Erratic in Heels

Drumroll please....A Giveaway!

2012-01-27T09:46:00.000-08:00

I'm very excited to announce Erratic in Heels' very first giveaway! That's right! I have something awesome that I'm going to give to someone who reads the blog for free! What on earth is better than free stuff? LITERALLY NOTHING.
And what, you may ask, am I giving away? Why, this Breil watch, that's what.

I love the classic silhouette of it and the rose gold details are just the frosting on the cake*.

It's a great statement piece by itself or layered with other bracelets, and it goes with just about everything. Here are a few of the ways I've styled it:

Hat: H&M, Scarf: Printemps, Blazer: Berretta, T-shirt: California Casual, Pants: J. Brand, Boots: Frye

Shirt: Chelsea Flower, Shorts: H&M, Shoes: DIY as seen here

Shirt: Vintage, Jeans: H&M, Bracelets: Vintage

How would you style it?
To enter to win, simply leave a comment on this post by Friday, February 3rd that includes your name and contact info.

For bonus points, share the love! Post a link to this page on your Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Blog and be sure to let me know about it in your comment. Another way to get an extra entry is to join the Breil mailing list- just click here.

*Disclaimer: I am not giving away cake. Any and all cake involved with the blog will be eaten by the author. Any and all cake that readers have and would like to share will be eaten by the author. Cake Cake Cake.

Boring Update

2012-01-26T15:02:00.000-08:00

This week has been fairly hectic between styling a shoot, going back to school and cultivating an obsession with the BBC show Sherlock.

This is almost all of my attractive clothing.

And while much of that week has been bundled up beyond recognition I've found a few creative ways to stay warm.

Poncho: Grandmother's, Gloves: Cynthia Rowley, Jeans: H&M, Boots: Dolce Vita

Ponchos are creative, right?

I love these boots so much I'm thinking about getting them in red.

Subtle and understated, no?

In other news, I've been thinking about the format of the blog and what direction it should take, and if you have any feedback it would be more than welcome. After all, the more you talk, the less work I have to do tracking the numbers. What do you like to read? Fashion posts? Unwanted Advice? Sappy sentimental stuff? Outfit posts? Random ramblings?

Style Inspiration: Salt N' Pepa

2012-01-25T09:51:00.000-08:00

It's totally not on trend or chic right now, but for some reason late last night I was overcome with the desire to push it real good.

Chalk it up to overexposure to the 50s/20s/70s worship that seems to be on constant rotation during every fashion week, but something in me is calling for 80s excess and cheeseball-ery. That's a word now.

Furthermore, when did matching outfits become embarrassing? Because I know I certainly am embarrassed of the matching outfits my cousin and I used to wear, but part of me wishes that it was still socially acceptable.

Image courtesy of Style.com

The rest of me totally understands why it isn't though, so don't worry.

Image Courtesy of Style.com

Also, when it comes down to it, I really hate 80s style trainers that designers have come out with recently. So maybe it isn't my personal style but I guess I just like people who take fashion risks. And catchy 80s pop. Even if I just can't with these damn sneakers. Who wants to spend $300 on these?

Jil Sander Sneakers

At Last

2012-01-23T19:50:00.000-08:00

Was very saddened to hear of the passing of Etta James, one of music's most iconic bad girls.

The eyeliner, the hair, the drugs, the recovery and the melancholy sexuality- I see her influence everywhere today.

I saw her at the New Orleans Jazz Festival a few years ago, and apparently her troubles had already begun by then, but you'd never know it. She was vibrant and lovely as ever.

James at the 2010 New Orleans Jazz Festival

She seemed at home onstage, as though from there she could show us her entire world.

Rest in peace, Etta, at last.

London

2012-01-20T10:05:00.000-08:00

What can I say about London that hasn't been said a million times? I hadn't been there in ten years, but it still felt familiar to me, it's so iconic and a part of our cultural knowledge. It's what I imagine New York City must be like to the rest of the country. Except it smells better.

The view from St. Paul's Cathedral

And the subways have hilarious names like Cockfoster.

And there are phone booths.

And their Occupy St. Paul's movement is quiet and dignified but still strong and inspiring. I wish I'd had more time to get to know the people involved, because they are, from what I can tell, absolutely doing it right.

Paris: It's Just So Freaking Parisian

2012-01-19T15:09:00.000-08:00

The Pantheon

Paris is my geographical soulmate. Everyone smokes and drinks too much and their main priority is that everything look good and taste even better.

Also it turns pretty colors at sunrise and sunset. It's inspired more artists in its history than Pattie Boyd and as I sat in a cafe with a cappuchino, a croissant and a Moleskine notebook I couldn't help thinking, "Good Christ, do I feel Parisian. Someone come hit me over the head with a baguette before I start spouting prose."

They don't know it, but they feel pretty Parisian too.

We were there for only 24 hours, so I was determined to cram in as much le crap as was le possible. Luckily, our hotel room was tiny, had a weird bathtub and a balcony that looked out onto a creperie, a patisserie and a wine cafe, so even waking up felt French.

Luxembourg Gardens

The Boy Contemplates Rue's Distant Cousin

Good God, I love this city.

The Crypt at the Pantheon

Clothing Purchased: None. I had wine to drink and cheese to eat, man. Priorities, people.

Shoes, Shoes, Shoes

2012-01-19T10:04:00.000-08:00

I love these shoes.

Rochas Lizard Mule

I love these shoes so friggin much.

I know I say I love a lot of shoes but I really think these might be My Perfect Shoes. Just like I say I love every dog I see but I know somewhere out there is My Perfect Dog. Unless I blew all my dog karma with my first dog, Shucks, who used to come hang out with me when I had detention and with whom I was in a talent show that also featured Kurt Vonnegut. We're getting off topic.

I just love these shoes.

Amsterdam: Not Just for Stoners, Who Knew?

2012-01-18T16:37:00.000-08:00

Amsterdam is The Boy's geographical soulmate. No, not because of that. Get your mind out of the coffeehouse. Because it has a strong foundation that is beautiful but functional above all else. The basic structure of the city was established over 400 years ago, and while it's grown exponentially since then, it's still remains much the same. That foundation was based on ideas and designs that were made to last.

In many ways the city looks the same as it always has because they're so rooted in the past. But at the same time, it's one of the most open-minded, accepting and forward thinking places I've ever been. Yes, that means lots of drugs but it also means it's been a refuge for persecuted people for centuries, particularly Jews. And it has a thriving LGBT community, since they hosted the first ever gay marriage ceremony.

I just realized it might look like I put this here because it's rainbow like the Gay Pride flags but actually it's from a cocktail museum and I thought it was pretty because I like shiny things and bright colors, that's all.

I think I may have discovered the Dutch secret: they raise their children well. It's the only conclusion I can come to, given the lack of annoying children. They've simply created an environment that fosters honesty and acceptance and it seems to start in the home.

For example: when we first arrived, the traffic situation was indiscrutable to us. We couldn't figure out how bikes, cars, trams, boats and pedestrians were co-existing so peacefully on the tiny roads and canals. We hardly ever heard car horns or ambulances, so it was clearly working out somehow.

Then we figured it out: common courtesy. When bikers had to leave the bike lane, they yielded to cars. When cars drove on the tram tracks, they yielded to trams. And everyone stays out of the canal. They all make an effort to be thoughtful, considerate and not an idiot. It was a true marvel.

It's also beautiful and has more museums than you can shake a stick at. Seriously. I spent so much time stroking my chin and looking thoughtful I've started doing it in my sleep. Also, Dutch is the funniest goddamn language I've ever heard.

Clothing I Bought: These Amazing Booties.

How Dutch is this shit?

Brussels: A Grande Old Dame

2012-01-17T13:01:00.000-08:00

Brussels reminded me of a grand older lady, with fine but worn clothes and lipstick on her teeth. The type with a fantastic rent controlled apartment filled with old photographs of her in her prime atop dusty antique furniture and priceless paintings carelessly leaning against the walls. Who has fine perfume and lipstick that she uses every last drop of. Ok, I'm getting carried away with this metaphor/glimpse of my future.

Since we were only in Belgium for one day, we naturally tried to see as much of the city as we could. Or, rather, to cram as much Belgian food into our mouths as we could.... Crepes, chocolate (there is an entire street dedicated to chocolateries), fries and, most importantly, waffles.

I cannot stress this enough: the waffles are all you could dream of and more.

Aside from the waffles, three things stood out to me in Brussels.

1) There is a deep love of graphic art in all forms. There are more comic book stores than I've seen in any U.S. city, Tin Tin is a national hero, and even the graffiti is beautiful and character driven. If I'd had more time there, I would have loved to check out the Brussels underground scene. Something tells me it would be spectacular.

2) The city was nearly destroyed during WWII, and in many ways it's still recovering. There are memorials everywhere, and both the buildings and the population still feel the loss very deeply. Perhaps as a result, there is a sentimental attachment to the style and aesthetic of the 40s and it shows in cafes, hotels and even in the way people dress.

3) Their relationship to France is very complicated. On the one hand, Belgian pride runs deep and most Brussels citizens feel their city is vastly superior to Paris. On the other hand, their histories are inextricably linked, and everywhere things are advertized as being "Parisian" or "Direct from France". It's something I'd love to learn more about.

All of this comes together to create a surreal vibe throughout the city. I felt as though I walked into a graphic novel, and at any moment a man in a fedora would impart devastating information. Definitely a place I hope to return to.

Clothing Purchased: a fantastic vintage dress, bought in a store run by a woman who embodied all things Belgium.

It reminded me of the dresses from the Miu Miu and Prada resort collections, but only cost 10 Euros.

Win.

Miami: Yin and Yang where Yin is a Tittie Bar

2012-01-16T13:07:00.000-08:00

The view from my grandparents' apartment

It's only been two weeks since I was there, but Miami seems like a delightful, warm dream (it's really cold, guys). In Miami I went from brunch to beach to pool pretty much every day. Not a bad life, if you like awesome things.

The Art Deco District is my favorite district

It's a strange city, though, Miami. My grandfather did an inordinate amount of research about it for his novel (which is getting rave reviews and can be purchased here*). As far as I can tell, if Miami were a person, they'd be a med student with a penchant for body shots and interior decorating. It's Jewish, Latin American, Caribbean, and all set in a pastel art deco paradise. These opposing sensibilities and demands form a ying and yang that allows for the best of both worlds. What it all comes down to is that Miami has the hottest nightclubs with the hottest girls and the best hospitals when those girls get alcohol poisoning.

Low brow and high brow culture fight for space but seem to coexist pretty seamlessly, and you'll find hardcore S&M shops next to high end restaurants and shops. For everywhere your day takes you, you know.

This was taken at a bar called JimBo's

Clothing purchased: sparkly ass dress.

Dress: French Connection, Clutch: BCBG, Blazer: Vintage

I bought this especially for New Year's Eve in Amsterdam, and immediately worried that would be the only time I'd be able to wear it. Then I remembered that lately all the fashion magazines have been squawking about sequins during the day so I thought I'd give it a try. I call it: Miami Goes to New York and Realizes She Has to Cover Up and Wear a Little Black, for Christ's Sake.

*this is an obligatory family plug, but it really is supposed to be a fantastic book according to people who don't share his last name.

Weekend Recap

2012-01-15T15:27:00.000-08:00

Some of you may know that I recently had surgery on my sinuses to fix a deviated septum, chronic sinusitus and problems with my hearing that I've had ever since I was a kid. It was one of those things I didn't really think too much of until a friend of mine who had the surgery pointed out that it wasn't normal to get 5-6 sinus infections a year. Also I hadn't really heard my own voice in 2 years.

Immediately after the surgery my hearing improved. While I was in post-op, still groggy and delighted from the medication, I kept poking my nurse and saying, "no, no, no. You don't understand. I sound weird.... like ME. I sound like me. Like me. Can I have jello?"

I was her favorite.

Of course, surgeries mean recuperation so apart from a few castings (where I gave the photographers a pose I call 'Congested Chic') I've been pretty much bed or couchridden.

But by this weekend I was feeling more than a little stir crazy and sick of looking like this:

So I tried poking the Boy until he got annoyed, following the cat around the house, watching movies and yelling at the screen. Nothing worked.

Sometimes a lady just has to throw on her faux fur coat and take herself out for bacon and waffles.

And sometimes that lady spills coffee on her faux fur coat.

The outfit, I think, was due to overexposure to this video, which I can't make up my mind about.

I mean, love the clothes, love the tigers, kind of like the song. But if she does one more little pantomime motion I'm going to strangle her with her own head wreath.

Happy MLK weekend everyone!

Happy Fucking New Year!

2012-01-03T07:58:00.000-08:00

Happy Fucking 2012!

Celebrated the New Year's Eve in Amsterdam with a bit of champagne, sparkly things and, later, room service and general merriment. This city is fantastic.

Planning a recap of all the places The Boy and I have been recently, but in the meantime we've gotten a loaf of bread with a paper crown wrapped around it and I really think I ought to put aforementioned crown on my head. Hope you all had fantastic holiday tomfoolery.

Hamburg Holiday

2011-12-14T13:20:00.000-08:00

I spent Thanksgiving in Hamburg, Germany, and while I was working for most of the time, I did get to enjoy their Christmas Fair, which is a uniquely European phenomenon that I totally adore.

Every year, from November to January many towns in Europe have a Christmas fair in the evenings with hot mulled wine, local food and local artists' wares.

In the case of Hamburg, their culinary specialties are fried seafood, sausage, apple pastries and an invention so genius that it makes me almost totally forget about the whole Holocaust thing.

You're ok, Deutschland.

That's right. Waffles on a stick. Delicious, cakey, German waffles covered in Nutella on a stick so you can walk around and find the next thing you'd like to put in your mouth before you're even done. Pure genius, I tell you.

I wish we'd import these fairs and their be-sticked wonders in America, but they'd probably charge $12 for a mug of hot wine, so perhaps it's for the best.

I love how sparkly and cozy these fairs feel, and how they celebrate what makes each town unique. So, in that vein, I'm compiled a list of things that I feel exemplify that spirit that would give any celebration a shiny, quirky feeling.

calendar, heels, clock, paperweights, boots, tart servers, earrings, camera

Not included: mulled wine. Have a happy holiday everyone!

Gift Guide: Under $50

2011-12-11T15:40:00.000-08:00

Gift guides are like pancakes: I love them early in the season but by late December I'm totally over them and ready to be done with the sugar high. But at the moment it hasn't hit me, and there's still enough butter to make it enjoyable.

That metaphor kind of took over and now I just really want pancakes. At any rate, here are a few little luxury items that are useful but not practical, which is what this time of year is all about! The best presents are things you want, but would never buy for yourself. Like, I'm not sure I could ever justify a s'mores kit for myself, but I'd love to give it to someone I know will enjoy it.

Topshop slippers, $28

Zombie Legs Bookmark, $25

Terrain Birch Vase, $14

Gold Wishbone, $48

Dypthique Mini Candles, $28

E-reader case, $50. How gorgeous is the teal? I'd pair it with this iPhone case and this iPad case.

Winter Wishes Holiday Postcards, $14

Fresh Frog of Bel Air Nail Polish, $10

Porcelain Dog Pillow Cover, $20

Kate Spade Thermos, $35

Hope you're all staying sane and warm. I am definitely one of those two things.

In Which the Author Attempts to Live Vicariously

2011-12-06T11:36:00.000-08:00

While I'll be spending most of this pre-holiday season in oversized sweaters and slippers as I slave to make it through finals, for most people this season is full of opportunities to wear one of my very favorite things in the world: sparkly dresses. So here are some that I've stumbled across as I procrastinate on the internet.

Anthropologie

Modcloth

Modcloth Again

Be still my heart, Lulus.

You may have noticed that all of these are incredibly shiny. That is because I love shiny things. Seriously, that last little number is giving me palpitations. However, for the more casual holiday get together, there's this silk number, which will translate nicely into summer.

Asos

A great way to dress up casual dresses for this season is with big rhinestone brooches. I recently inherited a bunch from my grandmother, and I guess I'll be wearing them to class. Enjoy the season. Drink a glass of bubbly for me.

Love & Stuff

2011-12-04T12:34:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine* posted this about love and it got me thinking.
Then my dad posted this about love and it got me writing.

About love. And the one I love. You know the one. He has a beard. And he and I tend to play it pretty close to the chest when it comes to our relationship, for reasons of our own. And I like that about us. I have nothing against bold declarations of love or public displays of affection....as long as they aren't annoying or in my face. And either way, it's not for us.

As a principle, I am all for love. It's all you need, it's the one thing that there's just too little of, she loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. But, for me, love is private. It's between me and my loved ones. And a lot of times I find it easier to express with actions and items than with words.

For example, when The Boy's mother got sick, it shook me to my core. I couldn't believe this woman that I loved so much, that had done so much for me, could be in danger. Could be anything other than a permanent pillar of strength and encouragement for her family**. So, instead of letting her know how much she meant to me and how much I loved her, I cooked three lasagnes, cleaned their upstairs, organized their freezer and scrubbed their bathroom.

I've done the same thing with my mother, my friends and The Boy. And, lucky for me, they accept these tidings for what they are, but sometimes I wonder if my life wouldn't be a little easier and better if I learned how to express my love and gratitude for the people in my life. If I even got brave enough to do it in front of other people. It sounds so easy and basic, but it's a pretty terrifying concept for me to grasp.

It would be easy, I think, to over/psycho/whatever analyze this tendency, but I think it's pretty simple.

Growing up, I had a very clear image of who I would be when I grew up. All through high school and college I kept waiting to turn into this magical woman that I believed I should be. She would be independent, have excellent hair, and be confidently nonchalant about pretty much everything.

And, this was a crucial bit: she would never look back. I had this idea that in order to build my own life I had to detach completely from my old life. Teenage dissatisfaction led me to believe that there was nothing worth keeping in myself or my surroundings so I waited until I was able to discard them and myself.

But of course that's impossible. And as someone who is engaged to her high school sweetheart, best friends with her high school and college friends, and is very close to her family, I should know that better than anyone. But I think part of me feels as though I've failed somehow by continually looking back. As though to tell everyone that I can't wait to build a future with The Boy, who is so much a part of my past, will somehow make them think less of me.

But I'm realizing more and more that the only people whose opinions matter never would. And that sharing the past with them is a gift I've been given, so I should be grateful for it. So I may never be that girl that freely and happily makes out with her boyfriend on a train (and I never want to be because that bitch was annoying as shit) but I can be that silly girl that admits on a silly blog that she is very, very lucky for all the people that have been, are and will be in her life. And especially the one who isn't a person at all.

*Two things about this friend: 1) her blog is hilarious and you should read it for posts usually very unlike that one and 2) she is moving to LA to become a writer which is sad but also awesome because she will write a sitcom that I can star on and everything will be awesome for everyone. And yes, I am blatantly hitching my star to her wagon. Wouldn't you?

**Of course she remained a pillar of strength and encouragement to her family because that's what she does and it was a little silly of me to think that something as minor as a debilitating illness would affect that.

Lord.

2011-11-29T19:16:00.000-08:00

Here are the reasons that my Zumba class tonight was the best in the history of the world (and yes, I am aware of the light that sentence casts me in):
for a glossary of the terms used in this entry, click here.

1) We had a new teacher who played actual hip hop* as opposed to hip hop-esque music with the word Zumba substituted for anything that would make the Ancients blush. As a result, I saw an elderly Indian man not only sing along to "Sexy and You Know It" but also respond, when we were asked by the instructor "who in here is sexy and they know it?" with an enthusiastic "I DO!"

2) There was a very sweet, very uncoordinated gay gentleman in the class today, and it threw everyone off. There was one elderly woman (not an ancient) who, after repeatedly trying to follow his lead said, "this is the stereotype you choose to buck?!"

3) Someone left an exercise ball in the Crazy Ancient's corner and every few minutes she'd yell, "Balls! Balls! Yup!"

By the way, I say this with full knowledge that I am in no way as cool as any of these people. That's not false modesty, either. I've been going to this fercockt class at least once a week for months and still the only move I've really mastered is shaking my tits.

*which is very different from real hip hop, since what plays on the radio is mainly pop bullshit with a hint of hip hop. I'm looking at you, Pitbull.

Bad Blogger

2011-11-15T10:34:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry I've been so derelict. Between classes, standup, auditions and castings it's been pretty hectic BUT I did want to depart several pieces of awesome news.

1) I am taking an archery class next semester. I am also taking Romanticism and Faulkner classes, but those won't do me any good in the Zombie Apocolypse.

I promise I won't start wearing ears.

2) I will be onstage, doing standup comedy, at this event.

It benefits this organization, there's more information here and you can buy tickets here. In case my obsessive relationship with my cat left any doubt, let me say that this is a mission very close to my heart, and I'm really excited to be a part of it. Also, there will be lots of dick and fart jokes, and it's a great excuse to laugh, drink and be merry. I hope to see you guys there.

3) I have had the perfect day, and it included a spa, cupcakes and chicken wings. But more on that later...

Happy Belated Halloween!

2011-11-02T11:40:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween!

Hope you all had a fabulous Halloween! The snowstorm forced The Boy and I to cancel our trip home to MA which would have been unfortunate if it hadn't also stranded some other Mass-bound friends at our house. Their loss was our gain and we hunkered down with apple cider donuts, beer and plenty takeout menus.

We had a much better time than she did.

We ate, we played games, we giggled over costumes and we watched the snow come down with eager little faces.

Ok, so maybe not eager, but pretty awesome, no? We were the Tennenbaums and if you haven't seen that movie, go do so now. No, seriously, now. Go. I'll wait.

We had a blast and now I have a faux fur coat that I can put on and feel instantly awesome. In fact, I may just slowly but permanently transform into Margot Tenenbaum. I tried to dress Rue up as Mordecai but he wasn't having it.

P.S. Weekly Zumba update: someone spiked the Old Lady punch. The Ancients were feeling sassy as anything and I just loved it.

Weekend Recap

2011-10-16T23:11:00.000-07:00

So, on Friday night I had dinner with a friend and then went out for drinks with a few other friends in Brooklyn, where they live. I obviously had to be smuggled across the border after this incident but I managed to remain undetected for the rest of the evening.

We drank beer, we laughed, and we watched some bearded men build an enormous castle out of empty beer cups.

All in all, good clean fun. Until last call, when I went to buy a round. And I realized I had no wallet. And, somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had a dim vision of a terrible stereotype. But I ignored it as I searched for my wallet, to no avail. Until...suddenly, I had a sense of deja vu.

I realized that about a year ago I also lost my wallet. In the same borough. In the same bar.

With the same friend.

Why does anyone let me out of my bed let alone my house in the morning?

As it turned out that unlike last time when the wallet was merely misplaced, this time it was properly stolen, which was a surprising comfort to my ego. And my friend kindly regaled me with stories of losing her wallet in various foreign countries and gave me money to get home and I comforted myself with this idea:

I'm not just the stupid bitch that comes from Connecticut to Brooklyn and loses her wallet.

I'm the stupid bitch that does it twice.
I'm like a new, superbreed of stereotype.

So, all weekend I worked on canceling my credit cards, replacing my IDs and rebuilding my sense of pride. This ring, which is the epitome of taste and class helped some.

Then, Sunday night I decided to bring in the big guns.

That's right, bitches. 7-11. Their nachos are a culinary delight and their Slushies are engineering marvels. And, as I threw on my helmet and leather jacket and headed out to the scooter, I said, "I am just so much more awesome than anyone else."

It wasn't true, but it sure felt good to say it. To my cat.

Social Hierarchy of A Zumba Class

2011-10-12T17:44:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Sarah Hartshorne... and I Zumba. I read somewhere that memorizing a choreographed physical routine is 10x better for preventing Alzheimer's than crossword puzzles, so I started taking Zumba classes. For a while I think I pulled off doing so ironically, until this week.

Somehow... I crossed a line. I'm not sure how it happened but all of a sudden at my last class I noticed people looking to me to figure out the routine. And when the instructor asked how we were all doing....

I whooed.

That's right. As in the "whooo!" one does at a concert or a sporting event or somewhere equally cool. I made that sound, along with a bunch of other people in tight, elastic-y clothing, at a Zumba class. I expect to receive a letter in the mail any day announcing that I will not be allowed in Brooklyn until I complete 10 Enthusiasm Management Classes and an Irony Apprecation Workshop.

In the meantime, however, I've learned that there is a clearly divided social hierarchy in Zumba classes and these are the divisions my research has revealed:

Gay Guys

They are the top of the pyramid and everyone knows it.

They move the best, the have the most fun and everyone

follows them when they can't see the instructors. But the

truly best thing about them is how uncomfortable the Unfunny

Straight Guys look as they realize whose lead they have to follow.

Zumba Sluts

There are actually 2 types of Zumba Sluts but they're all

tan, have an entire wardrobe of cute workout clothes (as

opposed to a 3XL Morris Dancing Feast T-shirt and men's

running shorts) and wear makeup to class.These are the subcategories:

1) Young Zumba sluts: their expertise comes from

dancing at the club and they want everyone to know it.

They bust into their own slutty little dances between

numbers lest anyone think their talents were limited to

Zumba. No one knows who they are trying to impress.

2) Middle-aged Zumba sluts: these women wear special

Zumba brand clothing, are ridiculously fit, and say things

like, "why go to a club when you can Zumba?!" I am

tempted to suggest they ask their younger counterparts,

but that would draw attention to the fact that someone in

in the world is younger than them and they really hate that.

I once mentioned that I wasn't born when their favorite

song came out and they almost ate me.

General Populace/Funny Straight Guys

This, I believe, is where I fall in the pyramid.

The funny straight guys don't mind taking

cues from the gay guys, acknowledge their lack of

rhythym and try to have a good time anyway. I think

the instructor's impeccable ass helps. A lot.

Neurotic Nancies/Unfunny Straight Guys

These are the guys who thought they'd be able

to pick up chicks and realize that that won't be

happening, and the girls who are, "like, known for

their dancing" and thought they'd be awesome at this

until they caught sight of themselves in the mirror.

In short, anyone who takes themselves seriously is

instantly relegated to the bottom of the pile.

And outside the pyramid, floating around in the periphery are

The Ancients

Women who are all approximately 120 years old and spend the entire class just walking in place and waving their arms. The really ambitious ones alter their arm waves to vaguely resemble the instructor's movements. In my class we have the added bonus of having a crazy ancient who, in between numbers, shouts things like, "we all have wings of the Taco!" which is pretty great.

Winning

2011-10-10T13:16:00.000-07:00

A short film* I was in a few months ago recently won two awards at the NYLA film festival: an award of excellence and....

(drumroll)

...........

Best Actress.

I don't know who the people behind this festival are, but I love them. They let me win something. I fucking love winning things. Also, they think I'm the best, and I really love that in people.

Still from 1095 Days

It's actually a little bit awkward because I always point and laugh when people react to a success by developing an addiction to the word 'incredibly'.

As in, "I feel incredibly blessed to have worked with this talented group of people" and "this is an incredibly humbling experience."

It's awkward because I do feel incredibly blessed to have worked with the talented group of people that made this film and it was an incredibly humbling experience.

WARNING: SINCERITY AHEAD. Heartfelt, even.

This was my first paid acting job and they were patient and kind as I fumbled through and didn't even call me out when I overslept and caused what was probably a very expensive delay. The film is beautiful and seeing all the work that went into it made me so proud to be a part of this world and this art form. As soon as I can, I'll post links to video.

END OF SINCERE SECTION. Phew.

The film is also exciting for me as a pet owner, because there is a cameo by my fish, Gaga, and he pulls out Streep level stops.

It's lucky I have this award, since something happened this weekend that left me sorely in need of a sense of pride. Here's what went down: I walked in my sleep down the upstairs hallway until my subconscious sensed that I was in danger and said, "stop walking! You're right near the edge of a staircase!" at which point I woke up, looked around and proceeded to fall. all. the fuck. the way. down. the stairs.

So, I'll be posting a few cheery decorating entries as I look for a replacement for the lamp I broke and attempt to take myself seriously ever again.

Have a great week!

*The film is called 1095 Days, and for more information on the film and its badass director, Hang Fang Pao, click here.

I might watch these in Death Sweatpants...

2011-10-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

Listed below are my initial reactions to the ads for the following TV shows, followed by more cohesive thoughts I had after watching as much of the show as I could stand.

I should be on this show.

At first I was a little bit freaked out by Kat Denning's cynicism and lack of pluck but I've come to really love it. TV is frequently so full of pluck I want to puke*. Even Meredith and Christina on Grey's Anatomy, who are supposed to be these dark twisty characters are, let's face it, kind of plucky.

Yeah, it's the tails that were really throwing me off here.

I just...can't. Literally can not. Pretty sure that if I even start to talk about this show a deluge of feminist rage and angst will pour out of me and never. fucking. stop. Like, I'll be trying to order coffee and only be able to spout Lacan and Mulvey and then I won't be able to have coffee or food and I'll starve to death and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT, NBC. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!

Maya Rudolph is better than anything.

This show is hilarious, has a working mom and a stay at home dad, which quiets my inner feminist and, most importantly, everyone on it is brilliant and awesome and should be my best friend.

100% of your life would end if I strangled you with sweatpants. Now we all have fun statistics.

Full disclosure: I couldn't bring myself to watch any of this show. And now I can no longer look at my one pair of sweatpants without seeing them as a murder weapon. WILL THE MADNESS NEVER STOP, NBC? STOP MAKING ME SO CAPS LOCK-Y.

*pluck. puke. prick. Alliteration is fun.

Weekend Recap

2011-10-04T15:14:00.000-07:00

It was the Boy's birthday last week, so this weekend I planned a Delightful Surprise Outing which turned out even better than I'd expected.

We hiked, while Rue guarded the house.

Then we had high tea at an adorable cafe.

The cafe had an adjacent store that made me fantasize about my someday grownup house which will have an office like this one I saw in a penthouse apartment on 5th Ave. The apartment belonged to some friends of my grandfather who were hosting his book party. It was full of real grownups, so I put my hair in a french twist, painted my nails and tried not to quote Kanye too much.

That said, I can't help it if my reaction to hearing a heartwarming story about rescuing a cat presents an excellent opportunity to pun on the Kanye classic 'Ni**as in Paris'.

Powerful attorney/real grownup: he was a rescue cat-
Me: that shit stray.
PA/RG: I'm sorry?
Me: oh, it's from Kanye and Jay Z's 'Watch the Throne'
PA/RG: I..I'm not familiar.
Me: that shit cray.

So that was that.

Troy Davis

2011-09-25T01:23:00.000-07:00

I seem to be in a phase of life somewhere between the naiive optimism of youth and the overall cynicism of... not youth. As a result, the news upsets me a lot. A whole lot.

But Troy Davis' execution affected me more. It upset me on a visceral level, despite the distance I tried to put between me and him. At first, I thought it was because although he may not have been innocent, he certainly hadn't been proven guilty.

At its core, I believe the American justice system is beautiful and sound. I believe the idea that someone must be proven guilty is better than the idea that they must be proven innocent. That it is better for a guilty man to walk free than for an innocent man to rot in a jail cell. Surely, I thought, that is why this execution hit me so hard.

But then I thought harder, further, psycology-er. In short, I got Freudian with this shit. In Psycoanalysis in Culture, Freud says of ritual sacrifices:

the sacrificial animal had itself been sacred and its life untouchable; it might only have been killed if all members of the clan participated in the deed and shared their guilt in the presence of the god....Each man is conscious that he is performing an act forbidden to the individual and justifiable only through the participation of the whole clan.

The death penalty is at its best a ritual sacrifice which the nation participates in as a whole to assuage the guilt of the individuals involved. At its worst it is murder. Freud also says that the guilt of killing a man* brings about an adaptation of the slain's values that is stronger than anything that can be preached or taught. Wouldn't it be wonderful if that was the case with Troy Davis? As he was led to his death he prayed for the souls of his murderers and I, in turn, pray that his unbreakable mercy is integrated into our societal moral code.

No More Death Penalty

*ok, he actually says the guilt of killing the father by the "primal horde" brings about the adaptation of the father's values but it's late and I just can't with that Oedipal shit right now.