The One Where I Rant about Indie Dudes

Its Monday. There will never be any picture of my outfit today, because it consists of a solid green knit top and black dress pants. And black ballet flats. No jewelry, no charming scarf. I stayed in bed till 7:53 am because I was trying to hold on to some shreds of a crazy dream I was having about Some Guy from Back in the Day. So I didn't feel like devoting any time to make a lasting fashion impression. I'm shocked I brushed my hair and washed my face. I'm not even wearing a bra, I'm wearing one of those camis with a shelf bra. Seriously, I don't even remember putting it on... wtf? Poor judgement call. And I'm STILL wearing glasses, but my contacts just came in, so hopefully I can pick them up asap and start wearing my knock off wayfarers outdoors and indoors. Okay so these are some of my outfits from last week. Woohoo! Black Cardigan (MILEY CERTIFIED) and blue bow flats from Walmart, Blue Leggins from Target , Pink Tank from Old Navy, Pink Scarf from Accessorize in Oxford, England, that also sold me a shitty bracelet that broke the same night. Thanks alot, Oxford!

White dress (actually, my high school graduation sundress!) and black tank from Old Navy

Black (MILEY CERTIFIED) stirrup leggins, silver interlocking bangles, and purple print scarf from Walmart

Cardigan from BCBG Max Azria (who stooped to work with Miley the demon spawn, wtf?)

Black patent heels from Payless

This is easy. Everything is from Old Navy.

Except the boots, which are from a store in London called Schuh (It was like a grown up Journeys). And the key necklace is from Fossil.

And I admit that I wore some sweet outfits this weekend, including some of my goodwill plaid and my good luck thrifting shoes, but I didn't take pictures, cause I was out doing things, which happens once a month usually. This weekend was super successful, on a thrift shopping front. Meliss the Wonderful and I cruised the antique stores and thrift shops, and I returned with a great haul, and some left over subway, yo!

I scored a Fiesta Ware yellow pitcher that I dream of serving lemonade with. And maybe Dirty Shirleys (shirlies?). I also brought home a cute little wing pin (I'm trying to put pins into my wardrobe), some vintage alcoholic beverage glassware, a Miss Dior train case (!!! I think it originally must have been a perfume gift set, but for $2!!!), a 50 cent rainbow mug, and a handful of used books, including siddhartha and mister popper's penguins. Life is good. But the best part had to be landing a $12 jewelry box, right after I had been saying, omg, my jewelry is a mess I need a tackle box for it. This, my dears, is so much better. I vented some emotional angst on Sunday afternoon by painting it white and jamming to some of my songs of summer. aka "Like a Prayer" by Madonna and "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Next up I'm gonna multi-media collage the crap out of it and then modge podge it to death. Woo! In other news, I've been coveting a gray body con dress from Dorothy Perkins. Its on sale, and shipping isn't nearly as terrible as those danish bitches. But I still can't imagine ordering clothes from a different country, unless they're made of unicorn or something. But anywho, I would totally pair this with the dress:

Yeah, I definitely could use a sequined men's blazer.

Oh yeah, I wanted to complain about something (whatevs, get over it, its my blog I can totally complain). I have a not-so-secret love for the hilarity of boner party. And I like looking at hot chicks too. Especially since bp shares my love of zooey deschanel, the little indie goddess that she is. And today, being bored, I decided to go all the way back and start at the beginning of bp's archives. I don't have anything better to do, y'know? After snickering at the snarky observances and their dreams to smoke a bowl with pretty much every girl in the universe, I started to get irritated by the constant referrences to "finding an 8" (offensive all on its own for ranking women, but I don't want to sound like a feminazi) and all this whining and whining about how there aren't good wifey material indie chicks out there. Like, seriously. I'm probably just sensitive to all this because I spent the last year hanging out with indie dudes. Are they all the same??? They all seem to have heavy emotional damage to blame on some terrible ex-girlfriend, a love of chicks with bangs, and a drinking/weed problem. Listen up, bp. I've made out with 2 different over-opinionated dudes that wanted the same vonnegut tattoo. so it goes, right? I know indie dudes. I get all the obscure literature and movie references. And I let you pick the music that sometimes doesn't sound like music at all. Just stop whining for Christ's sake! Indie dudes are so tortured/idealistic. On the flip side, all I ever do is whine about the lack of satisfying indie dudes and why did I choose to go to a lame-ass conservative Christian college and how did my high school me not realize once I got out of the hometown I would want to go to an art school in a city somewhere and smoke a bunch of ciggs and hang out with indie guys? Maybe I'll make a new tumblr of just hot indie guys and I'll rank them and complain about how no indie dudes stumble to my door in the middle of the night, cold, wet, and amnesia-ridden. Anyway, bp, we're probably soul mates. I have a really good track record with indie guys who smoke up a lot and whose exes left them with a serious need for therapy. Call me!