#46: Mary Anne Misses Logan
So remember yesterday when I was talking about Mary Anne Misses Logan? Well, I thought it would be fun if I gave you all coronaries by updating the blog two days in a row. I know! Can you believe these shenanigans?! Don't fret, I'll probably return to my usual status (Negligent Blogger) soon enough. My friend Kel keeps telling me I should get a cat (because she can sense my impending spinsterhood) and I'm like "DUDE, I can't even take care of my inanimate web project, let alone an actual living creature." The poor thing would be dead within a week. I'm surprised my pothos plant is still alive.
Anyway. Behold the glory (all credit goes to the dibbly-fresh gallery and of course to the visionary who created this masterpiece of early 90s cover art).
Did you behold? Don't just look, people. BEHOLD. Take in every blessed detail, including the blurred crowd of skaters very, very far away from the girls, like maybe the babysitters have all contracted some sort of terribly contagious disease and have been quarantined to one side of the rink. I also like the tagline A LOT: "Nothing beats your friends. But even so . . ." There are just way too many hysterical (and, shamefully, dirty) ways to finish that sentence.
So I guess Claudia, Stacey, and Kristy decided to go out and buy matching white rollerskates and didn't tell Mary Anne. Harsh! And where are the other three? I guess I should just be glad there's at least one book where the entire club doesn't wander around in a pack.
I meant to discuss outfits here, truly I did.
KRISTY: That. sweater. And the clashing turtleneck. And the cuffed jeans.
STACEY: Clearly, if she was standing up, we'd be seeing some camel toe. That sweatshirt does NOT look long enough to cover those leggings, and Blair Waldorf may need to hold a disciplinary hearing.
MARY ANNE: Meh. Again though, with the cuffed jeans.
CLAUDIA: I love this fierce bitch. Now, I would never wear any of this. But this is just so, so good. If only we could see some crazy accessories*, this would be a perfect Claudia outfit. The mulberry vest over what is undoubtedly one of Mr. Kishi's work shirts. The omnipresent black leggings. The non-matching yet still coordinated fedora (also sported by Jenny Humphrey last night in her new life as some sort of cobrasnake style hipster-hussy. Okay, fine, it was a bowler hat. I just wanted another excuse to talk Gossip Girl. I won't get into the Chuck stuff, though, because that is a subject for an entirely new blog, which I plan to title What Chuck Did And Why I Am Extremely Attracted To Him Even Though I Shouldn't Be What The Hell Is Wrong With Me. Catchy, right?).
* Speaking of crazy accessories, I entered a contest and naturally I'd like you to vote for me if you're bored and looking to waste valuable work time while getting paid for your adventures in internet surfing. Lucky Magazine sent me an e-mail in which they basically said "hey if you enter this contest and write about it on the blog perhaps we'll reward you with free stuff." And I was like, "woah, free stuff! I'm in!" And then I realized it was a contest that revolved around denim, and I was EVEN MORE IN. And then I took a bunch of self portraits and THEN I questioned whether this was a good idea in the first place. I mean, I kind of enjoy being the anonymous snark-ster that hides behind a profile picture taken over a year ago in a bathroom mirror. I am not exactly America's Next Top Model. I don't know how to smile with my eyes! It's a crime, really.
So here's my entry. I tried to include an amusing write-up -- I am most proud of the line about me attending the Paris Hilton School of Posing Like a Douchebag, because it's very clear that I DID attend that school, and was heavily involved in all its extracurricular activities.
Detail: three necklaces, back pocket detailing (oh, fine, gratuitous booty shot . . . but now I get to tell my grandchildren that I posted a picture of my butt on the internet! And admit it: now that you've seen the studs you kind of want these jeans, even if you're not down with ecru pants.), and learning to pose like a flamingo for fun and profit. The flamingo thing was actually to show off my shoes, because they are an amazing pair of Jeffrey Campbell oxfords that I hardly ever take off because I am FIVE TEN in them. The bag is Gryson for Target.
And, because those photos are kind of somber and I want you all to know I am still the fun-loving gal you know and, um, tolerate, here I am giving you some SERIOUS finger guns.
Pew pew pew!
(This entry is a good example of why I should go to rehab for my caffeine addiction. It is clearly raging out of control. Time to get out the intervention banner!)
So remember yesterday when I was talking about Mary Anne Misses Logan? Well, I thought it would be fun if I gave you all coronaries by updating the blog two days in a row. I know! Can you believe these shenanigans?! Don't fret, I'll probably return to my usual status (Negligent Blogger) soon enough. My friend Kel keeps telling me I should get a cat (because she can sense my impending spinsterhood) and I'm like "DUDE, I can't even take care of my inanimate web project, let alone an actual living creature." The poor thing would be dead within a week. I'm surprised my pothos plant is still alive.
Anyway. Behold the glory (all credit goes to the dibbly-fresh gallery and of course to the visionary who created this masterpiece of early 90s cover art).
Did you behold? Don't just look, people. BEHOLD. Take in every blessed detail, including the blurred crowd of skaters very, very far away from the girls, like maybe the babysitters have all contracted some sort of terribly contagious disease and have been quarantined to one side of the rink. I also like the tagline A LOT: "Nothing beats your friends. But even so . . ." There are just way too many hysterical (and, shamefully, dirty) ways to finish that sentence.
So I guess Claudia, Stacey, and Kristy decided to go out and buy matching white rollerskates and didn't tell Mary Anne. Harsh! And where are the other three? I guess I should just be glad there's at least one book where the entire club doesn't wander around in a pack.
I meant to discuss outfits here, truly I did.
KRISTY: That. sweater. And the clashing turtleneck. And the cuffed jeans.
STACEY: Clearly, if she was standing up, we'd be seeing some camel toe. That sweatshirt does NOT look long enough to cover those leggings, and Blair Waldorf may need to hold a disciplinary hearing.
MARY ANNE: Meh. Again though, with the cuffed jeans.
CLAUDIA: I love this fierce bitch. Now, I would never wear any of this. But this is just so, so good. If only we could see some crazy accessories*, this would be a perfect Claudia outfit. The mulberry vest over what is undoubtedly one of Mr. Kishi's work shirts. The omnipresent black leggings. The non-matching yet still coordinated fedora (also sported by Jenny Humphrey last night in her new life as some sort of cobrasnake style hipster-hussy. Okay, fine, it was a bowler hat. I just wanted another excuse to talk Gossip Girl. I won't get into the Chuck stuff, though, because that is a subject for an entirely new blog, which I plan to title What Chuck Did And Why I Am Extremely Attracted To Him Even Though I Shouldn't Be What The Hell Is Wrong With Me. Catchy, right?).
* Speaking of crazy accessories, I entered a contest and naturally I'd like you to vote for me if you're bored and looking to waste valuable work time while getting paid for your adventures in internet surfing. Lucky Magazine sent me an e-mail in which they basically said "hey if you enter this contest and write about it on the blog perhaps we'll reward you with free stuff." And I was like, "woah, free stuff! I'm in!" And then I realized it was a contest that revolved around denim, and I was EVEN MORE IN. And then I took a bunch of self portraits and THEN I questioned whether this was a good idea in the first place. I mean, I kind of enjoy being the anonymous snark-ster that hides behind a profile picture taken over a year ago in a bathroom mirror. I am not exactly America's Next Top Model. I don't know how to smile with my eyes! It's a crime, really.
So here's my entry. I tried to include an amusing write-up -- I am most proud of the line about me attending the Paris Hilton School of Posing Like a Douchebag, because it's very clear that I DID attend that school, and was heavily involved in all its extracurricular activities.
Detail: three necklaces, back pocket detailing (oh, fine, gratuitous booty shot . . . but now I get to tell my grandchildren that I posted a picture of my butt on the internet! And admit it: now that you've seen the studs you kind of want these jeans, even if you're not down with ecru pants.), and learning to pose like a flamingo for fun and profit. The flamingo thing was actually to show off my shoes, because they are an amazing pair of Jeffrey Campbell oxfords that I hardly ever take off because I am FIVE TEN in them. The bag is Gryson for Target.
And, because those photos are kind of somber and I want you all to know I am still the fun-loving gal you know and, um, tolerate, here I am giving you some SERIOUS finger guns.
Pew pew pew!
(This entry is a good example of why I should go to rehab for my caffeine addiction. It is clearly raging out of control. Time to get out the intervention banner!)
I've retained a troubling amount of information about books I read during my childhood.
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