Jordache Enters, Inc. v. Hogg Wyld, Ltd.

In a survey involving jeans, respondents were shown a pair of Jordache jeans and a pair of Lardashe jeans and were told to examine them.¹

Lardashe? Lard-ASHE?! Are you kidding me, here? Who could ever have thought Lard-ASHE would be a workable name for jeans? And do they know any women??




¹ "Trademark Surveys", Welter, Phyllis J.

the morning sun when it's in your face

My homeroom teacher in high school once said that you couldn't pay her to be a teenager again. I'm a little embarassed to admit at the time that I thought she was a little cray - who wouldn't want to be 15 again? With all the possibilities available - every door flung open, a more trusting nature, not to mention {ahem} the bod.

Well, fifteen years later, I can safely say Ms. C was 110% right. You couldn't pay me to go back to 25, let alone 15. I've always been exactly who I am. When I was younger, this was not so much out of principle - I would have sacrificed that to be cool at my uncoolest (7th grade, anyone?) - but more so because I could never figure out how to be someone else. How to dress like them, flip my hair, and bite back my literary/film/musical/general trivia references. I still really don't know how to go about being somebody else, but thankfully, I'm not interested in trying. Besides, I'm too lazy to bother.

I would never have believed it as a teenager, or even in my early 20s, but getting older has been wonderful in so many ways. I am so much more comfortable in my skin, and accepting of other people. I'm mellower. And I feel less sure about things, but in a good way: I've become less of a control freak, and more able to deal with uncertainty. I used to be much, much more ruled by reason and logic and now I see where intuition, emotion, and your "gut" can take precedence. I can be vulnerable - I can even cry(!) - I used to see that as such a weakness. (I may have taken it too far: I cry if someone else cries, and I get weepy in more movies than I'd like to count.)

I really wonder what things will look like in another 15 years.

55 Fiction Friday: Am I Blue?

Friday.

She didn’t know what happiness she expected to find at the bottom of a coffee cup (the same that people look for in endless beers and whiskeys, she supposed), but at least this way, she had company. The klatch of faces, each illuminated by a laptop’s glow, made the loneliness recede just enough to make it bearable.

sept

So, I'm getting around to this 7/7/7/7/7/7 (notice there are SIX lists of 7, could not one have been added to ease my OCD?)

7 things I want to do in this lifetime:

• waltz in Vienna (or, tango in Buenos Aires. Or both.)
• write a book/make a movie (ideally: write a book that I make into a movie!)
• fall/be in love
• learn Spanish
• parent a child
• take a honeymoon (even (especially?) if I never marry)
• live in a foreign country

7 things I can do:

• knit, sew, cross-stitch - I'm crafty, bitches!
• chat up strangers (airport waiting lounges, at bars, in line at the post office, you name it)
• commit to long-term goals
• go from post-gym sweaty to semi-formal (i.e. shower, makeup, and hair, etc.) in under 1/2 hour
• give good advice (and know when to shut the hell up)
• pick myself up, dust myself up, and move forward
• laugh at myself

7 things I can not do:

• hula hoop
• deal with chipped nail polish
• drink soda
• live with a television
• suffer fools
• ice skate (this is one of my secret shames - 5 years au Canada and I can't skate! My feet aren't built for it - it's excruciatingly painful.)
• flirt

7 things that attract me to another person:

• humor (in my view - you can't be funny without being smart, so this takes care of the intelligence requirement)
• goofiness (covers not taking yourself too seriously)
• vulnerability (the "I can open up and share" thing)
• an artistic side - whether as an actual artist, or an afficianado
• vibe
• self-awareness
• slightly imperfect features. Give me a gap-toothed smile, or an interesting nose any day!

7 things I say most often:

• Dude
• Whatevs, yo
• 2 and 9 (as in "Dude, there were like 9 thousand people in line. I was like "whatevs, yo"" I'm 30 and I seriously talk like that. See also, final bullet in this section.)
• F'ng hell - not really sure why I made that PG
• WTF
• Actually
• Seriously

7 people 's 7/7/7/7/7/7 results I'd love to see:

• Little Bro 1 & 2
• DTG
• the Star
• my anonymous commenters
• those who lurk, but do not comment ( My statcounter doesn't lie - I know you're there)
• the person who keeps googling Malayali aunties
• Jake Gyllenhaal

Shake it off like Jell-otm

So. In true Oprah-style, a brief gratitude journal:

• I just joined Netflix and I'm hella-excited about my first three selections. Currently winging their merry way to my mailbox: Ran (mmm....Akira Kurosawa!), Cidade de Deus, and Before Sunrise. And I have over 80 movies in my queue.
• Tomorrow night: I meet Vinod (and I'm dragging brimful along for moral support!) And the place sounds pretty coo', too. So, verrrry soon, I will have met all of the Mutineers, sauf Sajit.
• Sunday: Sidewalk Arts and Crafts Fall Fest ...ah Menlo Ave., how I will come to love you.
• Bienvenido a Miami: I'm headed to Key Biscayne for The Firm's Litigation Retreat next weekend. (Do I really need a retreat? I've been "working" for all of 2 weeks now ;) )

Those are just the coming attractions, I am also thankful for some of the more intangible things:

• Having a few, very strategic friends in the area. I can't even fathom what my adjustment would be like if Pat (the best friend) or the Star weren't here. And there is strategery involved: the Star works with me, so he understands that aspect very, very well. TBF does not work with me, and it's nice to have someone on the "outside" as well. Plus, that whole having known me for 10 years thing...I swear she knows what I'm going to do or say before I do.
• Autumn. My favorite season is coming on strong. I know that everyone has a thing for spring, but I think that's too easy. I love mulled cider, pumpkins, and patchwork quilts of turning leaves. Spring has the reputation of being the frisky, flirty season - but I'd argue for fall: sweater weather, anyone? The better to curl up on the couch with you, my dear.
• Catching up with a friend. Despite email, cellphones, voicemails, Blackberries - all the myriad ways we have to keep in touch and stay connected - there is nothing like kicking back over a glass or two and some nibbly-things.
• It's probably wrong to still feel this way, but ... play Misty for me, baby. I love my car.
• San Francisco. As heartbroken and melancholy as I was about living on the Penninsula, it's working out ... I have a 2 mile "commute" to work, and I head up to the city for fun & games on the weekend. And in a year... I think I'll be ready to move up there.

55 Fiction Friday: Plant a seed

Friday!

The blades of grass tickled the back of her neck as she swept her arms up and down. Grass angels. She squinted her eyes against the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. Curling her toes into the dirt, she sniffed the air – earthy and sharp. Is this what it felt like to be truly grounded?

I go walkin' after midnight

Right now, I don't like myself very much. Everything seems to be a jumble of elbows and scratchy woolen sweaters. Hat tip to Pink, it's bad when you annoy yourself. I'm saying things I don't really mean, and I don't know why. I'm venting to friends, then shooting down everything they say.

I'm not going to get into a litany of complaints because they aren't that fun to read (unless you have enough distance to make it funny - which, right now, I don't) and because then I'll feel like I'm whining (i.e. I will irritate myself even.more.)

I managed to head into the city TWICE on Saturday. The first time, I consumed brimful's dad's favorite - the Thai food with pleine de brim and SJM. Mmmm....the Thai food. The second time, unfortunately, I was apparently wearing my crankiest pair of crankypants. Practically every detail irked me, like those little snips of hair down the back of your shirt after a haircut. Having said that, dinner at the Stinking Rose was delish. Mmmm...the garlic.

Sunday just was not pretty. As usual, I was caught in the gap between expectations and reality, between what you think you can control and what you actually control. I've suffered a series of (minor) disappointments recently and I feel like I'm supposed to be so happy and excited about the future (new job, new home, new car) when really I just want flannel pajamas, a nap, and maybe some butternut squash soup.

Sometimes Mondays really are the best - the funk had to be cut short because work called. And you know what? I was really ready to leave it behind anyway. I truly am excited about everything that's going on, as usual - I have to learn to accept some uncertainty. Things get done in their own time - not on my schedule. I drove the 2.5 miles to work blasting Patsy Cline and singing along with a smile on my face.

55 Fiction Fridays (early edition): Love Me or Leave Me

Friday (almost).

"I’d rather be lonely than happy with somebody new” Nina Simone wails on repeat. I know how much you didn’t like her (“too strident”) I’ve cut my hair, and picked up smoking again. I’ve done all this, and you’re still gone, gone, gone. If you’re spiteful, and no one sees it – does it still count?

pampas grass

"Work" has started. I've been "trained" to within an inch of having my brain explode. I'm cycling through phases: excited as hell about the work I'll get to do, worried that it will take over my life, and wondering if anyone else can tell that I'm a total fraud and don't actually know ANYTHING.

Oddly, it's not the momentous, life-changing event of actually starting my career that's getting to me. I'm being pulled apart by a million small annoyances. None of them are weighty enough for me to be able to point to and say "This...this is what is bothering me." It's just the collective weight. I feel like my life right now is this super-cute pair of shoes that I'm just noticing pinches my instep.

I'm trying to savor the little moments: a cuddle with Gia this morning, ridiculously sensual pomegranate sorbet at Left Bank, the quiet hum of finally (finally) having an office all to myself.

Wuv, true wuv

I'm in wuv. Item of wuv number one: my new car, Misty, so named after her unique color: Shoreline Mist. Apparently, J.Crew has become involved in the nomenclature of Honda car colors. An odd collaboration, to say the least, and one that ended in my questioning every car on the 101: are you Shoreline Mist?

Wuv object number two: the Star*. I've been jealous that he was spending time in my father's family's adopted motherland. And his arrival FOUR HOURS before I was expecting him threw me for a loop. But, he brought me a prezzie which earned my wuv and admiration (not that lending me his home and apartment for two weeks wasn't enough!) That's right, kids, he brought me a hammock. Over the years, I have talked about how perfect life would be with a hammock. This is one of the most spot-on presents I've ever received. (The other being an Origami-a-Day calendar.) And, he outdid himself by accompanying me on the car purchase thing, all the way to the East Bay.

Wuv is all around.

* The Star now officially knows that he makes the blog regularly. He was (I think) amused by his nickname, in particular because he bought a shirt with a big star on it during his travels.