guess.

It was good but in all honesty, all beignets taste like square funnel cake pillows to me so I'm obviously not a connoisseur of pastries.  But I AM a connoisseur of carnival food sold out of a trailer!  So just get your fried dough from anywhere where you don't have to wait an hour in line.  My travel pro tip to you.

At another establishment where I ordered beignets (FOR COMPARISON) and they scooped the powdered sugar from a giant Rubbermaid garbage can on wheels and it was the best thing I'd ever seen and then put in my mouth.

For a square funnel cake pillow, that is.

On Saturday I spent the day doing my favorite tourist activity: walking around alone until my feet fall off and I run out of money.

Is this Disneyland?

Who cares?!  It was delightful!

I spent all day in the French Quarter trying to reconnect with my spicy roots and loved every corner and street and twist and turn OF MY ANKLES.  Seriously, bring your orthotics.  Beautiful historic buildings = bone cracking historic sidewalks.

Hey Lacy, would you like to visit some nice plantations and beautifully restored homes in the area?

Hell naw.  But this abandoned alley looks really nice.

I must say how surprised I was at how colorful the buildings were.  I assumed everything would be vomit brown (to hide the, uh... vomit) but it was like a Skittles everywhere I went.  It might be terrible for your eyes the morning after Mardi Gras but stone sober me found it refreshing.

Probably some famous building that I don't know...

Probably another famous building.  I don't know, I was just going bananas for all the greenery on the porches.  Probably not the correct architectural term for that either but I wasn't really trying to be all nerd about this thang.

Secret courtyards?!  My favorite kind.  If you didn't have me at the pastries and voodoo, now you really sealed the deal, New Orleans.

Details are important.

Other than me playing around with this iPhone filter and a head shop I visited, I didn't get to do anything remotely voodoo-related which is a terrible disappointment.  I had at least hoped for a chicken sacrifice or reenactment of The Skeleton Key but NOTHING.  

Of course it wasn't all Santeria and possessed Kate Hudsons, we're still in the South.

Tell me where you've seen a mosaic tiled Christ this good?!

I did had a few culinary moments that I swear came straight from Jeebus, though.  Although I didn't get any traditional gumbo or jambalaya, I did have amazing breakfasts which sounds lame but it's my favoritest meal of the day.  I find good eggs and buttery toast to be transcendent but maybe it's just me.

One notable restaurant adventure was Butcher.

It says 'sWINE BAR & DELI.'  I see what you did there, Butcher, and I like it.  Pork and wine and a play on words.  It doesn't get much better than that.

No trip to New Orleans is complete without visiting a few cemeteries and I certainly communed with the dead plenty.  Hell, I do that at home fairly often.

In fact, I lurked and photographed dead people's houses so much that I'll have to save all my cemetery pictures for a completely separate post.  

You're welcome.

I'm going to lose my super dope street cred by telling you this but we ended our trip with some culture by going to the art museum's sculpture garden.

And it was magnificent.  And free.  And there were beignets. 

That we ate here because hell yeah we did.  

Forgot the artist... sorry.

Forgot... my bad.

Rona Pondick

Obviously I'm really into some shiny shit underneath some Spanish moss.  And monkeys with human limbs...?

Robert Indiana

It was a really short and hardly planned weekend trip but it turned out fantastic.  I loved the city more than I thought even though my feet ached and all I ate for three days was breakfast and a pound or two of powdered sugar from a garbage can.  

It's like if Savannah and Paris had a gay, alcoholic baby raised on soul food and glitter it would be New Orleans.  How could I not love that?

And I only heard zydeco one time and that was coming out of a white dude's Land Rover at a stop light.   

Well played, New Orleans.  Well played.