Gah! Work! Excuses! Long lines at Nordstrom's when I went out to buy socks for the poor children that my office collects socks for and I'm not even going to go into that! Anyway!
The Smackdown is late, and as of this moment it is incomplete. Jason is whacking me with the TV remote and whining and waving his hand in front of the computer screen because he wants to go out for dinner. NOW. NOWNOWNOWNOW.
So here are two questions. Two or three more to come later, AFTER dinner, AFTER wine. So check back! (Unless there are already four or five questions posted when you are reading this, which means you have ripped a hole in the space-time-blog continuum and you should run for your life.)
AMY - STOP TYPING I WANT PIZZA WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR DUMB ADVICE. LOVE, JASON
My Dearest Amalah, Who I Trust Has The Answers To All Of My Problems:
I recently bought the most beautiful new black suede boots. I am smitten with them. They fit me perfectly in every way, but are more than just a wee bit snug when I zip up the top inch or so near my knees.
Now, I am aware that my butt and thighs might be considered "problem areas" by some and that they could use a little bit of work, but I was heretofore ignorant of the fact that my calves could be lumped into that same category. I've always been under the impression that I have lovely, somewhat shapely calves, even possibly THIN by my relatively judgmental standards.
What to do? I've worn the beautiful boots several times, and this problem isn't going away. And I'm NOT giving the boots up. Have you seen how beautiful and perfect they are? I have been searching for them for years.
Do they make garters for calves? Or control calf pantyhose? Or am I just doomed to a life of numb lower extremities? Any advice would be welcome. As long as it doesn't involve telling me to diet or exercise or stop drinking wine, as those concepts are fundamentally opposed to my central belief system.
(Before I get to Martha's question, let me revisit my own boot dilemma. Yes, I am taking them to get repaired this weekend. They are too pretty. Plus, I am not that wasteful and spoiled. In the meantime, I remain in mourning for them, wearing all black. Because black matches the brand new boots I just bought.)
And yes, Martha, you'll want to click on that link. Same damn boots, only in crocodile. So I can personally attest to their beauty, grace and lovely table manners.
But maybe we should switch, because the crocodile presents the opposite problem -- I have extra space through the ankle and at the top. I worry they look clunky, but like you, I love them too much to care and would sooner pad my ankles with tissues like a bra than send them back.
(And I'm not implying that my calves are twigs and yours are tree trunks. The boots are different. Clearly, this is all Ralph Lauren's fault, and he owes us free clothes for our troubles.)
Anyway, try buying knee socks from the girls' department. They'll be tight, but it will be an evenly distributed tightness (rather than a tight pinching just under your knee). This should be more comfortable. Or it will just make your entire leg completely numb below the knee. Can you live with that?
Yeah, I thought so.
Dear Amy aka The Queen of All-
Is it appropriate to drink on an airplane, and if so, how much? More importantly, how much is too much to drink on the 7:30 from San Fran. to St. Louis?
Appropriate? Good God man, it's necessary. Have you seen Castaway? Lost? ALIVE? With all the plane crashes and the fire and the dying? Is that really something you want to face sober?
Not me. If my plane is going down in a fiery inferno, I would like to be wasted. Especially since survival could mean being stranded for years with either a volleyball or some cannibals.
Although the cast of Lost is pretty hot. I wouldn't mind being stranded with them. So before you order that first drink (and remember you'll want one drink per each 12 minutes of flight time), take a look at your fellow passengers. Are they cannibals? Professional volleyball players? Hot?
(If they are all three, up your alcohol consumption to one drink per seven minutes of flight time, because no matter what, you are in for a fucking weird flight.)
(Also, you know how fucking weird I am? Writing about plane crashes does not unnerve me in the slightest, yet this story completely freaked me the fuck out.)
(HI, I'm back from dinner. Where I got free wine because my husband is a food god and also because I told the waitstaff about Snarkywood and they loved it. Because who doesn't love Downward Spiral Britney?)
Anyway. Advice? Are you kidding me? Now? At 11:37 at night? No. Just...no.
More questions tomorrow, because I am so lazy and tired and also there is the SICKEST episode of South Park EVER on right now and I am so extremely disturbed. I think I kind of want to pray. And then go beserk with the Comet on the bathroom floor. Because ew.
Right. Tomorrow. More advice and then lots of other hysterical stuff that would really make an excellent book so you should send me money because my GOD, I am brilliant.