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The other day we got into my car and realized I’d taken in all of my decent CDs and we didn’t have the iPod on hand, either. I glanced fretfully down at a book of CDs on the floor of the passenger side, filled mostly with Ani DiFranco, Bjork, Cowboy Junkies, The Cranberries, Massive Attack, Mazzy Star, Sarah Mclachlan, Tori Amos, etc.

It was basically the Big Lesbian CD Book of Shame & Processing, and/or Cry Sex circa forever ago, and I warned M about this in advance. There was a reason it was being kicked around on the filthy floor of my car. (I haven’t washed my car in, like, 2.5 years or something obscene like that. I digress.)

She picked it up anyway, trying not to gag at the first 3/4 worth of CDs. Toward the back were some random musical soundtracks and whatnot and she excitedly yanked one out of its plastic sleeve. “What’s that?” I asked, and she shoved it into the CD player. “I dunno, you wrote ‘fancy French femmes’ on it in Sharpie” which sounds just like something I’d do – not really helpful and only vaguely informative.

It started playing and I thought I heard The Doors, so I wrinkled my nose up and skipped forward a few tracks, at which point it began to sound like hot drunk French girls stumbling their way through covers of classic American rock ‘n roll at 3AM karaoke! It was so weird. I had no recollection of ever hearing any of it.

M looked just as confused/delighted. “What, were you dating someone French when you burned this CD?” she joked, and then we both looked at each other and giggled, because chances are I probably had been. Happily, we kept on driving, windows down and crazy French ladies crooning up.

She’s lucky she wasn’t getting an earful of Comme à la radio!

This outfit was thrown together for the new queer ladies night at Lime, about which I have nothing very nice to say, so I’ll just stop now!

Dress: Ruby Rox (I had to throw it away last night; it was pilling! So sad, it was comfy.)
Scarf: While it has got ponies and old-timey things on it, it’s not vintage, I don’t think. I’ll have to dig it up and look.
Terra Cotta Corset-Belt-Suspender Thing: Etsy
Belt w/ Pouch: Modcloth
Boots: Lamica
Leather: Zara

This is the blissed out face of a femme who is not only enjoying a perfectly innocent make-believe joyride on this totally bizarre pony statue in an even more bizarre reclaimed-wood-and-nature needle minipark in a big city haystack thing, but also headed to The Front Porch, a Southern restaurant in SF’s Mission District. I’ve been wanting to check it out for months and months and damn months.

Pluses: The co-owner (maybe ex co-owner? Apparently, she’s opened Hibiscus in Oakland) is a smokin’ hot dyke. Fried green tomatoes. Old-timey decor, included car seats with seat belts for booths.

Cons: Like, none. OK, the beignets could have been better, but it was a very lovely dinner date.

I didn’t even care that it was cold. Cold enough for toggled enclosures on my chunky vest. Sorry, I’m really distracted because I’m trying to write this while The Real L Word season finale is on, and it’s, like, really hard because they’re all so mindbogglingly vapid. Most of them. Natalie just said that going to Dinah when your relationship isn’t rock solid is tricky or something, to which I replied, “Like doing the AIDS ride when you’ve just had ass surgery and the doctor is NOT advising it but also not expressly forbidding it, either, so…just inadvisable? Like that?”

I really wish that we had whatever on/off button for falling in love that she and Rose have, because then maybe people would projectile vomit around M & I a little bit less. Just a smidge. Just a touch, darling.

PS. I am wearing my pony belt buckle. YAY!

Leggings: Romeo & Juliet Couture
Ruffled blouse: INC Women
Vest: Bloom (ZOMG Mikey is talking about making fun of people with bad haircuts POT KETTLE holy fucking balls)
Belt w/ pony buckle: M’s
Belt w/ pouch thing: Modcloth
Boots: Rock n’ Rose
Bullet cuff: Portland street vendor

You must say hello to Blanket. Blanket is a neighborhood kitty who really loves me, despite giving me this total bitchface for taking a picture of him lying so preciously in this box full of dead stuff. His name is Blanket because his fur is soft like whoa.

It’s been an incredibly busy week at work, but happily so. Plus, I found out I have lunch buddies I could hit with a quarter if the windows from my office opened (they tend not to in skyscrapers), they’re that close, so I won’t have to go to the Ferry Building all by myself like I have been (though sometimes I imagine I will, because there’s something a little bit magical about that, especially on a warm day with gloriously blue skies). I’m lucky enough to get away with outfits like this at work, for the most part, even when it’s not a Friday!

Urban Heritage light denim, pink blouse, Free People floral blazer, vintage necklace and leather belt from Modcloth.
Madden Girl conical nude pumps.

I’m watching Moulin Rouge! It’s one of my absolute favorite movies of all time. I told M that I would just watch the beginning. Right now, Satine is walking out of the theatre to send Christian away, and I swear to God I would wear the outfit she’s got on in this scene every day for the rest of my life if I could. (It’s the long gray wool suit, with the matching hat and veil.) M & I are sipping some cocktails that I made with this new American gin we’re trying called Leopold’s. I muddled some fresh strawberries with fresh-squeezed lemon juice and a fistful of basil, added gin and some lavender-infused simple syrup, and they are heavenly. (I love how when Satine is crying and singing on stage her make-up is all jacked, and she doesn’t look perfection, but it doesn’t matter, because she loves, damn it. Oops, this is very definitely the end of the movie now.)

I got a new product from the Fekkai line and I can’t wait to try it:

I got tickets to this and I can’t wait to go!

Action shots, Bird looking very thirsty, my new muddler from Sur La Table:

Welcome to my Party On! Pants Off! outfit. I really just cannot imagine a gayer outfit utterly devoid of rainbows than this, kids. You’ve got your sequins and your stars and your crazy ruffles and lots of leg and your body glitter and a completely nonsensical pattern / paint-splattered motif. In gold. There are lipstick bullets around my neck and an actual bullet-sized lipstick tucked neatly away in the warmth of my cleavage, and of course it’s in an obscene shade of red also used to color my lips and ARE YOU CRAZY don’t even think my nail polish deviates from the exact same poppy red.

The breakdown, because heaven knows this was no easy task (especially when it was time to pee):

Romper, Brooklyn Flea
Star-shaped tights, Betsey Johnson
Cut-out moto pumps, Modcloth
Lipstick bullet necklace, Culp Baubles
Lipstick, Besame Cosmetics

I’m fairly certain this number will never see the light of day, and I’m okay with that. The tights have runs in them a mile long and I’m okay with that, too. I flailed around so very enthusiastically with the tomboy to a Grease medley that night that I toppled over a very full whiskey sour of mine, fresh from the bar, and I’m okay with that (even if it still hurts, a little). A friend of ours gifted me with a Midori-issue tank top that says “ALL NATURAL MELONS” across it. I bartered a pair of neon green Wayfarers for an epic jar with a handle on it, which M now guards with her life.

When midnight came and it was officially M’s birthday, we dutifully did tequila shots at the bar and I crawled around rather helpfully all over the Supper Club beds and we danced to that really dirty reggaetón song we both love, Gasolina. It was a spectacular night, and not wearing pants was a pretty big part of it. I’m hoping Ms. Jackson and Party Ben and co. can be convinced to hold pants-free parties at least once a month, because the vibe is genuinely special.

And before you bossies call me a total tease for not posting waist-down photos of the infamous bandage dress from Flourish, here you go:

MORE PRIDENESS COMING SOON!