The Monday that came too soon.

Today I had planned on visiting Policecop's parents, bearing the gift of magical cupcakes. Things didn't turn out as a co-worker fell ill and I had to cover but in the end it's all good. Working today gave my bank account a little extra oompfh! and fun times were had. The dish boy was nearly stabbed, but only nearly, which is the most important part of that story, which moral is do not eff with the boss lady's thanksgiving benedict. Ever.
I'm having grammatical insecurities regarding that last sentence, but it stays.

After work for whatever reason I went into experimental-daring-let's-change-something-mode, and settled on red hair dye. Let me say beforehand that I have done this before...it only turns my roots bright red, the rest stays dark. Do I like this effect? Not really. Do I repeat this mistake over, and over again at least three times a year? Yes. Did I think it might just be different this time around? I plead the 5th.

In the end, while the dying process left me in a state of panic as the creme went from gray to fire engine red, the results are not so bad. You get to see it later. Definitely not tonight. I'm haggard.

In preparation for tomorrow (Monday No.2) I decided to plan ahead, to make things easier for myself in the morning by setting the coffee maker. Image No.3 is a clear illustration of how I'm generally not gifted when it comes to "making things easier".

Logic and grace. We aint got none today either.
What do we have? 16 freshly baked cupcakes with nobody to love them...who wants in?

The sum of this weeks parts:

Project birthday has been fully executed. The Most Special Specialist received his cake yesterday evening. Unfortunately the cocoa specialist stencil did not survive the trip, but the important thing is that he enjoyed it. The pinup picture book is en route to Missouri, sent out Wednesday morning. I opted for the +70 cent tracking, which is kind of fun. I get to follow the cross country journey of my knicker-clad self. So far, I've been to Nashua New Hampshire, and Kansas City. I estimate that I will be arriving in Fort LW tomorrow. I had a good time Tuesday night putting the final touches on the album, although seeing the physical prints made me feel a bit nervous/awkward about the whole ordeal. You can't press delete on a glossy print, and you can't guarantee that one lucky(ish) photo technician in Delaware didn't have a really, really good Monday evening. They've seen stranger things though, I'm sure. Right? I'm opting to not think about Mr. John Doe photo technician any further.

After much rifling through my craft boxes, I used some crumpled up metallic silver stock paper I bought at some point, for some purpose which I forget entirely. The beat-ness of them worked in that it added dimension. I love diy present wrapping...this project got me all excited for Christmas.

Moving on...the rest of this week. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were gym days. Last week I decided I liked the Thursday-Friday off schedule. This is based on the fact that come Thursday, I automatically enter I-quit-this-bitch-mode. However, going three days in a row this week wore me out. I'm blaming it on lack of iron (anemia is a BITCH). Although I have noted a difference in my abdominal pudge, the hourglass is making a slow but steady comeback. Pants are fitting better, all is well in the world. Or everything was, until I made that apple cranberry bread pudding at work on Thursday, and had two hearty portions...I know what goes in that stuff because I put it there...it's sad that I can't be ignorant to the dark side of such pleasures. It was so incredibly worth it though. As will be the salt and vinegar Cape Cod chips I'm going to eat after this post. Don't judge, I'm pms-ing. Priorities shift during this time of great need.

As a result of post-work gym sessions and the resulting switch from am to pm showers, I was able to capture rare images of my hair left to its own devices, being too lazy to dry and set it. This sounds trivial, and it is. However, I've been straightening my hair for so long that my co-workers were shocked last week to discover that it was naturally curly...or insane. However you put it, my hair is the embodiment of "amok" without the steady-handed application of 370 degrees farenheit (recently downgraded from 420 degrees). I've been a slave to the iron for a decade now. To the appallment of many I utilized an actual iron...as in clothing iron for years. My hair was mad long and the surface space of an iron allowed me to knock that shit straight in five minutes flat, as opposed to 20...I was just using logic. Any-who-cares, as a follow up to my naked face from a few posts ago, here is my god-given hair, shot in a relatively flattering way. I think I need to learn how to love it. I remember when I first became aware of my awkward hair, in middle school. I went to the salon with my mother for a regular cut and asked how I could make my hair smooth like all the other girl's...we went home with Paul Mitchell Awapuhi spray, which failed to produce results. Jackie...coming to terms with her hair since 1995.
It's like an illegitimate child kept in the closet under the stairs for ten years...kind of hard to deal with.

Anyway, where was I?
While I've devised a solid plan to save money for Policecop's return, after gas and the necessities I have a few bucks that I can have fun with every week. Pleasure purchase of this week: Vintage 70's Gucci (?). Found at Salvation Army for $15. I hadn't been thrifting since before Halloween, and for a lack of better ideas yesterday I figured I'd just go and poke around. I walked straight into this piece as if I knew it was there waiting for me...
After extensive research, I still can't figure out if this bag is the real deal or not. The label inside indicates it's from the Gucci Accessory Collection. This series came about in the 1970's, sold through high-end department stores.
The stitching is impeccable, the lining flawless. My points of concern are as follows:
1- While I could have sworn I had seen this version of the monogram before, I can't find it anywhere on the web. I don't know exactly how to describe it in a search engine, but still...
2-The fabric of the red/green stripe is too thick. Not tight enough to be a real Gucci.
3-While being real leather, the strap is not thick/sturdy enough to be authentic.

At this point, I'm atleast 70% convinced that this is not a real Gucci. HOWEVER:
If it's not the real thing, it is a fact that this is one of the very first Gucci knock-offs...making it approximately 40 years old. I don't know about you, but I find this incredibly neat, and fashionably historic.
If I were extremely serious about this business, I could bring it to the Boston Gucci boutique and have them analyze it for me, but I think I'm all set with that. Having some vapid, high-end sales girl tell me, "this is not real..." is not on my list of wants. I'd rather wonder about the possibilities...
1:The Socialite who bought this purse on a whim and forgot about it entirely. This explains why the lining is impecable. She thought about using it once, but got distracted.
2: Gift to a celebrity. They get so many, value is distorted.
3: A Las Vegas Showgirl knows that Gucci will up her status, she fights nails, teeth, bone, blood...starting off fake doesn't matter, someday she will be bathed in authentic Gucci...

And so on and so forth...if anyone can provide any type of information regarding this mysterious case of vintatge Gucci, please comment with abandon.

Late night birthday cake marathon!

I will start this post by saying I should not be awake right now.
It's 12:45 and I've just finished the final touches on 1/2 of Policecop's birthday surprise, being the cake. The photo album has been entirely sabotaged as one set of brand new Epson cartridges only allowed me to print 10 of the 30 or so photos I needed to complete it. After much toil, I've got the prints on order from cvs.com, to be express shipped to my house. There is just no way I can do an in-store pickup. I need that CVS for cliff bars, tampons, aleve, and rockstar coffee light energy drinks. I can't do something that would compromise my ability to return there freely.
So Policecop gets his gifts in two parts.
The first edition being the cake. I can not share the recipe since it's based on Elliot's. I will say that I tweaked it to my own likings using Earl Grey tea in the batter and in the ganache. Bergamot is the best thing that happened to chocolate since peanutbutter, but nobody knows this yet but my boyfriend and me.
So here is the cake, to be sent tomorrow complete with plastic cutlery and paper plates for sharing. I desperately wanted to get the GI-Joe birthday edition ones, but he pleaded that I refrain. I settled with black.
I had a bit of trouble decorating the cake. This part is always left up to Elliot, and for a good reason. I did the lettering with melted white chocolate. Which was good, since once it solidified I was able to pick up each letter individually and space them in a more aesthetically pleasing manner than my first attempt yielded...it was entirely off balance.
I'm pretty ok with the final product though :) :) :) I give myself atleast 7 points for the specialist stencil. Hopefully wrapped in a thousand layers of parchment, saran, bubble wrap and tissue, it will look decent when it arrives at its destination.
TIME FOR BEEEEDDDD....
zzzz.

Par Amour

Back in July when I started this blog, I had intended for it to be about fashion for the most part. Turns out I'm having a hard time sticking with it. Honestly, while it's fun to post about pretty clothes and sweet finds now and again, it does get incredibly boring. And in excess it feels terribly shallow and quite self-indulgent (taking all those pictures of yourself...). I guess I was not cut out to be a true fashion blogger. I lack the funds, materialism, and ego.

Even the big famous sites are boring the bejesus out of me now...cherry blossom girl, sea of shoes...it's all very nice that you can become famous for being pretty and having the funds to buy new MiuMiu and Margiela every week, documenting the tens of thousands of dollars you've spent on decorating yourself with your fancy dslr camera for the world to see and envy...I've just seen so much of it at this point, it's all the same. Your 10th Chanel bag fails to excite me.
Fashion does still catch my fancy. I'm a sucker for it. I've become a collector of shoes and professional vintage hunter. I will still post about these things when I feel inclined to do so. You'll be hearing about the nifty Christmas dress I found today for $12 later.

I named this blog Red Herring for a reason, being that the phrase means a distraction from the real issue at hand. Not to sound well versed or anything, I picked it up from the Georgia Nicolson book series. Either way, the phrase grew on me and it fit. I started all of this because I figured it would be a good distraction when my boyfriend went to basic training. And it has been. But now we're nearing the end...as of tomorrow, we have only 34 days to go. His return is overriding pretty much every other concern and thought that I entertain on a daily basis.
This whole thing has been nasty tough. Mild ups, incredible downs, tremendous doubt, the whole shebang. I never thought I was cut out to be a military girlfriend, and never wanted to be one...honestly, who really does?

And then I think about him. He's pretty much everything I've ever wanted, even though half of the time I don't know what I want. How he made up for the terrible birthday I had this year. How he held my hand when there was a bear outside of our tent when we went camping in Albany. How he made a heat pad for me out of microwaved towels when I had cramps. How he jumped out from behind the refrigerator to scare me, only to find out that it was my mother coming down the hall...
This soldier is worth 143 days of waiting. If that's not a fact, I don't know what is.

Sans Fards, French Canadian, Happy Birthday Kouhei.

While I was going to continue where I left off (#20) with project pretend-to-be-sexy, I decided I needed a little down time after the gym tonight.
Going back to the gym after an extended hiatus always feels so good, I can never remember for the life of me why I stopped going in the first place. Laziness is a sneaky, vindictive thing with many guises.
Today I found myself thinking about this blog, and wondering if last nights post was a bit too revealing. I am under the impression that 99% of the people who read this are friends and acquaintances, who for the most part know me well enough to know that I'm pretty open with these things, and don't see reason not to be.
And then I got to thinking if Policecop's parents ever stumbled upon this page I might die of embarrassment. I don't know if I should have posted about my birthday project last night, but it's staying up for now. The whole thing for me is more silly than scandalous. I'm hoping that you'll take it that way too.
I think that at age 27 I'm just discovering that I'm generally more open than others when it comes to things like this. It might have come from spending a few years living in Japan with mainly guys for friends. That, and my french canadian heritage. I think the stereotype is true...we're all loopy. And provocative talk generally doesn't phase us. My Grandmother has said things that have even made me blush. She was also one of the top fans of my burlesque costume. She openly suggested that I should wear it for Policecop when he comes home. I wouldn't trade her for any other Grandmother in the world. We're both geminis with the same name. Both into knitting, sewing, overeating, talking about romance/bedroom talk to an awkward extent...I mean hell, she even likes to drunk dial her ex boyfriends. Sometimes I feel like her mini-me and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Anyway, random topic landslide again.
I'm ready to jump into bed and watch webisodes of 48 hours again.

Things I'm loving now:
1- Lumene Arctic Peet Mask. Again. Forever.
2-Sleepytime EXTRA Chamomile tea. Found this at Target. For those extra high-strung tea lovers. This stuff honestly sedates me, and I enjoy it. Served best in my favorite mug, a present from a long time friend, who also goes by the name of Jackie.
3-Sans Fards. (Thanks Michael K.) Washing off all of my warpaint. Introducing me, stripped of the glamour and glitter.
4-Falling asleep with my nose in a book. Pictured is Kafka by the Shore volume one, by Haruki Murakami. A friend in Japan bought me this book (I think I might have been bed-ridden with a nasty cold) and I couldn't put it down. I've read it atleast three times. I have never read the English one. I'm curious but afraid that it might ruin it for me.
I think about this friend every now and then, wondering what he's up to. His birthday is tomorrow. Last I heard he was in San Fransisco. He was a very mysterious, somewhat elusive type and I'm sad to have lost his email. Happy birthday Kouhei Miki. Thank you for introducing me to the wonders of Murakami. I hope your music is going well for you.

Epson, I am going to ruin you.

I was not going to post about this project as it is quite personal in the sense that it involves me wearing knickers. But it's taken up the greater part of my night, and I've had to deal with some ridiculous bullshit from Epson that I can't go without raving about.
For Policecops birthday, I have very limited options regarding what I can and can not send him. I feel that Sergeant so and so would not appreciate a carton of menthol parliaments and a bottle of Cutty Sark. Photos however, I can get away with.
I was inspired by a certain event that happened yesterday. I sent out two pg-13 picture messages to the boy, showcasing my new fancy knickers. At 1.3 megapixels in poor lighting, viewed on a cell phone screen I could pass for a Vicky's angel. But so couldn't Mickey Rourke. Anyway, that's beside the point.
Policecop got all excited and went on trying to figure out how to blow these images up on his cell. Which was a terrible, terrible idea for multiple reasons. The first being total negation of the flattering aspects of 1.3 megapixels. The next being that as he was doing so, someone came up behind him and in an attempt to preserve whatever was left of my dignity at this point (he is obviously better at this whole dignity thing than I am), he fumbled to hide the phone, dropped it and BAM! Broke the screen. No more pictures, no more texts, no more voicemail, no more fun. Just a little black screen. I think he said that the phone lasted him two or three years. It's last moments were spent zooming in on love handles.
My bad.
He was all sorts of bummed out, and is looking to have a new cell sent to him.
So I figure, why not make a sessy album for his birthday since I can't send photo messages? Better yet, a countdown album. Holding a sign with the number of days left, counting down from his birthday, for a grand total of 29 days. This ups the cute factor and slightly reduces the shame factor (in my mind).

I took off to Target and reluctantly bought some new ink for the printer. For obvious reasons I don't want to have to saunter into CVS for prints of me in my undercrackers. The Halloween costume prints were bad enough. (Refer back to bit about preserving that one last strand of dignity...I'm holding onto it for dear life, but it's slipping away with each word I type...)
Printer ink costs a New York fortune by my standards. I shoveled out $30, long story short, five prints later Epson the mofo BAAAHSTAD is telling me I'm low on ink again. Let's do the math: At home 4x6 prints cost $6 a piece. Bitch, come again?

I'm not spending my last cents on ink that will only serve to create an album of me looking like Miley Cyrus having a bathroom iPhone camera session. I decline.
I kept the old ink cartridges, I'll figure out a way to marry the damn things.
As a side note, I can not even explain to you how unsettling it is to take pictures of yourself in your knickers with a 12.2 megapixel camera. I have far too intimate a knowledge of how close I am to Bridget Jones after about 200 shots with 10 deemed acceptable. Junk in the trunk. It's there.
'86 my prized shard of dignity, cyan, magenta and yellow.

A Happy Birthday / Sunday of the Weak.

Last night I trecked down to the BBC once again for Officer Greg's surprise birthday party. Which became a non-surprise earlier in the day when someone finally let it slip, but it was enjoyed by all either way.
Although I had some great fun, I have to say I think that my love for alcohol is gradually phasing out as of recent. I would have had just as much of a good time with a diet coke in my hand and would not be feeling quite so blah today had I chose that course of action. My bank account balance would have also thanked me. I've long been a fan of wild and crazy, but at 27 I'm really feeling those nights in bed with hot mint tea and a good book...I think that's where it's at for me now.
In other news, as a direct result of the wild and crazy of last night, I've spent today bumming around the house eating chocolate (Sundays are calorie exempt) and contemplating cleaning off the deck. Did not happen. As you can see, my cactus garden clearly failed to meet my expectations.
Now I'm off to Target to get printer ink which by the way, costs a damn fortune.
I need it for a very special and somewhat sessy birthday present project for Policecop.
Oof Ooff. And that was my weekend.

Dress: J Crew, via Savers for $8.
Boots: Target last spring on sale.
Hat: Most favorite hat ever. H&M, two years ago.