gra-tu-i-tous |grəˈt(y)oōitəs|
{ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin gratuitus ‘given freely,spontaneous’}
1. uncalled for; lacking good reason; unwarranted : gratuitous violence.2. given or done free of charge : gratuitous advice.
vi-o-let |ˈvī(ə)lət|{ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French violette} adjective:
1. a bluish-purple color seen at the end of the spectrum opposite red.
2. a herbaceous plant of temperate regions, typically having purple, blue,or white five-petaled flowers, one of which forms a landing pad for pollinating insects. Genus Viola, family Violaceae.
3. ME.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

W.M.3 -OR- i put the FUN in wardrobe malFUNction

i told you. i am not EVER going to be done fucking up how i cannot dress myself, and accidentally stay dressed for long periods of time. since i was a kid, my clothing always bore the brunt of my inner chaos. at the amusement of myself and others, it has not changed much- except i am a tad taller, have breasts now, and a much bigger butt than when i was five. 
thank goodness.

i wore rad stuff like this back then.
i no longer believe in visors.

earlier tonight my madre asked me "honey, can you run out and grab t.p. for me before the store closes"
okay i reply. "well, you better go now, they close in 12 minutes!" she chimed in.
i urgently shoved my feet into my shoes and checked my bag for my stop & shop* discount card, and ran to the car.

*not only in quahog

i get there with 4 minutes to spare and quickly toss the 5 items i was destined to buy for the night into my cart. the store was totally like a ghost-town version of supermarket sweep.
don't you just love an empty grocery store? me too.

t.p.- check!

i skid the cart up to the last open checkout lane, and chuck my crap onto the moving belt.
the register lady is half-assed looking at me. whatever, it's late, and i'm that jerk-off who sneaks in last moment, making their lives lamer than they were 5 minutes ago.
trust me, i get it, i used to work retail.

i heart emily haines, and this video rules

while i am paying, madre calls me and asks where i am. really? 
fucking sunning myself on the isle of capri, duh. 
"ummm, on the checkout line" i honestly reply. "well at macy's across the street, there was just an armed robbery, and the police don't have him yet. be careful please. lock the doors when you get in the car and call me before you return." i promise to do so.
i overhear the store manager talking about all the piggies with their guns drawn, in the store parking lot a few minutes prior to my arrival. wow, i have good timing.

pass the tanning butter

then i pack up my goods and run out of the store- pushing the cart which, inevitably has a "special" wheel- so, i am veering to the left, severely, and subsequently look like a tool. i am used to this.

still life with cart. poetic.

i do as i promised and then i drive back. i pull in and and park and then i return a phone call to a girlfriend of mine. (i get no service in the brick basement condo unit. i talk outside, and look like a kook.)
we talk for a few minutes when i discover this:

nice fashion combo, huh?

then it dawns on me: i was literally going to take a bath when she asked me to run to the store. 
i had already started to unbutton my top, and even left my towel in the middle of the living room when i was interrupted. i am fully aware that cheetah print and farmer plaid are a match made in heaven. 

i must be an angel.  


  1. LOL

    I once went to the shop (the local one where most of the assistants know me as well) with a melted chocolate button in my cleavage.

    I wondered why they were giving me odd looks.
    It looked like shit - literally.
    Yeah, might do a post about that, cheers for reminding me :)

  2. Ahhhh hahahaha!!! I fuckin love it! You had me so involved in the shopping escapade that I had forgotten that this started out about your wardrobe prowess. Awe.Some.

  3. you MUST write a post about the chocolate!
    cleavage: catching morsels of tastiness for eons!

  4. I don't function beyond the level of a severely retarded person until at least two hours after waking. One morning I got up, got dressed, brushed my teeth and left the house. It wasn't until I felt the breeze outside that I realized I'd walked OUT OF THE HOUSE in dress pants and a bra. No shirt. None.

    What the fuckety fuck?

  5. i love this. we are not alone. but we ARE chilly, because we have no tops on.

    i got this email today from a dear friend overseas:

    So I just had a massage at home in India...they have help who does that too. I was in my pj's. Masseuses have their own form of massage etiquette depending on where you seems the in parts of India, it is required that it be done in the nude or semi-nude and it is no big deal if the masseuse sees everything. Anyway, while at home, I kept undies and most of my shirt on for the massage. It did get unbuttoned though. When the ritual was completed, I put on my pants and proceeded to go into the living room where I found one of the help (the oldest lady) preparing food and a male both I did the "namaste." I then returned to my bedroom to find that most of my top shirt buttons were still undone. I hope they didn't see anything. That would be a funny..."you would never guess what that American girl did..." story.


    hope she's not mad that i shared. this is a classic though.

    international tits.

  6. Hahaha

    We are not alone - wrote the post and gave you a shout out :)


Say something back... don't be shy