How the hell do you get those hats to stay on, Jilli? Are the hatpins going *into* your head?

All the mini hats have a haircomb sewn to the back brim, plus long stretchy lace ties that I tie around my pulled-up hair AND secure with bobby pins. Once I do all that, the hat isn't going anywhere, even if I dance a lot.

edit: Also, does Pete mind being called "distinguished"? Because that profile of him is, well, hot.

Isn't it, tho'? I have a very handsome husband. Snarky and prone to looming, but handsome.

I love those pink stripy shoes, Jilli.

Those shoes are proof of my insanity about my black & pink thing. Because those shoes? Were originally black & white. I colored them with waterproof art markers.

Connie, I'll take 'distinguished' over the A word anyday.

And look, new sig.

And look, new sig.

Does that mean you finally believe I don't need a minder when I'm sugared up?

I don't need a minder when I'm sugared up?

Maybe not *need* but there's lots of folks who would love the job.

Those shoes are proof of my insanity about my black & pink thing. Because those shoes? Were originally black & white. I colored them with waterproof art markers.

One day science may discover Jilli wasn't a perky goth at all, it was just the best way for her to wear black and pink continually.

I have a very handsome husband. Snarky and prone to looming, but handsome.

Very very.

He's the fourth best looking British guy I find good looking.

So, a very weird morning for me. After getting the shopping from Whole Foods and being caught in two seperate conversations with staff there, I head over to a local coffee shop for the aforementioned Jilli coffee.

When I get there there's a small line. At the head of the line is a young guy who is obviously chatting up the barista and apparently she likes it (given that she's usually rather a stern looking individual and she's currently beaming).

Anyway, as he makes way for the others in line, he's reading something that turns out to be song lyrics. By the time I'm ordering my drink, he's climbed up on the little stage in the shop, discovered the mike is live and has started to sing (badly but ernestly) into the mike.

I'm trying to order my coffee but can't because the 'song' keeps drowning me out. That and the fact that both me & the barista keep cracking up.

Then he says "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to serenade the girl."

Me: " Yeah, I know, that's why I feel guilty trying to interrupt you to give my order."

He: "Oh, no, make your order. I can wait".

Anyway, after I've got my two drinks (which takes a while because the barista didn't realize I wanted 2 because, well, flustered) he's finished the song. I start talking to the 'singer' who's called Craig, is a photographer by night and a web person/band member by day. He also goes down onto one knee and bows when I tell him what I do for a living.

Anyway, what makes this whole thing that little more bizarre, Craig is like the younger, better looking brothing to Brad Pitt, all 5' 6" of him, with dark hair and a resonant voice. This guy literally dripped charisma and had a 'turned to 11' lust for life that was infectious. He was pretty much a force of nature. I haven't met one of those in awhile, and usually they're already celebrities. It was a strange kind of wake up call.

I hand the Adorable crown to Craig.

Lovely bit of schmoop there, and well-described, but you can't get off that easy.

Yes, yes, I can. Come to Seattle and I'll introduce you to him, and that will be that.