barbie living

When my sister and I were young, we were crazy about Barbie dolls. Actually, not so much the dolls as all the stuff they came with. Some people argue that Barbie reinforces unrealistic feminine body ideals and traditional gender roles. Really, I think most 5 year olds are pretty oblivious to those messages coming from their dolls. Barbie, in my opinion, is about training kids to be consumers.

I think my first major Barbie accessory was a hot pink metallic corvette. Shortly thereafter my sister got a red Barbie Ferrari (more classic, perhaps, but not nearly as hott).

Being the spoiled children we were/are, we both eventually acquired Barbie houses. She had the Barbie Dream House, a three-part, two-story thing that came with balconies and furniture and shutters and fake window box plants. I had the Barbie Townhouse, a smaller, more urban style in three stories with an elevator. This seems weirdly indicative of the different people my sister and I would turn out to be in our 20s. Well, except I'd have had the Barbie Rented Arts and Crafts Bungalow.

To be fair, she doesn't have the Barbie Dream House yet, but she's a doctor, and it's only a matter of time.

the usual suspects

One of these adorable kittens peed on my gym bag this morning. I don't think we'll ever know which one, which is one of the interesting things about having three cats.

Let me tell you, washing urine off your things is not a fun way to begin your day. Especially when it's shortly followed by a message from your wireless phone company reminding you that you haven't paid your bills for two months (oops) and that you need to pay now or else.

Fortunately, in between these happy events, my wonderful man friend bought me a chocolate croissant and orange juice to cheer me up. It's not easy to shake off the crankiness caused by a pool of urine on your stuff, but that's a pretty good start.

project!

In continuing my quest to learn skills that require me to use my hands (insert joke here) and my fantasy to some day have a job that doesn't require me to work in an office all day (insert other joke here, perhaps), I'm taking an upholstery class at Local Technical College.

This chair is my project.

This picture, what with the nice morning light, makes the fabric look snappier than it in fact is. Don't get me wrong, I adore hot pink, and hot pink chenille upholstery fabric is no exception. What you don't see in the picture is that the fabric has a dingy, brownish/grayish hue to it and is incredibly faded (based on the parts of the fabric never exposed to light/people). One side of the seat cushion fell victim to spillage of hot wax, and much of the fabric on the buttons is literally worn to the threads.

The class itself is amazing, if it does provide me more exposure to the middle-aged home-schooling christian mom than I usually seek. In an uncharacteristic turn from my usual misanthropy, I've discovered that the DIY streak we have in common actually makes them pretty easy to get along with. Though I do get a bit of joy of mentioning how my project will be used in my Atheist Den of Sin with my Shack-up Boyfriend To Whom I Am Not Married But With Whom I Have Sex NOT EVEN FOR THE PURPOSE OF HAVING CHILDREN.

presidential doodles, other random caffeine-induced thoughts

I really want this book. For some reason I feel like that means I have succumbed to the brainwashing of the Shallow Hipster Elite. But is it so wrong to want to see Lyndon B. Johnson's "slightly nightmarish scribbled man-on-fire aesthetic”?

Apparently, all I blog about these days is recycled info from various Gawker blogs. Eesh. I should try doing some work.

Now, off to a meeting with Insane Egomaniacal Boss's Boss Man. Always a treat.

poor doggie

This seemed like the kind of thing on which Ms. Bunchofpants would report wonderfully, but I figured I could offer up the topic for potential insightful analysis.

In Washington, D.C. yesterday morning a park police officer shot and killed a dog playfully running loose in the park. The dog, a pit bull named Precious, belonged to a resident homeless preacher named Texas Joe.

Via Wonkette, and I'll agree with their interpretation of events:

The real cause of the murder seems to be this: A power-mad federal cop told Texas Joe to put Precious on a leash, and when the harmless homeless man didn’t jump fast enough for the cop, the cop shot Precious dead.

And, it highlights the unwarranted reputation pit bulls have as inherently aggressive, dangerous animals (fyi, they're not).