September 28th, 2004

dreadhawk

(no subject)

this week i learned that you can turn any image into a photo where there is currently a nuclear bomb going off by simply removing all the blue. i learned this when my printer ran dry of blue ink.

so, i received the amazing oldschool docs i recently found on ebay. they're wonderful & beautiful & very, very blue. i liked everything about them except for the stupid hooks/speedlacing crap they had going on. so i called COBBLERS the other morning, which is something i've never done, to see if they could install normal eyelets. the only one who spoke english well enough to answer my question said it would be $3 per eyelet - & for 13i boots, that's pretty ridiculous. (yes, they're 13-eyelet - not the now-standard 14i, which just goes to speak for their ABSURD AGE. still can't believe i found them unworn.) aaaaanyhow, i stopped into the shop later & put on my best "but i'm a poor little girl who only wants some eyelets in her giant blue boots & don't you want to help me, sure you do" look & he said he'd do it for
$55 - a buck an eyelet. SOLD. if anyone wants to see the final gorgeous result, you can email me for pics. the girly "here's a story about shoes" segment of this post is now over.

thus begins the girly "i own & can operate a sewing machine" section. wtf with the estrogen, man.

thinking of the boots & the next concert i'm wearing them to (the bouncing souls are coming back to town already! yay!), i sewed something neat. when i go to shows, i don't carry a purse 'cause i can't get all bouncy in a pit if i have to worry about keeping a hand on the bullshit strapped across my torso. & yet my tiny i'm-so-punkrock skirts don't have pockets. so, in a fit of inspiration, i took a thick band of elastic & sewed a little pouch for it that snaps shut & fits a driver's license & some cash & a car key. it hugs my upper thigh like a knife sheath. i rule.

final story for today: last week, i sang flogging molly lyrics to an infant. i was giving a ride to my boss's daughter & grandsons, & any time i'm in my car, i'm singing to whatever is in the mp3 player - which, in this case, was the following:

tell me why no one's listening
is there nothing at all left to say
in a world so unforgiving
it means more to me each & every day
so may the living be dead in our wake


fuck "baa baa black sheep" & "wheels on the bus" - he was happy & i thought it was pretty fucking funny. & if either of them grows up to be a serial killer, i'll know i played some small part.