The Pack of the Fanny

After some intense blog-perusing looking for a little inspiration for today's rant..ahem I mean blog, I found the perfect topic. Contrary to what you thought by the title of this blog, it is not about bums, rumps, booties, badonks, hindquarters, or posteriors. I am sorry if I misled you in any way, continue on if you are not severely disappointed and/or leave me a comment about it and maybe I will weave an ode to your bum.








But-no pun intended-it is about fanny packs. Ridiculous as the group on ABDC seems-they can do a few things I can't, so I can't knock them, fanny packs are pretty rad. But I would encourage them to only be worn out of mocking-but in mocking you are allowed to fill it with necessities i.e. germ-x, moist towelettes, suckers, jolly ranchers, ring pops, chapstick, phones, ipods, and the like. But if anyone seriously considered it, I'm talking to the monogrammed extent that no one should consider, then it is automatically a fashion faux paux. A fashion DON'T even try! For example, girls camp 2008. Yours truly was in attendance, and in my new found authoritative position, took it upon myself to supply every estrogen producing adolescent with band-aids, suckers, germ-x, chapstick, mosquito bite medicine, Tylenol/Benadryl-which apparently you aren't allowed to dole out, but was SO necessary for myself- as needed. All of which I crammed into my handy dandy hot pink and purple 1980's original fanny pack. Fashionable and quite popular at girls camp I was. Oh yes my friends, Columbia outdoors knew how to make me fashionable on the trail then, and are still crankin out high quality North Face rival mountain survival gear today, but with an updated color palette of course.



I petition to jean/short designers and manufacturers worldwide, that they make men's jeans and shorts just one big pocket. Obviously men can't carry enough in their pockets, thus the dawn of the ever homo-I apologize for the stereotype-man-bag. What's a girl to do when their lover can't fit their keys into his pockets? Stuff them deep into the abyss of her blouse? I think not. It is highly noticeable not to mention extremely uncomfortable, but it does allow you a dirty little secret next time someone asks to see your keys. Dare I say that they have been where no man/key has been before? So next time you are jean shopping men and the ladies both, buy a pair with adequate pocket space enough for all your gadgets and toiletries, or get comfortable with stressing out over matching your new sensible fanny pack or man bag to the rest of your ensemble. Good Luck future don'ts! I bid you lucky shopping!

Fellow Knows Best

I do heartily apologize for the lack of the blog from my department. I have not held up my contract. I would like to blame it on me actually have gotten a life and done some things. But alas. Lie I do. It is true that I have been out of town quite a bit, but that does not excuse this behavior. So I am going to do a little experiment. I am going to blog every day for the next week.

I went on a mini-cation a couple weekends ago. It was amazing. Lincoln City, Oregon never even saw Hurricane Stoker coming. It was a complete surprise attack from the ocean accompanied by rogue and sneaker waves. Tagard Outlet mall has consumed every bit of my carefully planned out 401K. It was an exciting weekend filled with clamming which is quite the hot new extreme sport. Might I also add that this particular Stoker branch-especially my entity-doesn't eat clam, nor do we have any idea of how we would go about the consumption of said vile crustacean. Antiqueing also wasted a majority of our weekend. Here I thought antiqueing would be an enlightening experience taking my brain back to a better time. Yea a better time that is assanignly expensive to remember. It was an expensive garage sale of junk.

Now I would like to jump a few weeks that were filled with a few special things but none of grave importance to blog readers anywhere-ooh except for American Idol which was fab as well it should have been-to today.

I decided to hit the garden hard today, and pick some berries of the rasp persuasion. And pick I did. Minus the exception of a few disgust-a-berries, I got a farmers market quality bowl of the Stoker household delicacy. I braved the elements. Sun, Wind, and spiders. Those 8-legged miscrients are a disgrace to my garden. As if delving myself deep into overgrown, berry-bearing pricklers isn't enough sacrifice for the sweet treat, I had to keep an eye out for those potentially fatal sneaklers. Similar looking to a bee keeper, I was fully clothed just to make sure I completely thwarted every vampiric spider from sampling my always light and refreshing red kool-aid. Just because you are a spider doesn't mean you get special treatment, you've got to pay the piper for the red wine cooler just like everyone else no freebies for you. And no, we don't accept lethal venom by the nano-liter. C'mon be more original you little blemishes on the porcelain skin of the world. Brian Fellows said it best "That is one fuzzy bug. If I had a bug like that, I would make a coat out of him"