Blah,Blah,Blahg

SHE BANGS...

I went to brunch with my 2 best friends and my best friends' best friend-a homophobic gay man -J.  I don't usually brunch, nor do I usually see my friends.  I was quite surprised actually to find out I still had any.  My list of requirements for friendship is quite low but very focused.  My main requirement is that if I should become suddenly homeless that they would offer me and my dog a sofa to use until I become un-homeless.  I think this is very important and if I feel this is not an option then the friendship is revoked.  The other requirement is that they must feel comfortable that I am basically a shut-in, sort of like the unibomber without the bomber thing attached.  I am available once every six months for the most amusing 4 hours of the year and yes, if they needed a place to stay should they become suddenly homeless 'mi casa su casa'.  That's pretty much it, the rest is just icing on the 'ol cake of life, like the fact that they think I am funny.  I used to be the 'pretty' friend in my youth, slowly I became the 'stylish' friend (hide flaws with good clothes and shoes), now as life progresses I will take the 'amusing' friend role, as long as they are laughing with me and not at me I'm fine. 

I do want to mention no one had said anything about my 'Moe' bangs.  Now  this is a very drastic hair 'don't ' and I would think it would have caused tire screeching and comments along the lines of "uh-oh, what have you done now?"  Instead no one mentioned it, which was perhaps a way to make me feel more comfortable but in fact illicited the reverse feeling of comfort.  I finally mentioned it to Candace, "Did you notice my hair?", she suddenly needed to sip her coffee and divert her eyes and with her thumb and forefinger pinched together I heard a mumble, "A little short".  Why this bothered me so much I don't know.  They are short and I expect my friends to tell me things like you have something in your teethe, or you're drinking too much or your pants are too tight, I dunno, but I guess it bothered me because it's not something I could solve with a toothpick, A.A, or  sweatpants, they are going to have to grow back and it's going to take some time, maybe that's why they weren't mentioned in the first place.  I have decided to expand my list to include--'my friends need to be good liars in inordinately awkward situations that are out of ones control.'  That's not asking for too much, right?

THE WRITINGS ON THE WALL....

I saw these first signs on a bathroom wall and found them quite amusing and then I thought that perhaps you may find them amusing as well.  Also, if I tried to explain them I would get that dull vacant look when I try to explain things or better still if I hit the right pitch then I would get that look that reads 'this nut is a big fibber' (yeah, I know you know that look).

The best part was that the above sign was found in the loo of a very swank publication (I dare not name).  Can you imagine asking your co-workers to use a tissue and then wash their hands afterwards?  I've only been at my job a couple months, but I can't imagine asking anyone but my immediate family to do something like that and they would probably ask me if I have been skipping my O.C.D. medication again.

What's weirder the below sign, or that I am some random lunatic taking photo's in the ladies loo?

I think this would make a very cool t-shirt for some irreverent hipster type.  If you look closely those are not suds my friends but little vicious germ monsters.

Do you think the luxury brand that has hired me to be the public face of their company would be horrified to find out that I spend my time contemplating things like the above and have the audacity/insanity to let the world know?  How much does one get on the dole anyway? (For those that don't know the 'dole' is a very affected/effected way of saying welfare). 

I really liked this last image below, for one it meant I didn't have to spend time in a public bathroom and for two I felt it was almost prophetic, as if saying 'You Miss B.are going to heaven in a handbasket' as opposed to the other more popular version of the saying which isn't as nice.  I am planning on doing something with the image that will garner great fan fare and acclaim.  I will go on Oprah and let her know how I saw the signs and they changed my life....

WELCOME TO MY PITY PARTY!

I have been very conscious of not using my 'blahg' as a dumping ground for my emotional basket case of an existence, but when I was on the plane from NYC last night I decided that maybe if I shared some of my inner turmoil that perhaps I may be able to have guests attend my Pity Party.  You see, I feel awful when I complain because I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, a perfect (for me) love, my health, well, physical (mental could be disputed).  My middle class dilemmas seem so lame in the grand scheme of things but unfortunately (or fortunately) this is my life and I am going to spill my beans because maybe someone out there is as neurotic as myself and is feeling like no one understands them or you can read this and let out a sigh of relief that your life is so much better than mine.  So just like that my little ditty of a blahg is going to go from D.I.Y to C.R.Y and then some.  Don't feel sorry for me, I already feel plenty sorry for myself.

So my boss, the devil, uhm, no that's too kind, shoot, what if I get Googled and then he knows my true feelings?  Okay, my 'friend's' boss sent me to New York (isn't that what all your friend's bosses do?), and really it's NOT as glamorous as it sounds.  I will tell you ALL about it when I have recovered from the actual trip.  Now I need to tell you about my flight last night because it was particularly bananas:

I don't know why I am so easily annoyed, but I just am. Why would it bother me on a cross country flight that my seat mate would decide to play marathon air keyboard the entire time?  I know this shouldn't have bothered me and I tried to ignore him but I kept getting glimpses of his blur of fingers in my peripheral vision, why this made me want to break his knuckles was beyond me.  The real proverbial cherry on top was the snack that people were buying for this five plus hour flight--TUNA.  Yes, TUNA, who thought this was a good idea?  Is the person that suggested this snack and got the thumbs up still a part of the snack picking team?  I mean, I am no snack expert per se, but even I would know better than to have tuna ordered for a 3,000 mile flight in a metal encased thing with recycled air. Lest you think I am making this stuff up (I really am not that creative), I took a photo of the offending snack for posterity:

I apologize for the shoddy photography, I wasn't sure if flash was allowed in-flight and didn't want to risk that photo documentation of said bad snack idea was prohibited. 

Anyways, back to me, just Joshin', I miss you all really I do...

GOODWILL BLOGGING...

I have come to the grand conclusion that being a good blogger consists of a couple very basic concepts that I have yet to grasp.  The biggest one by far being the ability to remember ones password and/or email adddress used to open said blogging apparatus when ones computer has crashed and erased all the saved passwords that one couldn't be bothered to remember previously being there was some sort of blind faith in technology and the idea that Macs never crashed therefore safe for never having to remember anything (except every shoe and handbag designers names and collections by heart).  The other is time.  I am not talking commitment because one here is committed (or some may believe should be committed), but t-i-m-e.  I believe the best bloggers actually get to take a break at work making it possible to blog or best case scenario can actually blog during work hours without being detected OR are not so tired after work that they need toothpicks on their eyelids to stay open.  There are also the lucky bloggers that are self-employed and can find time to sneak in some witty repertoire.  I seem to not fall into any good blogging skill category, which I must apologize for in advance as my blogging has been so sporadic. 

Does it count that I have thought of you all daily?  That I have had a million ideas to share with you?  Well, it's true, I miss you and I can't wait to blab about my now side design business as Bella Bella has had to take a back seat to my current gainfully/full-torture employment.  So this my lovelies is to be continued....

MAYBE ANNA NICOLE REALLY WAS IN LOVE AND OTHER MYSTERIES SOLVED...

You must know by now that I have a love for good branding and marketing.  I feel the same way about a good campaign as some feel about shoes, chocolate or a new love.  When I see a great campaign en force, my heart skips a beat or two, my stomach does a somersault and I sigh with light head onto my fainting couch.  That my dears is how I feel about the campaign of Katie Lee Joel.  You don't know who she is?  Oh she's Domino mags cover girl and a newly published cook book author and yes, the girl that married the old guy (you know you are  thinking it...):


Why is this campaign so successful?  Well, even though you want to be a hater she is so likable.  How is that possible?  Well, I have a few ideas, the major one is she hasn't been assoicated with her 35 year senior husband in any of her recent press.  The 'pitch' being that he doesn't get involved with her career.  Brilliant!  What you can't see won't hurt you. On her own she is a charming dopelganger for the young Ali McGraw. She dresses age appropriate unlike Mrs. Cruise, who should hire Mrs. Joel's people pronto.  I like it.  The whole thing is brilliantly executed.  Whomever these people are, they are worth every single penny.  I  remember being 21 (believe it or not), I was VERY mature for my age.  I started my own company at 18 and I had been self sufficient since 'Nam.  I can tell you this much if a gentleman older than 29 tried to date me I would have been grossed out.  If a guy 40 years old tried to date me I may have called the police.  There are certain generational gaps that can not be closed, no matter how mature you are.  So, the fact that I would even be interested in her after all this rigamorale is amazing.  She's like a car crash, you know you shouldn't be looking but you just can't help yourself.  This my pretties is some good a*%$ PR...

MODOFLY GIRL....

Hey, you still here?  I thought I may have grossed you totally out the door, but to my delight it looks as if I am not the only human in the world and others can share my pain (thank you for the comments)  At least I am not stepping in toddler poop like one of my other favorite bloggers is.  If you are a glutton for  bodily functions, mosey on over (warning do not drink and read as it is sure to spray through your nose.)

I would have put Bella to sleep, but then I would have to look at my husband to-be every time someone asked us why we did and then the whole 'incident' would be re-lived in slow motion for the rest of our days.  It's better just to pretend it never happened and get on with our happy, little existence.  Isn't that healthy?

So, enough of that, let me talk about this! I mentioned awhile ago that I was going to be doing a collaboration with a group called Modofly.  As I don't pay attention that much, I soon realized that I wasn't supposed to say anything. Sh*%&!  I noticed the rest of the artists were chomping at the bit to mention on their blogs and here I had written about it months ago.  Obviously, not only are these artists talented, they pay attention as well.  I sat in these virtual pow wow's biting my lower lip and praying no one found out.  So, when the time came to spread the word I kinda ignored the call of arms, as I kinda spilled the beans earlier.  I really, really want to spill the beans about what a guy who bought my design from Modofly is doing but I will wait because I will probably be flogged if I do tell and who wants that? NOT I.

So, if you are new to my blahg or don't pay much attention either, Modofly is, well, let them tell you:

Their medium is the laser and their support (what they laser on) is the uber cool Moleskine (you know, the notebook I can't afford).  I was surprised that I was included with all the talent they lined up.  These are artists that I truly admire, such as John W. Golden, his 'From the Management" series is really clever, perfect for the hipster parents:

 
There are so many more new artists that I got turned on to that have made me giddy with inspiration.  I love Marie-Louise Plum of Ink & Mess. Her name. Her company name. Her style. Her bio photo. So sassy:

You must check out the Modofly vibe, if you are an artist or are like me and just have a very powerful imagination, they are looking for new talent to highlight.  The guys that started it are brilliant in their own right (I swear I'm not saying that because they chose to work with me).  I mean, look at this description for my notebook:

The Elephant Trot

We all know about the elephant’s graveyard. What we didn’t realize is that elephants can cut a rug like nobody’s business! This beautiful piece by Tristan Brando a.k.a Bella Bella co. is more than just a beautiful piece of art and delves into an epistemic disclosure of the intimate graceful moments of the pachyderms.

I don't know about you, but I am pretty high on life about seeing some dancing elephants grace the legendary Moleskine (Thanks to Toi for the suggestion as I would never have the brain power to think of that myself) My elephants btw are experiencing their first taste of cyber stardom as they have been clicked on like crazy.  I am so very proud of them as the fame has not gone to their heads.  I on the other hand have quite the big noggin' and am hoping that I can sell enough to buy me this Modofly Moleskine:

I don't know why, but it reminds me of my bad dog...

REDRUM.

As if.  Really.  Just for your edification, I am an extremley modest individual.  There are things that are the norm, that are certainly not the norm for Miss B.  It is with great humilation that I recount the following events, but since it has me in such a tizzy, I know I can share with you.  You see my cyber bestest friends, I love you and I know that you and only you can share my psychic agony that I have endured.

I came home tonight before my Fancy, no pups to greet me at the door.  Fine.  I understand, they both hate me now. I really was under the impression they had no sense of time, but my dogs must be the fittest species of their kind as they seemed to have evolved to not only understand time but completely comprehend abandonment. Whatever.  I am tired and over puppy pleasing.  It is then my dear friends that I round the corner to the loo where my life becomes a scene from 'The Shining', I thought perhaps Bella had eaten her 3 pound sister G.G., but noooo, she had broken into our bathroom to find my feminine necessity and made a dire mess of the situation.  You see, here in lies the problem.  I don't even go to the loo when my Fancy is around or anyone for that matter (as I don't need to go remember?)  In all the time my Fancy and I have been together and my best friends and I have been best, I have NEVER, EVER gone to the loo in front of them (as I don't need to).  To see this horrible situation where Bella had taken something and basically created a crime scene was enough to make me check myself into the nervous hospital.  My only saving Grace was that my Fancy wasn't home.  I cleaned the loo, the dog and myself and locked the bathroom.  I went to work on some work and duly got preoccupied.  A couple hours later when my Fancy was home and on the sofa, I hear a meek, 'honey?" coming from the other room. 'Yes?" I say.  "Uhm, I think you need to take care of this."  I come out and it looks like the bathroom did not stay locked for long as Bella had brought my business into the livingroom and proudly dropped it at my Fancy's feet.  If I said I hate my life right now it would be a gross understatement...And to think my greatest fear was her peeing on the wood floors...

Hello?

Hello?  My Mommy can't get to the Blahg right now as she has to go leave me for the next 10-12 hours.  She says it's so I can get more treats and she can put some kibble in my belly-whatever....Yeah she also said she couldn't undo the underline either....

GOOD TIMES, BAD TIMES, YOU KNOW WE HAD OUR SHARE...

I wanted to wish you all a Happy Memorial Day weekend and in a moment of somber, tinged guilt I realized that I am alive with all my limbs and faculties in place and that I do hope that we remember that this day is a reflection of those brave men and women that have suffered for what they believed is the greater good.  I hate the idea of any war, but worse I hate the idea of insane violent behavior towards innocents.   World War II wasn't that long ago and if you read anything up on it, I would hope it makes you enjoy your life just a little better that we have never had to live in the United States with bombs tearing down our homes (civil war was canons).  I do remember growing up in the 70's and having to duck under our lunch tables at school when they did air raid drills, this is something that I hope that none of our future generations have to do.  Life is short, let's eat bbq.

I found this on my walk and thought it would bring a smile to your pretty face...

THINGS YOU SHOULD NEVER DO....

These are in no particular order:
1-Run with scissors.
2-Horseplay
3-Drunken dialing
4-I guess anything drunken--emailing, shopping, dating, etc.

Okay, I won't make any excuses, I wish I had an excuse.  I wish I could say I was intoxicated, that I wasn't of sound mind and body--but I can't.  One thing you should never do (especially if you are both near and far sighted like myself) is take your very cubersome (and super sharp) fabric scissors and decide that you have the ability to trim your own bangs.  How hard could it be?  I certainly have trimmed my bangs many times with the cuticle scissors without incidence..

Before:




After:

Need I say more?