Scenes on the Side

Oftentimes I find myself thinking of alternate names for the blog.  Yesterday I came up with 'Me and my Jean Jackets'.  I love a jean jacket.  I have 5 or 6 of them.  A couple denim vests too. It's a sickness that I blame entirely on my years working for the Gap.  If I'm not in jeans, I'm carrying or wearing a denim jacket.  Safety blanket, I guess.

Anyway so we're out wandering about the other day during Adventures in Catsitting and it hits me:  I look like a cowboy.  Well a cowboy that's thinking about defecting to the other side (not that side. the indians side...is it pc to say indians anymore?) to partake in the fringe boot action.  So I mention to the Chef who proceeds to collapse in half laughing.  'It's the look on your face,' he says 'you're dead serious.' I'm all 'I do look like a cowboy, don't I?!?' Of course he reassures me I don't, but secretly I kind of don't even care if I do.  That's what lazy days are for:  tossed up hair, disheveled outfits, fringe boots and cowboy attire.  Whatevs.  You only live once. Go fringe-y cowboy or go home.

I was scanning through the pictures the other day busting up at the goodies he captured.  I can't wait for the weekend:   home of the no comb zone.  Bring it.

I have no idea.  All I want to know is where was the jean jacket.
Look out for that kid:  he wants his two dollars!
(please tell me you've seen better off dead)
I might need two pairs.  These are going to go down in the Fringe Files Hall of Fame.
Beam me up
I miss my long bangs.  Grow hair grow.
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