Whoops!

I don't think I have always been clumsy. I'm sure my parents will read this and beg to differ, but I honestly don't remember being so accident prone when I was younger. It all started when I was about fourteen, and after that, it seemed like I landed myself in the emergency room for something new every year after.

In October 2001, I suffered my first major injury: I broke my arm. In half. Go big or go home right? I was at my Dad's union picnic where they had all sorts of fun carnival rides and games, including one they called a "Bungee Run." It's one of those inflatable games, that looks like a giant bowling alley. You strap a bungee cord around your stomach and then you run down the lane, jump up, and let the bungee cord snap you back to the ground. Sounds fun right? Well it totally was! I loved it like the first four times I did it. My whole family thought it was hysterical. Turns out though, the fifth time wasn't quite as fun as it was before...

All I remember is trying to run as fast as I could, so the cord would really whip me back. What I obviously did not take into consideration was that my left arm might twist behind me, causing me to land on top of it, creating a pretty loud *snap*. Huh, that didn't sound right. It's clear that at the point I went into shock, because I don't remember pain, I just remember knowing I needed a medic, and I needed one ASAP. The color must have drained from my face, because the game attendant could clearly see that something was wrong, and I needed help. They chauffeured me to a bench where I waited for the strapping medic to cycle down on his bike. Man was he hot! My fourteen year old self was quite upset at the fact that I was not having a better hair day.The medic decided that since I couldn't move my arm, my shirt needed to be cut off, to better examine what he thought might have been a dislocated shoulder. That's when the tears started rolling. I swear I was totally in control, until he took giant scissors and sliced right down the middle of my favorite San Francisco 49ers shirt. There was no stopping the waterworks then.

After some discussion with my parents, and whatever things needed to be said to make sure I didn't sue the location, I was strapped to a gurney and taken to the hospital in an ambulance. My broken arm was apparently not "life threatening" enough to warrant sirens and lights, so I had to just lay in the back in silence. Booooring. When we arrived at the hospital they wheeled me in, and in typical Emergency Room fashion, they asked me to please get up from the gurney and go sit in the waiting room to be helped. I bet those sirens would have gotten me some VIP service... Lots of X-rays and Vicodin later I was put into my parents car and sent home with my arm secured in a sling, strapped to my chest. My arm had broken in half right under my shoulder, and then my shoulder dropped so the two pieces of the bone were sitting right next to each other. That's the kind of thing you get to go to an orthopedic surgeon for! I woke up in my bed a couple hours later, and that's when the excruciating pain set in. Chocolate milk laced with some Vicodin and I was in and out of consciousness the rest of the night.

Luckily a few days later they were able to get me into surgery, where they had to cut open my arm to push the bones back together and then stick three pins in to hold it in place while it heeled. The pins had to stay in my arm for six weeks or so, where they stuck out from my shoulder, Frankenstein style. So with my new metal hump of a shoulder and a sling I was able to go back to school a week later. I quickly found out that no cast means people not considering it a real injury. This lead to not a single one of my friends offering to be my official back pack carrier. What kind of demented teenager wouldn't want to leave class early and arrive late to their next one? Or at the very least help their supposed bestie... Oh wait, that would be my sucky ass high school friends. They didn't want to "miss anything" in class. Should have dumped them then instead of having to deal with the devastating break up four years later, but eh, that's a whole different story. I survived carrying my own backpack.

The pins were pretty gnarly, and I absolutely refused to look at them while they were sticking out of my arm. They had to be cleaned every few days and I left that up to my Dad, he was pretty stoked on how grotesque it looked. I remember the first time we took the bandage off I was sitting in the bathroom with my eyes shut and head turned the other way, and all the sudden I was noticing flashing lights. "Are you taking pictures?!" "Absolutely", my Dad responded, "This is gross. Gotta show the guys at work." Faaaabulous. Six weeks later I went back to the Doctor where he pulled the pins out, which surprisingly barely hurt at all, and I was left with a weak arm in need of physical therapy, and a pretty sweet scar.

Years later the scar has faded a lot, but it's still there and pretty noticeable. It doesn't bother me at all, except sometimes it stings when it gets cold. That's right, almost Harry Potter status! Jealous? When people notice it, I get all sorts of different reactions. Everyone always wants to know what happened. to which I usually reply, "got knifed, you should see the other guy." Every once and a while people ask me why I don't keep it covered or suggest that I should use make up to make it less apparent. First off, I am not as offended by my scar as you obviously are, and second of all, I can barely get myself together to get makeup on my face every day, there is no way I'm going to sit and paint it on my arm. I'm lazy, remember? Plus the scar adds to my personality and I like it! I can't even remember life without a scarred shoulder...

And why would I want to, life's been pretty sweet since then. Plus I hear after nine emergency room visits, you get the tenth for free!

For G.G, With Love

It miraculously seems like I pulled it off. Somehow I managed to think up seven designs, sew them together, and get every single one of them down a runway. I'm still not sure how any of this happened, but I know that there were A LOT of people who made it possible. This whole past month has only proved to me that I quite possibly have the best family and friends in the world, and I'm sorry to get a little mushy, but I think it's necessary to thank them...right now...on this blog.

Most importantly, this line was for my grandmother G.G, without whom I wouldn't have ever learned to sew or swear at that god damn machine quite so eloquently. I wish she could have been here to see it, I think despite the many flaws and mistakes, she still would have been proud. I'll always be thinking of her when I'm attempting to sew something together, made with love....and then blood, sweat and tears. Of course.

This past month has been an insane blur, I'm still confused on how it all came together. But I know I owe the people who put up with me on a daily basis BIIIIG time. My parents are obviously amazing, always believing in me, for who knows what reason. My Dad taking me to the garment district, and just calmly watching as I had a "light orange pink, but not too pink, but not too orange" fabric meltdown. Then walking with me to store after store searching for the perfect blue khaki, only to finally decide the fabric I had passed up a thousand times, was actually exactly what I was looking for. Oh those crazy designers! My Mom for ripping the seams in all the mistakes I made, and cutting my patterns out of fabric. She even let my "sewing studio" explode all over her dinning room table for a week...and not once did she ever complain about the mess.


My sister Ally, and Nath for spending an entire 28 hours straight with me, the day before it was all due, cutting threads, ripping seams, and keeping me company. All though they were wary about it, they even let me have my coffee equipped with caffeine shots twice in one day. (Decaf is for babies!) But more than likely that was for their own benefit, I saw all the smiling and laughing as I mumbled things incoherently in my cracked out state. Those 28 hours were sleepless and rough, and I'm grateful that they stuck by my side as there definitely was a moment where I ended up crouched in a ball, in tears. I was going to throw it all away and give up, and they told me I had to power through. In that dark moment, somewhere amongst all my panic, Ally was able to MacGyver me an invisible zipper foot, basically saving the day (or reaaaally early morning). I was ready to just call all the outfits "backless." Zipperless and unfinished...new up and coming fashion trend! Watch out!

But most of all I think I have to thank Kimi. This would have never happened without her. Between her button sewing, zipper creating, hook and eye attaching, and knack for laying down the rules, I would not have had a single item to bring in that Monday morning. She sat up the entire night with me. From 6pm until 7am the next morning when I put all my garments on hangers and walked out the door. She even co piloted a 3am Walgreen's run, for duct tape and crazy glue. And at 5 am, when all I wanted to do was stalk people on facebook, she made it blatantly clear how irresponsible that was, and ordered me to keep sewing. So I did. Sew. Sew. Sew. Throughout this entire process she has been there to answer my stupid color and cut questions, and to okay every design decision I made. (So if you hated it all, blame KIMI!) Juuust kidding. If you didn't like it, you can suck it. So thanks once again to my buddy. Love, your pal.

Thanks also to Nicole who brought over her machine for me to borrow, even if i did maybe break it (which if it needs to be fixed, you better let me pay for it!) All of my models who looked absolutely beautiful, but especially Chelsea and Melissa, who let me practically molest them in alterations, and helped cut threads when I was adjusting everything. Plus they made me laugh. I needed it for the small amount of sanity I kept. Sammie, obvs, for just being her, and for enthusiastically loving all my clothes, even when they were still in muslin. Oh yeah, and for attempting to dress me. But really just humoring me in wearing the ridiculous outfit I picked out. Thanks to everyone who came out and supported the show, my brothers for being my professional photographers (even if you seemed a little too interested in the nipple pictures you got). And lastly to all of you who wished me good luck! It meant a lot to me that you even remembered it was happening. But then again I have been blogging, facebooking, and tweeting about it for a month now, so maybe there was no way you could forget.

I am so relieved that it's all over. I can't believe all of that work just disappeared in a quick four hours, but it was well worth it. Unfortunately for you all I did not trip down the runway, but apparently this was the face I decided to go with. I just couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do, wave? I'm not a princess or a celebrity. Clap? It seemed a little too "go me!". So obviously halfway sticking my tongue out was the appropriate middle ground. Sometimes I really am such a goon. But a goon with some amazing people in her life, so thanks again to EVERYONE! (especially my loyal readers, you guys are pretty freaking cool. i promise less sewing stress means more fun bloggin!)

t minus 7 days!

i have pretty much had no life the past couple of weeks except: cut. sew. rip it out. do it again. cut. sew. rip it out. do it again. third time's the charm? try twentieth time.

my fingers are sore, and sick of being pricked with pins and needles, my wrists can barely hold my steroid infused scissors, and the only things i ever think about are zippers, buttons, thread, and that awful zig sag stitching.

oh that wretched zig zag stitching.



but i'm gonna power through! the fashion show is in ONE WEEK!! i officially have four days to finish all my garments. yiiiiikes.

there just isn't enough time in the day, i might even have to reschedule my birthday, which sucks. who knew that 23 years later i would be kicking myself for being so impatient and popping out six weeks early. although april is the absolute BEST month, i'm thinking it wouldn't be so bad to be a may baby right about now...

ONE MORE WEEK! and i will get my life back. ONE MORE WEEK! and i will finally be able to see the floor in my room. ONE MORE WEEK! and i can sleeeeeeeeep. ONE MORE WEEK! and i can do something stupid, hopefully resulting in a hysterical story to share with you all.

ONE MORE WEEK! see ya'll when i emerge on the flipside!

Maxi Don't

For some outrageously ridiculous reason I have had the urge to write a lot about fashion recently. Go and figure. Must be the anticipation of having to figure out my life's career soon, cynical fashion critic is a real job right? Hope so, because that is pretty much all I am good at. Well, not to completely belittle myself, I have been known to sew a dress or two, or a whole seven for a line, debuting in two weeks, *cough cough* ya'll should come out to the show. Arpil 22nd: Runway Nouvelle 7:30pm...go buy your tickets! www.brownpapertickets.com

Now that my shameless plugging is out of the way I know you are all excited to hear about my latest rant: Maxi Dresses.

That's right, those long empire waist-ed, flow-y dresses that fall straight to the floor. The ones you probably see women every where wearing, walking around and tripping over their hems. I loathe these... for many reasons, but I'll just briefly go over a few, and then we can address my major concern with a little anecdote. Firstly, I think we should keep floor length gowns for formal occasions, it's weird to see women frolicking around in these flowered frocks during the day. It confuses me. I also think they make even the skinniest girl look pregnant. Maybe it's just me, but that's definitely not something I strive for when getting dressed every morning. I do understand that I am a bit biased, with my extreme infatuation with my legs, of course I would never chose a dress that hid them in yards of shapeless length, but despite that one fault against me, I think it is safe to say that this is a trend not suitable for the masses.

My final and most important reason is that maxi dresses are a HUGE SAFETY HAZARD, and I will tell you why. Before I begin this story, I would like to give a quick shout out to my mother. Sorry Mom, I hope you can forgive me for what I am about to do. I think though, you will understand that this is a situation people need to be aware of, and hopefully by now you can appreciate the humor and necessity in my sharing the story with the eight other people who read my blog. Together we are protecting them from the perils they could possbily face on a daily basis. We are informing them and practically saving their lives.

With that in mind let me talk a little bit about my beloved Mother. She, unlike me, has a great sense of style and knows how to dress herself very well. Despite her also having great legs, she wears a lot of long skirts, but they work for her, and she always looks very classy and put together. While I do not have quite the same issue with long skirts as I do with maxi dresses, (they are MUCH more flattering), they still provide the same safety risks. My parents were out together enjoying a simple evening of dinner and leisurely shopping, when all the sudden my mother's night took a turn for the worst.

As they stepped onto the escalator of a department store to make their descend down to the lower level, my Mom's skirt got caught in the vicious teeth of those moving stairs. As the escalator continued to go down so did my Mom's skirt as the monstorous machine started to devour it. My dad being the hero he is, immediately hit the emergency stop button at the end of the escalator, as my Mom crouched there, stuck, in what was left of her skirt. Had my Father not been so quick thinking who knows what would have happened. So for the next forty minutes or so my Mom stood there, in the middle of the department store, wrapped in a sheet, while my Dad took apart the escalator. That's right, you read correctly, MY DAD took apart the escalator. The store maintenence team was was apparently comprised of a few of the duller tools in the shed. Their ingenious plan was to turn the escalator on backwards, so the skirt would just slip out....right?! Uhhhmmm I don't think so. So unfortunately my Mom had to stand there, embarrassed I'm sure, but hopefully enjoying some of the humor of the situation (as I am really hoping she is now...eeek) Apparently the cherry on top of this sundae of fun was the out of town couple who stood there the entire time, enjoying the "show" while chowing down on their dairy queen cones. Hello, this isn't a zoo!! She can see you! They obviously hailed from a town where tact is not an important life lesson.

In the end the department store gave my Mom a new skirt for free, one because their escalator absolutely destroyed her skirt, but let's be honest, it was more than likely because they were embarassed at the incompetence of their maintenance team. Thank god my Dad is a handy guy, otherwise that could have been a really long and even more dangerous evening. Thanks Mom, for being you, being amazing, and being just as ridiculous as me, so when I have a lame week, I can still laugh at something funny. You're the best, and hopefully you still love me after this. Moral of the story: don't wear maxi dresses. Not only do they most likely make you look fat, they can get caught in escalators and ripped off. And that would suck. If unfortunately you cannot resist...you have been warned....ride escalators at your own risk...

Why Everyone Hates Me.

Almost every friendship I have ever had has begun with the other person saying, "I thought you hated me when I first met you." Let me tell you why:

First off sarcasm and a dry sense of humor do not really make for a great first impression. In fact they mix together to create a horrible one, usually resulting in everyone thinking I am a huge bitch. Which, although I can have my moments, I can assure you that most of the time I am pretty genuinely nice. Second, I am very shy, therefore making me seem uncomfortable and awkward when meeting new people. Again, to someone I have never met before, this translates to me being snobby, and uninterested. In reality I am probably extremely intrigued by you and therefore intimidated beyond belief. My mind is most likely racing to try and come up with something impressive to say, usually this is overturned by my nerves and ends in an epic fail.

These two characteristics present the basis of my problem, but what really seals the deal together is the lack of control I have over my facial expressions. That's right, this beautiful face of mine gets me into A LOT of trouble, and never the good kind. I guess nothing about the way my normal expression looks says "Hey! Be my friend!" It is really difficult for me to walk around smiling all the time and not looking creepy. It does not come natural to me at all. I just can't look like this every day:

I mean that is smile deserving of a special occasion, and I can't justify wasting it on something as mundane as walking to and from class. So I have to settle and accept that I'll never be that person that just exudes happiness, in fact on a regular day, I probably look something more like this:


Why no one wants to befriend that, I'll never know.

While those lovely faces prevent me from making friends, the worst of all are the facial expressions that ruin my friendships. Apparently my expressions are an open book, and whatever I am thinking in my head is easily read through that look on my face. So the entire time someone is blabbing about something absolutely absurd and ridiculous, as I am thinking what an idiot they are, my face is shouting that same sentiment right at them. I'm also sure the eye rolling I can never control, doesn't really help either. I suppose acting will never be a possible career choice for me. Oh well, cross that off the list.


My ingenious solution is to spend some time training to perfect this problem. I plan to sit in front of a mirror, while someone shouts possible scenarios at me, and I struggle to keep my face straight and blank. Then obviously I'll spend at least an hour a day doing smiling exercises. Other than that, I can't really think of a way to come off as friendlier. Maybe I'll try telling silent jokes to myself and laughing as much as possible. Would it be better to come off as a mentally crazy person, or an uber bitch? Tough decision...

Stupid Retail Question of the Day

(me: "I'm sorry, we don't have any mediums left in our stockroom.")

"So you're saying that you only stock XXL's in those pants?"

Yep. We carry medium in EVERY other item in the store except THIS ONE. This one we only carry in XXL for fun. It's just a big tease to keep you on your toes, and looks like it worked this time...gotcha!

No sir, that's not what I am saying at all. See funny thing happens here. We put these products out onto the floor, and then people come in, try them on, enjoy the way they look, and then they buy them! It's crazy! Plus sometimes, we keep the same items on the floor for over a month, and throughout that time period MULTIPLE people come in, and try things on and then buy them. And even more spooky, occasionally multiple people come in, try on, and buy the SAME thing...in the SAME size. It's clear to me that you are not familiar with the term "sold out," that's what happens when all of one item in one size disappears. So I apologize for not having the shiny spandex pants that your wife wanted so badly, but please don't address me like a child, with your attitude. It's not my fault your wife can't be original and pick something out that 500 other medium sized women haven't already bought.