Neon Yellow Jeans. Make It Work. Attempt #1

Remember how, awhile back, I used shaky impulse-buying logic to convince myself that these jeans would save my life?

Well, today I took a wrong turn on my walk home from the coffee shop, and within minutes, found myself edging along the shoulder of a 50 mile-an-hour road in the pitch dark, balancing my completely impractical Betsy Johnson laptop bag and an overstuffed purse between speeding traffic and a drainage ditch. As I approached a blind curve, I prepared to hurl myself into the abyss to avoid certain death, but then, the beam of oncoming headlights caught my jeans, and suddenly my legs were glowing brighter than a safety vest. I was visible, invincible! The yellow denim lit my way home; oh yes, these pants saved my life.

Finger guns could save your life too.

O! Whimsical Printed Panties!

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:

OK, let's see...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8...well this is sort of boring for you guys, huh? Luckily the only things written on my calendar today are "count ways I love whimsical panties," and "pray for a better exchange rate so I can afford whimsical panties."

As you can see, I'm pretty busy. I better go.

Hilary Laing "Jemima" frilly knickers, £20.00, here.

Don't Show-cha Your Chocha, Volume XVI

I'm back, and I come bearing (baring?) chocha!

If you're just joining Daddy Likey, click here for an intro to the phenomenon previously and currently known as Don't Show-cha Your Chocha, and if you're like, "Yeah yeah get on with it" I'll leave you with this illuminating quote, from one of my fabulous, bilingual readers:

In Spanish, "chocar" means "to shock." Not sure about "chochar" though.

And now, time to chochar!

From Gabbi, a submission "featuring a very confused model:"

She says: If I'm going to spend $279 on a complicated grey...thing, I would like to know what I'm buying. While the description says it's a "top," this depressed-looking model with weirdly-twisted legs seems to think it's a dress. Good thing she put that black...thing (Is that a skirt?)...on underneath.

Jo sent me this one:

I just found this shining example on girl's football site, Kickette. It's Claire Merry who is currently attempting to divorce Thierry Henry for £10million. Maybe if she gets it she can buy some leggings or something to make this a whole outfit.

From Poppy:

Showin' your chocha from a brand new angle...

While visiting the American Apparel website (always a risky endeavor), reader Kate came across the next two offenders, and offered up some hilarious commentary:

This lady seems deeply troubled. Like, "Oh, God, I was changing - did you just walk in without knocking? I can't believe you'd do that. Why would you do that?" The thing that gets me most is that it is sheer. Sheer. So if by some miracle it is long enough, you can still catch a glimpse of her lady-area.

And, regarding the appropriately titled "Too-Short Tube Dress:"

They know it's too short. They know. The implications that has for my world view are terrifying.

Tessa found this at Forever 21:

Editor's note: Is that Heidi Montag?

From Sara:

I saw this dress and I felt so violated like I had actually seen this poor model's chocha. I'm not sure who feels worse about this get-up...her or me!

Reader Folu saw this Shopbop promo and determined that their normally half-naked models had staged a chocha-covering coup:


I would agree, but my inbox is still full of Shopbop offenders, including this one, from Emily:


And this, from Madoka:


And these, from Heidi:

But maybe someday the Shopbop coup (and hemlines) will really go down.

And finally, lovely reader Alison submitted this link, which is sort of not safe for work, unless you have the kind of boss who takes kindly to pleas of "But it's a prosthetic wax pudenda!" Well, now you have to click, right?

Remember--next time you're shopping online and find yourself saying "Where are the pants?," do the right thing, send the offender to me: daddylikeyblog@gmail.com

I'll Be Back

Posting has been light this week for a couple of reasons:

1. There was an election. Maybe you heard about it? No? Yeah, it wasn't really a big deal.

(Click to enlarge the cutest picture in history)

I spent the evening crying and eating lemon bundt cake. At a little past 11, people were running down the street by my house shooting guns in the air and screaming, "YES WE CAN!" I was like, "I don't think that's what it means."

2. My internship is ending and I'm flying home tomorrow! It's been so much fun and gone by so fast, I can't believe it.

My last week consisted of interviewing Leanne from Project Runway (click here to check it out), researching Pakistani boy bands, posing as a sexy penguin in a photobooth with my friend Catherine, and forcing my amazing coworkers to spend so much time with me that they'll probably rejoice when I leave. ("Is that needy intern girl finally gone?") I'm going to miss them. A lot.

I'll be back in the blogging game on Monday, but in the meantime, feel free to check out the new podcast over at The Sunday Best, featuring moi. Thomas always does a bang-up job, and if you push that play button you'll be treated to juicy secrets like why the hell this blog is called Daddy Likey and how much I would pay for cheese.

Thanks so much for the opportunity, Thom, and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Source

When I Was Your Age, I Walked 10 Miles in the Snow to the Polling Station

So, any crazy voting stories yet? 

Oregon is a vote by mail state, which is both blissfully convenient and depressingly anticlimactic. While putting a stamp on an envelope hardly feels patriotic, I'm not going to complain, since I've already heard some harrowing tales from the polling stations in other states—how's it goin' out there? 

I'm working the polls in Virginia later (I think my official job title is "KEEP THE PEOPLE IN LINE HAPPY SO THEY DON'T GO HOME"), so maybe I'll see some of you there, and if I do, I'll tell you a knock-knock joke.

Tonight we make history.