Snake Thighs: The Skin You're in When They're All Out of Pluck

 Sweet Shop Stop Gumball Necklace

Tank: Wet Seal

Cardigan: So, Kohl's

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, DSW

Bag: Modcloth

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

 Zelda Zebra Necklace

Tee: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Skirt: Merona, Target

Shoes: Venus

Bag: Nine West, Marshalls

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Michaels

 Lady Lilac Necklace

Tank: Worthington, JCPenney

Dress: Modcloth

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Bag: Call it Spring, JCPenney

Sunglasses: JCPenney

This week's post is a little sweet shop meets safari -- or maybe I should say sweet shop on safari.  I can just see a bunch of smiling ice cream sundaes, laughing lollipops, and ecstatic eclairs stuffed into a pink camo Jeep as they make their way through the Serengeti, snapping pics of the lions and zebras and hippos.  The hippos would love it, always being hungry and whatnot.  The hippos and the snakes, that is.

"Huh?  What snakes?" you're probably thinking.  "I thought this was a nice, cartoonish jungle (er, Serengeti), not the cobra-ridden kind on the Discovery channel."  (The bit about the hippos fixing to devour the tourist treats is neither here nor there.  Mostly because that allusion is based on a board game.)  

But snakes, it seems, are everywhere, especially where you least expect them.  For example, I recently discovered that one of my favorite pairs of Hue tights has a subtle snake pattern:

I was somewhat appalled -- I'd thought that the design was some kind of geometric -- because I hate snakes. In general because of their awfulness.  In particular because their slithery, legless bodies give me the creeps.  Gene of Bob's Burgers (which, incidentally, is a cartoon) agrees, setting his fear to song:

"I'm not afraid of ghosts
I'm not afraid of sharks
I'm not afraid of cancer
I'm just afraid of snakes!

They really freak me out
Where are their arms and legs?
It's not okay!"

No, Gene, it's not.  What could the good people at Hue have been thinking?  No woman wants to walk around on a couple of serpents, and "Hey, Lizard Legs!" is hardly a term of endearment.  Maybe it's a badge of badassness?  As in, I beat the skin off this critter and am now rocking it as an accessory.  A leg accessory.  Oh, the irony.

I see what you did there, Hue.

Movie Moment: A Few Words About Death at a Funeral

Last Friday night I suggested renting a movie. Bent over my Carnival Princess Necklace with the bf's beloved Discovery Channel droning on in the background, I was in need of some comedy. If you've been following this blog, then you probably already know that nonfiction television (the news included) depresses me beyond measure. To me, it's the equivalent of spending a sunny Sunday in a musty old museum. Or maybe even the equivalent of Sunday afternoons themselves, as I don't much like those either. But I digress.

We narrowed down our movie choices to The Bounty Hunter, Hot Tub Time Machine, Date Night, and Death at a Funeral. Well, I narrowed it down. If I'd left the bf to it, then we'd be dealing with secret missions and gratuitous bleeding. As it were, Death at a Funeral was the only option he could stomach at the time, so we went with that. Based on a (reportedly stodgy) British film of the same name, Death featured an all-star cast including Chris Rock, Martin Lawrence, Tracy Morgan, Danny Glover, Loretta Devine, James Marsden, and Luke Wilson, among others. The trailer had been hilarious, so I expected to be choking on hiccup-induced laughter. But it didn't happen. I think it was one of those cases of too many big stars in one movie. Also, all of the best jokes were revealed in the commercials. (Don't you hate when that happens?) What was left was a lukewarm jumble of confusing plot twists. That having been said, Tracy Morgan was the one standout. He just has that comic gift of getting all upset about the pettiest, most ridiculous of situations to the point where everything coming out of his mouth is hysterical. James Marsden was another high point, as I'm never one to knock him going shirtless. Even if he was the (sort of) bad guy in The Notebook.