Friday, March 28, 2008

Vegas Shoes

The first time I went to Las Vegas was for an all girls trip to celebrate my 24th birthday. I decided to commemorate the occasion by treating myself to a pair of HOT Isaac Mizrahi stilettos. And we’re not talking Mizrahi at Target either, not that I don’t have several pairs of those as well. At the time, it was the most expensive pair of shoes I’d ever owned. I don’t know what it is, but something about Vegas whispers to me…must. buy. new. shoes. And yes people, I’m not a Vegas rookie. I know how long I’ll be on my feet, and the importance of comfortable shoes. Zip it. I don’t want to hear it.
So I set off yesterday to find the totally perfect pair of shoes for my trip this weekend. I’m leaving for Las Vegas this evening with 7 of my closest friends to celebrate my demise as a single gal. And packed in my luggage is a pair of HOT-pink-patent-leather-peep-toe-pumps from BCBG. I had absolutely no problem rationalizing buying pink pumps, despite that fact that Ripken has demolished so many pairs of my shoes that this shoe-horse is reduced to wearing one of 2 pairs of work appropriate foot attire, and one pair of flip flops every day. The fact that 2, count them TWO, people stopped their own shopping to come over and say ‘You must buy those shoes’ simply sealed the deal. After all, its Vegas baby, and these shoes are made for gambling. See you on Monday!

addition: Looking at these shoes I just realized I'm 99.99% sure my Barbie had a pair of shoes exactly like this. BONUS!

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Suckage

My god I suck. The number of possible excuses i could throw at you for my lack of posting are overwhelming. NK rode the ol' "I broke my camera" one for a good 2 1/2 months. I too have broke my camera. It doesn't take a Sherlock to figure out how, since my last pictures were from NOLA. The incident went something like this:

Me: oh shit, i dropped my camera
Mamma Vaughan: Whoops
Me: Maybe I can fix it
Mamma Vaughan: Why don't you leave it till tomorrow when you're not 5 hours into Bourbon Street
Me: OK
Mamma Vaughan turns around
Me: Oh shit, now its in pieces
Mamma Vaughan: You are dumb.

Not that I've had pictures to post. You see my other excuse is this little thing called a wedding. True to form, I'm totally stressing over everything I have left to do, but not really crossing any items off the "to-do" list. Ahhh. Procrastination, how do I love thee.

I'm buying a new camera this week though. Oh and heading to Vegas. Expect updates. Maybe.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Open Letter To NoLa

Dear New Orleans,

Thank you. It was so good to see you this past weekend. Sometimes from over in Houston, it’s easy to remember only your negatives. After Katrina we were uniquely positioned to help you, and we did. And don't get me wrong, I'm so glad we did. But sometimes the backlash was overwhelming. We were inundated in our local news and papers with over sensationalized stories (are there any other kind on your local news?) about the effects our hospitality was having on our own city. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I forgot how much I really love you. I’m ashamed to admit that my love can be so fickle, but it’s true. Thankfully all it took was one great trip to remind me why I fell for you in the first place. Thank you for being such a gracious hostess to our group of girls, and ensuring that NK had a bachelorette party to remember. Thank you for giving us lovely houses filled with character like the one we stayed in. Thank you for giving us Hurricanes, Hand Grenades and Pat O’s. Thank you for great food. My goodness thank you for great food. I might not fit into my wedding dress but Brennan’s, CafĂ© Du Monde, Lucky Dog and even that burger I had at 2am at Clover Burger make it seem somehow worthwhile. Thank you for great, gracious, patient, endlessly entertaining residents. Billie, Kasha, the slightly scary trombone player on the street and the karaoke hosts at the Cats Meow. I’m pretty sure you guys were laughing at us the whole time, but thank you for you anyway. Thank you for that magical voo-doo you do, that always makes amazingly random things happen while visiting you. Aligning the stars so that NK could see Sir Charles, so that Edward found his was to us, so that Paul’s roulette number hit on the way out of the casino, so that we all made it home safe and sound. Only you baby, can make those things happen, and I love you for it. Brad and Angelina’s love for you has nothing on mine, although admittedly it has deeper pockets. I hope next time you’ll welcome me with open arms yet again. And always.

Until then… all my love,
Me


Ps- As my thank you to you, I offer this footage of NK enjoying herself in your fair city. Bless you for giving her a forum for which to showcase her talent.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

The Vast Valet Conspiracy

For those random readers out there that don’t really know me (do you exist?), I live in Houston. (Don’t try to stalk me, because Ripken might look cute & cuddly in his photos, but he’d tear you’re eyes out if you came after his mom…ok, more like drown you in slobber from his continuous licks, but whatev---the end result is the same…gruesome death). Anyway, the thing about Houston is this: Everyone loves their cars. Experiments in mass transit have largely failed, because no one wants to be separated from their car. I’m no different in this respect. Having spent significant time in 3 cities with various levels of efficient public transit (Chicago, DC & London) and having no access to a car what so ever in at least one of them (London—unless you count being forbidden from driving in the city in highschool, in which case you can throw in DC as well) I can tell you this…not having a car just makes everything, well…shitty. Everything is harder. Running multiple errands, shopping, getting to work on time, getting ANYWHERE on time. Everything just requires so much more planning & work. And you know how I feel about being inconvenienced.
So in many places, Houston’s car dependence would pose parking problems. But Houston isn’t exactly what I would call parking space challenged. There just aren’t that many places I go to where I really really have a hard time parking. So tell me this…what the fuck (sorry its called for) is up with every new place in town blocking off their ample parking and REQUIRING us to use their valet services?! Don’t get me wrong, under the right circumstances, I LOVE to valet. When its cold, when its raining, when I’m wearing heels, when I’m feeling g-l-a-m-o-r-o-u-s baby (sing it Fergie). I’m happy to drop off my car to save the walk from whatever parking space I could (easily) find on my own. But nothing chaps my hide like when I pull up to a deserted strip mall parking lot only to find a bored looking valet and an orange cone in every damn spot. What is that?! Not to mention, in the one or two places in town that could actually use this service (Chuy’s anyone?) they have yet to catch on!

This reminds me of a story I once heard about a girl in the parking lot of Chuy’s. After waiting patiently for a spot, that was located in a one way only aisle, and pulling in, she looked in her rear view mirror to see a car double parked behind her. After getting out of her car, with her really hot friend, she found herself the subject of a verbal barrage, unlike anything she had ever encountered (and she’d been in some screaming matches before). Apparently this lady had mistakenly believed the spot was hers, despite the fact that a. she was going the wrong way on the aisle and b. the subject of our story was there first. Our lovely subject tried explaining this to the mistaken driver, to no avail. Sensing that she was fighting a losing battle, she just walked off into the restaurant assuming the matter was behind her. However, when later standing outside Chuy’s on the phone, she found herself being yelled at AGAIN. This time by the aggrieved drivers apparent boyfriend. He was going on about being rude, and who did she think she was stealing his girlfriends parking spot and on on. The confused heroine (we are talking about a parking spot after all) was torn between sticking up for herself and being the bigger person. She eventually decided on a comment that went roughly like “Actually I was there first, and besides, she obviously found another spot, so why don’t we all just move on” She refrained from throwing in “Besides your girlfriend is bat-shit crazy” sensing this was somehow petty. The man continued to rant, but the main character decided he’d have to yell at her backside, and departed for the safety of the crowded restaurant. Soon after locating her smoking hot friends (who we might add were both taller than the pint sized DB who refused to let this die) in the bar, she was ready to get on with her night, only to find the aforementioned DB trying to get by her in the crowded walkway and instead of saying excuse me, pushing me, I mean her, out of the way! Now here’s the punch line. Typically she would have just laughed this story off. She had even noticed that the girl had on an engagement ring, and felt a passing sense of sympathy that she had to spend the rest of her life with this asshole. But all that sympathy went away when the guy opened his mouth as he was passing and said…”You dumb C@^t” Now I’m never one to shy away from well placed profanity, but this was over the line. For starters, that word is so gross. And secondly…we are talking about a PARKING SPACE people! Which brings us to the point (yes there is one). Valet service in Houston should be something we could vote on. Yes to Chuy’s (no one needs a repeat of this incident). No to Molina’s on Washington. Yes to the Front Porch Pub on Thursday and B-dub’s in the village. No to anyplace with more parking spaces than tables. Are you with me people?

Now that I have that out of my system, you can go back to work, or guitar hero or DDR or whatever you were doing before. Feel free to respond with how you would have handled the parking spot debacle. (Seriously, we were there first) Thanks for your time.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Best in Show

Today could be a big day for Ripken’s brethren. There is currently a beagle who is the crowd favorite to win the Westminster Dog Show tonight. Never in the 100 year history of the show has the breed of Snoopy won Best in Show. How is that possible? Rip and I will be cheering for Uno to bring home the big prize, and mad props for beagles everywhere.

Speaking of really really cute beagles: It was one year ago today that I first laid eyes on Ripken (then living under the alias of Thunder). He has been a challenge at times (I can’t tell you how many shoes he’s eaten, and recently added belts to his repertoire) but he really is a great companion. When I don’t feel well, he lays with his big dopey head on my lap and gives me the occasional lick to perk me up. When I get home, he runs to the door and arrrooohhhhhs until I give him a proper hello. He’s come a long way from that shaking little guy that peed on my lap on the way home for the first time. And so, because NK recently told me that no one likes a post without pictures, here are some pictures of MY best in show.

Wedding Bloopers

I don't know if this made me laugh so hard because I recognize the absurdity of thinking you can control every aspect of a wedding, or if I'm just sick like that. Either way, I laughed my butt off at this wedding blooper reel, I found on one of the wedding sites I read. For your enjoyment:

Thursday, January 31, 2008

Upstaged

I haven't really posted a lot of info about the wedding because I've wanted it to be a surprise for everyone. But I feel as if it would be criminal to keep this level of cuteness to myself. The flower girl dresses are in and I have a feeling I might be upstaged by toddlers!