No Sleep Till Brooklyn

For any of you Beastie fans out there, a shout out to ya.

I was watching one of my many guilty pleasures Gossip Girl last night, and I luckily I Tivoed it, so I could rewind three times to make sure what I heard was correct.

One of the main characters Serena played by the lovely but not talented Blake Lively, said a line where she was referring to a girl named Georgina who said her name was Sara, from "Brookland"
I immediately rewound, asking myself, did she just say Brookland? She did. You can distinctly hear the D at the end. Is it possible that no one heard this but me? No editors, directors, actors?

Now, there was an episode last year where Gossip Girl narrated this: "And as for Blair Waldorf, say uncle. We here she kept in the Bass Family on New Years, but rumor has it Chuck spent some time in Brookland, metaphorically speaking of course. "

This alludes to the one-night stand Chuck Bass had with Vanessa, who is from Brooklyn. How is it possible that Brooklyn and Brookland have been mixed up twice on a NYC-based show?

I need answers, and my research isn't getting them to me fast enough. Is there anyone in the world that heard this? Rewind tonight, and let me know.

Lyla Takes up the Harmonica

In my quest to pass the time on our long journey home from the Outer Banks, I bought myself (and Lyla) a harmonica at the Cracker Barrel in Williamsburg, VA. Trent was less than enthused when he saw it on the checkout counter since we already have one at home. I bought the last one on our way home from Myrtle Beach, SC about eight or so years ago. Trent had to listen to me for at least two to three hours while I taught myself how to play When the Saints Go Marching In, and Piano Man. I can play by ear, but I can't remember what I played so well, so it never really stuck, but it did pass the time for me! If there was a time for Trent to dump me because of me being completely annoying, that was the night.

Possibly on purpose, Trent put our bag full of Cracker Barrel loot in the trunk, so I never did get to play in the car, and neither did Lyla.

However, the harmonica was found, and provided to my already musical daughter the Sunday after we returned. The first video here is her very first effort with the instrument. I think she did pretty well.



By the second video, she was walking and blowing, and perhaps losing her balance. She did manage to take a bow though.



By the third video, taken last Thursday, she's become a real pro, and even rocks to the rhythm.



I have to say, this may be her calling. After all, there are many songs with famous harmonica solos:

1. Love Me Do- The Beatles
2. What I Like About You- The Ramones
3. Isn't She Lovely- Stevie Wonder
4. Run Around - Blues Traveler (I only list it because it's famous. I'd pather poke my eye out than listen to this horrible jam band)
5. I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues — Elton John (Stevie plays the harmonica on it though)

Who the H is Chan Luu?

Sorry for the lapse in lively mockery of myself. I was on vacation for a week, and the week back has left me severely exhausted. I won't go into the details of why I am sore, lacking sleep, hungry, thirsty, and ugly. It's usually all the same reasons any way.

So, to make myself feel better, I went to Elizabeth Arden yesterday for an eyebrow wax and a collagen treatment. Of course, I didn't plan on getting the collagen, but like every other place I go, I got roped into it by the fast talking, smooth-skinned esthetician. It was relaxing though, and was just what the doctor (Walter) ordered. I got to wear a sarong, and lay under a warm blankie, with mittens on my weary hands. And, aside from virtually gluing my eyes shut with a wet wrap full of cucumber cream, and me feeling a bit panicky about my eyes being forced shut for 15 minutes (see A Clockwork Orange as a watery reference), it was quite a refreshing drink for my bumpy, dry, and mysterious skin (as she put it).

After the lovely treatments, I decided to grab lunch at one of my favorite cafes in Baltimore in the same shopping center. While I waited, I headed over to a place called the Jean Pool that carries jeans, great tees, and a few other trinkets. The Project Vintage tees were on sale for 50 percent off, so I was all over them, since they fit and wash really well. Meanwhile, I get engrossed in conversation with the owner Scott about his Cartier "Love" bracelet (he told me sadly no one has the key, and that he bought it for himself. That is so me!), and the new jeans he has in that are of course only in tiny girl sizes. We finally find one pair of AG jeans (my absolute favorite jean brand that were featured on Oprah for making your butt look smaller) that will fit me, so I'm excited. I try on one size smaller than I normally wear, since that was the biggest size he had in all his inventory, and basically it's sausage in its casing from hip to toe. Lord...why? After a few squats, and Scott assuring me they'll stretch, but at the same time not answering my rapid fire questions about how they look on me in the outside of fitting room mirror--What about my thighs? Are they rubbing? Are my saddle bags sticking out? Is my butt too old to wear these? I decide to get them. All the while he was likely texting his dinner date while I talked myself into buying them (as I do with most purchases). I don't even need a sales person, I do all the selling myself. I tell myself I can only get thinner from here, or they will stretch, or I can always return them (which there you cannot, and I never return anything anyway).

As this argument with myself continues, I roam the store for other finds. There is a display of using an unused paint roller atop a pile of jeans with about eight wrap bracelets tied to it. Very cool, leather with beads. I've seen these types in a few mags lately, and was digging them. I try one on my wrist, and around my neck, and we both decide it is a confirmed purchase. Now, he keeps telling me, "Yeah, they're the new Chan Luu bracelets." I hear him, but nothing is computing because I have no idea who that is. A few minutes later at the front counter, I see some black leather bracelets with similar beads and leather ties. They are $12 each, or three for $35. I decide they too must be mine as well. He tells me a local Baltimore artist makes them. So, I say, "Oh, is this the same person that does the bracelet from the paint roller?" He looks at me the way all gay male fashionistas do when you don't get it, and says again, "No sweetie, those are the Chan Luu bracelets." I'm thinking how I know a lot of brands, but I can't keep up with the thousands of designer jean and trendy jewelry designers, and that this is just another small designer I don't know. I have inserted a pic of the bracelet at hand for reference--cuz it gets pretty nutty from here (the one on the right is the crazy one, the left pic is the cheap one).

When it's all said and done, and he rings me up, the total is way, way more than I thought. I'm quickly calculating the half off tees, and jeans which were pricey, but still not nearly as much as the total he came up with. Due to the parties that may be reading this post, I will not disclose the full purchase amount. Sorry honey. :)
While I'm pulling a John Nash, trying to see the quantities and numbers in my head, he is pointing to the receipt telling me that the local chick's jewelry rings up separately and by hand, so it's not on the itemized list, and all this business about the $35 for those. Meanwhile, I'm thinking of how this all transpired. In typical Jen fashion, I'm too flustered and confused to say anything, so I decide I'll check it out in the car, then go back if needed.

I end up talking to my Mom the whole drive to work, so I forget to check the receipt again. Well, when I get to work, I get distracted until two hours after the purchase. I went into my wallet to get my CC out to pay for lunch, when I saw the bracelet, and decided to put it on. It still had the little hang tag on it with the price. When I saw it, blood flowed into every extremity, and I felt a mix of total shock and embarrassment at my stupidity for not looking at the price; kind of like the time I made a surprise poopy in my pants in third grade because I was yelling so loud to get this boy Matthew Pizarazz's attention (whom I liked btw), that I busted a vessel back there, and it all slipped out. I was wearing an off white matching sweat suit too.

The bracelet that pretty much matched my $12 bracelet was $189.
To my credit, as you can see here, the price tag was minuscule, and he had it with the "BG 1494" side up on the display, so there were smoke and mirrors involved in the merchandising of it. They lured me in. It's sitting on a paint roller for crying out loud, and all the other bracelets are between $12-24. Why would I ever think it was $189?

I immediately looked up Chan Luu online, and sure enough he/she is this celeb fave jewelry designer, all over every mag, and on everyone's wrists . I told the guys at work, and of course, they all laughed at me, and we all told stories of how this has happened to us, where we thought something was cheaper, and at the register it ends up being so much. Although, all of their stories ended with them putting the item back. Mine ended with me wearing it all day, and living with the guilt of it. I think it's mostly because it's not worth the money at all. It will probably be out of style next week, and I'll be wearing a feather dangling toe ring instead.

At least me, Madonna, Reese, Katie, Rhianna, Jen, Nicole, Halle, and Drew have all been saddled with the hefty price tag of this luxury item. I wonder if they 're feeling the same way about the blow of this $189 on their bank accounts?

Why is Forever 21 so Wrong and Yet So Right?

Sorry guys, this one isn't for you.

I am a fan of Forever 21, and their lower-end, but still somewhat trendy band of web sites. I order countless hair accessories from them for mere pennies. I have also been buying their underwear as of late, and even though it's "juniors" sizing, it actually fits me better than any other underwear. I've bought dresses for under $20, and shoes for even less.

My beef with them is their hero shots. This is the image in each section that showcases their line. Every time I go to their site, I admire the images and styling they've been doing. I actually want the stuff. The thing is, they almost never carry what's in the shots. I have been considering sending a frosty letter to the management about this issue. I often threaten to do this (re: Joann fabric, Anthropologie, Paris Hotel in Las Vegas). How can a girl get her cheap clothing fix, when the cheap clothing isn't available? Take the hot pink skirt (inset right) here. Yes, I want it. No, I can't get it. Paired with black tights, a simple white tee, and Christian Louboutin booties it would be the genius behind my winter party look. Because I do party so often. And I will dismiss the fact that my huge legs and ass might never even fit into it. That's besides the fact. The fact here is that the skirt is nowhere to be found.

Now, take a look at this breezy, sexy under garment photo. Again, I want to be in these. Not one item in this shot is available. At least two of the above three were. But I don't really want the navy zebra dress. I might be able to rock that jacket in a different color though.
I did see the tiered off-white tulle skirt/tu tu in the window at the mall the other day, which was promising. I am doubtful that I can pull that skirt off. I want to, but I simply cannot. I haven't completely lost my mind. I want to, but I simply cannot. Also, for fellow F21 (my nickname for the chain) shoppers...am I the only one that didn't know that XXII FOREVER is the same thing? Online and in the old stores the name was Forever 21, and in the logo in a totally different font. The store in the mall is all Roman font, with the roman numerals. How confusing. The web site also has the logo the old way. What gives?

By the way, the store in the mall here is massive, and so delicious. I want everything in there. However, I have only been in once. Every other shopper is shopping with her mom, or was given $40 by her mom to shop there. I am too embarrassed and old to be there. Hell, I won't even go into Hollister or A&F, much less this place. What? I like the tank tops for under stuff. Don't judge me. Therefore, I exclusively order online. I can't even imagine walking into a fitting room there. I do Delia's the same way--online. They also have a huge store in my local mall. Bah humbug.

The last time I went to H&M, which I thought I was still young enough to shop in, was awful. Nothing fit me (all too small of course), and one pair of jeans that I loved, were too small too. When I asked the girl for a bigger size, she said that was the largest they came in, and gave me the look that I've dreaded for the last few years. The, you are too old and too heavy to shop here look. Sob. I bought them anyway, and they did stretch, and fit now. The sale person in Via C in Nordstrom was all over me about them. I was proud to say they were purchased at H&M.

On the brighter side, I have identified the model in the web site images as the girl from The City (The Hills spin-off). I watch it for the clothes! Wink wink. See the big-eyed, small-mouthed anorexic above and below.