Going commando

I did a bit of shopping the other night ("just browsing on the way home") and I'm quite pleased with my purchases: an adorable work-appropriate dress; an old-lady sweater; pants that are actually short enough without alteration; and, several new pairs of underwear. 

I love new underwear. 

I always go digging through my underwear drawer (which is stocked full, by the way) for the newest most comfortable pair.  And then whenever I get new undies, I can finally ditch some older less favourable ones. 

Which got me to thinking. 

Why must we have a hierarchy of undies? 

There's always a set of favs, followed by some special occasions, followed by some uncomfortable but practical, followed by period/sleeping underwear, followed by sexy but useless. 

I think we need an #OccupyUndies movement.  Forget the 1%.  

Now.  I also think, in an ideal (first) world, we'd all have only the "favs" category - nothing else.  I'm a youthful, successful, independent woman.  Why should I ever have to settle for less than the perfect underwear?

However.  Say I were to go out and replace my whole undie wardrobe with an entirely new set of favs...  Then they'd all decay at the same pace and I'd end up with an entire wardrobe of gross old underwear all at the same time. 

Plus, I'd never be able to make an informed choice based on the purpose of my undies for that particular day.  There'd be no option.  No decision-making process. 

I'd basically be a communist. 

Plus, we all know I'd eventually start unconsciously designating certain underwear for certain purposes (period vs sex, for example).  I'd inevitably end up with various categories anyway. 

It all seems unavoidable. 

Unless I stop wearing underwear altogether.  Like Carm.  Seems like I have a lot to learn from her. 

Randy Fenoli is an adorable genius

My best friend Skippy is getting married next year!  So excited for her.  I'm even more excited that she picked yours truly to be her Maid of Honour.  (Don't ever say Matron. I WILL kick you in the kidney.)

As part of my Maid of Honour duties, I saw an ad for a bridal show taking place in Buttfuck Nowhere 40 minutes outside of Hometown.  So what? you may be wondering. 

Well, first of all, you should know that leaving work, driving to Hometown, and then driving to a CHURCH in Buttfuck Nowhere for a bridal show was not necessarily my idea of the best Friday night activity ever. 

But I was WRONG. 

Not only were there yummy meatballs at one of the kiosks, and not only was there a 17 year old Courtney Love wannabe hanging around for me to make fun of, but there was also...

RANDY FENOLI from SAY YES TO THE DRESS. 

I  kid you not, my friends. 

"Look at me. I'm an adorable genius with a gorgeous outfit."

Now. What in god's name Randy was doing in Buttfuck is a question for someone far smarter than me,  However, he did happen to appear on the Marilyn Dennis Show in Toronto the day before, so maybe he was just maximizing his time here in the Great White North.

In any case, Randy was fabulous.  He didn't merely show up - he did a whole presentation.  He told stories, made jokes, showed pictures, answered questions, and signed at least a couple hundred autographed headshots.  He was genuine, kind, and honest.  And he looked adorable. 

Randy with Skippy's future mother in law.  That's not her real face. 

Randy's whole message to brides, and to women in general, was to elevate themselves.  We are all beautiful.  We all deserve happiness.  And our weddings should reflect the story of who we are as women.  We can have what we want.  We just have to go out there and grab it. 

I now heart Randy Fenoli. 


*A special dedication to Multi Tasking Mumma who, I found out later, was actually at this same friggin event with me.  Totally random that we'd be in the same blogging circles, and then accidentally cross paths in real life - only to figure that out when it was too late to actually chat.  Classic prank, Interwebs.  Classic prank.