my day with a fashion consultant

With the software conference looming in 4 days, and me with nothing to wear, I was really starting to panic. I tried to manipulate Camile, who does my hair, into shopping with me, but she had to work. She suggested I call Nordstrom's and arrange for a fashion consultation.

I went at 10 this morning and met Jessica, my consultant. She's about 21, is studying at modeling school, and wants to design her own clothes some day. At 5 feet tall and skinny as a rail, she was quite impressive storming around like the CEO of some company in her vertiginous heels. She was dressed in a perfectly fitted suit and this cute shirt. She definitely had style.

I explained my situation to her and told her that I have only ever worn Tahari suits. So we went over to the place where they had Tahari suits and Jessica started picking stuff out. "Do you like this?" she would ask. "Um, sure," I would say. I said that for everything she picked out and she started to get exasperated with me. Finally I was like "I don't care what the suit looks like really. I hired you to find one. I didn't realize I was going to have to pick it." I was getting very, very bored, and we had only been shopping for 15 minutes. It felt like hours.

So then I told her how I wanted something Audrey Hepburn-ish. She looked at me with my bedraggled hair (haven't washed it since I got it cut), my flip flops, and the rest of my disastrous outfit, and said "Audrey, hum".

We found 4 suits for me to try on, and then she asked if I knew my size. I thought I did so I told her I was an 8. I tried on the first suit and Jessica commented that I was supposed to unzip the skirt before putting it on, and that the suit was way too big. She asked what size my pants were and I told her they were a 6, and then brightly suggested that maybe my size was 6 instead of 8 and that sometimes I get my numbers confused. Jessica gave me a whithering look and said "NOTHING that you are wearing fits you. Those pants are WAY too big. It looks like you don't even have an ass." I mentioned that a lot of people say I don't have an ass and maybe that was the problem, not my pants, which I found quite comfortable. "Everyone has an ass" Jessica sighed, collecting up my four wrong sized suits.

"You wait right here and I'll be back" she commanded. Happy that my plan was working perfectly I pulled out my New Yorker and settled into my dressing room. I was hungry so I started eating some baby carrots I had brought with me.

"OH MY GOD, ARE YOU EATING IN HERE?" Jessica shrieked when she returned with the suits. She made me wipe my hands on a wet nap before I was allowed to touch the suits. I offered her a carrot and she wrinkled up her nose. "Slimy. Yuck." I decided to not take the insult to my carrots personally.

I tried on those 4 suits, and then 4 more, and then 4 more. I told her one was too twirrly, one had a weird belt that I couldn't figure out, one was a bright pink and black suit that Jessica swore Audrey would have worn, but I seriously doubt it. I was also having problems with my arms. The skirts all fit but in most of the long sleeved jackets if I so much as moved an arm Jessica would cringe as the fabric seemed ready to burst at the seams. Plus, my arms are about two inches longer than they should be, so wearing a size 4 jacket made my arms look ape like. And I kept having zipper problems because they connected the skirt to the jacket with this plastic thing and if I didn't put everything on just right I got all twisted up.

"I can't move in these things" I complained. "Why can't I just get a bigger suit and then I'll pin the skirt so it doesn't fall off?" That's what I usually do if I don't have time to get something tailored. "You are SO not going to do that" Jessica yelled. "Why do you need to move your arms so much anyway?" "Well, there might be an emergency where I have to move my arms a lot" I pointed out. Jessica rolled her eyes at me for the millionth time. "Then you could always take the jacket OFF."

Finally she found me a really cute linen and wool mix suit that had short sleeves so my arms didn't look weird. And it really does look kind of Audrey Hepburn-ish. Next stop was the shoe department, a place I used to love to go. But I'm not crazy about the current shoes, and Jessica was having a hard time finding something for me to wear.

"You really can't wear a sandal with those" she said, pointing at my feet. They're sunburned with a flip flop pattern because yesterday I took a conference call on my porch and when I'm in the sun for more than 5 minutes I burn. A few of my toe nails are white from painting my brother's house last weekend. And I have multiple blisters from my flip flops. I mentioned to Jessica that my sister had gotten me some pedicure stuff for watching her dogs, and that I just hadn't had time to use it. She gave me a doubtful look that anything might improve the look of my feet.

Jessica's boyfriend called around the time we had been through all the wedges. I told her there was no way I would wear a wedge. Before the wedges she had me try on some shoes with a 5 inch heel. I was like no way in hell, I will fall and break my ass on stage. Jessica and her boyfriend were in a fight so I told her to take the call. "Wait RIGHT here" she said "And DON'T buy ANYTHING until I come back and look at it".

As she was walking away I spied something interesting. It was a sandal, white, covered in lady bugs. The shoe was so horrible it was fantastic. I immediately wanted to try it on. So I asked for the shoe in my size and the shoe department lady looked at me doubtfully. "Jessica said to try those on?" she asked me. "Uh, yeah, I think those were the ones she said," I lied.

When they came I put them on. They were even more appalling on my feet. I did a little dance move in them because the monstrous lady bugs jiggled around whenever the shoe moved. I was standing in front of a mirror testing out different foot flex positions to see what would happen to the lady bugs when Jessica walked back and screamed "OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING???? TAKE THOSE OFF NOW!" The lady in the shoe department gave me a dirty look.

"But Jessica, these are my lady bug shoes with special lady bug robots on them. I'm going to infiltrate the conference and then take the whole thing over with my lady bug robot army." I smiled at her and she burst into tears. I felt bad so I took the shoes off and agreed to a pair of boring cream colored heels, even though I spied a pair of semi metallic heels that were amazing. "I saw on the show what not to wear that you can wear semi metallics in the day time" I told Jessica when she said I couldn't try those shoes on. She gave me a look and said "Well we aren't ON THAT SHOW ARE WE?"

It turns out while I was trying on the lady bug shoes Jessica broke up with her boyfriend and that's the real reason she started crying, not the lady bug shoes. She wanted me to follow her around to "accessorize" my suit but by then I was totally over shopping, and Jessica's mood had deteriorated to the point where it was obvious the perfect storm was just over the horizon. Instead I took her to starbucks and she told me what had happened regarding the break up. I told her the guy she was dating was a complete loser and that she was way too beautiful to put up with his behavior. I told her if he tried to get back together with her that she should kick him in the nuts. After a mocha whatever that thing was, and more pep talking, her mood improved.

We went back to the store and I was ready to buy my suit and shoes. The problem is, I had forgotten to ask how much the suit was. It cost $500. I had set a budget of $350. Surprisingly, they gave me the price I wanted. And luckily the shoes Jessica picked out were about a quarter of the cost of the semi metallic ones I wanted.

And now I have something to wear to my conference so I can cross that off my to do list.

don't ask, don't tell, don't be ridiculous

My sister is mad at me right now because a long time ago I wrote a story about this kid Vic whom I considered my best friend in elementary school. He practically lived at our house. Anyway, a few days ago Vic was forced to leave the military because someone outed him for being gay: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NZDRjEKwtQ

Apparently doing a search on Vic found the story on my blog. I've since fixed that. But I got in touch with another friend from elementary school, Steve, (actually, he was my sister's friend) and he's going to try to put me back in touch with Vic.

As for what happened to him, I think it's disgusting and unconscionable. Steve thinks that someone who didn't like Vic outed him. What's insane is that the military is kicking him out.

I really don't get the whole "gays in the military" controversy. First of all, it's the 21st century. Someone's sexual orientation should not even be an issue. Second, it's like discriminating against any other group (african american, jews, etc). Third, that argument about sex mattering is insane.

I work with the military a lot. I get hit on by my customers a lot. Yes it sucks and is uncomfortable, but I manage to do my job. And, just speculation on my part, these are likely the same guys who are worried about who their fellow soldiers are sleeping with. If you're going to discriminate against someone for reasons of sex, why not include everything: people who are married and having affairs, people who sleep with anyone, etc. The soldiers I've talked to who are most against gays in the military usually have personal problems that lead to their opinions. I remember arguing with a guy in the Army about this. He said "I don't want to worry that a fellow soldier is going to hit on me". I was like "That's pretty arrogant to think anyone would find you attractive enough to hit on".

I hope that the human capacity is such that people can learn to respect other people even if those other people are not like them. People who are prejudice against certain groups of individuals are at best ignorant and at worst small minded idiots. As for the religious right, apparently it's too hard for them, or maybe too boring, to love their fellow man. They would rather cause hatred and discrimination against groups of people. I guess it makes them feel somehow important, though to anyone with a brain they just come across as scary because they make a drama about something that isn't even their business. I don't worry about how my neighbors spend their money, and neither should anyone else. Sex is the same thing. It's an individual's right.

A friend of mine left the air force about 3 years ago because she was so stressed about being a lesbian. My friend Neil and I were talking to her and she said "You have no idea what it's like to go to a party or any social function and worry that someone will find out who your partner is". She got to the point where she wouldn't even grocery shop near her base because she was afraid someone might find out she was dating another woman based on the groceries she was buying.

Something has to change with that policy in the military. And the torture policy. I don't see how someone could arbitrarily judge a person based on who they are in love with, and at the same time think it's okay to beat a prisoner to the point of organ failure. But, maybe I'm not that smart.

hard to believe, I might be on TV

Yesterday I arrived back in Denver completely exhausted from my trip, and work, thinking about my court date that was supposed to be on 1 June that I was going to cancel because the fucking stupid shit for brains asspipe pathetic excuse for a human who hit my car (Kandy Schertz) couldn't be served with papers because she's a lying bitch who avoided the sheriff and then moved out of her apartment. The private investigator that tried to help me find her could only get me her parents' contact information.

I was thinking to just give up on the lawsuit. It seemed hopeless. Even if I could find the stupid bitch I wasn't sure I could get her into court in time for the year deadline I have to sue her (which will be September of this year). I was thinking to myself "unless something completely insane happens, I may just drop the lawsuit".

I got home, and of course, something insane happened. I received a letter about my lawsuit, which I assumed was from a law firm specializing in these kinds of cases. I called the number on the letter thinking I could wrangle some free advice from them.

The conversation went something like this:

me: Hey, I got a letter from you and was wondering if you could help with my lawsuit.

person: Of course, that's why we sent you the letter.

me: So, how much do you charge for legal advice? Because I think I only need to talk to a lawyer for about 15 minutes. It's an easy case but I can't find the defendant and am unsure how to proceed.

person: Uh, legal advice?

me: Yeah, um, aren't you guys a law firm or something?

person: Uh, no. This is a TV show. The People's Court.

me: This is a Denver show?

person: No. People's Court has been on TV for 24 years. It's on national TV. Haven't you ever seen it?

me: I don't have a TV. I thought I was calling a law office.

person: (stifled laugh) In all my years doing this, I've never heard that one before.

Anyway, I told the person who answered the phone my story, and she took all the information I had about Kandy and said the show would try to track her down. I don't know why they picked my law suit. Maybe the whole "Franki vs. Kandy" or maybe someone from the show reads my blog. They are supposed to call me back to let me know if they can find Kandy. See letter below:

So today I took the letter down to the court house to get an extension on my court date. Everyone thought it was cool that I might get to be on TV. Then I got a GREAT admin, Gloria, who patiently listened to my story. I told her I was worried I couldn't find Kandy before the year was up that I can sue under Colorado state law.

She arranged for me to meet with the small claims court judge. I gave a passionate speech about how it was wrong that Kandy should walk away with no punishment after causing an accident. I'm not sure what else I said. I was talking really fast. Anyway, the small claims court judge agreed to suspend my case indefinitely until I can track this bitch down. She also gave me a letter I could take to the post office to see if I can find Kandy's forwarding address. And she said I could serve Kandy with papers through the mail if that was the only option (if, for example, she's moved out of state). Normally you have to go to the court in person to set a date, but when I explained my travel situation to the judge she said I could just do it over the phone.

And she said I would be a good lawyer.

So, I'm back on the war path now. And I think I'm going to write an article about this whole experience and submit it to the paper or 5028.

I can't help but think, because I spent the weekend helping out my brother, that some good karma has come back to me.

skip

On Sunday, after lunch, Neil and I headed up to the Bachenheimer compound for drinks, and ended up staying for dinner, because Dan put out a bunch of my favorite fruits and cheeses, and then we had lamb chops (little ones), asparagus, and corn. It was great.

Dan also decanted some excellent wines from his and Eva's trip to Sonoma. We sat outside since the evening was nice, and after two glasses of wine Eva was like "hey Franki, why don't you show Neil how you can skip?"

Skipping, or my inability to skip, is perhaps one of my greatest failings as a person. I don't know why, but I can't do it. I always mean to do it right but I can't seem to take just one foot off the ground so I end up just jumping around. Which is weird because when I ski and am supposed to have both feet on the ground, I can't.

Neil tried to teach me how to skip as Eva stood on the driveway having a giggle fit. Occasionally she would skip by me just to make me feel bad. Attached is a picture that Dan took of Neil skipping and then me skipping.

And no, I can't skip even when I'm not drinking.

where are my pink ladies?

I've been to every grocery store in an over 50 mile radius of where I'm staying out here in DC trying to find pink ladies. None were to be had. So instead I bought some bags of baby carrots.

First, I found out they aren't really "babies" at all. This whole time I thought I was eating the veal of vegetables. But a student told me that in fact baby carrots are just carrots that are too ugly to sell, so they cut them down. I doubted the story at the outset (I've had students lie to me about numerous things regarding the performance of the software I teach; I've also had students sign me up for dating services and enter my business card in "free weekend in Aspen" giveaways and I was once subjected to my entire class singing the theme of the love boat because I've never seen the show and they were making fun of me saying I was like one of the characters who I think died recently of a cocaine overdose) but when I looked at the package it did say "baby cut" though "cut" was written in small print.

I also found it funny that, under ingredients, it said "carrots". Somehow, knowing they are not in fact new, young carrots, they don't taste as good.

Anyway, I accidentally ate a whole bag of baby carrots today. I could say it was one of the small bags, but I would be lying. Around 230, in the middle of class, after I stuffed the last carrot in my mouth, I got the hiccups. And they wouldn't stop. The guy who's class I was taking was getting annoyed. I still have the hiccups but I'm drinking wine in the hopes that will help. Besides getting the hiccups I also discovered that my company badge was covered with cookie goo. Probably should not have let my nephew wear it yesterday when we were eating cookies. I leaned over one of the students to help him and he was like "grossssssssss! what is that?????" and I was like "it's just (hic) a cookie (hic)".

Ech.

I wonder if I'm allergic to carrots...

art critic kids

Neil's Reveal (the blow job secret)

I went to lunch with my friend Neilski yesterday in historic Leesburg. We went to this cool restaurant called lightfoot's that used to be a bank.

While we were eating lunch Neil was telling me about this crazy woman he worked with. He said she wasn't very attractive or nice, but she got Neil's friend to marry her. Then, after they got married, she was always hitting on other men and trying to get them to have sex with her. She would do this in front of her husband.

The guy gang that Neil hung out with all thought this woman was crap, but, Neil's friend Howie ended up going on a trip with her (she invented a reason she had to go with him). Somehow they ended up in Howie's hotel and the woman was trying to get him to fuck her. Howie refused to fuck her, since she was a good friend's wife (and, probably because she wasn't very attractive) but then Neil told me "Howie finally let her give him a blow job so she would leave his room".

I thought it was funny that Howie said that he didn't have sex with this woman, but that he let her give him a blow job. I can think of two guys who have used this excuse with me, and then, well, there's Bill Clinton.

I started to wonder why that might be...I guess if a guy isn't looking at you or making any physical contact with you it's okay in his mind to come in your mouth. From a female perspective that seems a little strange. If I had a penis I don't think I would go around sticking it into places with sharp objects. Guys aren't that smart or maybe they're just careless. Personally, I wouldn't let some guy anywhere near my clit under circumstances like that.

Then I started thinking if a guy ever asks me for a blow job, I'm going to question his motives. Does he want a blow job just to get off, or does he like me? Then I started thinking about how, if I don't want to have sex, I always find it easier to give a guy a blow job than to have him poking at me demanding I pay attention to his penis.

In any case, girls out there reading, beware of giving guys a blow job. Thanks for ruining that for guys, Neil!