auntlada

And if the person is naked or nekkid.

You mean two ugly looks for $45.

I've been iffy on his T-shirt design (not necessarily his cause, but his slogan on the T-shirt), but you just reminded me of one of the stupidest calls I ever got when I worked at a newspaper. I got the call because no one else knew what to say to the stupid woman. Her son had gotten in trouble at school for calling a little girl the N word. The little girl had one black parent and one white parent. The mother seemed to believe that the reason her son got in trouble was because he used the wrong word because the girl had one white parent. She called the newspaper to ask us what you call someone who has one black parent and one white parent. (She didn't say it quite like that, but she did not use vulgar language with me, or I would have quit talking to her. I maybe should have anyway). When she asked me what to call someone like that, I said, "Her name?" Remembering that, I understand Venny's shirt. (There are so many things that I thought of after getting off the phone with that woman that I wished I'd said, but just couldn't think of them in time. This was more than 20 years ago, and I still have conversations with her in my mind. Unfortunately -- or perhaps fortunately -- I don't know who she is.)

Sounds good to me.

Thank you. I saw that but was afraid that if I clicked on it, my post would be deleted, and then I'd have to submit it for approval all over again.

I hate Facebook's automated things. I posted in a group I'm in looking for a volunteer who could take my son to a group activity. Facebook automatically made it a "looking for recommendations" post. I'm not looking for recommendations of places or people; I'm looking for someone who will volunteer to help (and not someone who will volunteer someone else). And I don't know how to change it without deleting the whole post. It did that to me once at work. I posted a link to our jobs web page, and Facebook made it into a help wanted post through which people could apply. We don't take applications through Facebook, so I had to message the one guy who tried to apply that way to tell him to follow the link in the post. Basically, the things Facebook says it does to make things easier for people do not make it easier for me. They only make it more complicated to do the simple thing I want to do.

Lovely Candy Cloud.

It would make filming the runway even longer than it probably is, and it would making fittings longer, but I'd like to see the designers all have to design something for the same model, and I would like that model to be curvy, plus size, short, older, whatever, just something that makes the model different than the traditional tall, thin, flat-chested, small-hipped model.

Your mom didn't by chance serve in the Austro-Hungarian Navy, did she?

I think the hiphop jacket photo on the thinner model may be a photo from the 80s.

A small town in a part of the country that isn't really the South, but isn't exactly Southwest either, but is too far south and too far west to be Midwest. Everyone knew me because of what my parents did for a living, but really, most adults knew who all the kids were anyway. If we did something we weren't supposed to, our parents usually found out about it before we got home. We lived in a cul-de-sac neighborhood (it was longer than what I picture as a cul-de-sac, but there was only one way in and out by car) so it was a good place for riding bikes and roller skates. We played four-square in the street because we could see the cars coming and get out of the way in time. We just had to watch out for the one teenage boy down the block who drove way too fast. There were a lot of kids around my age, from a couple of years younger to four years older, and we'd all play outside on summer evenings while our parents sat in a driveway and talked. We'd play kick the can, red rover, red light/green light, mother may I and a game called lemonade that no one else ever seems to have heard of. (It involves two teams and charades and chasing back to your side.) I'm pretty convinced that neighborhoods like that don't exist any more. I wish we had one for my son.

I would guess that since Dmitry first said the phrase, it has been used by someone to describe every designer on every season of Project Runway (or All-Stars) at one time or another.

That was the first thing I thought of too, @peacheslatour.

I am in a small town. We do a lot of things here you can't do in other places. The drive-through does have an inside place where you can talk to the tellers.

I used to walk up to the ATM at my bank's drive-through. It was designed for cars, but it was the only ATM, so I walked over from my office. It seemed silly to drive half a block to use the ATM. I could have gone inside, but then I would have had to write a check and talked to someone. I preferred to use my bank card. I always wished they had a walk-up ATM at the main bank, but since it was just across the alley, they probably thought it was unnecessary. And yes, I stood in the line of cars sometimes. Sometimes I stood on the curb next to the line of cars to avoid possibly getting run over, but that led to people just driving right past me to get to the ATM first. I don't know if they didn't see me or just thought I was hanging out next to the ATM. I occasionally saw other people on foot using that ATM also.

Pulp Fiction. Not interested.

It also doesn't explain the people who run on concrete roads instead of the sidewalks. I can think of one reason for that, however: dogs. If the fence comes up almost to the sidewalk, I'll walk on the road there unless I know the yard does not have a dog. If a car is coming, I will step up in the yard. The streets I walk on are all residential, though, and most don't have sidewalks anyway.

Now I'm picturing this:

In the U.S., a Braum's double scoop brownie fudge sundae, but not with vanilla ice cream. I want one scoop of butter pecan and one scoop of something chocolate -- chocolate almond, chocolate pecan, chocolate toffee, whatever they have that day. Or a Dairy Queen M&M blizzard. Outside the U.S., a cup of half chocolate and half hazelnut gelato while walking around Rome. I'm probably never going to get that again, though.

Go Rest High On That Mountain. Someone sang it at my dad's funeral. It was my sole contribution to the funeral, suggesting the song. I knew when I heard it years before that it would be the perfect song. (I know it's weird to hang on to a song for your dad's funeral when he's not even sick, but what can I say? I knew it when I heard it. He loved country music.) Also, Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning. I really like the live version from the first time he sang it at the CMA awards in 2001, with Vince Gill introducing him.

Did you not see the look on Christian's face when the designer from Syria (can't remember his name, sorry) was talking about the farm women? That's what they'd think. You wear overalls, boots and a cowboy hat at all times, right? And walk around with a sprig of hay in your mouth. (Never mind that I haven't seen a farmer wearing overalls since my grandfather.)

I agree with you, but I think the point (to me at least) is that Nina appears to regard clothing for anyone over the age of 25 to look like it's for an old woman, even though she is considerably older than that herself.

A corset can go over or under the breasts or just around the waist. The latter is a particular kind of corset called a waist cincher. A corset generally cinches in the waist to make it look smaller. In the PRAS corset challenge, the designers didn't all end up with corsets.

I think the word she's looking for is "frumpy." That would be a much better description than "old lady," "mumsy" or "suburban."

I look at the comments on people's reviews on Amazon. Some people rate things low for what I think are stupid reasons. Or they don't know how to read instructions or product descriptions (apparently). I also like to check Consumer Reports for big purchases.