Note from S: This entry was updated (at bottom) on 8/1/05. Thanks! Here are the answers from our little question-and-answer session. Enjoy! (And if I missed anyone, ask again, maybe?) Do you own each of the shoes that you put up on the blog? Nope. The first pair (the green ones) are Manolo Blahniks and the pink ones were Christian Louboutin and I can''t afford either of them. (I am making this vow now, though. If I ever get loaded, my first "high fashion" purchase is going to be some stupidly expensive shoes. You can count on that.) The current ones are Steve Madden. I can afford them, but I couldn't find them at the stores around here and I don't order shoes online unless I've tried them on first, because I can never tell by looking at shoes how they're going to feel when I wear them. (I also don't own the purse or sunglasses, although I do own some cheap big glam glasses that I bought after seeing those Kate Spade glasses. Does that count?) Okay, no photo, but how about telling us your specs? Tall, short, blonde, brunette. etc? My specs? I feel like I'm in a catalog or something. And I know all you kids are going to put my description through the "Match.com profile translator" to come out with what you think are my actual specs. (I'm on to you!) I'm five feet seven inches tall (unless you count the heels, in which case I'm damn near five foot ten), brown hair, blue eyes, average build. Need to get back to the gym and start bringing salads for lunch again. Sigh. I would like to know what you look like also, and random stuff about you-like a mini-bio-what were you like in high school, where did you go to college, how did you decide to pursue the career you are in now? Is that too many questions, lol? Answer whatever you would like :) See above for my "specs." I was shy and dorky in elementary and middle school. I started to come out of my shell in high school. I was involved in a lot of clubs and activities and took a fair number of honors classes. I was active in my church and community volunteer work. (It's been all downhill since.) I went to a large college known for partying and football. I have always wanted to be a communicator. I used to write newsletters and short stories in my journal when I was young. Through writing for publications, having internships and some other activities, I decided that PR was what I wanted to do. (Could I have communicated that in a less specific way? I think not!) Do you have your dream job? If not, what would it be? Nope. I've always wanted to write a book. Always always always. What makes you the happiest? My friends and family. I'm a social person with a big family and fun friends and I love spending time with them. I may seem like a wild child party girl, but if I had to choose between partying at a bar with strangers or spending time with the people I love at home, I'd open the salsa, get out the blender and chill with the crew. What is the one thing you cannot live without? Oh God. So hard. Since you said thing and not person, I'm going to go with my cell phone. Sad but true. (This is, like, reason #672 that I'm a cliche!) As I said before, I'm a social person and I need to be able to reach out and touch someone at all times. Even during "alone time," it makes me feel good to know that I can speak to someone if I want or need to. (How original, right?) I bet you all thought I was going to say "Shoes!" or "Vodka!" Sigh. Who's your favorite college football player of all time? I like my team and my school, not the individual players. Is that bad? What's your favorite time-wasting/procrastinating activity? The Internet. I'm a news junkie and when I procrastinate I head to the NY Times or CNN if I'm at work and some serious political blogs when I'm at home. And I always always always read Wonkette, Gawker, Defamer and Go Fug Yourself. And, of course, I read the blogs of my single peeps. You guys and gals rule. Boxers or briefs? Low-rise boy shorts. Oh wait, you meant on OTHER people. I like boxer-briefs. They are so sexy, because they give you a nice view of the ass without being too tight. I don't hate boxers, but I am NOT a briefs girl. Get yer tighty-whiteys away from me, boys! When was the last time you felt the kind of happy where it seemed as though: a) all was right with the world? b) all was right with you? c) all was right with your clothes closet? The last time I felt all was right with the world was around Christmastime when I got to spend some time with my Best Friend Ever. I only see her once or twice a year and she always puts things into perspective for me. I love her. The last time I felt all was right with me was a few months ago when I signed all of the papers for my job and got my first "adult" sized paycheck. It was the culmination of a long search and a lot of self doubt and worrying about how I would pay if I got sick or hurt and still didn't have health insurance. Once I knew that I had a good job with a good paycheck and good health insurance and a 401(k) plan, it gave me the stability that I need to be happy. Things will NEVER be right with my clothes closet, darling. The seasons are always changing! How did you decide on "Charming" as opposed to any other positive adjective (seductive, shopaholic, flirty, fun, etc)? That's a good question! I have no idea. I touched on it in my first post. I was just sitting here and I'd been reading some blogs and I missed writing and I felt like I needed to write. I knew I wanted to write from the "Single" place in my soul. And people always act like saying someone is single is a BAD thing. They say, "He's got a good job and a house and he's REALLY nice, but he's totally single" or "She's so smart and funny, and we can't figure out why, you know, she's single." I decided that if people were going to toss the label of "but single" out there, I was going to give them something to put in front of it. And "charming" it was. Truth be told, I sometimes wish I had gone with a different name, because I think it could be off-putting to some people who think I'm just terribly conceited. For better or for worse, I'm kind of stuck with it. Also, I wasn't a shopaholic at the time because I was broke, I'm too dorky to seduce anyone, I think "Flirty, but single" and "Fun, but single" make me sound a touch sluttier than I actually am. The short answer: A blog's gotta have a name. Dream vacation, any travel plans? Greece! I've wanted to go to Greece since World History in high school. I loved learning about the architecture and culture and religion and history. It just seems to be so rich in culture and so beautiful to the eyes. When I was younger and naive, I said I wanted to honeymoon there. Now that I'm older, I'm realizing that I shouldn't have to wait to do the things I want to do. So maybe "Charming, but single in Greece!" Er, who's paying for this? I have no travel plans right now, other than a weekend trip to a nearby big city or something like that. Maybe next year. I've been saving a lot of vacay days at work. 8/1/05 Update: New reader Neil, who admits here to commenting on the blogs of unattached women to remind them that he may one day be single, commented that he came to my blog for sexy stories and has been disappointed to find only stories about my shoes. He asks: Can't you at least make up a fun story of sexual intrigue for your male audience? No? I'm not going to pretend to be getting some when I'm not. (Go download porn or something.) I'm in a dry spell. (A long, terrible, boring dry spell.) You don't think it pains me to only write about shoes and beauty products? (By the way, I am in love with Burt's Bees Lemon Butter Cuticle Creme. I've only been using it for a few days (I was using Bath and Body Works True Blue Spa Cuticle Treatment with so-so results before.), so my manicurist may not approve, but I love love love the fresh smell and light consistency of the Burt's Bees stuff. And it's all natural. So great!) Also, I'm not as into kissing and telling now as I was when I was a touch younger. (I should have had a blog back then! Making out with random boys in bars! Late night hot tub sessions! Co-ed drunk Truth or Dare! Trust me, I used to be cool. Then I grew up.) Anyway, right now I'm looking for something more than a roll in the hay, which is probably why I'm writing about purses and wine selection and caring for my cuticles. Siiiiigh. C'est la vie. Que sera, sera. Or whatever.
I wish I could say that something incredible has been going on for the past week. I wish I could thrill you all with stories of my fabulousness and tales of fantastic adventures, but I'm fresh out. Truth is, I'm overwhelmed. The transition into adulthood (which is taking years for me) is not fun. And the working and the responsibilities and everything is just a bit much. But me whining about being overwhelmed is boring. Here's a story about me feeling old!
I was sitting at a sushi bar snacking on edamame and sipping pinot grigio one night this evening, feeling a touch tipsy and kind of cute. Our server was flirting with us to increase his tip and we were flirting back to improve our service. As we watched the bustling kitchen and all of the chefs making sushi, we noticed a very attractive chef in the back. He was nice and tall and had this fantastic smile and great dimples. I kept making eye contact and my friend joked that he was probably really young. She told the server I thought this guy was cute, and OF COURSE the server told the cutie. I was mortified as he walked over, smiled and said, "I am NOT 19." I giggled and asked how old he was. He was so proud to announce that he was 21. Dear God, I felt like a pedophile!Questions answered soon, I swear. (And The Dummy better stop tapping his foot, because he KNOWS as well as the rest of you do that I have to get my manicure and brow waxing done first!)
A few updates from the desk of this Charming, but single blogger:
- Answers to the questions are coming. I have half of them written. Promise.
- Also, my contribution to the Writer's Block blog is also in the works. I haven't read anyone else's, lest I get sidetracked. The only problem is that I saw "Must Love Dogs" last night, so I'm pretty sure that's going to weigh heavily on my mind as I write.
- A mini-review of "Must Love Dogs:" Cute but cheesy and predictable romantic comedy that relies on time-tested romantic comedy situations to tell an okay story (i.e. movie montages! a sing-along! missed connections!). Sweet as saccharine ending bored me, but it was still cute. Love me some John Cusak, but I have to say that he is an odd color in this movie. He's, like, kind of orange. I liked "Serendipity" better, but that's also because I love John Corbett, who was terrible in the role he played in that movie, but still rules.
I would like to congratulate Eve on posting the 500th comment on Charming, but single. I'd like to link to her blog, but it isn't up. (It probably was up for like 50 years, but I never update my blogroll, so now it's down and everyone hates me for being an unloving blogger ... I updated tonight. Comment and I'll add ya.) Anyway, Eve wins ... um, my undying love for continuing to comment on this blog even though all of my posts are about shoes and not dating? (Have replaced sex with shoes. Sigh.) Thanks to everyone else who comments! I'd mention you all, but I'd leave someone off and that would be bad. Please continue asking questions for me on this or the previous post. It was fun to answer them. We all know I love talking about me.
I am blatantly stealing this from Serially Single, but I thought it was a fun idea. She asked her readers to post questions for her or general things they'd like to tell her and then she responded in a post later. (Someone else asked my birth order question. I am totally all about the birth order.) Anyway, SS, my dear, consider it an homage and not outright stealing. Dear commenters, ask/critique/gush(!) away. Know that I'm not telling you where I live, I'm not posting a picture of myself and I reserve the right to ignore you if you ask terrible or mean questions. I'm all ears. (Sort of.)
Seeing as nothing of interest happened during my normal weekend marathon of martinis and wine, I thought I'd bring back the old standard -- the listblog. Things that make me happy:
- My new laptop (Did I mention I got a new laptop? 'Cause I did.)
- The approach of college football season (This woman LOVES her some college football. It will be a challenge not to talk too much about my team, especially since we rule.)
- Pinot Grigio, my drink du jour
- "A Walk in the Park" foot refresher from Bath and Body Works. My toesies have never been happier.
- Watching a guy check you out as you walk by. (As long as he isn't yelling or honking at you. You know how I feel about that.)
- The humidity, which is so great that it ruins my carefully straightened and volumized hairstyles and leaves me looking like a cross between a Q-tip and a drowned rat. (If that combination is even possible.)
- Traffic. Can I get a driver, please? I think it would be better for us all.
- Laguna Beach 2 is starting soon on MTV. Shut up. The show is hysterical. "Ste-VEN!" Priceless. Those little Laguna Beach kids are quite possibly the most arrogant creatures on television, if you discount professional athletes (who believe God has anything to do with winning a damn sporting event), Jonathan Antin from that Blowout show on Bravo and the hosts and guests on every cable news show.
- Drooling over cute bartenders with sexy accents at my new favorite going out spot. (Even if they are probably gay.) "Can you help me? Yes, please! And quickly!"
Have obviously updated the header and retired the pink shoe. (It clashed with the new masthead.) Did a bit of renaming as far as the tagline goes ... it's a bit more appropriate right now, no? Am "shopping" for a new shoe to replace the pretty pink one. Will update blogroll soon, too. Promise. Now, go read and comment on my last (reeeeally long) post about my bra. (And yes, that is an order.) Update: I went the less expensive route this time with the shoe. Only $99.95. (Usually the shoe on my blog costs, like, $400 plus. I can dream, right?) This shoe is Steve Madden. (Obviously not the orange and yellow ones.) I am very into metallic leather right now. My bronze shoes have been getting much love as of late. I promise I'll find more expensive and fabulous ones next time! (And yes, I still love those Kate Spade glasses. So hot. I have a much cheaper pair that are kind of like that, only tortoise shell. Ok, they're like cousins. Only mine didn't cost a zillion dollars.)
Saturday morning I woke up at 7 a.m. I don't know why, but as I sat up I felt dizzy and nauseous. My head was pounding. I rubbed my eyes and got makeup all over them. I had quite possibly one of the worst hangovers in my life. I had gone out celebrating for a friend's birthday and we had ended up at a cool little martini-type bar with a fun band. As I stumbled to the kitchen for some water and advil, I noticed a Hansel-and-Gretel-like trail of going out shoes and a purse leading to the bedroom. I figured that I had dropped my shoes before going to bed. When I got to the kitchen, horror of horrors, I found my bra and outfit from the night strewn all over the damn place. I'm not one to keep my undergarments with the fruits and veggies, so I tried to piece the night before's events together in my pounding head while I chugged four glasses of water. I gave up trying to solve the mystery of the bra buffet and went back to bed. Much to my chagrin, my alarm went off at 8:30 a.m. I moaned and covered my head. I hit the snooze. Ten minutes later when I sounded again, I realized that there had to be a reason for me to set the alarm in an intoxicated state. After all, it was Saturday morning. And then I remembered that I was going to a wedding for a girl (four years younger than I am!) that I knew from college and work. I was riding with a married couple I'm friends with. The wedding was more than an hour and a half away and I had to leave for married couple's on-the-other-side of the world home at 10 a.m. in order to meet them in time to leave for the wedding. We needed to leave their house by 10:30 a.m. I wanted to die. I covered my head with my pillow, forgot about the case of the in-the-kitchen bra and decided to sleep until 9 a.m. At 9:45 a.m., my cell phone rang. It was the wifely half of married couple, checking in to make sure I was getting ready, since she'd witnessed the mayhem that was the night before. I was still in bed and quite content to stay put. I'd already purchased a wedding gift and I was RSVPed and married couple had altered their plans so that I could go with them, so I had to go, no matter what kind of pain I was in. I stumbled to the shower, and as I was washing my disgusting hair, I began to piece the night's events together in my head. I had two generous glasses of wine at a friend's house before we went to the bar. I then had Cosmos at the bar. (Judging from a later assessment of funds found in my going out purse, I had at least four, if not more. Judging from the smell of my going out shirt, I probably wore most of the last one.) I danced and danced and drank. I apparently pined after a cute boy. My friends offered to Wingwoman him over to me, but I babbled about how I couldn't stand rejection or something. He left with a cute blonde. Bastard. Then the phone calling and text messaging started. A later scan of outgoing calls and incoming text messages revealed that I had called pretty much everyone in my damn phone. I had several calls back and forth with B. Apparently I had convinced him to come have a drink and when he got there my friends wanted to leave so he said he'd bring me home. But, my keys, glasses and spare shoes (because sometimes you need a more comfy extra pair) were in my friend's car, and the next thing I know, I am standing outside of the bar and B is holding a pair of espadrilles and my glasses. We get in his car and he's taking me home when he realizes that he left a $10 drink untouched on the table. (This made me feel bad. I owe him one.) But back to the shower and the wedding and Saturday morning. I scrubbed off makeup and smoke, wrapped up in a towel and then went on a mad dash around the house to find an appropriate outfit. It was almost 10 a.m. and my hair was wet, I was having a rough time finding clean undergarments (and still confused as to why my bra was in the kitchen) and I had no makeup on. I was very much behind schedule. My cute planned wedding outfit was scratched because it needed to be ironed. (A damn shame too, because that pink skirt was very cute and summer wedding appropriate.) I dug through my closet and found the one thing that didn't need to be ironed. It didn't exactly scream "wedding wear," but it beat going in my towel. That's right, to a Saturday afternoon summer wedding, I wore black widelegged trousers and a maroon (kind of boho) shirt with a round neckline and gold sequins and beads. Quite possibly the least wedding thing I owned. I told myself that I wouldn't be the only woman there in black pants (I was) and that the shirt was a nice 100 percent silk thing I bought for a fancy night out. I dried my hair, had no time to straighten it, threw on the outfit and some black sandals and went to grab my makeup bag (because I had a long car ride ahead of me and figured I'd put my makeup on then) when I realized that I had no makeup bag. I paused and thought back to the night before. My makeup bag was in my big purse, which I left at my friend's house for some odd reason. I was 25 minutes behind schedule with poofy, unstraightened hair, the hangover from hell and no makeup of which to speak. I wanted to get back in bed. Instead, I tore through the bathroom looking for the basket of makeup rejects I keep. I grabbed some Clinique samples I never use and a jar of some sort of whipped foundation that I had hated and a mini tube of mascara I never used and a shade of blush that was too neutral for my skin. It is 10:30 a.m. at this point. I jumped into my car and sped away. I yelled as I realized that I was almost out of gas. I stopped again, filled up the car and then tore out of the gas station. I made up some time by driving much much much too fast on the way to married couple's house, but I still got there after 11 a.m. I rolled out of the car and began apologizing. Married couple smiled and joked that they were not surprised that I was late, given the number of martinis I had the night before and my general habit of being late when at all possible. As we left their house they asked for a recap of what happened the night before after they left the bar. I filled them in on dancing and the guy I admired from afar leaving with a blonde and B bringing me home and helping me inside because I was stumbling around. And then I stopped. If B had brought me inside to make sure I got in safely and I had found my clothes strewn about ... Dear God. Tell me I didn't ... The wedding was nice and the reception was nice and my outfit wasn't summery, but it ended up not being all that bad. But I am haunted by finding my pants on the floor and my bra on the kitchen table and my shirt flung across the room on Saturday night. Did I undress after B left? Did I undress while he was there? Why is my bra in the kitchen? So, um, I guess my question is -- do I call and ask?