Oh, hey: Meet Rachael Finley, aka, Steaktooth. We like her style, her sense of humor, and how she spends her free time (making lists and drinking wine), so we tapped her to be our newest guest blogger. This is her first dispatch.
See, I’m new here. And while I have no doubt in my mind that pretty soon we’re all going to be vibing really well, first posts are scary. First anythings are scary, but we can get to that in a month or something. I was kind of struggling between a good intro about who I “am” or defaulting to my norm of making a bunch of cool lists or tiptoeing around, in, and directly on the nose of painfully awkward issues that happen over on my other blog. And that’s when this happened:
I had been waiting for this box because my entire next week depended heavily on its contents. Ok, not really, that sounds shallow but it’s summer and a girl needs her swimsuits. Twenty seconds (15 dedicated purely to deep thought intro and epiphany) before snapping this photo, I found the key to my first Nasty Gal article at the bottom of a suitcase that happened to be blocking the corner I was about to stuff my new things into. A Kodak. The idea of dragging this dated little film one-night stand around with me while my mellow week unfolded seemed like a little bit of a gamble… because “what if I’m boring cause, duh, I am. JK. I hope. Whatever, fingers crossed.”
At the beginning of this month, we headed out to Born Free. Our trip was going pretty well until about 10 minutes in when Lake Irvine hit record highs. Have you ever done the hangover shuffle through a crowd of beer drenched bike mechanics on the surface of the sun?
I tried to stick it out for as long as I could but we were rounding the two hour mark and the future was looking dark. The nylon blend in my shirt, plus a bralette that was growing tighter by the second, seemed to give me no option but to try to discretely
dislocate my shoulder take it off/shove it into my backpack, while running to keep up with every male member of the Anderson pack while they paced their way through the crowd. (All parts of me want to talk about drop armholes and side boob and sweat problems now, but I don’t think we’re THERE yet. Again, maybe in a month). Luckily, the 15 minutes of finally achieved comfort bought me enough time for someone else to pipe up about going home, and I came out on top. Being the champion of Not Being The One To Bitch First goes a long way.
Did any of you watch the BET Awards? I did, but from the megatron in the Staples Center just across the street from the awards show. We got suite tickets for the R. Kelly encore show for the small price of having to wait an hour or two for him to run over after he was done with his first performance. The-Dream has had my R&B heartstrings tied tightly around his finger for the last couple of the years now, but a girl is straight up lying to herself if she claims she doesn’t start to automatically slow grind when some RK comes on.
I was excited. Expectations were high and everyone was ready to percolate. “I got ya’ll beat if you’re hating on me, because I love you. That’s why I keep doing what I do” R. Kelly once said/sang. For an illiterate man, he has always had such a way with words.
Then the rest of the week kind of dragged along with the normalacy of life:
I worked on some tech packs.
Got locked out of our house.
Visited a friend at the dentist.
Hung out super casually with my best friend.
And saw a drunk dog.
Any holiday that lends itself to a primary activity of eating BBQ and drinking beer is a pretty big deal over here, but I’m not stretching very far by saying that the Fourth of July is a REALLY big deal for our house.
A really, really big deal.
A really, really, really big deal.
This is the part of the story that starts to bum me out because I wanted to end this post with a photo of One Hour Photo guy, considering that when I dropped this film off, he kind of summed up the whole week. It was an easy way out. And the photo exists…I just don’t have it. See, I thought I explained to him what the plan was. “You stand there and I’ll just snap this real quick.” We both nodded in agreement but the second the flash popped and he realized he was the subject he began ducking around and squealing. Then he straightened up and said “It’s ok, I just look ugly on film.” Haha, the poor guy simply reacted the same way I do when someone points a camera at me while I’m scouring the chips and dip at a social gathering. As expected, when I picked up my prints one was missing, and I completely understood.
[So missing photo goes here.]
See you next time.