Monster On A Rope: If It Ain't Broken

I totally fail as a girl, it's true. Nothing compares to root canal as far as I'm concerned as shopping for clothes and shoes, especially when there are no nice shoes for size 11's and no nice shirts or jackets or coats that will wrap around an I-cup bra. I went all of last winter without a decent warm coat because they just don't make anything that can button over my chest. And I could grab the most enormous sized men's coat on the rack which might button in the front but everywhere else I look like David Byrne because it still doesn't disguise the fact that I am wearing a big friggin' coat.

So it goes without saying what a nerve-wracking experience it was shopping for a new suit to wear for Mr. Williams' funeral Thursday morning, settling on some cheap Chinese collared jacket that still doesn't button over the boobs but I might be able to get away with it leaving it open and hoping that my nice cotton white shirt will help distract from its tackiness, plus a pair of equally hideous black trousers that aren't straight legged so I have to try and pin the hips so that I don't look like MC Hammer, and a pair of faux suede high heels that actually came in 11's so on my limited budget it'll do in a pinch. Oh, how I despise Lane Bryant.

But if I gotta get gussied up at least once a year it'll be worth it to pay my respects and do my mother proud that all her money sending me to charm school didn't go to waste. So the funeral is Thursday and it sounds like it might be quite an event with some of the folks that are already beginning to RSVP. Here's to hoping I get out of inventory before 4am this time so I can catch a few winks before the viewing in the morning. Meanwhile as I go try on my new duds here are some pictures from Ernest Williams' 92nd birthday party that we all threw for him at 37th & Zen this past March, while Mike sat in with the band on the skins that night as well.