As I’ve discussed briefly here, I’m (with some hypocritical exceptions, no doubt) a firm believer that people should do what makes them happy — short of murdering strangers, etc. — and that the people who hate them for doing what they want to do and loving what they want to love should probably find other ways to occupy their time. It made me happy to learn that Jordan Reid agrees, and to read her kickass post on the topic (spurred, not surprisingly, by a holier-than-thou commenter). An excerpt:
When it comes to fashion, to literature, to art, to music, you love what you love; there are no absolutes. But the best way that these people have to make themselves feel awesome is to make sure that you know that your opinions are wrong. They make you feel scared to say that hey, you kinda like Hootie and the Blowfish, or that you think that rockabilly hairstyles are pretty cool, or that you enjoy reading paperback thrillers sometimes, because they’re going to laugh at you, and mock you, and otherwise shut you down. They’re going to tell you that your taste is terrible, that your job is unimportant, that your ideas aren’t good enough, that you chose the wrong life partner or house or diet or freaking dinner plate pattern.
And that is a crappy thing to do.
If you don’t read Jordan’s blog, Ramshackle Glam, you should start now. It’s one of the best — and certainly the most aesthetically pleasing — out there.
…this is just…not okay. Coincidentally, this gem was sent to us by our favorite Woodland Creature Correspondent:
Wow. And you thought that these babies, or maybe these ones, were as horrifying as shoes could get. You were so wrong. You know, I once had a hamster named Elvis. He was black and white and adorable, and I got him mostly because we earned extra credit in my middle school science class for keeping pets (which is actually extremely strange now that I think about it). Elvis once went missing for several weeks, and we finally discovered him next door in one of the cabinets in the art classroom. He was alive, and we are convinced that he must have survived by eating paint chips. Or maybe he was just Jesus in hamster form. Either way, this story makes me think that hamsters might be able to survive being tossed around in hideous clear platforms, so long as you take them out and feed them a few paint chips every now and then.
Nothing sparks debate like watching the red carpet coverage at the Oscars. Ok, that might not be entirely true, but it does start some interesting conversations. This year? How ugly Sarah Jessica Parker is.
Girls love her for the obvious reasons, and apparently guys think she’s hideous. In fact, I was told that she gets a 3 on a 10 point scale and a 0 on a 1 point scale (1 I would sleep with her, 0 I wouldn’t).
Antonio Lucio Vivaldi was born in Venice, the capital of the Republic of Venice in 1678. He was baptized immediately after his birth at his home by the midwife, which led to the belief that his life was somehow in danger. Though not known for certain, the immediate baptism was most likely due either to his poor health or to an earthquake that shook the city that day. In the trauma of the earthquake, Vivaldi’s mother may have dedicated him to the priesthood. Vivaldi’s official church baptism (the rites that remained other than the baptism itself) did not take place until two months later. Cool!!
Cool!! indeed. (Wikipedia’s editors clearly aren’t doing their job.)
What I was Googling: jcrew rose vines romper. And here’s why:
See now, that doesn’t count as clothes. J.Crew tells us to “think poolside parties and chic beach soirees” and to pair ”this fashion-forward silhouette with an extra-long cardigan and loads of accessories.” Now, I’m all for wacky fashion, J.Crew, and even rompers, when done well. But this is just a swimsuit that you can’t swim in. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around it, because I can’t imagine a time when you’d be at a “chic beach soiree” (I already have like eight of those on my calendar for the summer) or a pool party and wouldn’t want to be wearing either a swimsuit or some form of clothes. I just had this conversation with my coworker, who happens to work at J.Crew, after I showed her this “romper”:
Her: Cute! That’s a swimsuit, right?
Me: NO! It’s a ROMPER.
Her: Oh god, nevermind. Did you see the other romper, with the pants? We got one in the store…and nuh-uh.
Here it is styled, which is even more mind-boggling:
Can someone please help me understand? Is it just a swimsuit? This website and this website seem to think so. But if it’s a swimsuit, why are they calling it a romper? I’m so confused. Hailp!
It’s almost Halloween, one of my favorite holidays, and I am freaking out because I have absolutely no idea what I want to be. I feel like this year needs to be particularly good, since I was so entrenched in the campaign last year I didn’t even realize it was Halloween. Somebody call the wahhhhhmbulance.
Anyway, my beloved HuffPo has posted some hilariously adorable costumes for babies. Perhaps I’ll just take one of the ideas and adjust it a bit. I’m thinking the WALL-E costume would be super cute in my size. No? Okay. I always forget that Halloween means I’m supposed to dress skanky.
Speaking of last year’s election (Yes, yes, I KNOW that’s it’s almost been a year since the election, but this study just came out!) this news story kind of sucks for our male McCain voting readership. I have a feeling that demographic isn’t very high on this blog, but we are committed to reporting the strangest news to ALL of our readership.
Republican men nationwide may have experienced a drop in testosterone levels the night Barack Obama was elected president, according to the results of a small study that found another link between testosterone and men’s moods.
But don’t worry boys, I’m sure you’ve gotten it back. I meant the testosterone. Not the election. Love you!
In case you’ve been living under a rock, here are some Youtube videos that you should have seen by now:
Teehee, it’s a drunk guy. And this one:
Cleverness abounds in the Democratic party! HUZZAH!
And ONE MORE THING. My friend over at Herding Scapegoats has been writing again. You should probably check it out. He is providing a rare look into the male psyche, addressing serious things like male jealousy and pooping.
Lots of things have contributed to my lack of posting (turns out I had swine flu!), but no need to dwell on the past (oink, oink). To the future!
There have been SO MANY THINGS I have wanted to post about, and my wonderful friends continue to send me quirky things on the interwebs that they know I will adore– like this video from my friend Laura. I think I’ve watched it five times.
Or this Web site, www.peopleofwalmart.com, which has been sent to me by faithful readers Miguel and Civil War Dave.
These times are crazier than ever. Jon and Kate do nothing but fight, Fox News’ Shep Smith is starting to sound like a socialist fascist communist Democrat, the Republicans are threatening to teabag the American people and Jessica Simpson’s dog was eaten by a coyote! Yikes! Those are clearly the most important things going on in the world today.
And as if life in general wasn’t dangerous enough, Alexander McQueen has decided to introduce TEN INCH high heels to the world:
Grosssssss. I don’t know, but something about them reminds me of giraffe hooves (I’m a nature girl), which is oddly appropriate. There are more, you can see them here.
But hey, at least one thing is right in this world. Jim and Pam are getting hitched tonight! RAWR!
People want a White House that isn’t stuffy and a president they can have a beer with, yet when the first lady dresses like a normal woman on vacation, the media screams “totes inappropes, Meesh!” Or something to that effect.
As you probably already heard, some people are hassling my girl Michelle for wearing shorts and showing her stems as she stepped off Air Force One. They call her shorts “short shorts” and “disrespectful” and BLAH BLAH BLAH. This issue really resonates with your Six Words bloggers, as both of us have been blessed with long femurs.
These are the shorts in question:
Ummm… they look fine to me. These are “short shorts”:
Not the same, are they?
Our lovely and stylish First Lady is model height. She’s 5’11. She’s going to have some lengthy gams. So really, her shorts aren’t that short, her legs are just really long. So lay off, you raging heightists!
Aren’t there bigger and better things to worry about anyway? You know, like making sure the Republicans stop lying about health care reform. Just a thought.