Michelle: … dude, what’s with all the phone calls we’ve been getting lately where the caller ID says only a phone number and a state name? Like we just got a call that was apparently from the state of Nevada…
Me: The adult industry wants you
Michelle: (laughing) I’m sure that’s it.
Me: You know it is.

I don’t know what has gotten into me but I apologize in advance: two fashion posts in one week. Those who know me know I’m usually not really into fashion and being trendy. It’s not that I don’t care but I can seriously think of a million other things I’d rather spend $400 dollars on than a pair of designer jeans, a purse, or shoes. I can go down to Target and get good stuff for under $20.

I guess I am turning into a Frugalista. (Does the fact I know that word/marketing campaign make me less fashion challenged?).

Last weekend I went shopping with my friend Hayley. This naturally would cause concern of my friends and family since I loath shopping. When I got my cavities drilled I think I had more fun than I would normally do shopping. I’m tall, have large feet, and find the whole experience a waste of time. Anyway, Hayley mentioned she wanted to hit up Old Navy to look at their scarves. On our road trip moving from Florida Hayley always had a scarf around her neck. I thought this was really strange since it was July. Why the hell was she wearing a scarf? Seriously. Mack and I would give her endless grief about it and she would, in turn, wrap the scarf more securely around her neck and ignore us.

I guess this is why on her voicemail yesterday she called me her “fashion challenged friend”.

Now, the last time I went to Old Navy was an experience in itself. I don’t know what it is about the store but it makes people grade A jerks. Perhaps it’s all the cute items or I just happen to venture into the Old Navy’s in the yuppie parts of towns. The time before last I went with my friend Jenny who is pregnant with her fourth kid. Naturally, being pregnant, she likes to mess with people. She is my friend for a reason. I don’t know if she was intentionally trying to piss people off, though, when we were trying to check out. The line was all sorts of crazy and all over the place and she thought, perhaps, there were two lines. Jenny went up to the second register and stood behind another customer until this woman took it upon herself to walk up to Jenny, grab her arm, and start screaming at her that there IS a line and she needs to get to the BACK OF IT since SHE was there FIRST.

Seriously? It’s OLD NAVY. I could make all sorts of crass comparisons to represent how stupid the woman was about freaking out over a line at Old Navy when there are a million worse problems in the world. Of course, I saw a woman loose her calm at Starbucks since she wanted to buy a newspaper and OH MY GOD YOU LITTLE SHIT YOU KICKED ME. WATCH YOUR CHILD.

This is why I let her in front of me in line, FYI.

When I was little I used to wear dresses and skirts all the time (stay with me, this is totally related). My Mom used to occasionally try to put me into pants but I’d freak out since I was a GIRL and needed to wear my Mary Janes and look super adorable. Peer pressure ultimately made me despise wearing dresses and skirts and to this day I’m still am iffy about wearing them. While at Old Navy with Hayley, though, I saw some skirts on clearance. Mack loves when I wear skirts or dresses since I imagine it’s a huge change from my usual tshirts and jeans. It’s like whenever I wear a skirt or dress it must feel like Christmas has come early! Or perhaps it’s a sign of the end of the world as we know it.

I ultimately decided to splurge and buy the skirt since, heck, why not.

Last night I decided to wear the skirt out to dinner with some of my friends. The only problem was what to do with my legs under the skirt (not like that, you perverts). Now, as Hayley so aptly put it, I’m fashion challenged. I don’t think I would really be legit to wear socks and my Converse knock-offs under the skirt. Plus, it was really cold last night. Before dinner I decided it would be in my best interests go get tights for under the skirt since of course I don’t own any.

Girls: what is WITH tight sizes? I stood there for a good ten minutes look at the back of the package trying to figure out my size. I remember when I was little looking at the back of my Mom’s tights packages with its complex graph saturated with colors and diagrams which, when uncoded, could probably hold the key to world peace. The problem with the tights size chart that I had?

I don’t fit in a specific size.

I know I have put emphasis on (a lot) the fact I am tall. I’m also what I feel to be about an average build and weight. I’m not bean pole (or as my soccer team mates called me growing up: a gangly spazz) but I’m not festively plump. According to the tights size I was an XL for height but only a L for weight.

Pardon the internet slang but: WTF.

It irritates me that they don’t even have my size but I guess I should marvel at the tight manufactures and the guess work that goes into making tights. Like, how do they decide the “average” sizes for the charts? I wonder how many people (like me to a mild degree) that they piss off with their size decisions? And what of those who are super skinny and tall? Short and fat? I ended up getting the tights for my height and the thigh highs ended up around my neck practically. It was magical. Really.

So, to those out there who know fashion: what do you do in those situations? If you’re weight is one size and your height is an entirely different size? The only thing I can think of is that I should eat some donuts and get in the “proper” weight category but I think that would counter-productive for my health and also my cholesterol problems. How do you “fit the mold” or at least make this fashion crap work for you?

Technorati Tags: fashion, womens fashion, clothing, shopping, marketing, beauty, beauty industry, consumer

Me: That mall really sucked. It had like, no ATMs.
Mom: Really? That surprises me.
Me: I KNOW. I searched the whole mall looking for one! There was this woman out in front of the mall with a kitten and I wanted to get some money to help her get kitten food or something.
Mom: Oh, it’s good then. The mall was protecting you from your own stupidity.
Me: But! It was a KITTEN. A BLACK KITTEN.
Mom: Case in point.

Technorati Tags: conversations, family, crazy cat lady, convos, malls, atms

I’ve always been a “tall drink of water”. Growing up I was always off the charts height wise for my age while being in the 80th to 90th percentile for weight. The doctors predicted I’d hit the height of 6′ by the time I stopped growing. My Dad was delighted at the prospect of his daughter being so tall. What better way than to scare off potential suitors? My Mom, on the other hand, wasn’t thrilled since that would mean that all of her children would be taller than her. More than once, I kid you not, she threatened to strap a brick to the top of my head to stop my growth process.

My Mom grew hopeful when, in seventh grade, I stopped growing. Of course, by this time I was 5′10″ so I wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination but I _was_ the same height as her! (before she, of course, shrank two inches thus forever being shorter then me). While living in Japan you would think I wouldn’t have got any taller. For one, I was sixteen at the time so hadn’t really grown height wise in three years. Also, I was slouching and trying to make myself as short as possible the whole year. It’s no joke when you’re at least a foot taller then all your friends and trying to take a picture. I felt like Godzilla or a really annoying Caucasian photo bomber in every photograph I was involved in.

Seriously, spot me. I’m the only giant smiling since I didn’t know it was uncool to smile.

When I came back to America my Dad was sure that I had grown again while living in Japan. Silly Father, I’d tell him, I only grew fatter, not taller, while living there. (Truth be told I gained about 20 lbs. That’s another story entirely). Finally, after a month of “I swear you’re taller Annie!” we broke out a measuring tape and sure enough, I was 5′11″. Or, if you want to get technical, 5′10 3/4″. Rounding up is so much easier.

Now the point in telling you all of this is so you get this: I’m tall. The last time I wore high heels was when I was eleven and playing dress up with my Mom’s shoes. I’d put on a pair of her high heels and walk sloppily across her bedroom like LOOK AT ME MOM! I’m SEXY! and she looked at me, smirked, and said “You look like a drunken sailor.”

Thanks, Mom.

Needless to say since I was hardly vertically challenged, except when staying upright. I never felt the need to really to learn how to wear high heels. I mean, I’m naturally a klutz anyway (since the door totally jumped out at me). I didn’t really need to encourage the need to face plant into walls or dirt. Plus, there is only an inch difference between Mack and I. If he slouches when we go out I look taller than him and instantly curse him and his need to make me feel like Godzilla (or Annzilla) all over again.

This past Halloween it all changed for some reason. Call it a rush of sugar or my brain disconnecting from the reality of my situation. For some reason I decided that it was essential for me to wear high heels with my She-Devil costume (or as I lovingly called it “a Catholic Boys Nightmare” since the party was thrown by my very Catholic friend). What better way to strike fear in the hearts of mortals by towering over them in my red dress and wig?

With my gigantism, naturally, it means I have big feet. My family likes to call them “[Mothers Maiden Name] Feet” since they’re long, narrow, and kind of go to a point like those weird medieval shoes you see and laugh at.

Okay, not exactly like this since they’re kind of freaky looking… [source]

I was also determined not to face plant into cement at any point during the night so required the heel to be more then a centimeter in support. After hitting Target with absolutely no luck Mack suggested we hit an adult store. Sorry to those readers who that offends but there is something you should know: adult stores have some cute shoes! Of course, they serve for the fetish or goth crowds but what better for a She-Devil?

Luckily we were able to find a cute pair of Mary Janes with FOUR INCH HEELS. I write this all in caps since remember how tall I am? As I walked through the party (slowly, kind of doing this shuffle thing) I stopped in the kitchen and was depressed to find my eye level was above their fridge (it was dust free. Kudos to the cleaning Christine!).

Leaning back against the wall…

“oh shit! I’m falling! I regret nothing…!”

While I had fun with the heels I guess, since I’m tall and don’t know these things: how do you survive wearing heels for an extended period of time? I mean, seriously, I had a whole new respect for my gender (and drag queens who are better at fashion, make-up, and everything than me) that night since I ended up having to sit down a lot. (plus I wasn’t towering over people as much while in a sitting position). While I enjoyed the experience of the heels and knowing my legs went on forever (and ever) seriously girls (and guys who likes heels): HOW!?

Technorati Tags: fashion, shoes, accessories, klutz, high heels, woman, girl fashion

Something that I have learned in the past few months of living with my brother is that, apparently, being weird is a genetic thing. Mack kind of rolls his eyes at the off-beat sense of humor that both Mark and I possess, especially when we’re calling my license plate “majestic” and cracking ourselves up over random stuff that ultimately isn’t that funny.

Of course, I think that it is a genetic fault that all of us like doing strange stuff to our living arrangements. When I was a nanny for our nephew I discovered that our brother liked to take the toys he’d get in his cereal and hide them around his house making it so you couldn’t see them unless you were a) looking for it or b) at a certain weird angle. I think it took my sister-in-law about a year to discover that her husband was doing this and she promptly made him stop (with probably the message of “oh, grow up!” thrown in there as well).

Needless to say my siblings like to do weird stuff, especially with stuff around the house, with the hope that we’re subtle about it and people won’t really notice it at first. (Just ask Mack who found the Star Trek emblem taped on his workout shirt when he came back from a business trip recently).

Last week both Mack and I were away traveling on our respective trips leaving Mark alone all week caring for our pets. He’d occasionally text to inform me that he’d taught our cat Bucky to say “I love you, Mark” or something equally irritating with the purpose of rubbing in our faces the fact Bucky is a traitor.

Remember who buys your food, brat

Friday night we both got home rather late and immediately went into the house to pass out immediately thus not nothing anything out of the ordinary. The next morning, while eating breakfast, Mark asks me if I had by chance look at the tree by the driveway? Did you notice anything strange? Perplexed, I slowly responded in the negative while wondering the hell my brother had done while Mack and I were gone. As I stepped outside and look towards the street this is the view which I got:

Saturday it, unfortunately, it had fewer sticks but the effect was equally as perplexing. When I asked Mark what was the purpose of such a interesting arrangement he told me that while raking leaves he would run into sticks. Of course what does he do with the sticks? Leans them against the tree just so the neighbors wonder what is the deal with those sticks? and are perpetually confused by the new neighbors.

If you know me you’ll know instantly that I was amused and decided to help with this venture by gathering more sticks to add to the ritualistic pile of awesome. As you can see from the photograph above we are half way around the tree with the sticks. As we sit inside and watch people on the street walk by we all laugh since inevitably everyone walks by and does a double take before walking on with a confused look upon their face.

Awesome.

Do you mess with your neighbors in any way? Or do anything really strange with your living arrangement that makes people double take?

Technorati Tags: neighbors, strange, weird, genetics, siblings, new neighbors, neighborhood, nature, trees