Staples

I have loved clothes ever since I was a little girl. I like to think I was pretty fashionable even as a 5-year-old–trust, my oversized Nike tee and my vast collection of Ariel gear would be indie gold today–but it took me a long time to hit my shopping stride. Let me explain–I’ve never had problems shopping until I drop (mostly my jaw, when looking over my bank statement). But until a year or so ago, I wouldn’t say that I was shopping properly.

See, there are three types of clothing shoppers. And if you ask me, these could apply to personalities as well, but some people don’t like to be defined by their ugly shoes, and that is their right. So, there’s…

1. Shopper Numero Uno. This person is the practicalist. They don’t like shopping for clothes. They get in (to boring stores with cheap clothes) and get out with the bare necessities. They probably wear running shoes as sneakers and own jeans that make their butt look flat.
2. Shopper Numero Dos. This kind of shopper is also practical, but they have a modicum of personal style. They shop at plain stores and aren’t super into it, but they have enough sense not to wear Shoxx out to dinner.
3. Shopper Numero Tres. The trend-whore. This shopper leafs through Lucky, runs to the store, and spends $600 on high-waisted baroque pants that make them look like a 15th-century whale.
4. Shopper Numero Quatro. The classic shopper. They know that quality is worth more than quantity  and they buy clothes that flatter their body type. They don’t like to change it up–they know what works for them  and they stick to it. Forever.
5. Shopper Numero Cinco. This is the best type of shopper. They’re a healthy mix of Dos, Tres, and Quatro. They shop smart, know what works for their shape and style, but still try new things.

See, I just made that up right off the top of my head, but it seems pretty accurate. You can probably squish anybody into one of these categories (if you’re some kind of cruel freak who likes to label others–God, what kind of monster are you?!). And so for my whole life, I was a Tres-Quatro. I had my body-conscious, never-change-’em clothes (ancient jeans that I still wear–they hug my body even after 700 washes), but for everything else, I’d just run out and get whatever was in stores. If i liked it, I bought it. The end result was a tragically overstuffed closet filled with clothes that clashed more than two Kardashian sisters fighting over a basketball player. I couldn’t put together an outfit to save my life, unless it involved a stripy top and floral-patterned bottoms.

But then, in a beautiful moment of clarity–or, you know, getting really sick of having a half-useless wardrobe–I realized: you have to shop for staples. The majority of your wardrobe should be well-fitting, nice, practical staples. Jeans. Black leggings. Black tank tops and tees. White tank tops and tees. Plain-colored cardigans and sweaters. And then, once you feel like you’re in a Uniqlo, you can finally get fun things, because hey, you know something you own will match them.

In conclusion, I am now the most fashionable person in the world, and you can be too. Click this link to take my, “What kind of shopper are you?” quiz and then buy my styling book (Stop Dressing Like That, Fugly!) for the low cost of three installments of $19.99!

Want > Need

Right now, I am longing for…

…a bright red shirt with the Coca-Cola logo on it, fresh flowers to fill my room, a Jag, less split ends, a spa day, a tiny fuzzy pet to hug, tan suede wedges, slutty velvet dresses from American Apparel, a stable full of horses, summertime, more sushi from the place up the street, a plain tank top in every color of the rainbow but mostly black, and the motivation to work on my other blog.

Oh, shhh, I’m starting a personal blog! Kind of fashiony, kind of not, lots of pictures of my sexual self (but not sexual pictures, you little pervs)–you know the type. But tragically, none of you can ever see it since you read all my freaky-deaky thoughts and you know all my deep-dark secrets. So why am I telling you, you ask? Well, for no reason, I answer! Anyway, what are you longing for tonight?

 

Everyday I’m T-T-Tumblin’

I love Tumblr. In fact, I believe I should probably be entering a twelve-step program for it or something, based on the following equation:

[(Time spent on Tumblr)(Time spent on the computer) - (Time spent doing productive stuff)]/(24 hours) = GET A FUCKING LIFE.

Cats are good at math.

But I have never been a fan of math, so I’m just going to ignore that and keep T-T-Tumblin’. I have been completely neglecting the Tumblr associated with this blog in favor of my personal Tumblr, which I will never tell any of you Internet People (sorry), but it is seriously soooo fun. If you don’t have one, I have a handy-dandy quiz to help you decide whether or not you should get one!

The “Should I Get a Tumblr?” Quiz

1. I like pictures and photography. [Yes] [No]
2. I like pretty and/or attractive things. [Yes] [No]
3. I enjoy wasting lots of time on the Internet machine. [Yes] [No]
4. I like free porn. [Yes] [No]
5. I either like or hate pudding cups. [Yes] [No]

Okay, now to grade your quiz–if you answered “yes” to any of the above questions, you should get a Tumblr! YAYYY, Tumblrs and pudding cups (or no pudding cups) for everyone!

But as usual, I had an evil ulterior motive for writing this post–to bitch about Tumblr. You see, I love it, but some of the things people post make me want to drive a large rusted spike through my head. Or their heads, because I already suffered once having to read their posts. Besides the litany of Jonas Brothers/Demi Lavato/Beiber GIFS that always find their way onto my dash no matter who I follow, EVERYONE POSTS SAPPY RETARDED QUOTES. I’m sorry, but it’s true. And they are usually in the field of “My life sucks”/”I’ll be lonely forever”/”Do you still think about me while touching your penis, ex-boyfriend?”/”I will wait for you even though you cheated on me with a Russian transvestite” vein of thought.

Aside from that, though, it’s great, so go make one and then follow my Wildhearts Tumblr even though I never post anything. Hiii-yah!

Not an Amish Paradise

I haven’t had internet for the past week, and I suffered severe withdraw symptoms, including but not limited to: shaking, night terrors, typing on my computer while it was shut off, and licking electrical outlets.

My apartment was supposed to get kitted out with the World Wide Web (ha, remember the ’90s?) today, but because I suck at technology it is probably not going to be up and running yet. But I was feening, so I am typing this from a little café on the Rue de Thérain…or, you know, in a free Wi-Fi zone. I just missed you little People of the Internet so much, and I was tickled pink to come back to some comments.

Anyway, I was going to write a handy-dandy little survival guide to living as an Amish person. But then my brain floated back into my head and I realized that anyone reading a blog post about how to subsist-sans-internet is on the internet. So. There goes that.

But in case your internet dies the second after you finish reading this, my recommendations for not shooting yourself with boredom when stuck in a webless house during a rainstorm (am I lucky, or am I lucky?) are as follows:

1. Play Pac-Man. Lots and lots of Pac-Man. Preferably until your thumbs hurt and you are cursing at the screen, usually about how those stupid little ghost motherfuckers like to trap you in corners like a bunch of assholes.
2. Watch The Vampire Diaries, Season One, even if you just watched all twenty-two episodes twice in the past week.
3. Have sex.
4. Go the mall, a lot, and wander aimlessly around Border’s going-out-of-business sale until you find a giant glossy coffee-table book for $3.23. Buy it, and then take it home to realize that half of it is red-carpet pictures from 1986.
5. Have some more sex.

There you go, you lucky on-the-internet bastards.

What Google Thinks About You

Hey there! Are you a snoop? Would you consider yourself “nosy”?  Do you share a computer? Do you enjoy invading people’s privacy and/or learning things about them without their knowledge? Or, failing that, do you want to know more about yourself based on the ramblings of a crazy random Internet girl (me)? Well, then, this is the post for you!

What Your Google Searches Say About You (You Sick Freak, You)

If you commonly search things like: bars with no covers, beer, mixed drink special at Blarney’s Pub, how to make own mojitos, cheap vodka, my x-byofriedn’s neumbr becux heis nit nioce

Then it means: You’re probably a raging alcoholic, typically college-aged, but you don’t realize it because everyone you know is also a raging alcoholic! You might also be a slut.

If you commonly search things like: boobs, Asian girls, jugs, girl-on-girl, ostrich porn, live sex videos

Then it means: You’re really into ostrich porn. Oh, and maybe also other kinds. You’re probably a seventeen-year-old boy, or a twenty-seven-year-old boy, or a thirty-seven-year-old boy.

If you commonly search things like: The Wild Hearts WordPress, stupid blogs, blogs where girl talks about dumb things

Then it means: You’re awesome.

Also, this is the "pictures of people with animal heads" post. Just in case you were wondering.

Wasn’t that helpful? I hope you have learned all about yourselves, People of the Internet. As ever, I’m happy to assist you.

 

You Missed Me, Didn’t You?

So, you know when you have a blog you really, really love, and you check it all the time to see if they put up new stuff, and they don’t? And then you’re kind of like, “Well, fuck you too. You could maybe post something before it’s 2012 and the world is over and I’ll be too busy drowning in lava to follow any blogs.”

Yeah, I’m that guy. Except that no one really, really loves my blog, so it’s okay. But I still feel bad when I go on a million-year hiatus and leave my poor, like, eight faithful readers in the cold (I love you all). I’ve just been a smidge busy doing that whole summer thing, and working my new job in hell.

Seriously, though, I promise to write something besides this shitty post promising to write more stuff. Really! Maybe I’ll write a story about a half-zebra half-giraffe mutant baby. Or perhaps I shall interview Michelle Obama with fun questions like, “If Bar was out of the picture, who’d you rather: David Beckham or Johnny Depp?” You never know, maybe I will even put a picture of an adorable cat on here! THE FUN JUST KEEPS ROLLING!