Year: 2024

“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” outfit

Published by

Lost my ever-lovin mind somewhere between home and the Capitol. For legal reasons, this story will be told exclusively in Eminem “monster” lyrics and batsh*t public displays. “I’ve created a monster‘Cause nobody wants to see Marshall no more, they want Shady, I’m chopped liver“– Without Me, Eminem Monster, you get in my way, I’ma feed you to the monster (yeah)I’m normal durin’ the day, but at night, turn to a monster (yeah)When the moon shines like Ice Road TruckersI look like a villain outta those blockbusters– Godzilla, Eminem “I’m friends with the monster that’s under my bedGet along with the voices inside of my headYou’re tryin’ to save me, stop holdin’ your breath… “And you think I’m crazy, yeah, you think I’m crazyWell, that’s nothin.” – The Monster, Eminem Like BLTs are my comfort food, this is my winter comfort ‘fit. Bruno Duluc KUSH burgundy velvet dress – $6.99, ReStyle thrift store | NN07 No Nationality pastel rainbow wool from Italian yarns – $170 (? on sale), Nordstroms Rack | Croc Allcast faux fur lined …

“Cocky Chick” outfit

Published by

The staircase in my art deco dream pad is dramatic and steep. When you turn the corner, you’re surprised with a giant oil painting in a gilt gold frame by my friend Skyler Pierce of girls riding horse-sized roosters in the yard. I remember a few years back, newly single, bringing a beautiful man upstairs, eager for his reaction. “What do you think of my giant cocks?!” I asked, emphasizing the consonant cluster(f*ck), as I turned on the neon light I had in my bedroom then. It read FEAR, ILLUSION, DECAY and cast a sickly green pallor over the skin. “I’m…a bit afraid…of big birds,” he said in his dreamy British English accent. It was then the truth struck me like a bolt from the blue(jean): It’s me. Hi! I’m the problem. It’s me. Or if not me, at least my taste in art. I borrowed this outfit from a story slammer to wear last night at Story Story Night’s SLAMMER OF THE YEAR, because the team I coached decided to wear Canadian tuxedos. We …

“Not Going Back” outfit

Published by

What a month and a half, no? The day of Trump’s near-assassination, I happened to be in Challis with a group of circled-up women, outlining rough plans if a Civil War breaks out after the election. You know. Just in casesies. (Waves white…er….American flag.) I know what I would do, I thought to myself, getting up to go….anywhere else….I would stand in the middle of the road and say, “Flatten me now, please and thank you. It’s too late to make me breeding stock, joke’s on you.” Putin-fleeing-journalist Masha Gessen wrote right after Trump’s election in 2016 about the apathy that sets in after a too long spell of the violently absurd. It felt almost surreal to feel….what is this strange thing?…after Biden dropped out and Kamala was vibing her way into the presidential race. Then it popped into my mind, a long-forgotten phrase fully formed by the wise words of Sarah Palin: “It’s that hopey changey thing.” It’s been a long, long time, hopey changey thing. Nice to feel you again. Custom Leather Works …

“Blowin’ in the Wind” outfit

Published by

What if you’re so late to bloom you go to seed instead? Motherf…nature. I cannot pinpoint exactly what went wrong this year but it started with sudden weight loss and insomnia and hair loss and skin eruptions and severe unrelenting anxiety and you know when you learn new words to help better define your world? I highlighted ANHEDONIA in the Oxford: the inability to feel pleasure. “Ahhh, sounds about right. Dead-voiced yay.” Dictionary footnote: Maybe just don’t get off your meds, ok. “My books will be my kids,” I’ve said since I was 20. But what if I never wrote any books, and it’s too late to have kids, and what if I always thought all the gutting and hilarious and hideous things that happened were the ultimate storytelling fodder, but what if I was just dissociating from my real life, fictionalizing it in real time, instead? Here I am, 44, looking at myself dead-eyed in more ways than one. A pale vintage childless cat lady in a desolate red state in a white vintage Caddy …

“Yeeeeeehawwww” outfit

Published by

For some obscure reason this outfit makes me think of Major Kong riding the nuclear bomb like a bull in Dr. Strangelove. I always thought he said, “Yeeeeehawwwww!” But he actually yells, “Whaaaaahooooo!” So we all learned a bit of annihilation cowboy trivia. I wore this to a saloon-themed awards ceremony, The Rockies, for the Boise advertising industry. I’ve been a writer in this ad scene for nearly 20 years, and it’s been one of the strangest years yet. AI has warped some brains, including mine. I had a horrific client who fed my work into ChatGBT to rewrite and it sounded like a high schooler with a thesaurus trying to sound smart. (Then she stiffed me for $6k. I should’ve known.) Demoralizing doesn’t begin to describe the way AI twists my painstaking writer mind into knots with its instant spitting out of mediocre paragraphs. My mind has been spinning for several reasons. I’m attempting three equally ambitious projects this year—run a successful business, launch a new brand, finish a book—and it appears I’ve bitten …