Oof.
Can I tell you what it’s been like to be without you crazy gals these past few weeks? It has not been pretty. Y’all…there was cleaning involved. I know. And not even of a crime scene. I know! Apparently when deprived of the opportunity of telling random internet strangers how to live their lives, I turn from my regular Little Edie in Grey Gardens self to Joan Crawford the day that Helga didn’t move the flower pot.
Yeah. It was Not Good.
I’m pretty sure I woke up once from some somnabulistic state to find myself dusting the ceiling fans and telling them that I know they liked them, but that maybe skinny jeans, however on trend, were not the best look for them (I have issues with ceiling fans to begin with. The first time I ever took Ambien, I cut my own hair –bangs were a bad choice– and then laid down to watch the ceiling fan scuttle around the ceiling like a crab. True story.)
Anyhoodle, Manolo has given us the all clear. We are moved to dedicate servers with a 100% up-time guarantee (can’t WAIT to see the spam comments we get from that little phrase) so you will never be deprived of us –and more importantly, we of you– again.
However, if Blanche DuBois is right –and in my world Blanche DuBois is always right– then “a woman’s charm is fifty percent illusion” which means we’re in need of a good story as to what REALLY happened to the Manolosphere, because no one wants to hear about my Come To Jesuses with my ceiling fixtures.
SO.
Today Miss Plumcake wants to know: what’s the TRUE story behind the Manolosphere crash and what did your beloved editrixes really do in their mysterious absences?
The juiciest, most entertaining or delightful entry (as selected by me) will be printed on Tuesday as the true story.
I cannot reveal the details, but the firemen were VERY responsive.
Comment by Jane — May 1, 2009 @ 10:43 am
Plummy, I have a new terror in life: the dreaded half-crab/half-ceiling fan monster.
I don’t know about you and Francesca, but I spent the time huddled in my pillow fort occasionally prodding at the dust bunnies with a ten-meter cattle prod lest they turn out to be ceiling fan crabs in disguise. Alas! My trusty rusty eMac was left to fend for itself outside the fort due to an unfortunate glitch in communications. It survived, but it was a close thing for a day or so.
Also, I designed and created the most fetching ceiling fan crab averting helmet, which I am wearing as I type. It’s purple, so you know it’s mine. Now I’m working on a pretty orange one for my eMac.
What? Orange is its favorite color.
Comment by Twistie — May 1, 2009 @ 12:41 pm
what happened you ask.Oh dearies,thats a storyto hear.
Plum was getting fed up Feyad Up*Thats in its natural suhthahn tone* with all these women trying to touch her pink diors and find out some secret details about a wealthy fireman.So she called Franscesca and devised a lecherous plan of daring and duo.the two traveled to europe,and after sampling scones and teas and the locals,they went to work.They sought out the particular wire that connected all the fashion starved nistas to their beloved shoe blog.and they snipped it,and as soon as they did a lonely blond ewoman bought a pair of lime green and hot pink checked heels with rick rack trim and pom pom balls on the end.they knew it was abad idea,so the letter writing began,about how sorry they were,how they would do anything(anything,winkety* to get the server back up.They received a secret phone call,telling them to be at the location at six,and show some class.So they got to go shopping,and bought fabulous new dresses.they showed up on time,Plummy adjusting the net on her veil and her white kid gloves,and franscesca straightenin gher beads and removing a smudge of eyeliner.they were ready to go.A thin dark man stepped before them,his face hidden by shadows.”Ladies….I can get this site back up for you.but it will cost you”They saw the glint in his eyes,and Plummy thinking fast,slapped him with her white kid gloves.Frascesca stepped forward”sir,you will put this site back up,Right Now,with only a small monetary repayment,or we will do something.a Gong struck in the bakcground,and the moonlight struck franscesca lightin gher red hair.The man cowered.”Yes ma’am” he replied and set to work.Franscesca and Plum wandered around the lair,talking of the good times they had talking ot all of their loyal readers.Finally after days of work,wilting veils,and smudgy eyeliner,the website was up.FGranscesca an dPlummy stopped at the bar for drinks and decided to wait a while,leave us al worrying of death and did they have clean underwear and so forth,and to remark on our own,of the pratfalls of leggings with a big shirt and a larger behind.
Thats the real story.Can ya dig?
Comment by JSteele — May 1, 2009 @ 7:34 pm
There was a fabulous core meltdown. Huge swaths of the fashion industry will remain fabulactive for untold centuries.
Comment by Eustacia — May 2, 2009 @ 9:45 am