Flatch is a Catch According to June

Fabulous Felt Mad Scientist Barrette

It's true.  I can't take the credit for this snappy slogan.  That honor goes to June -- also sometimes known as June Bug (Karen Huie) -- a denizen of Flatch, Ohio, population 1526.

If you've seen the commercials, then you know that I'm talking about FOX's new Thursday night sitcom, Welcome to Flatch.  Told in mockumentary style, it's a cross between Parks and Recreation and Beavis and Butt-Head, exploring day-to-day life in rural Ohio through the eyes of a delinquent duo.  

Flatch is the picture of pastoral charm.  And cousins and best friends Shrub (yes, like the tree) (Sam Straley) and Kelly (Holmes) hatch one harebrained scheme after another in an attempt to get rich quick.  Everything they touch takes a cringeworthy turn, whether it be a fall festival, an adult continuing education class, or a church dance-off.  They're as opportunistic as they are clueless, the very antithesis of the wholesome Midwestern values that the mockumentary purports to uphold.  Not even well-meaning Father Joe (Seann William Scott) (who's, by the way, not a priest, but a pastor) can get through to them.  And therein, of course, lies the humor.  The harder Father Joe tries, the funnier it is, making for a satisfying homespun satire.  Having the guy best known as American Pie's Stiffler play a man of God trying to reform a pair of ne'er-do-wells is a brainstorm of a bonus.  As is casting You're the Worst's usually caustic Aya Cash as Cheryl, Father Joe's earnest, journalist-for-all-the-right-reasons ex.  Despite being dumped after her move from the city, she sticks around to run the newspaper.  

But Welcome to Flatch  is about Shrub and Kelly.  And they aren't all bad.  As is the case with most misunderstoods, their antics are a cry for help.  Shrub yearns to win the affections of phlegmatic, plain Jane beauty school student Beth.  And Kelly just wants her jerk of an absentee father to notice her.  So maybe they're more Parks and Recreation than Beavis and Butt-Head after all.  But not Leslie Knope or Ron Swanson.  More like part of the angry mob at a town hall meeting -- or fry cooks at Paunch Burger.    

That said, Kelly's entry in the town motto contest is "Bask in our Flatulence."  "Flatch is a Catch" it isn't, but it tells us everything we need to know about this stupid smart show.

Just like this sold-but-not-forgotten-not-Flatch-but-flask-emblazoned Fabulous Felt Mad Scientist Barrette tells you everything you need to know about The Tote Trove.

Climbing the Walls With Jericho, a Bear, and a Beetle

Unicorn University Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Belt: Kohl's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's 

Wild Wagon Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Nordstrom

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Bear Flare Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Christian Siriano for Payless

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Kohl's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

I'm kicking off this week's post with a look back at last week's episode of Bob's Burgers (just think of me as the John Oliver of cartoons).  It was about Tina, my favorite Belcher, and her obsession with her imaginary horse, Jericho.  Although not a unicorn (unlike the Unicorn University Necklace shown here, so named in the spirit of upwardly mobile and intellectual equines), Jericho wields his own special magic, his powers of the impossible far more ambitious than those filtered through any mere horn.  Because who needs that useless appendage when you've got the pipes of nice guy dreamboat Paul Rudd?  That's right, Ant Man himself voices Tina's beloved and completely unreal black stallion.  (Is it any wonder that she's besotted?)  In this far-fetched and quirky fairy tale of a Burgers installment, bookworm Tina channels Beauty and the Beast's Belle's bewitching blend of "strange but special" more strongly than ever.  You know, if Belle wore glasses and had the voice of a middle-aged man.  That said, Tina is so entrenched in her fantasy that she convinces dad Bob to enroll her in a local horse camp.  (Come to think of it, Bob is a little like Belle's father, Maurice.  Bob's a kindly if unsuccessful and somewhat ridiculed creator of weird burgers; Maurice is a kindly if unsuccessful and most definitely ridiculed creator of inventions.  Oh, Bob's Burgers writers, is there no end to your Beast parallels?).  The camp is a step down from the exclusive sleep-away version of Tina's dreams, but true to her sweet, grateful nature, she gallops off on the first day all smiles.  Yet as is so often the case with high expectations, the camp proves to be riddled with rules and realities that render it far less fanciful than her Jericho-headlined dreamworld.  To add insult to injury, she's assigned a steed so clumsy and smelly that she comes close to quitting.  Instead, she perseveres in true Tina fashion, entering the ring with, not Old Stinky, but the gentlemanly -- and very invisible -- Jericho.  Laughter - and a poignant lesson - ensue.        

Personally, I don't know what's with girls and horses.  I was never enamored with them, despite (or perhaps because of) having attended horse camp as a preteen.  My sister and I used to walk down the seemingly endless dirt road from the regular camp to the stables, dreaming of greener pastures lousy with horses that sounded, not like Paul Rudd (Clueless still being a figment of  Hollywood's imagination), but Luke Perry or Jonathan Taylor Thomas or whoever the big heartthrob was then.  Take it from me, there's nothing enchanting about manure in August.

Before I hit the dusty trail, here's a shot of a recently repainted Brigantine carwash.  Which doesn't, I realize, have anything to do with horses.  Unless you count that modern horse otherwise known as the car.  Its bright colors all but belt out Tote Trove, and the VW Beetle of the Wild Wagon Necklace fits right in with its punky palette.  

On that note, coming soon: surf shops for unicorns.   

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.

Double Mint Crumb

 Lady, You're a Lion Necklace

Dress: Modcloth

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: DSW

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

Fluorescent Flight Necklace

Tee: American Rag, Macy's

Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington JCPenney

Bag: Nine West, Boscov's

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Candie's, Kohl's

This week I have only this paltry pair of vaguely mint outfits to offer.  But rest assured that there's more --a whole dessert buffet more! -- waiting in the wings for next week.  

Then again, sometimes three is a crowd. 

WARNING: Spoiler alert ahead!  If you're not watching FOX's The Last Man on Earth and you want to start watching it without being first exposed to my spin, then stop reading right now and go get yourself a cupcake.

In the pilot, Will Forte's Phil is wandering the Arizona desert alone, everyone else on the planet having been wiped out by some mystery virus.  He does what I imagine most men would do, which is to say that he steals stuff (priceless art, the Oval Office rug, and a stucco mansion to put it all in), watches and mocks Cast Away only to assemble his own army of Wilsons, chats up a mannequin, and turns his swimming pool into a toilet, all while sporting a Grisly Adams-style beard.  The sun-drenched desert is as beautiful as it is creepy, the ideal setting for this Twilight Zoney, hilarious yet haunting story, and Phil falls somewhere between pathetic and tragic.  Still, despite this potential for depth, halfway through I couldn't help but worry that the whole thing was going to burn down to a vehicle for frat-style cheap thrills.  Then, at the end of the episode, everything changed.  Overcome with his plight, Phil tries to do himself in only to be distracted by a beautiful, doting woman, the kind of his dreams.  Turns out, she is a dream, although not of the mirage quality (Last Man on Earth isn't as easy as all of that).  She morphs into a gun-toting, takes-no-prisoners Kristen Schaal! Only her name is Carol.  And she's just as kooky as you'd expect.  Clad in eccentric outfits, this craft-a-holic is a combination of annoying and endearing.  She knows what's what, insisting that man-child Phil fix her front door, rig up some plumbing, and, oh yeah, marry her so that they can (legitimately) repopulate the Earth.  Phil grumbles at every grammar correction and to-do list item but begrudgingly, if slowly, begins to mend his slovenly ways.  The ensuing "yes, dear" dynamic brings a typical element to an atypical situation, making for a funny story line that reaffirms the classic sitcom marriage even as it challenges it.  Because the get-it-together-or-die message throbbing through Carol's near-hyper pursuit of the moral high ground makes it clear that she's no wilt-in-the-background wife, but a spunky, spirited force that's going to kick the world back into gear.  And I like to think that, despite his protests, deep down, Phil knows this, too.  In fact, he seems to get downright cozy with the idea (and Carol!) as they enjoy a post-nuptial drive down the deserted desert streets when -- BAM! -- they collide with a car.  Yep, that's right.  There's someone else out there.  And it's January Jones as Melissa, a blonde beauty with whom Phil is instantly smitten.

See?  Sometimes three is a crowd.  Not to mention one too many for a gum commercial.

Why the LBD is Not for Me (at least not in its natural state)

 Fabulous Felt Sharp Shapes Brooch Barrette

Dress: Candie's, Kohl's

Shoes: Not Rated, Journeys

Bag: Marshalls

 Fabulous Felt Desert Barrette

Tank: So, Kohl's

Jeans: City Streets, JCPenney

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Marshalls

Scarf: A.C. Moore

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Fabulous Felt Rainbow Deco Necklace

Top: Monteau, Marshalls

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Marshalls

Belt: Wet Seal

The little black dress has always been something of a nonstarter for me.  Classic or not, it's just too generic.  So when Dr. Lahiri (Mindy Kaling) voiced a similar sentiment to Dr. Castellano (Chris Messina) on The Mindy Project last February, I couldn't help but jot it down: 

"Let me guess, you want me to wear a little black dress, a push-up bra, and heels like every other boring, sexy, anonymous girl."

She says this while sporting a long-sleeved red sequined dress that earns the stink eye from the cantankerous Dr. Castellano.  Never mind that she ends up donning the dreaded LBD for her (doomed) Valentine's Day date with a dud played by none other than B.J. Novak.  Her words still hit the nail on the head.  Black dresses, and society's preference for them, aren't just about fashion -- they're about conformity.  A no-brainer to be sure, but nonetheless thought-provoking.  

That having been said, I was glad to have this blank canvas of an LBD upon which to showcase my Fabulous Felt Sharp Shapes Brooch Barrette, snappy new polka dot bag, and golden oldie polka dot pumps.  Even if the "L" in this case seems to stand for "long" instead of "little."  But then such is life in The Tote Trove, the land where acronym rewrites and fashion faux pas flow free.  

Something New and Sparkly: The Vacation of a Lifetime

 Fabulous Felt Hibiscus Barrette

Dress: Nicole by Nicole Miller for JCPenney

Shoes: Bucco, Kohl's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Hat, Candie's, Kohl's

 Fabulous Felt Parrot Barrette

Blouse: Merona, Target

Skirt: Boscov's

Shoes: Qupid, Ami Clubwear

Bag: Loop, Marshalls

Sunglasses: Cloud Nine, Ocean City

Fabulous Felt Iris Barrette

Tee: So, Kohl's

Jeans: City Streets, JCPenney

Shoes: Journeys

Bag: Chinese Laundry, Bloomingsales Florist

Fabulous Felt Seashells Barrette

Tee: Wet Seal

Skirt: Necessary Objects, Annie Sez

Bag: Krystala Creations, Etsy

Shoes: BCBG, Macy's

The other day I saw a rerun of The Simpsons in which Bart is so disenchanted with the seemingly pointless  drudgery of everyday life that he decides to escape it all via a cruise.  Such a vacation is, of course, too expensive, so the whole family pitches in by selling old stuff to pay for it.  The Simpsons are soon having the time of their lives.  Homer and Marge are having "before you [the kids] were born" fun, Lisa connects with kids who are just as intellectual as she is, and Bart is so happy that he makes a phony broadcast about a crisis on shore, forcing the cruise to keep on cruising.  Just as in the classic Christmas Every Day, bliss quickly turns to battle as people fight for food and other resources.  Bart is finally forced to fess up, and everyone returns to the daily grind.  The episode ends with an old Bart in a hospital bed surrounded by pictures of his carefree younger self.  Bart looks at the pictures and smiles, showing us that, however fleeting, it's the good times that define our lives.  

So, what's the link between all that and these barrettes?  On the surface, not much save for the vacation factor (if seashells, parrots, and exotic flowers don't scream getaway, then I don't know what does).  Beneath the surface, a nod to cutting through the red tape of laundry and grocery shopping and other such trials to pursue something that makes you happy.

Who knew that Bart could be so deep?      

Something New and Sparkly: Suited for Strawberries

Fabulous Felt Strawberry Pair Barrette

Suit: Boscov's

Blouse: Alloy

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Suits are usually no nonsense.  That's kind of what makes them suits.  Whenever I'm presented with such a stern, utilitarian look, I can't help but mess with it, even if just a little.  Apparently I'm not alone in this.  In that now-infamous and much-blogged-about New Girl episode Jess (Zooey Deschanel) faces off with Nick's (Jake Johnson) uptight lawyer girlfriend (Lizzy Caplan) about the boredom of boardroom fashion (and so much more!): "And I hate your pants suit. I wish it had ribbons on it or something just to make it slightly cuter but that doesn’t mean I’m not smart and tough and strong.”  Riveting, no?  This little Fabulous Felt Strawberry Pair Barrette of mine seemed like a smart, sassy way to pin on the pretty.  Take that, briefcase.