Make sure your pores are clear of gunk with some extra goth pore strips from Boscia. While you’re waiting for it to work its magic, anxiously flick through the dresses in your closet and figure out what whispers, “Edwardian”, and decide on a black pleated dress you go from ASOS for only $35 a few months ago.

Celebrate finding an outfit without breaking into hives or panic sweat by cranking up one of your primping time playlists, which features generous amounts of Erasure and Elvis Crespo. Quickly catch a case of Bieber Fever with your fake bangs and capture the magic on camera to share with your friends later.

Refocus! Briefly consider reviving your Film Noir lipstick habit, but nix it in favor of thick eyeliner instead. Talk your blonde friend into going white blonde, because you secretly love white blondes – they are like magical unicorns walking among us!

It all finally comes together, and you watch this tall-drink-of-water perform, even though it means standing in heels that didn’t end up being as comfortable as you initially thought when you bought them. Side-eye the powers that be who decided to cut their set short, but allow other ho-hum acts to go on foreverrrrr.

Hang out with a few incredible broads, laughing, drinking and dreaming of the moment you finally find yourself nestled in a booth at Canter’s stuffing your face with potato pancakes. Get home at about 5:30 in the morning, but still manage to drag yourself into work a few hours later. Your fatigue making you temporarily forget that everyone else seems to have the day off, hmmph, but it’s okay because someone refilled the candy bowls with good candy.

I don’t know what I enjoy more – the actual going out or the process of getting ready to go out. I guess it’s like a social biathlon (or some other appropriate sporty term) and you need to engage in all parts with vigor, (hot glue) guns blazing.

Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna just take a little rest here and recharge my batteries for next time.

Oliver is working his best Zoolander blue steel look in the sweater I made for him…. we both had a lot of time on our hands last night.

Always and forever

My people.

I was scurred!

California Screamin'

Strike a pose

Over twelve hours on my feet left me hobbling around at work Monday morning, but it was all worth it. I gotta remember to bring comfier shoes next time, and I need to take a lesson from my friend Kim, who manages to strike perfect poses even on a roller coaster.

A very happy 2012 from the Ladies Who Brunch! Our first outing of the new year took us to Crushcakes & Cafe in Santa Barbara, CA. My fellow ladies, Marie and Anna, and I decided to mix some brunch business with a little shopping pleasure at Yellowstone Vintage Clothing. Deciding where to eat was an arduous task, as there were quite a few contenders. We settled on Crush Cafe after an afternoon of instant messaging and linking, using only the most rational arguments – Marie said it best, “I think the cupcakes pretty much sealed the deal.”

The cafe and  bakery have separate sections, so you you can get a sneak peek at the cupcakes as you make you way up the ramp to the cafe counter. Crush’s menu offers breakfast (served all day), lunch (soups, salads and hot/cold sandwiches) and especiales de la casa (house specialties). Even though I’d decided what I would order days in advance, I re-read the menu and kept changing my mind, only to go back to my original choice. LOCA! There are many tempting options for drinks, but because it was a warm day, the three of us all decided on the Moroccan mint iced tea (I will be back for you Mayan Mocha!). We all commented on how refreshing the tea was, which sounds kind of lame now that I see it typed out, but trust me, it’s delicious and the first sip will make you say, “mmm!” You place your order, grab your drinks and utensils then find yourself a table, your food will be brought to your table by the friendly staff.

Because I’m a sucker for a good breakfast sandwich, I went with the Hangover Helper. Hungover or not, this was an incredible sandwich, and I congratulate myself on an excellent choice. The Hangover Helper consists of fluffy eggs, melted cheddar, perfect slices of applewood bacon and tomato (I ordered mine without tomato, because no me gusta) on moist, chewy toasted sourdough bread, with a side of fruit. The egg, bacon and cheese combo is a classic combo, I knew it would be good. It was the bread that really made the sandwich – fresh, crunchy on the toasted outside and chewy and soft in the middle. The fruit was also fresh and ripe, no cheap filler fruit – just simple slices of banana, strawberries and some plump grapes. It sounds silly, but I really applaud a good side of fruit. It would be so easy to throw slices of honeydew on a plate and call it a side of fruit, but I’d much rather have a small side of choice fruits than slabs of “meh”.

Anna and Marie both went for the Cafe Skillet Potato & Eggs – two fried eggs with roasted potatoes, Anaheim chiles, red peppers, applewood smoked bacon, and melted cheddar and jack cheeses. It looked and smelled delicious, Anna who usually doesn’t eat eggs said they were good and ate until she hit her self-imposed egg maximum. It was a real comfort food kind of breakfast, a little bit of grease to soak up any pain leftover from a wild Saturday night, but nothing that will leave you feeling heavy or overly stuffed.

As you can see from this before and after comparison, we polished off all the food in the most ladylike manner. I refrained from licking my plate, not to preserve my dignity, but to leave room for dessert!

The breakfast at Crush Cafe was great, but you know I had one eye on the Crushcakes display the entire time. While Marie visited the powder room, Anna and I dove in and picked out a couple of cupcakes. Anna went with the Coconut Cloud, a coconut cake with coconut cream frosting and coconut flakes. I’m a recent coconut convert, having spend most of my thirty-something years wrinkling my nose at it. Holy crap, you guys, this was heavenly. I have a crazy red velvet obsession, so naturally I chose the Crush Cake – red velvet and Crushcake’s signature sour cream frosting. I will never again settle for cream cheese frosting. The sour cream frosting was so amazing, my mind is still blown. It was so fluffy, creamy and light! I kind of wanted to take my cupcake and run away so I wouldn’t have to share it.

Crushcakes has a rotating daily special cupcake, Sunday’s was Banana Fosters. Marie must have received my psychic signals to her, begging her to order it. I really liked the banana cupcake, anything banana flavored always takes me back to childhood, even that gross banana Laffy Taffy. I think the Crush Cake edged out the competition, and won the imaginary cupcake pageant I had playing in my head. Anna agrees, the star of the cupcakery is that sour cream frosting. Now we’re both staring off into space, dreaming of cupcakes and sour cream frosting. The menu I grabbed on my way out has some examples of their other daily specials, and I am looking at my calendar, trying to figure out how many trips to Crushcakes I can fit into my schedule.

The verdict? It’s no surprise, Ladies Who Brunch give major thumbs up to Crushcakes & Cafe! The location, food, staff, dog friendliness and parking (we found a spot right across the street) all get top marks and made for a fabulous brunching experience.

*pin up by David Wright

Running update! I’m still running and still alive! I’m actually on week 3 because after the second week, I decided to repeat each workout to give my body a little extra time to adjust to the increased running times. I’m going to make it to the finish line, just a little slower than first anticipated. A couple of friends have decided to join us, and it really is a case of the more the merrier. I’m still bringing up the rear, as the slowest of the group, but that’s okay! I know I can’t compare myself to anyone else, I just have to keep improving on my own performance. It still takes me until about the halfway point to get over the, “omg this blows so hard, I can’t do it!” feeling, but once I get over that hump, I feel so good. I never thought I’d say running would make me feel anything but miserable!

The latest additions to my reading list were a gift from my friend Heather, she knows me oh so well. She picked these up for me based on the titles and my love of sexy lady lit. What she may not have known was that I have a fascination with both Helen Gurley Brown and these vintage paperbacks! Now that I finally have my hands on copies, I can’t wait to dive in!

Given my penchant for black clothing and flair for the dramatic, the title of this blog shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. In seventh grade my History teacher gave the class an assignment to describe our dream homes, mine included a cemetery. I wasn’t trying to be funny or get a reaction, I’ve just always thought cemeteries were very peaceful and pretty. This begs the question I have yet to answer, am I Goth because I like cemeteries, or do I like cemeteries because I’m Goth?

I went to high school in the early 90s, when it was still considered odd to wear head to toe black and carry around a dogeared copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. I didn’t think I was that outrageous or scary, but I must not have seen what other people were seeing. I was never bullied, the worst teasing I remember was a group of guys who used to hum the theme from The Munsters when I walked down the hall. There was also one guy who seemed overly concerned about me, always asking me if I was depressed. A few years after I’d graduated a classmate admitted to me that she thought I was a witch. Not a bitchy Brenda Walsh, but a spell casting Prue Halliwell. Imagine if I’d been in high school when The Craft came out!

I’d always assumed I was pretty invisible during my years in school. I had a small group of friends, but for the most part, I was never part of any popular social circle. Even a couple of years into high school, when the Alternative music scene (remember that?!) took hold and it became more acceptable to listen to bands like The Cure and other “dark” bands, I was never part of the popular crowd. These were the jocks who’d suddenly taken an interest in that scene, and would only talk to me to ask where I’d gotten my Doc Martens (not an easy feat in those days). But despite our similar interests, I wasn’t allowed into their inner circle. Maybe it was because I’d insulted their queen in a Depeche Mode related schooling during first period PE,  or I simply wasn’t cool enough. Whatever the reason, I never clicked with that clique.

Assuming I’d spent my high school career flying under the radar in my nerdy group of friends, it came as a total shock to me when I found out other people actually knew who I was. Imagine my surprise during senior year when I was voted for one of those yearbook superlatives, Most Unique Senior Girl, to be exact. I was on the yearbook staff, so I wasn’t allowed to take part in the counting once I’d been nominated for one of the awards. I heard the phrase “landslide” mentioned, so I asked a friend of mine how many votes I’d gotten. She told me that out of the 200 or so kids in our class, about 100 to 125 voted and over 90 voted for me. I was floored, completely gobsmacked. I couldn’t name 90 people I’d met in four years of high school, much less 90 in our senior class.

I’d been so comfortable thinking I was playing the role of the invisible girl (p.s. remember that episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer where the unpopular girl ends up developing the super hero power of invisibility and is put in an elite government spy program?!). But then came that class vote, and the sudden notion that I was known, and the realization freaked me out. All I wanted was to blend in, the last thing I wanted was to stand out. I wanted the safety of disappearing into the herd and not getting singled out for ridicule or torture.

A couple of decades of hindsight and I can finally understand that it was better to have been the class weirdo than invisible. I was never trying to be different, I was just being trying to survive. By thinking that no one was paying attention, I inadvertently figured out a way to just be myself. High school is when I started to understand that it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought, those four years would be a blip in the movie montage of my life. Why not let my freak flag fly (mine would be black velvet, edged in lace) and not take it all so seriously? Whether it’s cemeteries in the backyard or glitter in your weaves, you gotta work it and not let a few side-eyes get you down.

Although I no longer carry a lunch box purse or sport spider web tights, I still regularly visit haunted houses for decorating tips and lean towards the spooky and kooky. I remain… forever Goth.

When cubicle life has me down, I look to my inspiration wall for guidance. Like a slightly padded bra with serious underwire, these three gents hoist me from the doldrums and lift my spirits.