Pre-Oscar Poser

From Senor Fluff:

"If you had to go to the Oscars, and you could get anyone to design your dress, who would you choose?"

"Oooooh. Would I get input, or would have to wear whatever I got?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course. This is a hard one. I have to think. I suppose if I had to choose blind, it would be Armani. You'd run the risk of it being boring, but it would be pretty at the very least, and probably pretty flattering. But if I could choose? Maybe Gaultier? Chloe? Patrick Robinson? This is tough. Give me a minute... Oh my God!! Whoever it would be, it wouldn't be whoever designed Rebecca Miller's dress designer! Holy crap! What is that monstrosity?!?"

Just thought I'd share. Feel free to weigh in on the question at hand. Once you recover from Miller's unfortunate digestion by taffeta. Turn away quickly.

Undergarment-Related Mishap

It's somehow warm enough today that I can wear a dress without tights. Hooray! Or so I thought. Obviously, I've never attempted this particular combination of wool dress/microfiber underwear before, or I would have known better. Somewhat akin to the combination of bleach and ammonia, these two have decided to hang onto each other and try to kill me---death via wedgie. Every three steps seems to lodge the latter firmly in my ass. This is what German friends used to call A.E.U.: ass eats underwear.

I have to teach in two hours, and I find myself with the following dilemma: I could suck it up (since that's what my nether regions have decided to do), and go to class, and be distracted by the urge to yank on my undies for the three hour discussion. Or, I could simply take them off. Anyone ever taught commando? I have to imagine that it's pretty distracting in and of itself, and I have distinct and colorful day-mares about falling and showing my class the full monty. Which, of course, is what they would think I do all the time, and then I would be known as the panty-less professor.

Ah, decisions, decisions. Stay tuned, next week, for more AEU tales!