Badthropologie ii

In the words of one loyal reader, "This outfit makes me want to donate my eyes to science right now."

Science probably wouldn't take your eyes, dear reader.  It's that bad. It's like they've been staring at a welder's torch.  A sequined, tweed welder's torch.

Regrethropologie

This Joo has been gone for many moons.  It takes a real emergency to tear Bad Joo away from M.  This is just such an emergency.

It has come to this Joo's attention that Anthropologie is off its fucking rocker.  That's right. www.anthropologie.com sucks limp donkey pantsuit, apparently.

The jury will direct its attention to Exhibit A:

Now, these Joos recognize that Anthropologie has to ride the cutting edge, the razor's edge, if you will, of fashion.  But it appears to these Joos that Anthropologie slit its wrist on said cutting edge, bleeding all over the good carpets and reminding us of why Anthropologie can't have nice things.

The jury will direct its attention to Exhibit B:

$1900 to look like a fat Israeli Heidi?

The jury will direct its attention to Exhibit C:

It's almost as if Anthropologie's buyers came across a lot of bad Simplicity patterns from the 1980's in some forgotten warehouse. And the model brought her own vintage Contempo Casuals belt.  Whose idea was it to pair this with a white tee?  And again, WTF???

Exhibit D:

We were all forced to wear this skirt to a piano recital.  It didn't help to pair the damn thing with bangle bracelets then, and it's not helping now.  And denim shirt much?  Ow.

This is not over. The Hammer pants haven't been discussed, and the $2,000 jacket stolen from some tribesman passed out on peyote has not even been brought up. 

This isn't over, Anthro. Go back to the drawing boards, and we'll make it stop.  Until then, IT BURNS!

Hey 19

M is 19 months old. That's right, internettes. It has been nineteen months since This Joo pushed that bad boy out of her ladybits whilst surrounded by a veritable crowd of well-wishers. At 19 months M - a.k.a The Otter/The Bird/The Little Gray Mouse/The Little Brown Louse/The Grouchy Gray Grouse- amuses this Joo with his daily antics of telling EVERY DOG IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD TO "HUSH", saying "no" to everyone else, and having Autistic-like fascinations with bubbles (which he asks for fifty times a day).

No, he's not yet sleeping through the night. And, yes, he's still nursing. KEEP YOUR LAWS OFF MY BODY. Wha?

Awesome Stinkface Photo Copyright 2011 Jessamyn North Photography

This Summer Sucks My Balls and Your Balls

please note the casts and the red streak in A's hair

Just for the record this summer has been nothing but a giant pain in the ass for me and my charming offspring. Esquire, however, is having the summer of dreams what with his training runs for the 50 mile race he is doing in August. You read it right. I know. Kill me first. The first memo received early summer was to let me that my first born is oops deaf. Great. So it wasn't my imagination that for the last three months I was having to put a bullhorn up to her ear and yell into it through a microphone for her to hear me. Alleriges...tubes...and we have hearing. Oh and she is allergic to everything. Including your balls. Next J also had to have a set of the tubes put in. Check. No more ear infections. And then...the biggest of all balls...B catapulted herself out our living room window. Perhaps some of you recall A doing this 3 years ago. Well I clearly didn't learn any lessons from that so I have continued to keep my windows open. Sure enough I was just getting into the tub with J when A started screaming and then...oh God...oh shit...oh big, fat balls...running outside completely naked, picking B up, B passing out, me screaming to get the neighbors, calling Esquire, going to ER, being admitted, and two broken arms and a concussion and strangely no visit from CPS. There my friends is what a shitty summer includes. Oh and just to add to the glory we are going camping for a week. Ha.

Weeeeeeeee're Baaaaaaaaaaaaack

These Joos apologize for their long absence. They were saving baby seals in Afghanistan. Or something.

To recap the last few months, the little bungalow is done (more later on that), the Joos are joos, and B fell out a window and broke her head and both arms (but is otherwise fine).

And we promise to be better about posting if you'll just give us half a chance in the future. Aw, baby, don' be like that. Come on'. Give Jooie some sugar...

"I'm Not Finished"

As Edward Scissorhands famously said to the Avon lady who discovered him, the little house is not yet finished. But we're getting there. Really.

This has been an eye-opening experience. In the course of rehabbing the little house, this Joo has learned all kinds of things that she, the experienced bungalow drooler, did not know. For instance, didst thou know that unglazed porcelain hex tile still exists? It does. And it's not too expensive from your local big box tile store. Didst thou know that a vintage wall sink from the 1930's can be had at a salvage yard in the Midwest for around $15? It can. Also, red oak floors simply coated with oil-based polyurethane turn the color of red oak floors covered with varnish 100 years ago. TRUE STORY.

All this and much, much more await this Joo in the Little House That Could. Move-in is scheduled for March 26. NO FOOLING.

fin

Dance Hall Days, Love

Thanks to Past Perfect, historic preservation consultants, I tracked down the above article, written during the construction of the little bungalow in 1910 and published in the local paper. This article confirms that the little bungie is not a kit house, but rather constructed and planned by a local builder.

While this is very cool, perhaps what is most cool is the description of the second floor, "...the second story is left entire, to be used as a gymnasium, dance hall, or anything else that the owners may desire." Take your baby by the hand indeed!

Jooapalooza Day 1

M and Little Ju's wardrobes are provided by Pewabic Pottery, Detroit, Michigan.

Imported From Detroit

So, it's not often that this Joo speaks of football or cars, but a car company aired a commercial during the Bowl of Supers that deserves kudos. Chrysler's homage to the D, as these Joos affectionately refer to Detroit, made this Joo all shivery.

Those who know these Joos know that the Joos love Detroit in all its squalor, which is why they have chosen the D for the first annual Jooapalooza next weekend.

So, bravo Chrysler! Detroit needed the publicity (and you probably did too).

Jooapalooza

The brainchild of Joos' Addiction (to hardware), the first annual Jooapalooza is scheduled for next weekend. Jooapalooza attendees can expect a tour of Pewabic Pottery in Detroit, shopping for hardware for the little bungie that could, and much, much more. Sorry, folks. Jooapalooza is open to nursing Joos and their nursing babies only. And, yes, I'm still nursing M. STOP ASKING ME THAT. WHY IS EVERYONE SO OBSESSED WITH MY BOOBS?

fin

Kitty Kitty Kitty?

Having seen a few bungies nearly identical to the little bungie that could(n't), this Joo had been trying to find plans for a kit house that match. While it's possible this was just a builder's designed that was re-used, this Joo suspects otherwise. Anyone out there in cyberland a kit house expert? Can you play the memory game with this house? Rumor has it the LBTC was built in 1915, although that date has not been verified by this Joo. The layout is: entry, then right to living room, straight back to dining, then kitchen (half of which could've been a porch at one time). On the left are two beds, a small bath, and a hall leading to the upstairs.

INQUIRING JOOS WANNA KNOW.

El Peso Pit-o

Being a jet-setter has its disadvantages, namely, this Joo can't recall how up-to-speed the Internettes are on Mrs. Blandjoo's Dream House. Demolition has been completed, and the worker bees are busy reinforcing the attic so the whole thing doesn't fall on this Joo's head. The good news is that work is progressing. The bad news is that the demolition uncovered still more work that lies ahead. Therefore, it looks as if this Joo will be not be living in the Little Bungalow That Could(n't) until April at the very latest.

In other news, Good Joos kidneys continue to revolt, and it looks as though she will again be going under the knife. For what? These Joos know not. When? These Joos know not. Perhaps this surgery has something to do with Good Joo's super secret dick http://youlllearntokeephouse.blogspot.com/2009/10/joos-dick.html . Perhaps not. Stay tuned for the next installment to find out.

The Phrench

Despite this Joo's rather intimate association with the Phrench, they never cease to amaze me. Although prior to the present visit, I vaguely recalled that the Phrench enjoy a scented toilet paper, I had forgotten this little factoid. The dirty foreigner and his family seemed to have risen above the hint of "lack of indoor plumbing"ness of that particular affinity, and appeared to choose only plain, unscented (albeit always pink) toilet paper. Until now.

Who knew. Who knew that anyone, and I mean anyone, would ever want their ladybits (or gentbits as the case may be) to smell like a peach candle? Hmm? And when this Joo went out on the interwebs to find illustrations for this particular entry, she found that toilet paper in France is available in a dizzying array of disgusting scents, including without limitation mandarin orange, strawberry, lilac, ad nauseum. And, for those who "want to give themselves a little inspiration" (which must be French for "when you want to rub one out in the bathroom"), French toilet paper is also available imprinted with illustrations from the (I am not making this up) Kama Sutra. Because buying separate porn is such a hassle.

So, cheers to the French. And happy belated birthday to Good Joo. This Joo will be back from la la Francy in a week or so to shower her with gifts. In the meantime, gypsies, tramps, and thieves, my house is attended, so don't even think about it.

Love,

Bad Joo

Uno

Happy first birthday to this Joo's one and only. I'm so overwhelmed by the enormity of how much I love you, I have nothing further to say.

The Money Pit

So, we did it. We finally closed on the Little Bungalow That Could(nt), and sold our current house. Smooth sailing from now on, right?

LE WRONG.

We apparently transformed into a very continental Tom Hanks and a darker haired Shelly Long, for we today learned that the house is in fact CRUMBLING. Ish. It seems that the bowed sidewalls that everyone (and by everyone, I of course mean the FHA Appraiser, Consultant, and Contractors) assured us were going nowhere are in fact about ready to break due to the improperly supported weight of the roof. And one of the neighbors tried to tell me this early on in the process, but this Joo ignored him, choosing instead to believe a bunch of licensed professionals.

And I would've blindly gone on their bad advice, had a certain city inspector (whom I regretfully referred to as an incompetent, alarmist ass - sorry, Boris, or Yuri, or whatever the fuck your name is) halted work on the project, citing irreconcilable differences with the roof system.

So now we wait. We wait while an adorable little structural engineer calculates forces and tolerances and tells us what we need to do to stabilize the structure and properly support it. Until that time, we cannot even begin to reroof the little bungie. *le sigh*

LET THIS BE A LESSON TO ALL OF YOU. Or not. We're still delighted to be rehabilitating our dream house.

It's really going to happen. I think.

So, for those of you keeping score at home, we have not yet closed on the little house that could. We have, in the meantime, sold our present house, and signed reams and reams and reams of paperwork. Alas, no closing yet.

This is still because we're getting a federally subsidized rehab loan for the little house that could. And, as a result, the lender is being pickier than a migrant worker in a peach orchard. FOR EXAMPLE, as we near our closing deadline, despite the fact that Bad Joo is paid THE SAME AMOUNT EVERY PAY PERIOD, the lender is requiring proof of deposit and check stubs for each salary deposit. Unimpressed? How 'bout 'dis one: we have the money for our down payment in one account (call it Account X), but we'll be paying the down payment out of Account Y. Therefore, in FHA Lender Land, we must show not only the long standing funds in account X, but also the balance in account Y, AND THE TRANSFER OF FUNDS FROM X TO Y LEST WE SECRETLY USE DRUG MONEY INSTEAD.

Fuck me.

We're supposed to close by the 15th.

Bad Dog Momma

I keep trying to come up with a fitting eulogy for my dearly departed Grace. However, my grief is still so thick, even three months later, the only thing I can come up with at this point is a bad hair ballad.

http://youtu.be/I-h4A7bF8wQ

Sorry, Grace Anne. You were a good girl. You deserve far, far better. If you knew her, comment here please. Help me out.

Shopping

Bad Joo snorts period reproduction fixtures like junkies blow blue. Some of her favorites can be found at such fine retailers as http://www.rejuvenation.com/ and http://www.schoolhouseelectric.com/.

Bad Joo particularly loves the skyscraper-esque majesty of Rejuvenation's above-pictured Echo fixture: http://www.rejuvenation.com/fixshowW372/templates/selection.phtml .

FHABULOUS

This Joo has just submitted what she hopes is a complete loan application to the mortgage company for the Little House. For those of you keeping track at home, from this point forward, it's supposed to take thirty days to close the puppy. Please cross your fingers, toes, nooks, and crannies for us.

More Little House

In the continuing saga of Bungalow Bill, we offer another before photo. This Joo cannot wait to restore this puppy.