Yo! YoYo Ma!

Driven to Craft

I have been a crafting machine lately. Pinterest compels me to do every awesome craft I see. Yesterday I renewed my love affair with my hot glue gun. I made a wreath out of broken, borderline tacky thrift store broaches that weren't good enough quality to turn into jewelry but that I hadn't had the heart to throw out. (I'll take pics and post them soon, promise.) I also had taped Julie and Julia so I thought it would be fitting to watch it whilst crafting. There was a moment where I stepped outside of my body and realized that I was watching a movie about two women who felt a void in their lives and decided to fill that void with a creative-style hobby while I myself was doing the same. It was a weird realization. Do all women feel compelled to craft or is it limited to a specific type of woman? 

I had another similiar/funny experience when I was in Austin volunterring with the USTA. I was talking with my brother and this was how the conversation went:

him: I like that bag you are carrying. Did you make it?

me: No.... why? 

him: I don't know... I just randomly ask if you make everything. Usually you do, and then you go into a rant about how you made it and get all excited and its funny to watch it happen. 

me: really?!?!

him: yeah, remember yesterday when I asked you if you made that ring and you went on for a few minutes about the type of silver you used and how you hammer it and stuff? I do that all the time. you just never noticed because the answer is always "yes."

me: oh.... ha.

Anyway, I miss doing crafts with you. Come back to Texas so that we can play together. TBear agrees-- We talked the other day about how you need to come visit soon. Are you coming to Austin over the holidays? Maybe I/we can drive to ATX to see you. And I still owe you a trip to NY.

"Le Parc" - Angelin Preljocaj

For the Modern Day Princess

It's time.

The Best American Comedy Piece Written By A Woman

When my friend Katherine and I get together, we drink wine and talk about our feelings. Sometimes, if the mood strikes her, she will undergo a reading-- This means that she will read me something that she recently thought was crazy awesome (I accept the fact that this may sound super nerdy of us... I don't care. I think it is really really fun and one of the bazillion reasons why I love Katherine. She is like my own personal CliffNotes.). Last time, I saw her, she read me a selection from Erica Jong's Fear of Flying. I also requested that she re-read my all-time favorite reading, which is an essay printed in 2010's The Best American Nonrequired Reading. (It was originally submitted to a fantastic website called The Rumpus.)

The Best American Comedy Piece Written By A Woman

by Wendy Molyneux

The other day while sounding out the words on a Web site called The Rumpus, I saw this article asking for women to submit more comedy pieces. So I put down my giant chocolate bar, stopped crying, and thought, yes, that is what I will do. I will write a comedy piece. But just as I sat down in my bay window (filled with pillows that I knitted myself while waiting by the phone for potential husbands to call) and opened my pink Mac laptop, I happened to see a lady walking down the street with a baby of her very own.

So then I started crying again because I don’t have a baby. I cried big rolling tears that fell down onto my “Mrs. Stamos” T-shirt that I purchased off of eBay and photographed myself in for my eHarmony profile. I always say, “Dress for the job you want,” and the job I want is being Mrs. John Stamos! So, once my shirt was soaked, I had to go change it. I walked into my closet, which is gigantic because women love to wear lots of expensive clothes and shoes all the time, and I thought, “I know what will make me feel better! I will feel better if I try on all my clothes and shoes to the tune of an upbeat Motown song such as ‘My Girl.’”
And so I did that. I tried on all my clothes, and I felt better until I tried on one pair of pants that didn’t fit me anymore. And then I totally started to cry again, because I am so fat.  I cried for a little while on the floor while my cats crawled all over me, purring and being symbols of how lonely I am. My cats love to be symbols of my loneliness. Sometimes, I have to be like, “Stop signifying so loudly guys, I’m watching Grey’s Anatomy!”

At this point I still had not written my comedy piece written by a woman. So I went back to the window, opened my pink computer again and looked at pictures of cute baby ducks for awhile until I felt like writing. But then I remembered that I hadn’t made anything for dinner! Every night, I like to make an elaborate dinner. Then, I set it on the table and open all the windows. My fondest hope is that the wafting smells of a home-cooked meal will lure men who are passing by to come inside and eat dinner. And then after they eat dinner, I hope they’ll eat something else. If you know what I mean. Get it? Eat something. I mean dessert. I want them to eat dessert. Because the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Also, they are always leaving the toilet seat up! Am I right?

Anyway, twelve hours later after I had cooked, baked, cried, sewn a blanket for my hope chest, called a telephone psychic, had all my favorite Cathy comic strips laminated, and then stayed up all night trying on all my clothes and shoes again, I finally felt ready to write my comedy piece. I decided to start by asking myself, “What’s funny?” That is a tough one for me because I have no sense of humor. I mean, I assume that I have no sense of humor because all of the funny things that are made especially for women like me, such as Sex and the City, 27 Dresses, and yogurt commercials don’t even make me laugh. But I guess my humor deficiency is one of those womanly crosses I have to bear, along with P.M.S., making seventy cents on the dollar, and paying for my own rape kit. You know what they say though, you can’t make the willing pay for their own rape kits! I think they say that. Probably somebody said that. God knows I didn’t say it myself! I only say things like: “What are numbers?”

Oh, there I go again on one of my tangents. I guess it’s time for me to get serious about writing this comedy piece. Emoticon. I mean, I probably shouldn’t even try to write a comedy piece since Christopher Hitchens wrote an article in Vanity Fair saying that women just aren’t funny. He’s probably right. And even if he isn’t, I think it’s great that we live in a country where you can say anything you want, like that women aren’t funny or that Christopher Hitchens is a huge douche who runs a successful child pornography business and has an inability to get an erection unless he’s reading Nazi literature.

Well, would you look at that? I’ve totally run out of time, and now instead of writing a comedy piece, I have to go report to my regular day job knitting tampon cozies and being best friends with everybody.

Oh well, I probably would have been terrible at it anyway.

Thrift Times Five

Twas a thrift Storgesborg Saturday today! Found two new shops and went to 3 locations of major chain thrift stores. I plan on writing later about why I love thrift stores and stores that have nonprofit missions, but I wanted to get this down while it's still fresh in my mind!

1. City Opera Thrift Shop: An artistic 2-story building in Gramercy with everything from opera stage costumes to gently used designer fashions. Prices are higher than goodwill or salvation army, but the atmosphere and music make up for that. Billie Holiday was overhead singing "What a little moonlight could do" and it was as if I wasn't thrifting, but just in a fancy woman's closet!

2. Cauz for Pauz Thrift: I'm so glad I stumbled on this shop! Not only do I love the cause, or "cauz" rather, I must've tried on at least a dozen blouses and dresses and was so impressed by their inventory. Prices are on par with Goodwill, about $7.99 for a blouse, but you don't have to go hunting and searching for nice things like you have to do in those stores. Friendly staff too! (Animal people are the best). This is definitely going to become a staple in my thrifting diet.

3. Goodwill Thrift Store: Not my best decision to hit up this one AFTER I had the boutique experience. I wish I would've gone to Goodwill first so that my shopping stamina would've been higher, but oh well. Found the usual discarded H&M tops and REALLY worn Steve Madden shoes, but nothing worth taking home.

4. Salvation Army: Less fun than Goodwill. Couldn't find ANYTHING worth taking a second look at. In fact, the drab atmosphere and floral 80s blouses made me turn on my heels and get the heck out of there.

5. Housing Works: Just when I thought my thrifting Saturday was done, I stumbled on the Gramercy Housing Works. About two months ago, I capitalized on Housing Work's "Best of Fall" sale and found an amazing Miu Miu purse, but I didn't have the same luck today. I felt like I was swimming in sea of boxy, 3/4-length jackets and let me tell you, it made me sea sick.