An Open Letter To The U.S. Government

Dear assholes,

Yeah, you heard me right. I said assholes. Hey, at least I put the "dear" in front. Be content with that, you bag of pustules.

So, we got a nice little bonus for the end of the year and I wanted to see what life would be like if I had a Masters so I looked at my paycheck stub. Now, I usually don't go in for that sort of behavior because I get distracted by the amount removed for my 401K and, against better judgement, I inevitably want that money back. Since it's easier if I just ignore the fact that it's disappearing, I refrain from looking at my paycheck stub. And I forgot there's another good reason to not look - seeing just how much you're getting from me on a bi-monthly basis.

Seriously, you make as much per month as my mortgage company and I'm actually getting something out of them. (A house, you dullards.) You, on the other hand, aren't giving me shit. Oh sure, I'm getting "security" and "the Postal Service", but c'mon, when the president I didn't vote for (which is another issue entirely) basically pisses off entire races in one fell swoop and then just keeps poking at them with pointy sticks, I really don't feel you're engendering a sense of security in me. Call me crazy, but I'm not one of those Midwesterners who believe everything you're telling me. I've watched "The X-Files". I know from conspiracy theories and government cover-ups. As far as that U.S.P.S. you're forcing me to use, sure, the childrens' book stamps were adorable, but half the time it's a trust game and usually those boys in blue fail me. Personally, I think the Pony Express was more reliable, and far more romantic in feeling.

But back to the money you're stealing. You're using it for bombs (hate them); wars (they anger me); the FBI (useless); pistachios for Air Force One (what's wrong with pretzels? Oh yeah...someone might choke); Dick Cheney (don't get me started on that); global warming (yes, Virginia, there is such a thing, you polar bear hater); and my personal favorites, working god back into everything we do and fighting gay marriage. Come the hell on, bastards. There's a reason they separated church and state. It's just best for everyone. Who cares whose name you put in your prayers so long as you're being a good person? Allah is just as kick ass as Jesus and Buddah is totally wicked awesome so honestly, if I like one better than the other and I'm not sending anthrax through the mail, what the hell difference should it make? Speaking of irrelevant, you should stop worrying about whether or not Lance Bass can get married and start worrying about the current state of healthcare, our global credibility, your punk-ass in-fighting, the sorry state of our environmental policy, finishing that needlepoint sampler that reads "people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" because most of you have obviously forgotten that little bon mot, education, and a little thing I like to call Social Security which is currently neither "social" nor "secure".

Not only that, but you people seriously take more vacation than the French.

In summary, you colossal waste of carbon, you need to actually start working for the fucking money you keep thieving from my bank account or I'll be forced to pull a Willie Nelson. Not the get out-of-my-gourd stoned part, but the no paying the taxes part.

Sincerely,
OAA

I'm A Wallpaper

No longer content to be a wall flower, I've been converted into a wallpaper. Along with fellow darlings like The Wife -Miss Kelly Sue- and my fellow kinderwhore Taylor, we're now available for downloading. Oooh...naughty indeed.

And don't forget! Naughty Needles is available at Amazon!

Wishing You Happy Holidays

Cookin' With Tom
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Tom's got some steaks ready for the big Christmas dinner at the OAA abode. I'll take mine "well done", please, Tommy.










Merry Christmahanukkwanzaka to all of you and to all a good night!

aaawwwwwwwWWWWFREAKOUT!

Well, that's the discoized version of what I did when I discovered this:

New Disgruntled Housewife Datebook

I was thinking I should just give in this year and buy new pages for my DayRunner and then, like a lighthouse guiding me back to cool, it appeared.

Go. Order one. At least you know one part of your year will be fun.

The Completely Mental Misadventures Of Ed Grimley

When I was in high school, I was completely mental over this show. So mental in fact, that this very blog's mooches its title from it. My friend Kasey Crowe (Kasey! Where are you?) and I would watch it, tape it, quote it, LIVE IT every week and for years I thought I was the only one (since Kasey's obviously missing) who remembered and kept a wee votive candle lit for the return of this show. And now, I can relive those days because some genius named "Blastaway" on YouTube has posted ALL the episodes. Oh, Blastaway, were you here I'd reward you with a tuna casserole with lots of paprika, I must say. We'd talk about Pat Sajak and the art of playing the triangle.

So, for those of you that have no idea what I'm talking about, watch 'em. Watch 'em all. See the adventures of Ed and Moby and Count Floyd and LIVE IT with me.

Holiday Howdy

It occurs to me that I have no idea who reads this blog thing. I have a feeling my mom knows the address (hi mom!) and I know Henry reads it daily and there's a few others that I frequently see commenting, but who else is out there?

Do me a solid and comment to me with your name and your dream Christmas present. Who knows...maybe there are just six of you! (A very important, stylish, and classy six, to be sure.)

Donate Your Bone Marrow

How easy is this?

National Bone Marrow Donor Program

No needles, no waiting. Just an easy way to register to help save a life. And at this time of year when we're all spending on our loved ones, a cost of $52 to cover the tissue typing seems rather paltry.

For a full rundown, see this post on Bag Snob.

You Don't Bring Me Flowers

Look Into My Eyes
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

I've brought you these roses. They're dying...just like I am for you.

(Scary album cover from Worst Anal Bum Covers.)

We Have Been Forsaken

It pains me that the extravaganza that is the El Vez Christmas Show didn't come to STL this year. Nothing kicks off my holiday season better than a thousand costume changes.

Man Sticks Arm In Dolphin...On Porpoise!

He did it just for the halibut.





Henny Youngman has now left the building.

2007 Wish List

To be added to as opportunities present themselves and in no certain order.

1. For all hipster girls - Cory Kennedy, I'm looking in your direction - to wash their hair and wear less bottom eyeliner. Sure, you've got that whole "I love the thrift store" thing going for you and I suppose most go through that phase, but everytime I see a photo of you lassies I want to Phyto you within an inch of your life. Look how pretty Leigh Lezark looks with her clean and shiny locks! And the bottom eyeliner can work if combined with top eyeliner. I've got high school portraits of me with only the bottom and if I knew then what I know now, I might not cringe each time I see those shots hanging in my parents' house.

2. The swift and sudden snap in which the Bush family, the Hilton sisters, reality TV, the KFed phase, drunken Lindsay Lohan, evil Dick Cheney, the song "Gold Digger" and Jamie Foxx's incessant singing of it, the Iraq fuck-a-thon, Rachel Zoe, TomKat, and all of Scientology just poof from the face of the earth. I think I might actually like reading and hearing the news should that happen. Although nature abhors a vacuum, I'm sure there'd be a good day or so in there. And yes, I'm aware of my grouping of inane, fluffy things with weighty matters, but they've all contributed to my general frustration in the last year and it's probably best if this doesn't turn into an OAA Rants About How Much She Hates The Government blog. There's enough of those out there and I'm trying to limit my use of the F-word knowing that HeyDanEvans' mom-in-law might be reading.

3. A bicycle. Is it so wrong to want a bicycle?

4. A completed first floor of the caboose. This includes painting, bathrooming, box springing, and baseboarding. I just long for the day when the house looks presentable and must, must, must take a more active role in this pursuit.

5. A trip to NYC to visit Lynnie. I miss Lynnie and want to see her for girly fun involving Park Bar, shoe shopping, and brunches.

6. Juh-may-cuh trip. Humphrey misses me. I just know it.

7. All my friends to get married near me. I know this sounds evil and selfish and I'm sincerely really really really happy for all of them because they're all wonderful and astonishingly good people and deserve all the love and joy in the world and I honestly like traveling, but for the past seven years I haven't had one without a wedding out of town. So, let's keep getting married and keep falling in love, but let's do it all within a 100 mile radius of the STL. I'm getting old and lazy and want to save my money to go back to Europe...and what, isn't there enough love in the STL?

8. World peace. Lame answer? Sure. Honest? Yeah.

9. To see "Talladega Nights" so that people will quit asking me if I've seen it and then acting like I'm mentally deranged because I haven't.

My Personal Version Of Hell

Those that know me know that I am really not a fan of musicals. One could go so far as to say I hate them. Now, there are times I like the idea of the musical - Disney movies like "Alice in Wonderland" or "Robin Hood", for example - but the whole "I'm mad and now I'm going to siiiiiiinng about it" element of Broadway fare irks me. So, it is with no surprise that occasionally samples from this loathed genre pop into my head and won't go away. Today is one such day. And here's what's trapped in there:

"It's a Jolly 'olliday with Mary" (or whatev that song's called), "I Feel Pretty", and, wait for it, "Memory" from everyone's favorite feline fiasco.

"Jolly 'olliday" is leading the pack in brain plays. I hate you, Mary Poppins! You and your cockney kiss ass!

OAA's Recipe Corner

I used to work for Monsanto (a.k.a. The Evil Empire). The pay was too good to resist! Plus, I gathered most of my snowglobe collection making deals with employees - I'll submit your expense report if you bring me back a snowglobe. It was a perfect arrangement. Plus, I met some wonderful people there that I've been wildly remiss in calling (Jess & Boo, Aimee & Craig, Stephen, Mikelyn, I'm thinking of you!). So, in tribute to those really fun days of yore ("Take A Letter, Maria", for example), here's a recipe that I literally had to pry out of the cafeteria workers in the AA building. This was a sauce served with their Build-Your-Own-Taco-Salad day extravaganza. 85% of my personally built taco salad was this sauce. Serve it with burritos, nachos, and other foods that end in "O".

Monsanto Secret Sauce (No Animals Were Harmed In The Making Of This Recipe)
1/2 teaspoon of lemon juice
2 cups of mayo
1 cup of sour cream
2 tablespoons of onion salt
1/2 tablespoon of garlic powder
1/2 tablespoon of paprika
2 teaspoons of chili powder
1 teaspoon of Tobasco
1 tablespoon of worsteschesteschire sauce

Oh. Mmmm. It's freakishly good.

She Wants To Lick My Ear

She Wants To Lick My Ear
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Contessa Elenora von Tinypants (that's the dog) was a special guest star at work for a few days this week. She's since been adopted, but I'll be damned if she wasn't the lovin'est dog in the land. So sweet and so licky! She succeeded licking my ear, by the way. I was so focused on getting her to look at the camera, her stealth tongue caught me off guard.

Naughty Needles Almost Here!

Only four more days until the knitting world is turned on its ear! Naughty Needles by the multi-talented, incredibly sweet, eternally huggable Nikol Lohr will be released on December 19th so save some of that present money for a present for yourself. Plus, for all the OAA fans out there that just can't get enough knitwear, here's a glimpse of me and the girl-crush-worthy Taylor on the back cover modeling the super soft knee socks.

Hell, since you're already just dying to know what's inside the book (after all, it's first name is "naughty") why not zip on over to Amazon and add it to your burgeoning box of holiday gifts, but don't mix this up with the Agatha Christie DVDs you ordered for Nana. She might get the wrong idea.

Top 5 Christmas Carols

Christmas Carols

1. "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas"
Sweet, sad, sappy, and sung by Judy Garland. Her name is "garland", a key component of holiday decorating. It's all so perfect.
2. "Christmastime is Here"
"Lights please."
3. "White Christmas"
I'm not a Bing Crosby fan in the least (I like to call him "Glazed Doughnut"), but I've surmounted that loathing to love this song so it must be good.
4. "Glooooooooooooooooria, in excelsis deo"
I just love that part of that song. I love it so much it's removed all the rest of the song from my mind. I have no idea what the song title is, but the only part is that part.
5. "Deck The Halls"
Not only the Christmas theme song of interior decorators everywhere, but the perkiest chorus. You can't help but belt out "DECK!" when that thing starts.

Honorable Mention
"O Tannenbaum"
Because it's stuck in my head year-round, it's not really counting as a Christmas song, but it's a great melody.

Awww...They're In Love

Awww...They're In Love
Originally uploaded by Old Aunt Amy.

Congratulations to my dear old friend and her lucky, lucky husband. Pixy Stix for EVERYONE!

Sad Songs They Say *sniff* So *whimper* Much (Insert Bawling Here)

In what certainly comes as a surprise to no one, "The Drugs Don't Work" by The Verve has been named the saddest song ever according to a real bona fide doctor.

I've always known this was the saddest song ever as I can't listen to it without crying and I've heard it a million times. It reminds me of when Sam died and I played it for Tyra and the two of us just bawled like little children over the thing. So, just for those who've missed out on this tearfilled gem, here's the lyrics:

All this talk of getting old
It's getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown
This time I'm comin' down

And I hope you're thinking of me
As you lay down on your side
Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

But I know I'm on a losing streak
'Cause I passed down my old street
And if you wanna show, then just let me know
And I'll sing in your ear again

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

'Cause baby, ooh, if heaven calls, I'm coming, too
Just like you said, you leave my life, I'm better off dead

All this talk of getting old
It's getting me down my love
Like a cat in a bag, waiting to drown
This time I'm comin' down

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

'Cause baby, ooh, if heaven calls, I'm coming, too
Just like you said, you leave my life, I'm better off dead

But if you wanna show, just let me know
And I'll sing in your ear again

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

Yeah, I know I'll see your face again

I know this sad song thing is utterly subjective depending on mood and timing and lyrics and melody, but this and, like, "I Am Stretched On Your Grave" or "Anachie Gordon" are the saddest of all time. So, all six of you, what are your saddest songs?

Remember, It's Two Hours Behind Us Part Deux

DAY FOUR, PART TWO - SANTA!
After tracking down David's "Born In East LA" pad and checking out their roof lawn we headed to Santa Monica where we did a little shopping (Zara! Club Monaco!) and a little buying and a lot of eating at a crepe restaurant featuring Le Sass as our waiter. Henry somehow downed a sandwich and a Parisian hot dog (wooden leg?) and we all had a lovely lovely. Then, back to our little corner of The Standard's Purple Lounge for drinks. They're not lying when they say it's purple. Oh, it's that and then some. Our server, Dana, was a charmer in a totally approachable kinda way and the DJ played "Thriller". C'mon. That's a place I know I'm going to love. While there, some of us drank more than others. Those some of us were the ones that had the map and were living in town for nearly a month. Those of us that quit drinking and started on the juice had never been to LA before and were suddenly the DD after discovering that a certain boy gets rather giggly and another becomes Sleeping Beauty following copious amounts of brown liquor. So, crash course in LA geography and some map fumbling with Gigglepuss got us to East LA and we returned unharmed.
Exhausted sleeping ensues after the administration of aspirin and water and repeated vows to never do that again.

DAY FIVE - OUT HERE THEY CALL IT AAAHHHHT, DAHLING
Oooh, The Getty. THE GETTY! David met us for breakfast at our cafe (omelet this time with mushrooms, herbs, and swiss. Oh, sigh.) and off we went to art it up. The tram up to the museum is art in and of itself. The rooms, the art, the gardens, the so adorable guards. I always thought the best part of the Getty legacy was Balthazar, but I was quite wrong. The best part is that museum. Plus, I learned to date a cabinet so now I've got a new trade!
Then what? Well, back to the beach, bitches! This time, we went to the real water where I got to run around and splash and pick up stones and watch the sunset. I could do that every day. Every. Single. Day.
Then, the hangovers demanded food so we went back to Sunset and ended up going for Mexican, but were denied by the blaring hair metal. So, we went boy's choice at House of Blues. (Note: not my choice. At this point I wanted enchiladas and copious amounts of sour cream and HOB is not now or ever going to cut it.) But, boys wanted steak. So, we wait and discover The Cars are playing! Well, the new Cars, not the used Cars. These cars aren't driven by Ocasek but rather some fill-in guy. Oh, and they were out of steak. (?)
Exhausted sleeping ensues after half watching television and wishing it were Sunday (Twisted Sister played HOB on Sunday!).

DAY SIX - THE BREAK UP
We'd been a little sick, stomachly speaking. Plus, it was our last day and time was of the essence. So, the boys and me split up and they went for film dork escapades and I ate breakfast (where?) at the cafe at The Standard. (Eggs over hard this time, nosy.) Then, I put the top down and headed for Beverly Hills (swimmin' pools, movie stars). I was surprised by an LA stereotype in the elevator (pulled taut and veloured) when she turned out to be surprisingly sweet. Did you know you can park for free in Beverly Hills? Free! I headed to Emporio Armani for something special for my dad who loves their logo (and knowing that there's precious little in BH I could ever afford for anyone else) and I saw my first real celebrity! Chanice Kobolowski! Better known to some as Amy Madigan! I complimented her on her glasses and she thanked me and then lamented the fact that aging dictates their necessity (a real celebrity that admits to aging! who's still holding on to a hot husband! I loved this Chanice!). What's going on in this land called LA? Polite plastic surgery women? Sweet famous people? Free Beverly Hills parking? Hoity hotel filled with nice? And it gets better???
Oh yes, dear readers. It gets better.
Maliboooooo!
After meeting up for a trip to Venice Beach (ugh. Homeless hippies.) and a visit to Marina Del Rey where we reenacted "Arrested Development" and ate frozen bananas,

we kissed David goodbye and headed off for our dinner up the coast at Duke's. Yeah, it's fancy, but you can wear jeans there and prices aren't insane and Elaine, your server, is quite perky and man, does it have the best view. In LA or going? Go there. It was far better than House of Blues (wow. there's a ringing endorsement.). While dining, I was texted by dear Sam Humphries of MySpace fame with the time and place of our meeting. Still feeling a bit illish, we muddled through and dolled ourselves up for Jones on Santa Monica to meet two of my favorite boys. We met Sam who definitely brought his hair for hugs and banter as poor Henry began sinking in health and knew it was his time. He headed back to the hotel after a round of goodbyes which left me there with Sam awaiting the arrival of THE HeyDanEvans. (How giddy was I? Dan and Sam? Wha? Chanice, you got nothing on them boys!) After Dan's arrival and another round of hugs, I tried Southern Comfort for the first (and last) time and chatted with these two internet friends who are just as sweet and charming in real life as they are online. And I have to take this time to give a shout out to one of my six readers - HeyDanEvans' mother-in-law! He confessed that she actually reads my blog so hey there HeyDanEvans' mother-in-law!!! I'll try to minimize the cursing! And you've got a plum of a son-in-law! You give him a hug for me once in a while, won't you?
So, after a wonderful evening with two wonderful boys, the kind Samuel returned me to my hotel.
Exhausted sleep ensues after crossing my fingers and toes for HeyDanEvans' meeting the next day.

DAY SEVEN - LUCKY ME
Eggsadilla for breakfast. See how I broke that up? Learned how good it was on the first day, but didn't over do it by ordering it each morning so my yen was far greater by the end? Yeah, I'm a genius. We bid farewell to our Standard boys. Packed all the suitcases full to bursting, dropped off my new car (bye Sebring!), and dragged ourselves into LAX for the wait. One chai tea, order of Chili's fries, and mulling over foreign magazines later, and we were on the plane and headed for 14 degree weather.
Exhausted sleep ensues after lugging in the bags, going through the mail, eating the pizza my parents left for us, and realizing that LA really is a nice place after all.

Sidebar: James Spader's on "Seinfeld" tonight in a 31 Flavors uniform. God. He's even delicious in that.

Hardest Parts: Not quoting "Uncle Buck" to Chanice. Leaving Jeff and Justin at The Standard along with those freaking good eggsadillas. Not getting more time with Sam and HeyDanEvans. Wishing there were millions in the account for the countless coats I found shopping.

Easiest Parts: Dollar Rent-a-Car, The Standard, hanging with Steph and Chris and Jennifer and Kevin (could they be better friends?), meeting Sam and Dan, hanging out with David, and the ocean. Oh, that ocean. That ocean's really some kinda something.

EPILOGUE - NAILED
After fighting it and running from it for days, I finally got it. Stomach flu. Friday night. All night. Sick, sick, sick. And I'm still not quite there. The broccoli cheddar soup I just ate really wants to see James Spader firsthand. But I'm keeping my mouth closed so too bad, soup. You'll just have to use your imagination.

Remember, It's Two Hours Behind Us

So we've returned. And to delight you, here are the highlights.

DAY ONE - COACH.
Flight at noonish cancelled after a long trek to a snowy/icy airport. Lines long as football fields make Henry a twitchy boy. After being diverted to a flight after the wedding on Saturday, the emergency Red Phone (not for launching nukes) gets us on a flight out that evening. Afternoon stuck in snowy St. Louis is spent taking photos of sky/trees and lunching followed by reparking, relining up, security, boarding, and flying.
Arrival at RIO Casino and Seventh Ring of Hell marked by the screaming of drunken harpies from the Midwest and a nearly mile long trek to our room in the Vomitorium Tower, the entry to which is randomly enforced by an armed security guard (I suppose to keep the drunken riff-raff limited to those with room keys. Such a relief.).
Return to the bowels of the harpies and satyrs for an $11 hamburger for Henry and distracted staring at the ugliest handbag I've ever seen for me. Endless reminders that Vegas isn't such a bad place, if you're staying at THEhotel.
Exhausted sleep ensues after discovering that the mirror/artwork on the wall doubles as a window to the shower.

DAY TWO - WEDDED BLISS!
Spago's egg salad sandwich is nowhere near as good as mine but dining in the Forum Shops is a surreal experience as I half expect nearly all of the decorations to come to life and regale me with tales of Roman times when faux pashmina was just $10 at the kiosk outside Louis Vuitton and Pete Rose signed autographs in the Sports Den on the second level.
Hooray for Jennifer and Kevin! Yes, Virginia, you can get married in Vegas without a drive-thru window! It was a lovely, perfectly brief ceremony filled with sweet words and happy faces. What more could one ask for?
Caesar's $11 Scotch was a good pre-ceremony warm up as the weather was windy and cold, but that didn't stop one misguided soul from splashing about in the pool.
Following the ceremony was milling during which Henry discovered the softness of James Perse and I realized that Vegas' Anthropologie may be the best in the nation. We both ran away from the "living statues" at breakneck speed and drank giant lemonades.
And then it was reception time (break it down). It was family style which, to be honest, was the perfect way to eat the 300lbs. of Asian food served to the group. Oh, flowing wine and water! Oh, cake brought in on a plane with delicately sparkling icing! Oh, don't make me eat mayo shrimp again!
Plus, Baby Ruth was located in the fish tank and appropriately fawned over by the bride and me.

Exhausted sleep ensues after visiting the cowboy casino and discovering where the cheap beer's been hiding.

DAY THREE - ADIOS, AMIGOS
Fran at Dollar Rent-a-Car is an angel straight from heaven and you get to PICK your car at Dollar. They don't make you take the stupid HHR. You can decide which car you want to spend the week with. No forcing! No, really! I can't recommend it enough and hereby swear to you, my six readers, that I will forever be loyal to the Dollar Rent-a-Car for as long as I can drive, or until they piss me off, whichever comes first.
After we pick out our rental car (greenish-grey Sebring convertible which I want now), we pack our ridiculous amounts of luggage into the back seat and head off for the dee-zert.
There's an exit called Zzyzx out there. Seriously. It's an exit and a street and a town called Zzyzx. Not nearly fast enough to take a photo but here's the wiki.
Drive, drive, drive.
Giant ravens in the dee-zert that I wanted to ensnare with shiny things and keep as pets which would not only be ill-advised, but might also cause a stir at The Standard.
Oh, The Standard! It was lovely. Don't believe the haters. We had a wonderful time there. But I'll get to that as it comes along.
First thing's first in LA - In-N-Out Burger for Henry! Now, I'm not a meat eater so I don't see what the fuss is all about, but I watched him eat two Double Doubles and an order of fries. If that's not love, I don't know what is. The grilled cheese (cheeseburger minus burger) wasn't the best I've ever had (Hardee's/Carl's Jalapeno Thickburger minus burger rules) and their fries, although I appreciate the freshness and all, tasted a wee bit like shoestring potatoes. The vanilla shake gets two thumbs, however.
Check in at the artsy-fartsy and everyone was such an absolute peach - not one iota of haughtiness - that I was immediately in love with The Standard. Although our room did have an odd scent, it was overcome with patio door opening and my travel candle. The platform bed was quite comfy and the bright orange tile was bracing. Only drawback was the fact that their toilet didn't have a lid and I'm a bit of a spiller.
Exhausted sleep ensues after marvelling at the Ignignot glowing billboard just across Sunset.

DAY FOUR - PLEASE DON'T TOUCH THE MCQUEEN
After breakfast at my favorite hotel (order the eggsadilla. Seriously.),

we headed to Skin + Bones at MOCA. First, there's architecture which is cool. Then there's fashion like this

which, I think we all know, is way better than anything Comme des Garcons ever put out there (yeah, the bumps dresses were incorporated). Don't worry, I bought the commemorative book. Come over and we'll bitch about the fact that there was far too much Toledo and Teng for my liking.
Gifts purchased, top down, we head off to meet David...

(Next time on Blogging OAA Style, tune in for the New Cars, Maliboo!, and Chanice Kobolowski.)