Bobbi's Guide to Fall

The leaves are changing--somewhere in the country, there is a chill in the air--east of the Rockies, and most importantly a new season of television has premiered. Thus, it can only be deduced that fall is upon us.
Like most autumn seasons, this year will be the year Bobbi stays on her shit, but before the season can really begin, I feel it is my right, no, my duty, to give my guidance to the rest of the cheap, chic world. So here goes nothing.

Numero Uno: Do not make rash decisions involving money while on major pain killers. This decision could result in a shotty new driveway or a myriad of used furniture off Craig's List that really has no place in your home.

The Duce: Home hair coloring kits: never go lighter on your own. It's like how Lauren Grahm says not to cut your own bangs. Just listen. Don't do it. I reccomend checking out the local beauty school for a cheap color.

3: Smile like you mean it at work. No one wants summer to be over. So just fake it, and beautiful things will start to happen.

Four: Do not buy your H-Day costume yet. Take the appropriate amount of time to mull. But don't wait until the 30th either.

V: As tempting as it may be in the Whole Food's checkout line, don't bother buying Martha's Halloween spooktacular. Yeah, it looks cool, but its a bunch of crap you could make without paying $6 and killing a tree. Use your imaginations, that what H. is all about.

666: A new pair of fall shoes--boots mainly--is not only important and fun, it is essential. So tell the judgemental men in your life to suck it and hit the Nine West outlet or the flea market.

7: Take a nod from the Emmy's and check out the winner's work. Haven't seen Mad Men, Big Love, or Tara? Check them out. Seriously, the talent, clothing, and story lines are worth it.

And finally...

Eight: Get crafty. This is the one time of year where it is totally legit to knit yourself into a heap like the craziest old lady in town, so why not embrace it.



Bobbi's Guide to Fall was brought to you from the knowlege and wisdom of Bobbi Noodle, all tips come from the personal experiences of Bobbi's trial and error in daily Fall life, so give them a thoughtful read.

Confessions of a Shoeaholic

Hi. I'm Bobbi [Noodle], and I'm an addict.

I think I began collecting shoes religiously five or so years ago, but it was not until this past summer that my addiction began to truly affect others.

I used to buy heels.  Sometimes they were little black Guess stilettos, or a pair of ballet flats that happened to be only 5 dollars.  But now, I've really gone and done it.

I'm Bobbi and I'm a bootaholic.

Uggs. Frye Boots. Cowboy boots of any shape and color, price is no object.  When I see them, it's like my pinky toe cries out "mine bitches!"

And just like that, the plastic jumps from the innards of my wallet and the boots are mine.  While there may not be any shame in owning a pair of thigh high mocchacins (they were on sale!), there is shame in the fact that my addiction cannot be conquered.  In fact, I'm not even sure where to begin overcomming addiction.  They don't make shoeaholics self-help books.  There are no boot-buyers support groups.  I think I'm on my own with this one.

It is moments like this my wallet and I long for my peanut butter addiction to return.  But until then, at least I'll go broke in style.

Time After Time

The blogasphere and I have spend a summer apart.  It has been sad and painful, and my desk drawer is fresh out of kleenex to wipe my teary eye.  My time apart from this world called Bobbi Noodle, has left me with no other thoughts than that of time itself.

Who ever said "time heals all?"  Whom ever it was, I want to sue.  I want a trillion dollars for false advertisement, because sometimes even time doesn't cut it. 

It seems we spend our time waiting for time to pass, yet wasting that time longing for more time.  It is a vicious, painful cycle that gets me every time.

I wait for fall shows to air, but when they do, I beg time to go slower so I get more moments with Chuck and Blair, in the romance of the century.  But no, time just won't cooperate.

I think the real problem is, time and I lack a certain level of understanding.  I want time to let me forget the past, and slow the future, but time just wants to tick away like its nobody's business.

So, as my summer ends and I resume my post as Bobbi Noodle, I just ask time this one little favor: either rewind three months or fast forward ten, or whatever you do, just don't stand still.