the slack daily

At Least I Looked Nice.

By now, you've probably heard about the complete, unmitigated disaster that was the 2010 Streamys. Vaginal rejuvenation jokes (planned!), Bud Bundy in a stuffed jockstrap (planned?), and streakers (not planned.)

It was sort of like watching Superbowl ads back in February...except instead of sitting in my sweatpants eating a bowl of chili on my couch I was crammed in a hot theater in my finest with no prayer of food for hours.

Apologies have been made, but no one's taken responsibility yet.

(Is this another case of web trying to ape mainstream media?)

Craft award winners were not invited to walk the red carpet (surprise!) and were relegated to seats in the balcony and no invite to the after-party. Thanks to Electric Farm Entertainment's COO (EFE produced Valemont and Woke Up Dead) I got to sit amongst the "real" nominees and attend the after-party (that offered free Stella but pricey drinks and no food.)

We discovered mid-show that the Craft Award Winners (Valemont won for Best Interactive Experience and Best Mobile Experience) were supposed to appear on stage while we were announced. Technical difficulties resulted in us shuttled onstage like cattle, and then waved off. We were allowed to sit for a quick photo op, but then an escort guided us past the press room and back to the lobby.

I actually thought host Paul Scheer did the best he could with what he had to work with - I don't *think* he wrote most of his material, which is probably why he wasn't all that funny.

I know that pulling these things together is a Herculean feat. However, to plead ignorance at the content of your own show is disingenuous.

At least I looked nice:

Dress by Stop Staring! Pin is vintage.

Felicia Day said in her 2009 Streamys Acceptance speech (I'm paraphrasing from memory) "don't wait around for someone to tell you that you can do something. Go out there and do it." So I wasn't surprised when Jenni Powell and Kim Evey announced that we're going to take back the Streamys.

We'll be streaming LIVE from the ACME Theater starting at 8pm PST. You can follow along here.

I'll see you all tomorrow night. (But I don't need to see all of you. Streakers should probably sit this one out.)

And the winner is...

If you saw me last night, you know the answer to this.

Today's Red Carpet Dress for the Streamys is:

So I'll see you soon, wearing this:

(But I'll have a head.)

You can watch the Streamys LIVE (and cheer on Valemont) at 5:30 PST here!

Edited to add: My head looks something like this:

Pick my Streamys Dress!

Last night, Valemont picked up two Streamys at the Craft Awards, for Best Mobile Experience & Best Interactive Experience. The whole Valemont world grew out of writer Christian Taylor & Electric Farm Entertainment Co-Founder Brent Friedman's brain, and to be invited to expand that world online was a huge honor. Making it happen was EFE Co-Founder Stan Rogow, Katrina Moran, Kelly Spencer, MTV, Verizon, and Fuel Industries (who built the ValemontU.com site) not to mention all of the players who participated along the way.

The evening was spent high on awards show fumes.

My face, almost as shiny as the Streamy itself!

Sunday is the Streamys main event, where Valemont is up for three more awards: Best Writing (Christian Taylor), Best Drama Series and Best Actor (Eric Balfour.) I'll be there to cheer us on, but I have a serious First World Dilemma. WHAT TO WEAR?

So I'm going to let you dress me. In the sense that I am going to let you pick my dress. I AM NOT ACTUALLY LETTING YOU PHYSICALLY DRESS ME. Pervs.

The nominees for Slackmistress' Streamy Dress are...

 

The Specials Dress, from Stop Staring!

 

The Gathered Ava Dress in red, also from Stop Staring!

The polls close Sunday at 11am. The polls close at 6pm, Saturday, April 10. I'll wear the losing dress to the Streamys launch party on Saturday. VOTE!

Mind the GAP.

 

Short Version:

"Just look at the recent `Khakis of the Dead' campaign," said Bug. "By using Balanchine and Andy Warhol and all these dead people to hustle khakis, the Gap permits the Gap wearer to dissociate from the now and enter a nebulous then, wherever one wants then to be in one's head . . , this big place that stretches from Picasso's'20s to the hippie'60s."
        --Douglas Coupland, Microserfs

I now own this dress:

 

(However, I have much larger boobs. Oh, and a head.)

Long version:

This morning, I did something that I've never done before.

I had coffee with a marketing person. About this blog.

People always tell me to put up ads. I haven't, mostly because I'm lazy. As the social media world has turned from social to media, I realized that I was going to have to soon think about what my policy about such things would be. Would I take money? Would I review products for free? Would I have a disclaimer?

I was once pitched a cell phone to try out for three months, except that I read the disclaimer and if the phone was lost, stolen, or broken you would have to pay $600 or your firstborn and at the time I didn't have $600 and I thought it would be just my luck to have to have a baby to pay for a broken cell phone.

I had a glass of wine instead.

I decided my policy would be that I wouldn't look at anything that I wouldn't actually, really use. Which means that you will not find me being a Wonderbra sponsor (they don't come in 34DDD. They make you think they are pro-boob, but they are ANTI-ACTUAL-BOOBS!) or shilling near-beer. But when I saw "The Gap..." my brain did a little happy dance of joy that looked something like this (shut up, in my head I am a prima ballerina. And the swan doesn't die in the end, she lays an easter egg filled with power-ups to get unlimited tries to save the princess.) The Gap is like my family: always there for you. Mostly reliable. And sometimes they make you cry.

As I was trying on outfits this morning, I realized the last time I had been at this particular Gap was back in 2000. I had just lost a bunch of weight and gotten my first writing gig ("Lizzie McGuire.") One of the things I loved about the Gap was that it was there for me when I was heavy.

(Gap Size 18 Boot-Cut Jeans)

When you're someone who can walk in a store and buy something off the rack, you have a tendency to take this for granted. Overweight women never take this for granted. Shopping is generally a nightmare of poorly-lit dressing rooms and swallowing your pride when you ask for the next size up. It's not like I had kicked a baby or overthrown a country - I was just fat. But if you're fat or you've ever been fat, well, you know how it is.

The Gap was the one place I could go in and know I could walk out with something suitable to wear.

But there was only one time I broke down and cried in a dressing room, and it was at the store I was at this morning - Gap Century City - where I realized that I was trying on - and fitting into - size ten pants.

In my entire adult life, I had never been a size ten.

I remembered looking at the photo above and knowing that I had to make a choice, not just for my looks or my health but because of who I was. I used the "funny fat girl" like a force-field to deflect attention, a disguise for the self-loathing I harbored inside like a fugitive. I was terrified, because underneath it all, I didn't know what I'd find. Or if I'd like it.

I studied myself this morning in the dress. I had pulled a twelve off the rack because I've worn that size for the past couple of years. Until...

How's the dress? J, the marketing woman asked through the dressing-room door.

I think I need a size ten, I responded.

The Conclusion:

Their whole process is just beginning, but I said I'd like to be considered. Should that happen, I will be 100% completely clear. This blog will always be about me, because I'm a narcissist that way. I just may be better-dressed and occasionally write about it. Oh, and I don't have to have a baby if I spill something on myself.

I like what Gwen Bell has to say on the subject, here.

And yes, BetheMarriage LIVE (On Ice) is broadcasting tonight at 8pm PST!

Galliano or Gygax?

I don't follow fashion. I'm mostly interested in personal style (on a budget!)

But this model from John Galliano's most recent show (via Jezebel) caught my eye:

A D & D character:

Maybe next year's line will be inspired by the Fiend Folio?