Okay, first of all, I was really curious as to why I had 51 hits in one hour last night when the usual hourly rate is more around 10-20. Then I discovered that J-Lo apparently had a wardrobe malfunction, and I had a post about J-Lo from a couple New Years Eve’s ago. Really? This is all you have to do? Look for a picture of J-Lo’s nipple? I’m betting it looks pretty much like anybody else’s.
ANYway. . .
…I have just wasted 30 minutes I can’t get back looking at pictures from the Red Carpet “ceremony” (seriously? it’s a ceremony now?) so I thought I would waste a few more commenting on them.
But first a question. How much Botox is too much? The bottom half of Billy Crystal’s face looked 60+, but his forehead NEVER moved. Weird.
For the sake of fairness/disclosure, all of the photos below (unless otherwise noted) were taken from theenvelope.latimes.com.
41 going on 60. If she gets any thinner she’s going to look 160.
In her pre-skeleton days she used to be beautiful.
I just don’t get it. Why does this repeatedly happen, where there seems to be no such thing as “thin enough”?
Speaking of skeletons. . .
We all want to know, Angelina. What was up with the leg? Did you lose a bet or something?
How does one write a choking sound?
The top of this gown is at LEAST two sizes too big.
Um, polka dots? Um, no.
Is it just me, or does he actually LOOK like Puss in Boots?
Conductor, in rehearsal, when the orchestra plays for another .25 seconds after the soprano cuts off her last note: “Never outsing the soprano. O. My. Lord.”
What is wrong with the algorithm at theweatherchannel.com that lists the day’s current temperature, i.e. 91˚, and the projected high at 86˚. Is there NOONE there who notices this and decides that perhaps the projected high should be projected higher?
And a question for all of you parents out there: Which is more stressful, being away from home for 3 weeks when you’ve left the house empty, or being away from home for 3 weeks when you’ve left the house in the “care” of the 18-year old?
I had completed all of my camp responsibilities by noon Saturday, so husband and I went into Traverse City to act like tourists. We had a delicious lunch at Amical, and then did a little shopping. At first we may have upset the balance of the universe when husband bought two pairs of shoes and I didn’t buy any, but I did have some fun taking pictures.
I call this the “Embarrassed” sandal. It knows it’s hideous, but it must sit on its shelf, in plain view, for all to see. It doesn’t even have hands to hide behind.
I call this the “Beautiful” sandal. I would like them in brown, as shown, and black, 8 1/2 W. Sigh.
I call this “The Why Shoe.” I believe the title is self-explanatory.
These are just beautiful. I would consider selling one of my children for them — a deal at any price, but yours for a mere $545 plus tax and shipping/handling. First Son only has one year left of college, and I would include his college fund balance as long as it’s actually paid to his college; Second Son may have just hit a car in a mall parking lot, but it only did $500 worth of damage, which he (or I) will take full financial responsibility for, and he has been let go from his summer job 3 weeks early, but I suspect that, rather than this being a direct fault of his, his manager is an asshole and had an opportunity to hire someone for the fall and took it. Only Daughter is not yet a teenager, so she is still, as they say in the Master Card commercials, priceless, and therefore, not (yet) available for purchase. It is, as they say, only a matter of time.
[In a kind-of related story, related to the cowboy boots, that is, we watched Brokeback Mountain last night -- neither husband nor I had seen it yet -- and we both think they did a good job with a story that could have become campy or self-conscious. I do wish Heath Ledger could have mumbled a little bit more articulatively, but there's nothing wrong with a good lookin' man in jeans and cowboy boots.
(Despite the fact that Husband posed for this photo, and he does actually know I have a tendency to "use" just about anything for my blog, he may insist that I take this photo down, so I hope many of you get to see it while it's still here.)]
Anyway, back to Saturday.
When we were done at the shoe store, we investigated one of the galleries along Front Street.
This floating coffee table was kind of cool,
I thought it looked like it would maybe bounce a little, but I didn’t actually try.
I also liked these wood cuttings (sorry about the quality of the photos; I wasn’t sure how the woman in charge would feel about me taking pictures of stuff with my iPhone, so I was trying to be both quick AND surreptitious.)
I was NOT so crazy about the coffee table manufactured from the tailgate of a Ford pickup,
I’m not sure what this painting? collage? source of non-drug-induced freaky dreams?was called, so I called it Scary Alien Art.
I assume someone’s buying these, as there were at least a dozen on the walls, and the artist was featured, but really, really, thankyoubutno.
Now we’re home; laundry’s done, I’m about to make my second cappuccino of the morning, and it’s time to return to reality. I must say, three weeks living in a cabin make air conditioning, floors that can actually get clean, and a washer and dryer within the residence feel like real luxury. It’s probably good to lower that bar every year or so.
IMHO: The clothes are boxy, shapeless, and unappealing. It’s quite clear that his years at Coach have directly influenced his artistic aesthetic, and I can’t help but think he’d be better off sticking to designing utilitarian handbags rather than clothes. He’s apparently quite enamored of his wife, a “gamine French” woman, but I can’t imagine that even she would look good in these outfits.
Some questions for Mr. Krakoff:
Is the point of the gray sheer blouse just that we be grateful for the pockets?
As opposed to this:
Now I’ll be the first to admit that she does have firm, beautiful breasts, and I’m not such a cretin that I don’t understand that fashion is supposed to be as much about “art” as it is about “clothes,” but aren’t you also supposed to be able to actually wear the clothes without getting arrested?
And what’s up with the blacksmith’s apron?
All she needs is one of those masks.
And how about these for pure fashion hideousness?
It’s a box, it’s a paper-towel tube, it’s _____________________!
These clothes don’t even fit her. The shirt looks like something cut for a 10-year old, the pants fit awkwardly across her “hips,” and the length, especially paired with the clod-hopper shoes, just doesn’t work. What Mr. Krakoff doesn’t seem to realize is that if the clothes look this bad on a model, noone’s going to buy them, unless, maybe they feel they have something to prove.
I can’t find prices on the website, so I have no idea what Mr. Krakoff is charging for these beauties, but I’m sure I could find a Catholic-school uniform shirt at a Kmart, and a pair of my son’s outgrown dress pants in my basement and let you have them for, say, $150. Is it a deal?
And is there maybe an elusive yet compelling aesthetic reason that the model be generally unattractive AND bowlegged? Just wondering.