Jilli, what about asking for a sketch of both designs so you can pick the one you like best?

I was wondering if you could have a ribcage corset with a cupcake where the heart would be and a GCS bat at the neckline but I think that would be too busy.

The ribcage cupcake corset idea just tickles me no end. I like the logo idea, too, but ... ribcage! With a cupcake instead of a heart!

That's awesome. I vote for that one. Could she do that design as a corset vest? t edit Would the corset vest be styled like this: [link]

I guess in my brain, someone who is an icon shouldn't have to work a day job to pay the mortgage.

I totally agree with you. Sadly, that requires you to (1) be independently wealthy, (2) have a patron, or (3) perfect the art of being a ne'er-do-well who lives off of others without annoying them with your sponge-like ways.

ION, I can has new couch! Is squooshy and comfy, but firm. I also took a nap, which I never do (not out of any hatred for naps, but simply because I can generally never fall asleep to actually, you know, NAP).

Now I'm eating yogurt with granola and ground flaxseed (part of the Plan To Get More Fiber [aka, the Damn You, IBS plan]), and when I digest it, I'm off to the gym (otherwise known as The Only Place I Can Watch Cable TV).

Dang, that's a pretty corset vest.

I totally agree with you. Sadly, that requires you to (1) be independently wealthy, (2) have a patron, or (3) perfect the art of being a ne'er-do-well who lives off of others without annoying them with your sponge-like ways.

I would like option 1 or 2, please.

Yay new couch!

This gave me chills, The Ultimate Zoom-out, from the Himalayas to the horizon of our Universe and back: [link]

Dang, that's a pretty corset vest.

I hear that that corset-maker does good work, but I've never worn/seen her stuff. The vest design is super cool, though.

That is supercool.

I actually knew an option 3 in college -- a baby-faced black leather jacket-wearing punk former heir to a whisky fortune who'd been mostly disowned by his very wealthy family for being Teh Ghey. They agreed to pay for the remainder of his college education, but he'd never get another cent from them beyond that. He was a total trust fund baby who hadn't a clue how to do anything but be a student, and instead of getting a campus job he existed on the charity of his sisters (he had two sisters, who had previously been omitted from their parents' wills because they were girls and they'd never need inheritances since they'd just grow up to marry money; as sole heir, he'd promised to split his take with them, so when he was disowned and they were added to the will they promised to split their take with him, and in the meantime they sent him spare money from their allowances when they could) and of his friends and acquaintances.

He was a total, utter, 1000% sponge, but funny and charming and flattering. For the price of a sandwich with fries and a Coke at the local Greek diner, you got long elaborate tales about the awesomeness of you, interspersed with anecdotes from his crazy Old South family and tales of his weekend adventures in Greenwich Village. You knew you'd never see a dime back from all those lunches, but he was dedicated to giving you your money's worth.

I suppose he's gone on to teach Wilde at a community college somewhere, but I kind of hope he's still plugging away at option 3, possibly in a brocade smoking jacket and fez.

possibly in a brocade smoking jacket and fez.

I think it's got to be an extra-special challenge to be a ne'er-do-well sponge if you're wearing a fez.

The -ma works so well that my annual review turned out to not BE an annual review. Turns out that's not til January and this was a fakeout. Awesome!

I think it's got to be an extra-special challenge to be a ne'er-do-well sponge if you're wearing a fez.

It'd be all bespoke and shabby and attached to an elderly relative who was also cut off by the family and sent it to him in a plain brown box in dead of night, or maybe it'd have a Shriners logo on it and he'd have a story about poking around in a pawnshop, unable to afford to get his leather jacket out of hock, but he could afford the fez and was helpless in its thrall. He'd have a whole elaborate tale about it; it'd cost you an omelet or a pack of cigarettes or something, but it would be very diverting and you'd say goodbye to him and walk away thinking, "Huh. I should feel totally cheated, yet somehow I don't."