03
Sep
06

Uniforms

http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/dictionary 

MIT’s Tech this week proclaims, “The graduate students of Urban Planning are probably the most trendy of any department.”

Yeah, we are.  Check me out, at The Mad Hatter during windy, cold Labor Day weekend on Block Island (the vestiges of Hurricane Ernesto). 

Flamingo Chic

 

I turned to the M.A.S. on Saturday night en route to the Mohegan Cafe on Water Street and remarked how creepy it was actually to hear the whistle, the howl of the hurricane winds, a sound I’d only heard in old footage of Hurricane Katrina.  Later we cornered a waitress wearing a “Make Levees Not War” t-shirt at the bar, wanting to know her relationship to NOLA (it’s one of the more popular slogans that abound in the ever impressive t-shirt & bumper sticker trade down there, along with “NOLA: Proud to Swim Home,” “Thanks Houston,” and “Katrina Gave Me A Blow Job I’ll Never Forget.”  The latter is Bourbon Street’s style.)

This flamingo hat is more my stepmother’s style, who is infamous for wearing on Christmas Day a Christmas tree sweater, earrings that light up, a Christmas tree hat (may also light up), and shoes with Christmas Trees on them.  When a classmate had an Ugly Holiday Wear party last winter, she was nonplussed by my request to borrow some of her gear.  Really, she has the appropriate wear for every holiday, no matter how small, as  the M.A.S. recently discovered when she gave me for my birthday this year a hat shaped like a cake that sang “Happy Birthday” when you pressed the brim.  The candles on top rose up and down.  Along with a balloon that sang Happy Birthday, and a purple stuffed frog that sang that rap song “it’s your birthday…”, it was a cacophony of celebration in my dad’s living room for my big 3-1. 

Mostly I like in this photo how perfectly the hat matches my $3 pink fleece from the Old Navy outlet in Gonzales, LA (b/w NOLA and Baton Rouge on I-10), which peeks up neatly from under my yellow rain jacket.  The jacket is a gift from my mother, to keep me dry while I was volunteering for the City of Boston in the 2004 Democratic National Convention, cruising around empty city streets in 15 passenger vans with a some med school frat jock volunteer out from California.  Parking guidelines suspended for all those with convention credentials; picture pulling up outside the Museum of Science for a benefit in a Cadillac S.U.V. and parking DIRECTLY in front of the museum.  Life doesn’t get much better for a Masshole driver.

 

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