I think this is the funniest, cutest thing ever:

Dear pre-school

Five Men's Fashion First Impressions!

When I saw this dress a while back, I immediately fell in love with it:

(click to enlarge)

I wanted to own it and eat it and marry it. And after I had planned my purchase/wedding/feast down to the last detail (Sean Kingston's "Beautiful Girls" would be our first dance, of course, and then I would eat my dress), I thought, "What would The Men think of this?" (As always, if you're confused about the curious capitalization and hyperlinking of The Men, click here for an explanation.)

So I asked 'em:

Brother, age 13: It reminds me of the ocean. It looks like sea shells. Also reminds me of those things that magicians pull out of their throats, all those colorful scarves. And, if I were her, I wouldn't wear it to a cancer research event because it looks like some horrible skin cancer.

Boyfriend: Apparently Kate Beckinsale has found the only designer to practice the age old tradition of gluing tripe to some pieces of fabric and calling it a dress.

Brother, age 21: Oooohhhhh, very nice! I like it! Wait, is that Kate Beckinsale? Hmm...she could do better than a jellyfish dress.

Father: It looks like an intestinal parasite.

Brother, age 18: I guess the vulva look is back in?*

*I would issue an apology here for the sudden vulva talk, but I think this post already weeded out all the readers who would possibly take offense. But if any of you had decided to stay, even after Sallly the Sex-ay Starfish, charitably typing in my URL every day and thinking, "I hope that crude Daddy Likey girl continues this streak of good manners," well, sorry.

DC Diary: Gelatinous Adventures on Capitol Hill

Preface: I apologize if you're someone who couldn't care less about American politics, but living in DC, politics has a way of seeping into your life. Sometimes, it almost mows you down in the street.

Yesterday, my brother Tona and I decided to take a tour of the Capitol. I wore black tights, a crisp pencil skirt, tasteful cardigan, and a hot pink trench coat. Tona asked me why I was so dressed up.

"Here's the plan," I said. "I'll catch Hillary Clinton's eye with the bright coat and then whip it off to reveal my professional garb underneath. Then she'll ask me to be her personal assistant." I told Tona he should dress nice too, just in case.

He laughed at me as he slipped on his sneakers. "Yeah, I'm sure that people on Capitol Hill tours get job offers all the time."

"You never know," I said, and I might have added "jackass." We left.

While we waited in line at the Capitol, Tona read a list of the prohibited items out loud, since I tend to carry a vast, strange, and sometimes dangerous assortment of things in my bag.

"No fireworks are allowed in the Capitol building."

"Duh."

"No food or drink."

"Duh."

"No liquids or gels."

"Ummm..." I reached into my bag and pulled out the loot from a recent visit to the Kiehls store: two heaping handfuls of sample-size tubes and packets and tubs of moisturizer, hair product, and body oils.

Tona put his head in his hands and sighed. "Why are you carrying around twelve pounds of gel?"

"I forgot!"

"Well, you have to throw it away."

"Hell no!" I cried. "Do you have any idea how much these free samples are worth??" I carefully rearranged the contents of my bag, placing the dangerous facial creams at the bottom and covering them with a protective layer of tampons, gum wrappers, and stale Craisins. Fifteen minutes later, we went through security. Success.

My secret weapon.

The tour itself was alright. The building is beautiful, of course, and our tour guide had no shortage of bad jokes and puns--"Capitol idea, sir!" But since this was the day McCain and Obama had heroically returned to the hill, and the government was in a mad scramble to save our country from economic collapse, and, you know, impending doom, we were eager to get passes to see the House and Senate in action. To get these passes, you have to go to the office of your state representative and ask nicely.

We headed toward the office of the honorable David Wu, and as soon as we entered the House office building we realized--this is where the action is. Important-looking people were running around, freaking out; I saw a young woman about my age, wearing a suit, clutching a briefcase, crying. Tona and I hid on the stairs to eavesdrop on a couple representatives throwin' down some impromptu bailout plan debate. (Choice quote: "Well, maybe AIG shouldn't have been such a DUMBASS.")

After getting lost in the dark maze of hallways upstairs, we were rescued by a chivalrous young intern (excellent choice, Rep. Buck McKeon!) and finally passed through the doors of David Wu's office.

"Hi," I chirped, trying to be louder than my pink coat, "we're from Oregon!" The receptionist was exceedingly friendly, showering us with house and senate passes, business cards, stickers, and tales of her former life in Oregon. She joined us in making fun of the guy from California working the other desk (hey, we had to), and we walked out beaming with state pride.

Tona stopped in the hallway a few steps from the door. "Should I ask them how to apply for an internship?" he asked, gesturing back toward our new friends. I told him, yeah, for sure, and sat down in a random but comfortable leather couch placed in the middle of the hallway while he popped back inside to get his information.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Finally, Tona came back out. He was laughing and shaking his head.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" I asked.

"They just interviewed me for an internship," he said. "Damnit! Why did I wear these shitty jeans??"

For the rest of the day we went back and forth between the House and the Senate, hoping to see some hot political action. Mostly, we stared at completely empty chambers save for one elderly congressman droning about how hard it was for his friend to buy a boat. There were a couple good speeches that actually related to the UNPRECEDENTED ECONOMIC CRISIS, but I guess the real dramz took place behind closed doors, hidden away from us meddlesome citizens.

Overall, I'd still call the day a smashing success. Sure, Tona's refusal to put on a damn pair of slacks may have cost him his dream job, and we spent approximately three hours going back and forth through increasingly grumpy security checkpoints in order to be spectators to...nothing, but our lurking around allowed us to see tons of famous (or...not) politicians. Here's part of the running list we kept in my notebook, along with some notes and observations:

• John Conyers--waved at us, causing me to shriek, "john conyers just waved at us!"
  
• Ron Paul--wiping spittle from his lip. Hmm...
  
• John Murtha--Santa?
• Henry Waxman--surprisingly short.
  
• Harry Reid--seemed a little too relaxed, all things considered.
  
• Barney Frank--sassy.
• Charlie Rangel--could use a blowout.
  
• John Tester--wearing a denim button-down (inspired by Rumi?)
• Chris Dodd--impressively bouncy and voluminous hair (must ask what conditioner he uses!)
• Rahm Emanuel--HOTTIE (my brother thought so too.)
  

Meet my new desktop background.

Martin, Woodrow, & Carrie Bradshaw

I received an email from the seriously brilliant Lisa (gaaaahhhhh she MADE this!), regarding Carrie Bradshaw's infamous Eiffel Tower purse:


Says Lisa: I personally find it to be quite disturbing, but after learning that it is made from wood, and encrusted with Swarovski bling, I couldn't help but wonder how Woodrow and Martin feel about it...

I got Martin and Woodrow to pause their Sex and the City DVD and come out of their posh dressing rooms to respond:

Aaahhh, Paris! Land of beautiful people, breathtaking architecture, and COOKED snails in the garbage! This purse, it reminds me of my favorite scent in the world, known to high society (myself included, of course) as eau d'french trashcan. It shines with the light of a thousand stars! Je t'aime escargot!

XOXO,
Martin

It's wood? Yum.

Cordially,
Woodrow

p.s. Speaking of dangerous animals, everyone should consider selling their last stock shares and purchasing a Wildlife Situations Quick-Reference card, produced by my ingenious friend Meg. It's $2 that will save your life!

My Internet-Free Life, Courtesy of Comcast

As you may have noticed, I haven't been posting lately. This is because my internet has been on the fritz, and by "on the fritz," I mean it works for approximately five minutes, or until you are about to post/save/send something important, and then it dies. In other news, CURSE YOU TO HELL, COMCAST! I was trying to tell my brother earlier that we should think of Comcast's horrific customer service as a comforting taste of home, kind of like a care package from mom filled with cookies and candy and exorbitant fees for services that don't work, but I fizzled out mid-sentence because I couldn't make myself believe it.

A rude repair person is supposed to arrive on Wednesday, at least three hours after the scheduled appointment time, for our convenience.

My boyfriend and my brother Devin visited this weekend. Here's a smattering of snapshots from our internet-free life:

Oregon Paleocastor, represent!

p.s. Click here for a sweet rundown of titillating (OK, not at all) facts about Wasilla, Alaska! Also, a super huge hint about where I'm spending my days as an intern.

SENATOR!

Today, on my way to work, I stepped into the crosswalk on 17th street. I can't be sure if I had a walk signal, because it was 9AM, so I can't be sure if I was wearing a shirt (my memory and common sense don't kick in until 11), but nevertheless, I noticed, in the nick of time, that a black SUV was barreling toward me. I leaped back onto the sidewalk and began to wave my fist in melodramatic protest, directing my most intimidating glare at the offending passengers, one of whom happened to be Joe Biden:

Yes, seated in the middle of a group of Agent Smith lookalikes was the VP hopeful himself. His white hair flowed in the breeze, our eyes met, and I froze, fist raised, screeching something shockingly, finally accurate: "SENATOR!"

Then I almost got run over by his police escort.

Later, I bought some badass shoes to celebrate:

It was a good day.

(Shoes--BCBGirls)

Urine Damage and First Dates

Check out 21 other fabulous bloggers and myself doing our best interpretations of the first date outfit over at Joanna's equally fabulous Glamour.com blog, Smitten.  When I sent my brother the picture of my outfit, he said, "Why are you posing in front of severe urine damage?" So, there you go.

Welcome to the New Daddy Likey, Sponsored by Honee Darby

I get a lot of emails from PR people, advertising reps, reputable Nigerian bankers, etc. Some of these messages contain useful information, some of them are funny, some of them are morally reprehensible ("We'll pay you $150 to subtly encourage your readers that they are fat and should consider liposuction! But don't tell them you're getting paid or else we won't pay you!") and some of them, are, well, this:

Hi Webmaster,

I am Honee and interested in sponsoring your blog http://www.daddylikey.blogspot.com/. We are offering you $8.00 for the posted links on your site. You will be paid $8.00 for this link on your blog. The due date will be 2 days after the links will be given to you.

Simply mentioned the keywords anywhere within the body of each post and write one post in every keyword. It should be not less than 150 words and must be a unique content. You can write it on your own journalistic style but don't give negative comment about the keywords given to you. Hateful or rude review will be declined and please don't mention that the post is a sponsored one or placed it in any category that is called sponsored paid. The anchor text or keyword, where you are to direct the link through should be used in its exact given form.

Keywords are 'casino' related. Kindly inform me if these are okay and we will give you all the details for posting.

We will be paying thru PayPal after your review has been approved. Please let me know if you want to continue with my offer. And kindly add my email address to your email address book to make sure your spam filter does not discard any important messages from us. Please let me know if you have any further questions and if you are interested on this offer.

Yours truly,

Honee Darby

I thought it would be an interesting experiment to see what my life--and this blog--might be like if I decided to accept $8 to send my readers subliminal messages about casinos. So here are a few popular Daddy Likey features, sponsored-style:

High Fashion Haiku

O! Gorgeous satchel!
Green like a Godly apple
I LOVE CASINOS

Woodrow

Ask me for one adjective to desribe these shoes, I'd say "delicious:"

Ask me for another, I'd say, "filling." Ask me for another, I'd say, "CASINO."

XOXO,
Woodrow

Dear Daddy Likey

Dear Daddy Likey,

I was wondering if you had any tips for transitioning from a summer wardrobe to a fall wardrobe?

Signed,
Sweating in Sweaters

Dear Sweating,

Ah yes, I was just thinking about this the other day while kicking back at a CASINO. Man, I just love CASINOS. In fact, maybe you should meet me at the CASINO and we'll eat some prime rib and crab and I'll tell you exactly how to transition from a summer wardrobe to a fall wardrobe. Bring a sweater. CASINOS tend to get a bit chilly. CASINO CASINO CASINO!

I've gotta go count my eight dollars now. Peace out.

So True

"Going into a Betsey Johnson store is like being drunk in a candy shop. It’s really colorful and exciting but it makes you dizzy and kinda sick to your stomach."
-Lindsay

Blogback Mountain

Already Pretty is hosting an ingenious Shoe Swap! If you're a size 7ish and join in, I might trade shoes with you! In other news, Already Pretty has quickly become one of my favorite blogs, thanks to Sal's humor, smarts, and positive 'tude. Rock on, Sal, rock on.

How freakin' cute does Ambika look in this dress SHE MADE HERSELF? I just can't get over it. Totally deserves capital letters.

How freakin' gorgeous does Queen Michelle look in this makeup that's TOTALLY AFFORDABLE? OK, OK, I'll stop.

The impassioned cries of a girl who accidentally watched A History of Violence with her mom: "It's 'A History of Violence,' not "A History of Bangin Chicks on the Stairs'"!!

Cuuuuuute, cute cute cute.

My friend Alec, a recent transplant to Korea, waxes poetic about the country's food, including the most perfect sausage doled out by Poet Laureate Wow (well, sort of).

I have that same shoe caged in my apartment! It's the reason I don't have a cat.

These are priceless.

Loving Thomas's new feature, One Leg at a Time.

Common risks of being a runway model: Falling off drastically high heels. Snortin' a little too much coke backstage.  Being photographed in saran-wrap harem pants. Drowning?

I Heart You's recaps of The Hills are pretty much better than the show.

A hilarious blogger writes a hilarious letter to another hilarious blogger. Shockingly enough, it is hilarious.

Blue Period

I am going through what fashion blog historians might refer to as a Blue Period, but I would refer to it as A RABID OBSESSION WITH ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING BRIGHT BLUE. Unfortunately, the fashion world currently shares my obsession, and it is hindering my ability to function in the world.

Seriously, I can barely walk down the street without getting distracted by a bright blue blouse and running into a telephone pole (yep, happened today). I buy slightly-too-expensive silk dresses just because they're blue. I write lustful haiku about blue handbags. Thanks to a pair of bright blue pumps, I feel like I understand Lindsay Lohan:

I will not make a blue footed boobies joke. I will not make a blue footed boobies joke. I will not make a blue footed boobies joke.

Anyway, the outfit of my dreams right now looks something like this:

I own this, as does everyone else in the world, but there's a reason for that--it makes every skin tone glow, it goes with everything, and it's comfy as hell. Today I wore it in 80% humidity, which was dumb.

Unisex Flex Fleece Zip Hoody, $42, americanapparel.net

My friend Lindsay has these and they are...hmm...how to put this eloquently...MEGA CUTE. If I were my normal, non-blue self, I would wear them with a baggy black sweater, lots of necklaces, and gold flats.

Dionne Straight Leg Denim, $28, forever21.com

But Blue Winona demands...Blue Converse!

Converse Chuck Taylors, $40(ish), everywhere

What do you think? Too much?

p.s. At least she understands my plight...

Heart of Gold (well, silver, but still)

The wonderful Wendy Brandes is auctioning off this beautiful necklace (in a package deal with tons of other goodies) to benefit the Nielsen family. Click here to read the parallel stories of the Nielsens' tragedy and the rally of instant, selfless support it provoked.


The bidding is currently at $550, which is fantastic, but if you can't part with that kind of money right now, no worries (I can't either)--tell your richer friends, or publicize the auction on your blog, or just send some kind words or thoughts the Nielsens' way. Thank you.

Dispatches from the East

Well, I made it a week in DC without getting stabbed (yesterday I walked by a guy with a large fillet knife literally tucked up his sleeve, but WendyB pointed out that he was "probably a chef just out for some air...WITH HIS KNIFE"), love my internship, and found a coffee shop with Wi-Fi, so now I'm even more excited about the next two and a half months. Other bits of news, random observations, and notes (sorry, no pictures yet) from my first week:

• My brother Tona's (not his real name but the only thing I've called him since he was, like, five) lease ended a couple weeks before my departure date, so he decided to come to DC with me and see what happened. Now he's interning for the Obama campaign in Virginia and volunteering for a place that counsels conscientious objectors. Holla! Also, splitting rent and food costs+sibling bonding time=AWESOME.
  
• I forgot to bring a coat, umbrella, or close toed shoes. Then there was a hurricane. Oops.
• I looooove the history and architecture here. I love that when my friends call I can say, "I'm just taking a stroll past the Lincoln Memorial, no biggie." Even when I'm sitting on the couch reading Us Weekly.
  
• We live right across the street from the US Marine Barracks, and therefore have highly trained armed guards stationed a few feet from our door, 24 hours a day, not to mention hundreds more highly trained soldiers sleeping across the street. Too cool.
  
• I saw a red carpet being rolled out just so the commandant could walk into his house; I am determined to be the next commandant.
• Coming from Oregon, it's been hard to adjust to not having at least three coffee shops on every block. We'll be walking around, say, "Let's grab some iced coffee," look around and then, suddenly, shockingly, realize that there are no coffee shops in sight. Must figure out how to live like this.
• In my humble opinion, Zara kicks H&M's ass.
• It was really upsetting to find out that Filene's basement actually has a first and second floor.
  
• After deciding that John Adams don't get no love, we tried to have a John Adams themed day yesterday, but abandoned the idea after reading that JA loved corn (we didn't feel like corn).
• Whenever I see a slightly overweight balding white guy in a suit, I point and screech, "Senator!"
  
• There are a lot of slightly overweight balding white guys in suits here.
• Should probably stop doing this.

Posts should be more regular this week! Stay tuned! And thanks for all the fabulous comments lately--I've had a chance to read and love them, but I'll get to replying to them soon!

An Imagined Conversation Between Myself and This Model Wearing J. Crew's $98 "Jersey-Knit Pants"

Me: Hey, girl!

Model: Hey!

Me: Sooo...how about this weather?

Model: Too hot for my tastes, frankly!

Me: Ha! Me too. Whaddya know? We have the same taste in weather!

Model: Serendipity!

Me: Did you ever see that movie? Serendipity?

Model: Shut up! That is my favorite movie!

Me: Wait, really? Really?

Model: Yes! You didn't like it?

Me: I never saw it. Kate Beckinsale's character was so damn smug in the preview that I refused to see it and I've held a grudge ever since.

Model: Wow, that movie came out, like, eight years ago.

Me: I know. Holding grudges is one of my greatest talents in life. That, and making marinara sauce. I like your shoes.

Model: Thanks! I was going for an Audrey Hepburn vibe with the pearls and these jersey-knit pants.

Me: Leggings.

Model: What?

Me: Leggings. Those pants. They're leggings.

Model: No, silly, they're jersey-knit pants.

Me: They're stretchy black pants, otherwise known as leggings.

Model: No, no, no, see, they have a zipper in the back, so they're pants.

Me: Lindsay Lohan designed some leggings with a zipper in the back. She also designed some with kneepads in the front and called them something really gross like, "blowjob leggings." Note the word "leggings."

Model: These jersey-knit pants are certainly not leggings!

Me: Look, I love me some leggings. I'm not judging. You're rockin' 'em. I just want you to own it, sister!

Model: They're not leggings!

Me: They surely are.

Model: But I paid $100 for them!

Me: ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR LEGGINGS?

Model: Yes...

Me: Let's go with jersey-knit pants.


p.s. Thanks Julie!

Checking In

I hope everyone had a fantastic and labor-free weekend. I arrived in DC, had a day to do cliche touristy things (gawk at the Capitol building? Check. Gawk at the White House? Check. Gawk at the Library of Congress? Well, you get the idea...), and start work tomorrow.

My Wi-Fi access has been on the spotty/nonexistent side, but I'm trying to remedy that and hopefully I'll be back into a regular(ish) posting schedule within the week. I'm seriously missing blogging, and I'll be back as soon as I can!

When we passed the Washington Monument on the cab ride from the airport, the driver said, "See that? That's Washington DC's di--ooohhh maybe I should not say this..." and then he sort of crumpled and drove the rest of the way in silence.