(Recent faves from The Sartorialist.)
My cat has a thing for appliances. If the washer door's slid open, he'll be sitting in there in an instant. Same goes for the dryer. If the under-sink door is ajar, he'll dash in and sit right next to the garbage disposal.
Today, while loading dishes in the dishwasher, there he was. Sitting, matter-of-factly, in the back of the dishwasher.
"Rufus!" I gasped, and he didn't move a millimeter. It took a lot of work to coax him out.
Now, if only he would actually use the appliances instead of just sit in them. A little maid-cat would be amazing.
Embroidered text messages from Ginger Anyhow.
Me: Okay, I'm going to clean the bedroom tonight.
Stefan: Uh, what was I supposed to say? "No, I won't like that"?
Me: How about, "I'll help you"?
Stefan: Oh, right...heh, heh. That.
Cuteness from Nut and Bee.
Something I forgot to mention about Halloween: that morning there was only one person dressed up on the bus. He was sitting near the front, hunched over, wearing a ninja suit. On my way home, he was on the same bus as me and again the only person in costume. You sneaky ninja, you!
Also, if any of you have last.fm and feel like befriending me, mosey on over to my profile here.
Jewelry from gemmafactrix.
Watched Indiana Jones last night, and it was not good. Obvious green screening, a flat script, ridiculous scenarios (e.g. sword fighting while standing atop speeding vehicles? and the whole alien thing?).
It reminded me, though, of one of the computer games I was really into as a kid – Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis. Of course, I wasn't that great at it, and I was oblivious to the concept of looking up cheats online. Oh, yeah, and I was also a little obsessed with The Secret of Monkey Island. (Gotta love the "Logic puzzles, complex conversions, and side-splitting humor!" line in the TV spot.)
Nice bags from drikab.
On the bus home today: a woman filling out restraining order paperwork, a little kid trying to convince his mom that his legs were indeed sweaty, and another little kid who kept licking the storybook that was being read to him.
Loooovely hair adornments from twigs & honey.
Last night I was super drowsy while watching Jimmy Kimmel. By "watching", I mean that I was catching bits of it between moments of falling asleep. Jimmy had a bunch of animals on the show, and the most impressive one was a camel. But in all my drowsiness, I thought that they were feeding hot dogs to the camel. In reality, they were feeding hot dogs to the lizard. Ah! Of course! Because lizards prey on hot dogs, right?
This morning on the bus I sat across from a woman that I couldn't resist sneaking glances at. My first thought at the sight of her was "plump, blond Mary Poppins," but I suspect that I thought that only because she was carrying an umbrella. She wore perfectly curled hair, a blue printed dress, and two jackets. And, most distinctly, red shoes and cankles. She carried two bags; inside the first were several crushed tissues and a water bottle with ice in it. Out of the other bag she pulled various ziplocks of make-up, ferretting through them with mascara-stained fingers.
Camilla Engman + Elisabeth Dunker's newest collaboration: Studio Violet.
Today I was in a meeting with nineteen other people and several boxes of pizza. I realized, after a while, that of the eighteen plates that I could see, a whopping fifteen of them held abandoned pizza crusts. Is there some strange correlation between design agencies and disliking pizza crusts? Did I miss the memo?
This is why I love fall fashion: all the warm, warm layers. (From Anthropologie).
One of the jobs I'm occasionally tasked with is to cut a person/product out of digital photograph so that it can be placed against a different background. That's one of the things I did today: cut out photos of some fella. Let's call him Fred. And as I'm tracing Fred's arm, zoomed into the image at about 300% scale, I suddenly notice something.
Fred is striking a pose with one of his arms raised. And underneath his arm is a huge sweat stain. And in this huge sweat stain is another stain, roughly the size of a quarter and the color of mold.
You're thinking, "Poor Fred!", right? Yeah. Poor Fred.
Lucky for him, when not viewed at 300%, the stains are hardly detectable. But still. Today's lesson: if you're going to have a hi-res photo taken of yourself, do some test poses in the bathroom mirror beforehand. And wear a clean shirt.
Got up early today, ate breakfast out, bought some new tights and a dress. I've been doing a little cleaning back at the apartment, which is going well, except for the part where Rufus the cat decided to use a cardboard box as a surf board and crash into some plastic drawers. He's okay, but feeling a little self-conscious, I think.
I can't understand most of it, but I can still swoon: Billet.
Stefan: So, my friend just got back from Croatia...
Me: Where is that, anyway?
Stefan: I'm not sure. I think it's, uh...
Me: It's near Cheece, right?
Me: Greece. Greece!
I do this all the time, borrowing letters from previous words. It's worse when I don't even realize it. And no, Croatia is not really that close to Greece.
Enigmatic prints from Lolley Land.
There were a lot of entertaining things about the hockey game that I went to last night, and one of them was the Zamboni. But it wasn't the machine. It was the guy driving the machine. He was probably in his thirties and on the shorter side, an attribute magnified by wearing wide leg jeans and a jumbo hockey jersey. He was balding, and little tufts of hair stood up on the front of his head. He also had a severe underbite, bulging eyes, and black-rimmed glasses. As he sped the Zamboni around the rink, he didn't even bother to sit down; instead, he stood, hunched over the steering wheel, navigating deftly. I started to imagine him at parties, mingling with friends unaware of the culture of ice rinks, boasting about how necessary and intense his job is.
And after reading up a little bit about it, I just have to share this: Frank J. Zamboni, the inventor of the Zamboni, was born in Eureka, Utah. Can it get much better than that?
Today's been scrumptious & picturesque: we did some errands in the morning, then dropped by a community boutique sale (got a cute a.p.c. striped button up shirt), had sushi and coffee, and drove around while all the orange and yellow leaves fluttered through the air.
This morning, I spotted a yellow-eyed black cat just outside the garage. I approached it really slowly, but it skedaddled before I was within arm's length. Disappointed, watching it run into the neighbor's yard, I turned around – and there was another yellow-eyed black cat, just sitting there sweetly in the middle of the garage.
I think I may have discovered a teleporting cat.
Lots of sweetness in Creature Comforts' photostream.
So I've been wanting to expand my good-board-games-for-two collection, and I might have done so tonight, except for this one little problem. And that problem was a gangly teenage kid drifting around the aisle, talking to himself. Or maybe he was talking at me?
As soon as I heard him cry out, "Andbeforeyouknowit! Iron Man is gonna..." to himself/no one/me, I ran out of the aisle and looked for other things to occupy myself with, like mountainous amounts of candy corn. (A few minutes after that, an announcement about Iron Man came over the PA system. So maybe he was on to something after all.)
This evening, I got so caught up in taking a grammar quiz online that my half-eaten ice cream sandwich started to melt all over the table and I didn't even notice. If that's not a sign of being a grammar nerd, I don't know what is.
(And now I keep thinking about all the people who are shaking their heads, lamenting, "Oh, what a horrible waste of ice cream!")
Random product recommendation for anyone who has to deal with unintentionally hairy couches and pants: get the Furminator. We've been using it on our cat, and it's ridiculously better than any other brush. I'm finding fewer and fewer of those little tumbleweeds of fur rolling around the apartment.
Have a stellar weekend!
Recent Sartorialist faves.
Hey, folks. Sorry, I've been a little MIA recently, and I don't have much for you today, either. Mostly, I'm just very slowly cleaning house & getting distracted by television & nibbling on snacks. Enjoy the weekend!
There was a woman applying makeup on the bus this morning, and despite being a little scary when a mascara wand is being used and the bus is racing over bumps in the road, this isn't really a rare thing to see. So I was ignoring it, sucked into my book, until I heard the woman say, "Well, this is the only way I can get my lashes to curl, they're so thick!"
And of course, hearing that, I had to look up. I nearly expected to see her holding an oversized, ultra-bulky eyelash curler, something scary and serious.
But I was oh-so wrong: she was holding the back of a spoon against her eye.
A spoon! Who knew? And looks like it's old news: someone's even posted a tutorial about this technique here. Oh, the things you can learn...
The cocoa machine at work is sort of hit and miss. Sometimes it spews out this rich, sweet hot chocolate, and other times it expels a watered down version of said drink. So I've learned to take a test sip before carrying it back to my desk, and if I've been served the watery version, then I'll add half-and-half to make it decently drinkable.
But recently I noticed something next to the half-and-half. A mystery container was wrapped in a grocery bag, with an attached note that read: "Do not drink! Will cause intoxication."
And along the side of the note, someone else had responded, "Do you really think that's going to stop anyone?" with a little smiley face.
Flagrante delícia: yum yum yum.
Last night I had a dream that my mom paid Radiohead $100 to call me up on the phone. I was absolutely ecstatic about this, and tried to think of interesting things to ask them.
Me: "So, Thom, what's your middle name?"
Thom: "Middle name? What's that?"
Me: "Oh, that's right. British people don't have middle names."
And this wasn't sarcastic. For whatever reason, that was the truth – the British simply didn't believe in middle names.
After that, they sang me some songs over the phone, and it was pretty much the best dream I've had in a while.
Hi! I'm Rachel, and these are bits of my days and things I like. I run the online shops Elephantine and Mignon, am a fiction writer, and live in Seattle with my husband and two cats. Read more about this blog...
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