Monday, April 30, 2007

Blue Jean Lame(y)

One would think that a retailer dedicated to carrying solely designer denim would, in fact, carry said designer denim. This weekend I tried - for the third time - to find some new jeans at this neighborhood establishment called The Blues Jean Bar.

I guess the idea is pretty cool, in theory. Different brands and style are laid out on a bar and instead of beer (or in my case, cranberry juice) you belly up to the bar and make your request for brand, wash, and size. I imagine that ladies who lunch - the ones who don't pluck their own brows or buy their own tampons- would like this arrangement, but in general I like to be left alone when I shop. Who wants to shout out their size over a large sea of pants? Plus, I don't like to be watched as I paw things and then stare into space, picturing what I'd look like walking down the street listening to Dolly Parton on my Nano. Stop judging me, crazy jean ladies.

But I was still lured into this concept of only-jeans-all-the-time, so after an cursory trip a few months ago, I stopped in two weeks ago, ready to drop some cash. I was serious about giving these people my money, but after searching for what must be an extra hidden room with scads of merchandise and not finding one, I realized they didn't carry most of my favorite brands. The one brand I really wanted to try and they did carry (True Religion) was only available in sizes way too small or way too big. And they barely carried any dark washes. "Very light is very cool for summer," they told me. Thanks. But you're wrong.

They promised there would be a new shipment in a couple weeks, so this weekend I trudged back down the hill. Their selection was even smaller! Still no Citizens, still no James, still no Earnest Sewns. Huh? Their TR section was even scrawnier than before and I was once again promised "a new shipment in two weeks." I tried to branch out and pick up a couple brands I wasn't familiar with, but they, too, were out in my size. And when I expressed disappointment or bafflement, the cougar chicks who run the place just raised an eyebrow and continued to fold.

This place is b-a-n-a-n-a-s. It's like the cheese shop in that Monty Python sketch. No matter what I asked for it wasn't there.

Well, eh, how about a little red Leicester.
I'm, afraid we're fresh out of red Leicester, sir.
Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly.
Ah! It's beeeen on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this morning.

Anywho. Some of my favorite pants of late have been under $40 (pretty much free!) and from distinctly non-designer retailers. I don't want to make any dramatic claims about giving up pricey brands forever or anything, but I'm definitely ready to give cheap another chance. Designer denim is so 2004.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

The Wheels On the Bus

I think I was born in the wrong time
, I thought to myself this morning, riding the bus to work, slammed against the pole by a middle aged man's backpack. Because, seriously, what happened to the good old days when dudes gave up their seats for ladies?

Young, sturdy-seeming gentlemen will grab the seat I was about to take, as we chug up yet another mountain and I desperately cling to my life and dignity. I stare them down, trying to guilt them into standing up, with pitiful sighs and dramatic bag shifts, but it's yet to have an effect. They refuse to even look up from their books or work, pretending to ignore the tragedy unfolding before them, nonchalantly flipping through their iPod.

I'm making progress, though. Today an elderly woman offered me her seat as she exited the bus, dismissing the man closer to the seat who had been on the bus longer. Victory!

Sunday, April 22, 2007

This Just In

I was well aware of the marketing campaign to change the name of prunes to "dried plums" but this newest tomfoolery I just spotted involves wrapping each prune individually like some sort of delicious candy. FYI, prune people: I don't like lies. Okay? That is all.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Flip This Cast

Not sure if there's any Flip This House fans out there, but there are some serious turnover issues going on with this program. It all started with a crew based in South Carolina, headed up by a dude named Richard Davis and his sidekick Ginger (whose, uh, wholesome charms reel in my boy's attentions). I got hooked on the southern twangs, the trumped up dramas, the Diet Coke chugging, and Richard's pleated pants. But then one day, my DVR popped up with some crazy cats in San Antonio doing their own flipping - with no word as to where my friends went! Diligent interweb research came up with only some vague references to "creative differences" between the SC crew and A&E. Hmm. Mysterious.

I wasn't yet over the disappearance of Richard and crew, but started to watch the new peeps with muted interest. But soon those folks were gone, too, replaced by an Atlanta crew. Who were quickly replaced with another Atlanta crew. Who have now been replaced with the most recent (I think?) iteration - a bunch of hot dudes (including some former NFL guy I'm sure non-theater types would know) in New Haven. I don't mind the eye candy, but what in God's name is going on? What is A&E asking of these people or vice versa that is causing all this nonsense and confusion to my DVR?

The only good news to come out of this disruption to my regularly scheduled programming, is a new show premiering this weekend on TLC. It's called The Real Deal and stars my old South Carolina friends presumably doing the same thing they were doing before. It's recording right now; I'll keep ya'll posted.

Monday, April 16, 2007

To B or Not to B

Okay, people. I may have lost it. Feel my forehead, because I'm actually considering the purchase of a Blackberry. I didn't think this day would come, but I also didn't think I'd be working in the (probably as un-corporate as it gets) corporate world. I experience small to large stabs of fear when I leave my computer behind for more than ten minutes. I buy my lunch at a light jog, making it back to my desk quick like a bunny and checking/replying to email throughout my sandwich chewing/cookie inhaling. I figure if I have a little obnoxious friend in my hands at all times I'll feel freer to maybe walk to lunch and/or chat with a coworker for a minute? Am I right or am I right?

There are a couple obvious downsides to the whole thing - you're never disconnected from the office etc. - but the most troubling to me is how much I'd have to cut down on the complaining I do about the boy's Blackberry (aka Crackberry aka The Other Woman). What will I do with all that spare time? I have been meaning to finish The Brothers Karamazov...

Monday, April 09, 2007

Where's Stanley Tucci When I Need Him?

I know Stacy London (Has anyone seen her new show? Keep your day job, sister.) would kick me for saying this, but I just can't make it through a work day in heels. Or any attractive shoe, for that matter. I spend most of my hours at the agency on my feet, and much of that time running up and down 5 flights of stairs. If I'm not wearing shoes with support and a sensible sole, I've got shin splints by noon. I'm happy to swap cheery feet for my new sitch, but I do miss looking not crazy.

I gaze longingly at the girls wearing wedges and pumps, their hair smooth and shiny, their makeup dewy and fresh; I'm straight-up Amy Version 14 (years old, that is). Black Chucks and a falling-out ponytail, my face dewy with sweat, tripping over my shoelaces. I'm hoping once I get the work stuff figured out I can break out my style, but for now it's last under my large piles of stickies. That and eating foods not from a vending machine.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

It's Like 1992 When I Used Encyclopedias to Do My Homework

Turns out to blog you need a computer, something BJA doesn't possess at the moment. I'm currently at a 15-minute-limit computer at the public library ("San Francisco has those?" asked my boyfriend) and thought I'd drop in for a quick hello.

Tomorrow I start my new jobby job so that's exciting and tonight Sanjaya will take another stab at ruining my favorite guilty pleasure. Tune in and please don't vote.

Until I'm back on the Interweb...