the slack daily

A Gap $50 Gift Card for Your Most Embarrassing Clothing Story...

The following statement can now be found on my About Page:

Full Disclosure: As of July 2009, I am a Gap Brand Enthusiast. This is different than a Gap Band Enthusiast, as I am a fan of the Gap Brand an not the Gap Band. No disrespect to Gap Band fans.As a Gap Brand Enthusiast, I am not paid nor required to blog about Gap merchandise or functions. However, on occasion I do receive free merchandise for my own personal use as well as to give out on my blog. These blog posts will always have the hashtag #gapborntofit and will be categorized as such.

I have been wearing clothes from the Gap since the 70's. The only disclosure statement I have about that is that their jeans make my ass look good, and I will always say that for free.

On Thursday night, I had the pleasure of assembling women for all blogs of life together for a Gap Born to Fit Party at the Gap 1969 Pop-Up Store on Robertson Blvd. It was a night of sangria and laughing and, as I told everyone who walked in the door I invited you to a party where you have to take off your pants. 

We were all different shapes and sizes, as women have a tendency to be, but the one thing we all had in common is that we all left with a pair of 1969 jeans that made us feel like rockstars.

I'll write more about that when the photos come in. Also, if I managed to figure out the technology correctly, I even have a livevlog from the dressing room. It's like BetheMarriage, except pantsless.

Actually, it's exactly like BetheMarriage (which is on tonight at 8pm PST, by the by...)

But thanks to the folks at Gap and Brand About Town, I have a $50 gift certificate to give away! (And there may be more where that comes from, so stay tuned.)

All I want is you Most Embarrassing Clothing Story.

You must post this story in the comments (or you can post it on your blog with the hashtag #gapborntofit) but you MUST return here and comment with the link to the blog. I will be using a random number generator to pick the winner from the comments. This contest closes on Wednesday, August 19 at 5pm PST.

You ARE allowed to post more than one story to enter more than once - you can enter TWICE but they must be separate stories in separate comments! (2x is the cap, though.)

I don't qualify, but here's my Most Embarrassing Clothing Story after the cut.

P.S.: I Love You (Internet)

As I mentioned in a previous post, I've been writing. A lot.

When I'm not writing* I have a tendency to imagine other things I could be doing. Because I am a nerd, this usually involves things like trying to remember that totally funny thing I meant to Twitter or emailing Will to ask him if he remembers that totally funny thing I meant to Twitter or creating new blogs about things Daisy says or other brilliant ideas that are so awesome I can't write them down here because someone may steal them spawning a million-dollar industry or wondering if telling that gangbang story at that meeting with that agent was a mistake because even though I've never been a part of a gangbang or seen a gangbang you have to call it a gangbang story because there was this one time my husband told me this story about this party he went to and a gangbang broke out doesn't have the same ring to it. 

I don't think to shut off my brain. I drink to slow it down.

*Which means I'm eating, sleeping or peeing.**
** I don't poop. I am a delicate female flower.***
***That's a lie.****
****The not pooping part, I mean. I am a delicate female flower, you assholes.*****
*****You're not really assholes.******
******Wouldn't an asterisk blog of postscripts be awesome? Don't steal that and make a million dollars, you assholes.*******
*******You know I didn't mean that.********
********I meant the asshole part.

Blogger Prom Wrap-Up.

I went stag to my Senior Prom:

Posing with Older SlackBrother J. 1990

I went married to my Blogger Prom:

With Will, last Thursday. Photo by Lisa.

Last Thursday was Blogger Prom, held on the rooftop of the West Hollywood Andaz Hotel. It was an amazing evening, and I don't say that just because there was delicious food, free specialty cocktails, cheap valet parking and the fact that we won the best raffle prize in the Universe.

Will & I win the Edison booze raffle prize.
(The spot on my arm is my stamp to get in and out of the party.)

The thing I love about meeting bloggers IRL is that at the core of it, we're all dorks. I know that for some, the name of the game is monetizing and SEO and branding, and there's nothing wrong with that. But there's always the person - and personality - behind the blog.  And bloggers have big personalities (or is that just me?)

I recently heard someone complain about a "cool kids" clique in the blogging world, because a group of bloggers "got more hits" than they did.

To which I respond: being popular on the Internet may be awesome. But it's also dorky. 

Let's just embrace our awesome dorkiness, people.

Outside of my most favorite person (Will) I had a chance to hang out some of my favorite people I had already been lucky enough to hang our with before: Lisa, Kim, David, Travis, Joz, Mary, Andy, but I also got to finally meet some of the people I have been virtually stalking for ages: Julia, Lucinda Michele, Mike, Caroline, Lindsay, Laurie Percival, AVFLox, as well as meeting some new bloggers: Hot Pink Manolos, LetMeEatCake, GreenLAGirl and Foodwolf.

(I'm sure I'm forgetting someone, mea culpa!)

We may be a bunch of dorks, but we're hot, funny dorks. And the women in this community make me want to form some sort of amazonian cotton-panty pillowfighting army.

Let me know if you want to sign up.

I do know that some bloggers were upset that they were not invited to the Prom, but the Prom Committee did put out the word on Twitter a good six weeks before invites went out. Space was limited, and I could see why because from the second we walked in to the moment we left with our swag bags, it was a night to remember. The Prom Committee worked their butts off.

THANK YOU PROM COMMITTEE!

2009 Blogger Prom Committee
Caroline of Caroline on Crack
Esther of e*starLA
H.C. of LA and OC Foodventures
Lindsay of LAist
Marni of Happy Go Marni
Maya of Shop Eat Sleep
Natalie of The Liquid Muse
Tara of When Tara Met Blog

My Blogger Prom photos can be found here, and everyone's photos in the Blogger Prom Flickr Pool.

THERE WILL BE BIRDS.

Tonight is blogger prom. 

The theme is cheesy.  For a lot of people, that means 80s cheesy. 

You shouldn't talk to her...she wears all black and thinks about death.
                                        - a comment someone made about me in 1988

So what can I tell you about tonight's outfit?

 

There will be birds.

Did I Marry My Dad?

Conversation with SlackDad, after seeing Bad Lieutenant.

SlackDad: You know what was wrong with that movie?

Me: Um, everything?

SlackDad: The nun was hot.

Me: You mean the nun who was raped?

SlackDad: In all my years of Catholic School, I never saw a nun who looked like that!

Conversation with Will, last night:

Me: I lot of people I went to high school with found God.

Will: Are they hot?

Me: Why?

Will: Because if they're hot, it seems like such a waste.

I wondered this morning if I should blog that.  And then I thought...What Would The Bloggess Do?

And I know you're not sick of this yet: please vote for me for the Hot Blogger Calendar!  And while you're there, you could, y'know,  vote for Will, too.  Here's another photo of me playing WoW to help convince you:

 

Pee ess, that's a drill in the background. Perv.

Flashback.

This morning in spin class the instructor, A., hauled out both Tiffany's I Think We're Alone Now and Madonna's Like a Prayer.  Imagine your goals, she reminded us.  See the in front of you! 

For some reason, all I could see was bad fashion and even worse perms.  In the 80s, Junior High was kind to no one.

Each year of middle school, which in our district was comprised of sixth, seventh, and eighth grades, we had a class-wide party to celebrate the end of the year.  Each party generally ended up being some sort of dance or "social," implying that boys and girls would actually mingle.  And some did, possessing that innate ability to figure out how and when to pair off.  The rest of us were left to damp armpits and smudged eyeliner and passing notes and giving each other pep talks in the bathroom that yes Matt is really shy but he wants you to ask him to dance he told Brandon but Brandon made me swear I wouldn't tell so you can't tell him I told you but you should ask him but like, don't say  you were told to ask him just be all casual I think he's by the punch.

I remember that eighth grade was formal dance, meaning the girls wore dresses from The Limited (if you had money) and Fashionation (if you didn't) and the boys donned khakis, button-down white shirts and knit maroon ties.  We all gathered in the darkened and decorated "pods" (a group of four rooms that could be cordoned off by huge accordion-sliding doors with a stage at the front) on a Friday night to shake our lily white butts to Madonna, Talking Heads, and Culture Club.  I wore a mustard colored tank dress with a matching jacket, patent leather pumps, and black beads.  If a picture still exist, I pray that they spontaneously combust. 

Seventh grade I actually faked a wrist injury to ditch a handbell concert in order to make that year's dance, making me the only person in the history of the school to get kicked out of handbells. 

I am the original punk rawk nerd.

But sixth grade, sixth grade was where the class moms really outdid themselves.

We had a "Michael Jackson Party."  The "Michael Jackson Party" was something different than it would be now, being sans Jesus Juice and Bubbles the Chimp, not to mention that I got to keep my pants on and there was no twenty million dollar settlement at the end of it all.   Mind you, this was 1983, Thriller had been released a few months previous and Michael Jackson was MICHAEL JACKSON SUPERSTAR as opposed to the Michael Jackson Freakshow with the Bad-Touch Grip.  There was a 'Learn the Zombie Dance from Thriller' (which I already knew from jazz class, because I was that cool) and 'Pin the Sequined Glove on the Michael' and a Moon Walk Contest and cupcakes that spelled out Billie Jean.  But the best was supposedly the Michael Jackson Impersonator, who was going to close out the party in a blaze of glory.

Except that he never showed up.

You see, he had gotten lost. So he pulled over and went inside a White Castle to ask for directions.  Where he was summarily mobbed by a crowd. 

Because they thought MICHAEL JACKSON WAS IN THEIR WHITE CASTLE.

I still wonder to this day:  what happened to that guy?

And feel free to share your Middle School Lameness in the comments!