Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Who gets to have more fun than me? No one! That's who!

We looked like mental patients in our red carpet picture, so I'm showing you this one instead.  I think this pretty much captures the evening

Last week Sadie sent me an invite for a "Kick Ass Cake Bash" for the The Broke-Ass Bride. Sadie's agent is repping her, and there is a tv show (for TLC?) in the works. Things like this go on every night of the week in LA. It's hard for me to remember when I'm whiling away the hours knitting tea cozies, and shaking what my momma done gave me in spoof videos that this town's PR machine never stops rolling. I never leave the house after the sun goes down, but the lure of a good gift bag, and putting on a dress, and since this was a wedding-ish event, CAKE, I went. The gift bag wasn't anything to write home about, BUT there was a little tin of lip gloss. It's made by e.l.f. and it's called candy shop lip tin in frosting fanatic, and OH MY GOD, it smells JUST like something from my childhood. I don't know what. Some kind of kid make-up, or a strawberry shortcake doll, or maybe it was that peel off nail polish. I don't know. But I found it on their site this morning, and it's only $1. Check it. 

How pretty is this? I want my kitchen counter to look like this every morning!

We got our picture taken in a custom photo booth by Oh Snap Studios. (the picture up top) Which I think is the greatest idea ever. This is sort of like my backyard wedding backdrop on steroids. SO great. They have all kinds of different backdrops and a million props and disguises. If was getting hitched, or having a big party, I'd totally hire these guys.

The prettiest little cheesecake ever resting on my fishnetted leg. 

The only thing about going to these things is that it's a reminder of how big it all is, and how small we all are, and how incredibly silly almost everything about this town is. I wore my pale pink Rodarte for Target Ballerina dress that Keri tracked down for me in Denver, because every Target within 100 miles of LA had sold out of them. I wore it with a cute pale grey cardigan from Anthropologie, and my grey suede comptoir des cottonniers heels that make me feel like I'm my grandmother's daughter. In my mind, because this is a huge step up from the usual stretch pants and flashdance cut tshirt that I'm wearing 99% of the time, I thought I looked pretty good. 

But then you know, real WOMEN started to show up. The kind of women that aren't excited about $1 lip gloss from their childhood. They were never children. They are WOMEN. I swear these women only exist in LA. There's no way they could survive anywhere else. They'd walk into the A&P, and people would run for their lives. As they should. They're so pretty they're almost ugly. DO you know what I'm talking about? Like they're so tall and perfect, and CONFIDENT, because they are essentially god's perfect creature, that the moment you look at them, or they start to speak, you start making note of everything weird, or crazy, or imperfect about them. SO that in the span of 90 seconds, you've gone from having the wind knocked out of you because your eyes have never fallen upon a human being this stunning, to thinking, "Meh, she's an overplucked freak in a stilletos". Pure jealousy. You understand me, right?

Long story short, I put on perfume, ate some cake (a lot of cake), got some free swag, had a picture taken with Sadie that will make our grandkids wonder what the hell we were all about, and then came home and watched American Idol. Just like every night. Now back to my quilting...

I would like a wall of flowers like this, and I would like someone to carry it around behind me at all times. 


  1. I wish I could rock a Target dress like that!!! Tre Fab.

  2. Isn't Nipper suppose to carry that flower-wall thingy around for you??

  3. Those women you describe is THE reason I have become a hermit.

    I remember going out in the evening when I lived in New York but it feels like another life, one where I wore black. ALL black. Because that's what New Yorkers do.

    Here the waiters wear black. So, I could go out in LA after dark (yikes!) wearing black and be mistaken for a waiter and get asked for more champagne, while trying not to look directly at "those women" without fear of my eyeballs melting and my bowels turning to water OR I could stay home in my PJ's and watch SVU re-runs. I think you know the answer......

    You are a brave woman. And for the record - u rocked the dress!