Cozy Tozy

I diagnosed myself with narcolepsy. WebMD has given me enough reason to believe I have been stricken with the non-curable disease. But beware I am forewarning you do not type your symptoms on their website for a self-diagnosis!! Days later you will trifle through your entire 401k on thousands of tests because you bear every ailment that corresponds hook line and sinker with some unimaginable disease only found in the South American rainforest and you haven't even been out of the country! All things aside I am narcoleptic, here's the evidence.  Happens between ages 15-25 CHECK! Just inquire my high school sweetheart's testimonial; he spent more time with me unconscious on the couch than conscious. Excessive daytime sleepiness CHECK! There is no point in time when I incapable of catching some zzz's. As soon as I glance at a pillow I am dormant like a bear hibernating for the winter. I feel exhausted just saying the word pillow. Don't ever invite me to watch a movie because my eyelids will be stuck together more than a cemented barnacle on a boat before the opening credits even finish. There's no point in nudging me awake because even if I give my best shot my lids will strain and flutter and struggle to stay peeled, but before you can count to fifteen I will be comatose. No matter how hard I clash, combat, and contest my somnolent spirit I will always surrender the battle and fall into a slumber.

Now this syndrome has been passed down from my mother who can be found snoozing on the couch anytime it is remotely past dusk. So when days are short and the winter sun sets at 5 pm you can only imagine the kind of sleep patterns in this cave!! My mom also bestowed upon me the "one-sock" disorder. The symptoms include sacking out with two socks on and mysteriously at the cockcrow jumping out of bed with one sock on. My feet must battle and buck, roughhouse and rumble each other until the champion arises toasty and snug in its sock while the other whimpers out in the stinging Siberian stratosphere. The other symptom of this disease keeps you from ever finding your sock (unless you are savvy on black hole locating) and inflicts you to meander and shuffle through the glacial hardwood hallways for the entire morning.

Now if you have inherited this dreadful disease as well, don't you fret because I have unearthed a solution!!!

These socks not only stay on your tosies, but they look absolutely adorable too!! I paired them with a couple outfits and got oodles of compliments! They were on extreme mark down at Target. You know when the markdown stickers are layered so thick its impenetrable enough to suffice as a bulletproof vest. I don't think you could guess the price even if I exclaimed "Come on down!!" and you were in a nonsensical costume playing for the grand prize with some hottie patottie showcasing her bod and the showcase right in front of you!  Drum roll please........... 75 cents!!! See even if you had the lowest bid of one dollar you still would have went home boohooing!!

I doubt these are still at target, but if you want to stay warm and cozy for the holidays and look like a delicious candy cane then you can visit Happy Socks, who have second to none socks in the world!! So go ahead and let the feet battle it out you'll always wake up with both socks on!

Halo Heads

The modern age has revolutionized parenting. Nowadays there are complex contraptions that sell for the cost of a mortgage payment!! I see strollers cruising down the street that probably have far more complicated blueprints than NASA. I spot Unidentified Strolling Objects everywhere like I live on Mars or something. The instruction manual must be the size of the Yellow Pages because I don't think I could manage getting that USO (Unidentified Strolling Object) out of the box let alone keep my baby from ejecting out into the intergalactic space. The other day I nearly had to be rushed to the ER for stitches in my chin because my jaw plummeted to the floor when I observed a stroller with a scooter attached to it!!! You can strap your newborn up and then keep your other ankle biter from griping and grousing about plodding through stores. Man do they think of everything!!

Now my cousin, Melody, is a complete yuppie (Young Urban Professional) and she has got it gooinngg onnnn!! Her child's wardrobe makes The Chronicles of Narnia closet look like a joke! The benevolent lion god, Asian, and the white witch, Jadis, are minuscule compared to the luxurious coats, sparkly headbands, kaleidoscopic dresses, and darling shoes found in this little girl's wardrobe. Paris Hilton would be jealous of the pure volume of garments she has amassed in the eight months spent existing on this earth. Paris Hilton once said she never wears anything twice, well my baby cousin could be an heiress because the word "repeat" doesn't even exist in her vocabulary (technically no words exist in her vocabulary so I wasn't exaggerating one bit!!)

You can never find her without a headband on its like trying to find my grandma without her hot pink lipstick on. That's just preposterous!! The other day she adorned the most beautiful headband! The halo across her forehead made her glow like an angel!  My cousin, Sara, makes headbands so I figured it was the latest design she had created. To my surprise, while scouring Anthropologies' racks I stumbled upon the identical headband!!!

Finding it so fortuitously inside of my beloved store made me even more thrilled about the halo band! I highly recommend tripsying down to Anthro and purchasing this sparkly beaded essential! The holidays are looming right around the corner and this is perfect to bedeck yourself with. We ornament the christmas trees why not ornament our outfits?! Tis the season right?? Once this is accessible you can show up to any party looking like the snowy Jadi from Narnia!!

Pink is the new Black Friday!

This Thanksgiving my family was designated to bring desserts to our gluttonous feast. Now this would be no big deal if you lived in a typical American family...but I don't!! My cousin owns a dessert empire, Sweet and Saucy Shop, that will surely take over the world one day because it is so delectable it can make your mouth water like the slobbering Saint Bernards!! I don't think those dogs even know how to close their mouths. These desserts not only taste like a little drop of heaven, but they look like heaven. Literally I am sure they could recreate the pearly gates. Now since I live in a family that makes sweets for celebs I had a little pressure to bring something up to par.  Since my mother has no cooking skills whatsoever and her only contribution was a Costco pumpkin pie I was left with the task at hand. But on a serious note, I can't remember the last time my mom made dinner. We have a huge stock pile of to-go menus in the kitchen. I think my mom could be on that weird obsessions show (like the adult baby or the 5000 cabbage patch collection) because we have eight bajillion to-go menus. The folder she hoards them in is busting at the seams! She takes one from any restaurant even if she knows she won't ever order it out just because she has a fixation on to-go menus. I basically live off of cereal and leftover to-go food. Man I would make a good bachelor!!

Do you believe me now?? We may need a twelve step program!!

Sooo I went to the only place I knew would be suitable for this dilemma Pioneer Woman's blog!! She knows how its done. Just take a recipe and then turn it Pioneer Woman style by adding double the butter and double the sugar. I whipped up her apple dumplings that are so easy it should be illegal, you should not be able to produce that high of a calorie content that quickly! It makes obesity way too accessible and enjoyable.  I could live off of those suckers. And so could my family because they absolutely loved them! I was the hit of the parade. My pecan pie and knock you naked brownies blew everyones socks off (good thing it knocked off only the socks I prefer not to regurgitate my food)!! Those are from Pioneer Woman also and seriously just as dangerous. They should put FDA warning labels on the recipe, "WARNING: Product has addictive qualities and may lead to obesity, heart disease, diabetes..."

The Apple Dumplings have Mountain Dew in them!

Homemade Pecan Pie!! ( My mom has two eyes I promise she's not a pirate its just the glare)

So after everyone gobbled up the goodies we all spent quality time together... waaait rewind!!! We all fell deeply unconscious into turkey comas and slept the food babies away.

I had food quadruplets so I continued my coma the rest of the night and laid like a log on the couch allowing my belly to sink deeply into our leather couches. I'm sure I left a permanent indent that I will eventually have to blame on the dog. (My mom is very sensitive about her precious leather couches.) So due to the fact that I was on IV as the apple dumplings were slowly taking over my body I could not make it out to Grey Friday or Black Friday. Even if I was conscious I would rather spend my day recuperating from the feast than getting pummeled by maniacal shoppers who want a third plasma for their home on fifty percent markdowns. I have no business out there in the wild. I would be like one of the zoo patrons that jumps the fence to get up close and personal with the zoological creatures and then gets completely trampled by the wild beasts.

 So what to do what to do? Wait. Let the crazed customers ravage the malls and then get the deals in peace a day or two later when the poor traumatized employees have put the pieces back together. So today you should head to J Crew for twenty five percent off your purchase!! If you still have your IV drip in from the food coma then you can order online with the same deal! I suggest you purchase the Majesty Peacoat in Vintage Berry. I have adorned my body in the gorgeous peacoat before, but had to quickly get it off in the dressing room or else I'd have to go to confession for extreme lust or go to jail for five finger discount. Anyway if you are doing early Christmas shopping for yourself :) than you should head down to J Crew and do yourself a favor and brighten up the holidays with this coat. Everybody's prettier in pink!!

Hungry for Fryes

Throughout my adolescent years I never experienced any of the Harry Potter Books on either the big screen or in small print . Many of my peers would require immediate dispatch to the ER after hearing these words uttered from my lips from state of paralyzing, flabbergasting, numbing disbelief and shock. Now I must have dosed off in anatomy class because I can't exactly recollect the whereabouts of the flabber in the body (except I feel like mine is slowly gravitating towards the location of where my triceps are supposed to be), but any adolescent's flabber is definitely gasted if they hear that I have not a single inkling of a place called Hogwarts. The only concepts I associate with Harry Potter are circular eyeglasses, children that never seem to age after what seems like eighteen trilogies, and a British lady that is "Rowling" all the way to the bank.
Now I know that your flabber has been gasted and you are feeling slight discomfort, but this next one will feel just like a little pinch. The word pinch is highly underestimated. Anytime a sweet little nurse brings her big whopping needle out she metamorphoses into Mr. Hyde. She quickly gains your trust by telling you how much you have grown since the last time she had the pleasure of seeing you, then tells a whopping lie straight to your face and watches you grimace in torment from the tiny pinch!!!! Then she transforms back into Dr. Jekyll and hands you a sticker and candy like that will make up for pins and needles you'll be on every time you come to the doctors or hear the word pinch.
Ready for your little pinch... I have never seen or read the Twilight series! I don't quite understand the obsession with the man that looks like he may be on some form of sedative, but I guess those razor-sharp canines really get the libido of the teenyboppers going.
Now I have had to give a sufficient number of wide-eyed head nods accompanied by dramatic "mmhmmm"s when discussing the love triangle between the narcotized nocturnal, the Neanderthal, and the knocked up. So I decided that the next movie that drew teenyboppers out past their curfew to stand in the freezing cold on a school night I would see. This led me to the Hunger Games.
The movie was an eleven out of ten. I walked out of the theatre with my head held high, my shoulders back, and empowered. I felt that Katniss Everdeen had shown the future world the strength and beauty that women possess. She was witty, brave, intelligent, strong, and most of all loving. A competition to death was won through love. I could only dream to emulate that in my own life. The closest I may ever come to Katniss and her lethal pinpoint archery skills is her wardrobe. I may never own a radiant red dress that sets ablaze as I twirl like a ballerina, but to look like a badass, that will last more than ten minutes in the Hunger Games, I'll need to invest in a replica outfit. I'm not going for the Latex suit ensemble as I prefer not to squeak as my inner thighs keep each other warm, but I'll go for her village look.

I'm not sure which starving villages can afford leather jackets because the last time I tried to buy one they ranged from costing an arm and a leg to costing the earth. However, according to my brother it is a worthy investment and it will last me my whole life! I don't think the word children ever occurred to him, but golly I hope he is right.

Look even the model can handle a chainsaw in these badboys! That must say something!

Her boots are also a total must! My mother called me the other day and asked my shoe size. Little did I know I had the opportunity to possess ravishing lace-up leather Frye boots that were featured in the film. Unfortunately I told her one half size too big and lost my only hope in finally displaying my inner beast. I guess I will just have to keep my archery skills on the DL. However, I highly suggest all of you purchase a Xerox copy of her outfit so you too can be a heroine just like Katniss Everdeen! Just don't whip out an bow and arrows you don't want to ruin your facade.

Can I purchase him too?

First Day of School

The month of August starts the countdown for the dreaded first day of school around the country. Everyone likes to squeeze in their last minute beach escapades and soak up the most of the summer that they had dwindled away while being a coach potato zombified by netflix The Office re-runs and countless National Geographic documentaries. I hope that wasn't just me. Oh well, at least I have the inside scoop on the killer sharks that loom the bottom of Papa New Guinea or with even more kills than the tremble inducing Great White Shark the world's most dangerous gang MS 13 Mara Salvatrucha. Who said television turns your brain to mush?

Once I could see the dawn of school on the horizon I knew I had to do something about my humdrum summer. I couldn't come back from a stunning summer in gorgeous Southern California and ashamedly utter that I all I had done was work and summer school then more work and summer school and then finally to top off all the excitement some more work and summer school. I start yawning just thinking about it. So I cleared out my schedule and quit two of my jobs, finished my summer school classes, and headed to the great outdoors (since really everything else is out of my tight budget). I became a backpack-aholic for the month of August. I managed to venture out on to three trips in one month. With only one outfit for four days let's just say I wasn't so Closet-Minded.


While growing up my brother dreaded school so much so that my mom denied the word school from my vocabulary the entire summer. He couldn't even bear to hear the words let alone know which day it started. Up until the very day school began he would be in complete denial of its existence.

I on the other hand, prepared for my new beginning weeks in advance. My preparation primarily consisted of revamping my wardrobe. Each year my mom would give me an allowance of money to blow and I would come home from a tiresome day of throwing clothes on, ripping them off, and then leaving a heaping mess in the tight quartered dressing room that my mom would force me to hang up. I could never get my mind wrapped around how retail workers manage to make the clothes look so pristine hung or folded. Every time I give my best stab at it the end product looks like I struggled to make some modern piece of art that you are unable to detect its meaning and so you just give a head nod with a Jimmy Hill chin stroke.

Then I would come home and do a fashion show putting on every single article of clothing expecting a large round of applause, high-pitched scream, or some form of excitement for each purchase. After my family was thoroughly worn out from being Paula Abdul, I would hit up my next audience, my grandma, and the majority of the time her next door neighbor would be called over as well. Then came the elimination round. I would weigh the positives and negatives of each outfit, like it was some life-changing decision, in order to come up with the best first day of school ensemble. Not only would I decide what to wear for the first day, but each consecutive day following, in order of cuteness, until all my purchases had be worn. Typically I would ask my mother for her opinion and take it in to consideration and end up disregarding it and wearing exactly what I wanted anyways.
The same habitual procedure has held true even years later now that I am a junior in college. Except now the once under appreciated allowance comes from my pocket, which seems to be forming holes because I just can't figure out where all my money seems to be ending up. Tomorrow is the first day of school. The closet is loaded and ready. My decision determined.

Alexander Wang

My good friend, Yutis (like shoot-tease) is a firm believer in not just following your dreams, but attacking them like a rabid beast.  From the moment she saw Kristin Cavalari and Lauren Conrad frolicking about on Laguna Beach she was smitten with Southern California. Three years ago she finally made it to her happiest place on earth where she now studies and plays tennis. So, when I told her how I would love to be the buyer of a large clothing company, but did not think it was possible because I didn't have the schooling; she took things into her own hands.  When it comes to social networking Yutis is like Ryan Seacrest; she seriously knows everyone. So she landed me an internship at a massive online clothing company, Revolve Clothing, with quite effortless ease. No interview, no background check, no pre-requisites, no nuthin'. All I did was show up. The key to successful employment used to be it's all about what you know. Then it was; it's not what you know, but who you know. Now I think it's not who you know, but who knows you.

At my internship, I get a deadly wholesale discount, which is typically fifty percent off.  Every time I enter the huge warehouse I wish they outlawed transparent coverings and put black bags over the countless rows of breathtaking clothing. Neither my willpower nor my wallet can handle it. The kaleidoscope of flashy apparel induces me with a driving craze to take the place hostage then pillage, plunder, and pirate it taking every last article of cotton, cashmere, silk, wool, lycra, leather, and fur with me. Clothing turns me into a trout as I am lured in and hooked by the bait, never again to let go. 

A few weeks ago I was sent to the back of the gargantuan warehouse to an isolated room where boxes of defective clothing from years past sit all piled cattywampus. As I creaked the door open,  I thought for sure my parents would be called because I had been found squashed under an avalanche of clothing. My boss was planning to take all the defectve clothes and have an employees sale. Everything was ten dollars and you could purchase five things. My job was to take what another intern deemed unsellable clothing and put them into donate boxes. Now, when tediously transferring from one box to another I noticed that these clothes were utterly fabulous with  maybe a hole smaller than the eye of a needle. People would totally buy this high quality clothing with a slight imperfection. It gives the clothes character; that motto I have adapted after every single piece of my closet has been blemished with some ambiguous stain. I told my boss, that I thought most people would purchase the donations and she should include them in the sale, if not I was going down to the nearest salvation army and stocking up on Free People, Bailey 44, Micheal Kors, Velvet, Alexander Wang, and Herve Leger. 

Nine hours later I had weeded through the clothes again paying particular attention to what MY  five purchases would be. Since I had closely scrutinized every article of clothing, I found the best brands and most fabulous pieces and set them aside. I felt like the Bachelorette every time I narrowed my selection. I couldn't decide and each reduction twinged in my heart like a rose ceremony. Couldn't I just take them all home? 

The day of the sale I overheard one of the buyers divulging about the rumors of an Alexander Wang sweater for sale. That sweater was in MY rose ceremony!!! And when it was thrown up onto the chopping block I eighty-sixed it for a black jacket that seemed more practical. What was I thinking? Who even needs the word practical when you have the word ALEXANDER WANG in your grasp. I quickly made the switch five minutes before the sale began. My boss swore me to secrecy and made sure to distract the buyers from viewing my substitute.

I became overwhelmed with guilt as I saw the lady in search of the hidden treasure. She dug through the jackets and then the knits; never to uncover the gem. I stood there watching over the sale with a devilish wry smirk glued onto my face. I couldn't wait to go home and bask in the glory of my purchase. 

I will post blogs on my four other purchases (they are even better!!) 

 

My boss let me have at the leftovers the next time I came in to intern. All I can say is I have no idea why Santa Claus doesn't have back problems. I slung twenty-two more items over my back and reveled in my euphoria. If I am stuck in accounting and never get a job in fashion I will be a dedicated intern at Revolve for the rest of my life. The perks are just too great.  

Faux Vintage

Every time I enter a thrift store I bolt for the exit shortly after taking in a whiff of all the hoary well-worn clothing. The odor that fills the air makes my nose hair stand on end. If I manage to block out the stench and sort through the mismash and hodge-podge I typically cannot find anything other than my great-grandmothers apron used solely for protecting her pajammas from stains while eating over a t.v. tray. Once in a blue moon I may happen upon a dress with an offbeat pattern, but when I go to the dressing room I can't even step out clothed enough not to pull a Janet Jackson to show my mom. I would have to surgically remove several ribs, strangle myself into a corset, and add several inches of fabric just to get the miniature size dress to zip up. The ladies that wore these dresses must have forgotten to drink their milk as children becasue I have no idea how even solely their skin and bones could possibly fit into these dinky vintage dresses. Who wore those vintage dresses? Are they dead from malnutrition?

However, I have been able to find vintage style dresses that are more suitable for us big boned women. The dress shown above is snak from Anthropologie. I wish I could upload a link so you could view the dress online, but it is making its way to becoming a vintage itself. My mom actually bought it for herself probably eight years ago and has now handed it down to me. I feel so dainty when I slip it on and I absolutely love wearing it.  It's a total crowd pleaser; even though I will get a couple ignorant testosterone infused male remarks thrown in telling me I resemble their grandmother. Then I just brush my shoulders off and think to myself, "Well you're wearing the exact same jeans and t-shirt that you wore yesterday (oh wait I think it resembles the exact same thing you have donned for your ENTIRE LIFE!)"After that I feel so much better and I proudly strut my grandmother stuff all the way home.

The pastel apricot sweater was purchased years ago from Anthropologie as well, brand called Her Royal Highness. I give credit to my mom for sewing on all those pom poms multiple times. They used to fall off and plummet to the floor faster than autumn leaves. We would stumble upon apricot pom poms in the oddest locations with no logical reasoning behind their whereabouts. Underneath dressers, in the black-hole in the corner of my closet, and even in the backyard with signs of mastication. Several lost pom poms later and a little threading work my mom had my sweater looking like new instead of a lopsided mess.

These shoes are so adorable. The patchwork's darling, the wood heel's fabulous, and the lace's are delightful. I must confess I do not give them enough showtime out in the real world. The toes slightly veer outwards and I feel like a penguin when I walk. Maybe I am the only one detecting this issue like when I wear wooden clogs and feel like I am some kind of hooved Christmas creature prancing along. However, I have learned that not many pay much attention to others, let alone have the time to examine my flaws. So no need to worry if you look pigeon toed, hooved, penguined, lopsided, or are an exact replica of so and so's Great Grandma Dorothy as long as you like the look and can strut your stuff then go for it!
Be ready for tomorrow's blog! I have been waiting for today's event for weeks!!