Britches*
I did it. I wore the dress. And that is how, after fêteing Holly in grand style (dinner with champagne AND dessert and NO genetalia-shaped party favors), Friday night found us standing on a San Francisco street corner getting honked at by passing cars as if we were ladies of the night and not a fivesome of writers waiting for a cab. "It's the fucking sparkle dress!" I muttered, ever the lady, because even I know that she who wears that many sequins cannot expect to go unnoticed no matter how fervently she tries to disappear into the brickwork. Of all the times to wear that dress, though--and thank god I did because now I NEVER HAVE TO WEAR IT (in public, Simon) AGAIN--this bachelorette dinner was the ideal situation. Firstly, in a group of that many pretty, classy ladies, no one would mistake me for an escort, which is always a good thing. Further, not only was everyone both supportive and sympathetic to my plight that night, but they also counseled me in the days prior, giving me the strength and stamina to brave that dress with confidence, come what may. Some wise friend (I can't remember who it was; clearly that single glass of pink champagne went straight to my head) said, "You know how you're supposed to do one thing every day that scares you? Well, this is your one thing!" And whoever said that was right on the money (100 gold stars), as one might accurately use the word "scared" to describe me during the one-block shuffle between my car and the restaurant in high heels and a micro-mini sparkledress, under a wool coat (yes, in August) while clutching in the pocket of said wool coat a jigger of justincase pepper spray. But, still, I did it! It is done. The dress is on a hanger in the back of the closet. (Metaphorically speaking. The actual dress is on top of the massive pile of not-quite-dirty clothes that lives in Wombat's old cradle and defies the laws of physics every day that it doesn't topple and bury me alive in last month's work clothes.)
New paragraph!
But still speaking of clothes and this lovely group of ladies that luck and blogging let me fall in with, earlier this month Moose and Kristin threw one of those Brand About Town parties that Holly hosted last year, only this one was not for video games but for jeans! Gap jeans! Gap jeans that never, ever, ever, no matter how many times I tried, fit my pre-baby body but are now, as Goldilocks once said, "just right." And I didn't even have to risk death by bears to find the best pair—Sexy Boot Long in a size that puts the "O" in "emoticon." (Would you laugh at me, though, if I told you I totally stressed out about what underpants one should wear to a jeans party made up of one part friends and one part strangers? Obviously I don't want anyone to judge me harshly for my choice in unmentionables (that's why they're called "unmentionables," isn't it?), but I also didn't want it to be obvious that I'd thought really hard about what I was wearing. Hmm. Predicament, non?)
Anyway, my intention was to mention this while you still had time to enter Moose and Kristin's contests to win a free pair of jeans yourself, but that didn't happen and so now I feel bad. Because you deserve free stuff too, don't you? Yes, you do! So in honor of my fine ladyfriends, none of whom I would have the extreme pleasure of knowing were it not for this here blog, please leave me a comment telling me about the best friend you've ever made through blogging--your BIFF, if you will--and next Monday I'll pick someone (probably randomly) to receive a $25 Starbucks giftcard that I've been holding onto for a giveaway for waaaaaaay too long. Longer than my new Gap jeans are long.
And finally, because I have another story about pants--specifically someone who needs them--Wombat took his p.j. bottoms off by himself this morning, much to my surprise and horror and wtfhowdidhedothat? Today, when two thirds of the family was trying to sleep in, the other third--he who had formerly been crawling around on my face, then Simon's face, then my face again, and pulling my hair--suddenly became completely and suspiciously quiet, and when I looked over at him he let forth a happy shriek and started bouncing up and down and flapping his arms and, what's that?, he's waving his pants around like a flag at a Fourth of July parade. Oh, Wombat. With family like you, it's a wonder I have friends at all.
*Whenever I hear the word "britches," I think of a store we used to pass on Piedmont Avenue a million years ago when Teddy and Ethan and I used to get ice cream at Fenton's and then walk up and down the street until I had eaten half of their double-scoops because I always refused to get my own because I "wasn't hungry." (Aside: Don't you hate people like that? Also, does one have to be hungry to have ice cream? Survey says no.) Britches was the name of a store that always displayed an array of sassy panties in the front window, and I could never help yelling out "Britches!" whenever I saw it. Last time Simon and I drove by there, Britches was closed. This is my sad face.
Just you wait. Next up is the diaper... Thankfully, my girl still keeps her clothes on, but who knows how long that will last?
This? Is why we still wear zippered feetie jams AND a sleep sack at 12+ months. I have heard too many poo smeared on wall horror stories.
I would say Elizabeth (of Princess Nebraska). I met her last year (08) at BlogHer, but I talk to her so much and adore her even more. She's not fake sweet, she never tries too hard, she says things that resonate with me for MONTHS, and she's got the most adorable baby boy. I'm seeing her next month on our blogging meet-up in Sacramento, and I can't even contain myself, I'm so excited.
Also, where DID you get those pjs for Wombat? They're adorable.
The word "britches" is one of the more delightful additions to the English language. I applaud you. For your vocabulary and your bravery in the face of pink sequins.
My BIFF would probably be a gal named Tammy, who used to blog but doesn't so much anymore. We've just have way too much in common and often wonder if we were twins separated at birth. Alas, I'm not sure I'll ever get to actually meet her since she's in Michigan and I'm in the Pacific NW. But who knows?
Love the dress, Leah! It's beautiful! I was imagining some hot pink shocker but that was really pretty. I think if people were honking it was because of YOU and not solely the dress. RAWR.
I think you looked hot in that dress, escort short or not. Dang girl, still can't believe you had a kid just eight months ago! Amazing. Can I be you with your gams that go for miles?
I am waiting for the day where my baby takes his clothes off. I just hope he leaves the diaper alone. Too bad you missed watching him take them off though.
The jammies came from my mom, who has become quite the thrift store afficionado. Not bad for $2, eh?
I miss him. And you. And Simon. Sorry I've sucked with the blog reading/commenting but life is kicking me in the head. And also, the ass.
I should just call you guys.
Unsurprisingly, my BFF in Internetland is now one of my real-life BFFs, Meredith of Lawyerish. We've been friends for what seems like forever and in such a real way that I've completely forgotten that we met online.
Every time I walked by Britches I would have to do a double take because I thought it said Bitches in that fancy font they used. Then I would think who would want to buy bitchy underwear? Sad to see they are gone. Damn you economy!
My internet BFF's are Allyson over at Pocklock.com, and my two Live Well Spend Well partners in crime Pseudostoops and Kori over at Two Adults One Brown Baby. All of whom I've now met in person and are just as lovely in 3D :-)
It was back in 2000, I think. Or maybe 1999? Either way, I started getting comments on my blog from this guy named Pat. Comments led to email and IM, and one day in 2004 we finally met, but by this time, he'd become one of my closest friends. Since then we've both made trips back and forth (he lives in Ottawa). He's just one of the many cool people I've met on the Internet. It makes up for all of the lousy spam I get in my inbox every day. :)
If I were to have events for all those clothes in my closet that I'm not quite brave enough to wear, or wore once and discovered they were a little more revealing than I thought, well, I might look skanky all the time. But I get whistled at most when I'm wearing the most boring jeans, so I don't feel like the hooker clothes have anything to do with it!
Can I just tell you how much I LOVE the sparkle dress?! I also love the adorable picture of you wearing it AND a sheepish grin on Flickr! You look like a pop-up ballerina in a jewelry box....but, like, the pop-up ballerina's slightly naughty younger sister! I love that it's got the right mixture of sugar and spice, and I think I am going to wear a sparkle dress to my next big social function!!
One of the coolest people I've met through blogging is a new friend in Erica with http://itzyskitchen.blogspot.com
Seems very Facebook-centered to me. If you don't have a Facebook Account, there is nothing really to see on that site. Also, after three days, you have to pay-up to stay a premium member. Not really TPB style, if you ask me.
How can I show this to my friends on facebook ?
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