Hey lovelies, I just thought I would show you what’s to blame for my lack of blog love in the last week…

My application to study mechanical engineering in jewellery design. Here is my expression of interest.

Instead of sending just the completed application I decided to shrink it and make it into a necklace. I’m sending it along with a magnifying glass so they can read it. I’ve also hidden the actual application under a bunch of tissue paper if they really struggle with the fine print. 

Lets hope my shameless gimmick pays off…

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

Hello my little loves! This is an apology email for being such a bad blogger. Look at my little sorry face! I’ve just been crazy busy with work and life and in order for me to get enough sleep to function I’ve been a little slack on the blog. It’s turned into a very outfit-heavy blog and that was not my original intention! Anyways I went for a little cruise through the Smaggle archives and dug out a few posts that I thought you might be interested in. It will keep you occupied until I can remove my head from my arse and start writing decent posts again…

How to find your Inner French Girl

How to dress like Debbie Harry

How to get your man looking super spiffy with Men’s Style

How to Pose for Photos

A few Global Style Tips

A peek at 90210 Style

and 5 DIY Tips to Spice up your Wardrobe

and for those of you who keep bugging about meeting Mr Smaggle here is a little teaser that’s been hiding in the archives for a few months!

Enjoy!

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

Remember how upset I was a few days ago when I discovered all the fanny addicts out there who have been Googling their filth and stumbling upon Smaggle? Well my friends here’s a list of some other choice phrases that will apparently lead you to the land of Smaggle…

Crush on tim curry why? - Um… Because he is awesome and talented. And preternaturally beautiful.

Big Ass 2008 - So big asses in 2007 just weren’t doing it for you?

Katie Price in stockings - We don’t like Katie Price. Please don’t Google her again.

Tampons with applicators in Australia - Good luck sweetie. We use normal tampons here thank you very much.

Doosh long cardigan - It’s douche. And it’s not a good idea to use a long cardigan for that sort of thing. Or a short one.

Scene where samantha is fat in sex in t - This scene doesn’t exist.

lady seduce boy - Why? What have you heard about me?

Can’t find spot for tampon - I can’t help you. Actually I don’t want to help you. Please go away.

Anne Hathaway Nipples -Anne Hathaway. Shmeh. It’s nothing personal she is just really boring. I imagine that her nipples are too.

Wee little bum - What exactly were you hoping to come across searching for this?

I clearly have to brush up on my language… and stop using the word ‘fanny’. Shit. I just did it again. I’m insatiable.

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

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Today’s rant is dedicated to the stupid whore who tried (unsuccessfully) to spade Mr Smaggle in Ali Baba last week. For my international readers, Ali Baba is a Canberra chain of 24 hour kebab stores that are frequented by hobos and drunkards on Saturday nights. Mr Smaggle and I were included amongst the riff-raff last week, after dancing the night away in a Russian themed bar we stumbled there in search of a gluten-free midnight snack. I minced my way over to the corner (my feet were very angry with me) and sat down while Mr Smaggle ordered. The seemingly innocent girl in front of him (Lets call her ‘Slut’ shall we?) ordered a gluten-free wrap and was positively outraged when they said they didn’t have any gluten-free bread left so she begrudgingly ordered a salad instead. Here is the conversation that insued…

Slut - (to the guy behind the counter) What? You don’t have any gluten free bread? What the hell? Fine. I’ll have a salad… (Her gaze wanders drunkenly over to a rather dapper looking Mr Smaggle)

Mr Smaggle - (Jauntily - to the guy behind the counter) So you don’t have any gluten-free bread then…? No worries I’ll just grab a salad.

Slut - (Trying to be sexy) … I like you…

Mr Smaggle - Hm.

Slut - I’m gluten-intolerant too! 

Mr Smaggle - Yeah it’s a pain isn’t it…

Slut - Oh my god it’s sooooo annoying …blah blah blah (I don’t actually remember what she said at this point I was busy planning to rip her eyeballs out)

Mr Smaggle - Yep…uh-huh…really…. (Completely uncomfortable and irritated but trying to be polite. Bless him)

Slut - (Receives her food) Nice talking to you… see you later…(trails of suggestively… the tarty strumpet.)

Mr Smaggle - Yep. Bye. (Looks at me and rolls his eyes)

(Slut and Slut’s side-kick both turn to look at me)

Slut’s side-kick - Oh my god. Looks like your gluten-free boyfriend has a girlfriend. You are SO MUCH hotter than her. (Hair flick and strut away)

Seriously how rude is that? It was completely inappropriate. It was also totally untrue. I’m not saying that in a bitchy mean way but this girl was really plain and took zero pride in her appearance. I won the hotness race by default simply because I wash my hair. It made me so angry that Slut Side-kick automatically started doing the bitch flick at me because I was a ‘threat’ to her friend. Since when did it become acceptable for girls to try and pick up guys who show absolutely no interest in them, and then start abusing their girlfriends because they get shot down? Believe me, Mr Smaggle was not turning her down on my behalf… he generally dislikes messy, intoxicated bitches without my encouragement. The polite thing to do would have been to have swallowed her pride, realised her error and moved onto another tall, slender and gorgeous coeliac. There are plenty of them to go around! But no… the She-devil decides to send her little lap-dog in at her defence. Defence of what? I didn’t do anything! I didn’t even say anything! Mr Smaggle and I left Ali Baba feeling really sorry that horribly deluded girls like that even exist. We were even sadder that they apparently spent their Saturday evenings tormenting perfectly happy couples trying to have a romantic kebab in peace.

Share a rant? Go on! You know you love it!

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx 

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Can everyone feel that dull rumble beneath their feet? Yeah, It’s the riots starting to break out amongst the blogosphere from the earth shattering news that the uber quirky and ridiculously adorable LC from Fops and Dandies is quitting her blog. I know. She’s a selfish cow right? This is just how I felt when Style Bytes left me. I am plotting ways to find LC in the Midwest and stalk her until she comes to her senses and realises that I can’t live without her funky little posts and New York culture on my reader every morning. Soy chai tea will never be the same with out her.

I am kidding of course. I do feel like she has ripped my still-beating heart from my chest and is nonchalantly tossing it in between her Jackson Pollock bracelet-ed hands, but seriously. She has a life and the pressures of blogging can be extreme. I really do wish her all the best and although I know how upset a lot of her readers will be (me included) I hope everyone is not too harsh on her.

All of this business is making me think… are we all a little obsessed with blogs? Be it our own or those belonging to others?

I’m not at all complaining about blogging. I obviously love it because I do it nearly everyday. I won’t lie though, it’s a hell of a lot of work. I’ll spend an entire weekend reading The Babysitter’s Club books to bring you posts about Claudia Kishi. Or I’ll pull everything out of my wardrobe and spend hours taking photos to give you all a gander at my wardrobe basics. And don’t even start with me and how much time I spent scrolling through Facehunter to bring you How to Wear a Scarf Part 1, How to Wear a Scarf Part 2 and How to Wear a Scarf - For Men. Most of the time I really relish this and I take a lot of pride in producing (hopefully) interesting posts. Although I do sometimes feel pressure to blog on days when I’m feeling less than creative. It’s because I know there are people out there who save my blog for their lunch break or who read my posts over their morning coffee. It’s so inspiring knowing there are people out there who are waiting for my daily outfit shot and most days I’m hanging out to get home from work so I can post. I also have days where I feel like my blog is a big fat annoying burden and I wish it would just disappear so I could wear tracksuit pants and drink gin instead of trying to squeeze something interesting out of my dried up brain. Thankfully these days don’t happen often. Even more thankfully I’m very lucky in that my readers are lovely (as in seriously gorgeous and divine) and don’t ever pressure me in a mean way. I’m the luckiest blogger in the world because I’ve never had a really awful comment slung at me and my regular readers are courteous, respectful and intelligent people who I love dearly.

The thing that really annoys me are the readers at other people blogs. I’m not cool enough to have people hate me but there are some rockin’ bloggers out there who cop some serious shit from the douche-bags of the Internet Underworld. I was having a cruise through the comments on Childhood Flames and there are so many ‘anonymous’ commenters on her site that give her beef about not posting enough, how boring her outfits are and how she never answers their questions. Um… exsqueeze me? Baking powder? Since when did she become a slave to their pety little requests? For the record Camille is a lovely, young and stylish lass who very kindly shares her daily outfits with us. So why is she the subject of so much abuse? Bloggers give up so much of their free time and sanity for the sake of their readers and should be thanked for it. Not pelted with cowardly gripes.

I’m a blogger as well as a reader and I must admit that I’m prone to getting a little shirty with my favourite bloggers if they haven’t posted in while but I never comment about this. Because it’s a loser thing to do and to be honest, my world will not explode with out Kingdom of Style and Fashion Toast. I read so many wonderful sites daily that sometimes I do forget that I survived for twenty years without fashion blogs and I had a pretty damn good time doing it. I’ve become quite attached and very Charlton Heston about my blog - ‘From my cold dead hands!’  but I’m not about to lose my job or my sanity over it. I know where my priorities are.

 What do you think bloggers? Where do you draw the line with your blog? What do you give up to make sure you keep it going? Does your blog invade your personal life more than it should?

What do you think readers? Are your work days consumed by Google reader and what your favourite blogger did on the weekend? Do you spend more time reading about other people’s lives than living your own life?

Just something to think about…

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

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Come on. You know who I am talking about. Shoulder Lurkers! This socially stunted breed of human usually resides in some kind of office. They seem drawn to finance and technical support but sometimes they weasel their way in to management or PR. They’ll walk quietly into your office and lurk behind you until your skin crawls down your back as you sense the creepy psychopath blowing their stale breath down your neck. You then turn around after having shit your pants and then Jack the Ripper will start a perfectly normal conversation as if this is an acceptable way to gain a persons attention. Shoulder Lurkers like to see what you’re doing and they obviously get their kicks from watching you when you don’t realise they are doing it. Shoulder Lurkers seem blissfully unaware of the unspoken rule of making a small announcement as you enter someone else office. A simple greeting or small knock on the door are generally considered the correct form but the creepy S.L tip toe in, undetected and wait silently until they are caught. Perhaps the creepiest trait of all is that they don’t seem to show any shame when they are caught. Like as if you have just sprung them having a wank and they just go about their business as if nothing strange has happened. These are the people that turn into Panty Sniffers and Toe Lickers. I’ll leave those ones for another Hava-Rant Monday…

A similarly weird social slug is the Long Pauser. I come across these people more regularly than the Shoulder Lurkers. Shoulder Lurkers are quite rare and creepy. Long Pausers are mostly prominent over the phone and are mind-numbingly annoying. Here is an example conversation that I had today with a Long Pauser.

Lady Smaggle - Good morning, The Place Where I Work Centre this is Lady Smaggle, how may I help you?

Long Pauser - Hello. Long pause….. This is Long Pauser. Long Pause….. (I don’t actually know Long Pauser. The long pause was entirely out of place as if Long Pauser was waiting for recognition. It’s an enquiries line. No one knows who you are at the other end of an enquiries line)

Lady Smaggle - Yes? How can I help you?

Long Pauser - I’m calling from Sydney. Long pause…..

Lady Smaggle - …yep.

Long Pauser - I was wondering if you could give me some information?

Lady Smaggle - Sure! No worries! What can I help you with?

Long Pauser - Well I’m calling from Sydney. Long pause…..

Lady Smaggle - Yeah, so how can I help you?

Long Pauser - Long pause….. Well I was wondering when the next available testing date is?

Lady Smaggle - 6th September.

Long Pauser - Oh. Long pause….. You don’t have anything sooner?

Lady Smaggle - Nope. 6th September is the next available test. 

Long Pauser - REALLY LONG PAUSE……….. Are you sure?

At this stage I’m banging the phone against my forehead and trying desperately to escape to my happy place, where unicorns frolic in meadows of jelly and where people talk at efficient speeds and I am no longer at risk of developing a frustration induced aneurysm. 

Well my pretties it’s your turn! Who pissed you off today? Who made you so angry that you wanted to fling yourself to the floor and chuck a massive tanty? Don’t yell at the douche bag who upset you. That will make you look like a jerk. Tell Lady Smaggle instead! You’ll feel SO MUCH BETTER…

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

I took a wee little break from blogging yesterday and made savoury muffins, caramel slice and spiced chocolate dipped cookies instead. While I was doing this there were THIRTY disgusting little perverts searching for the word ‘fanny’ in Google and finding my site.

I’m ashamed.

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

My life is now complete. I officially own the gorgeous Vivienne Westwood for Melissa mary-janes. They were released in Australia about two weeks ago and despite giving some serious loving to my local Melissa stockists none of them managed to secure the line at their store so I was reduced to emailing the manager of Melissa Australia and begging her to save me some black size forties. She very kindly gave me a heads-up email the second the shoes were on line so I wouldn’t miss out. I spent a very stressful Wednesday evening refreshing the Melissa store page like a woman possessed while simultaneously making the Ridiculously Out of Proportion Jungle Cake for Mr Smaggle’s birthday. I got Vienna cream icing all over my Macbook. Well I was panicked! I imagined throngs of gorgeous ladies refreshing their pages through out the land, trying to beat me to the dream shoes. I needn’t have bothered. Not because the shoes are not everything I expected (they are exceptional - divinity in footwear) but because clearly no-one cared about the release of the shoes except for me. I thought that I would be up for a serious fight. I figured that a Vivienne Westwood design is the girl equivalent of the release of the Iphone - riots, crazy crowds and people camping for weeks outside the store. No such thing occurred. I paced around the house douche-like trying to secure the object of my footwear fantasies before they sold out and disappointingly they are still available. In my size and colour. And every other size and colour. Excuse me for being bitter but I was looking forward to the challenge. I’ve never lined up for hard-core concert tickets or slept outside a store before a sale. I wanted to show Vivienne and Melissa that I love them by publicly acting like a pleather junkie in need of a fix. Oh well. I guess the constant wearing and worshipping of the dream shoes will have to suffice. Aren’t they beautiful? Mama Smaggle had to confiscate them last night because I tried to wear them to bed…

* Grey wool tights from my school uniform

* Dress from Big W

* Cardigan from Giovanni

* Obi belt thrifted

* Cake necklace from Robin’s Jewellery Box

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

The extremely gorgeous and mega talented Fashion Freelancer passed on this award to me.

Tis the ‘Brilliante Weblog Premio 2008′ award. Here are the rules for passing on the award
1) When received, you may post the premio to your blog.
2) Link to the blogger you received it from.
3) Give it to 7 blogs
4)… link to those 7 blogs
5)…and leave those seven bloggers a comment about receiving the brilliant premio.

I hate awards like this because I have so many blogs that I read daily, it’s so hard to pick seven to rock this award to. These are a few blogs that have been tickling my fancy most recently…

Dreamecho - Her style makes me swoon

Fashion Haley - Is pretty much the most awesome looking person in the universe

Ivyology - A funky blog about cool stuff written by an absolute gem of a gal

DisneyRollerGirl - Written by a fashion insider this blog is always on trend and is super inspirational

Esme and the Lane Way - Cuteness factor of about 5 billion degrees

Daddy Likey - Just friggin awesome.

Lady Melbourne - A Melbourne residing Miss Manners who dresses like a dream

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

It’s rather strange but I can usually remember exactly what I was wearing when significant things happened in my life. When I got my drivers license I was wearing a red and white t-shirt that I got from Gowings with a white linen drawstring skirt and red leather sandals. Strangely enough I was wearing the exact same skirt three years later when I crashed my green Ford Laser in the rain. The skirt went see-through in seconds and the cop tried to get my number. For my first kiss I was at a disco wearing pale blue jeans and a purple and lime green flowered shirt that had see-through bits of lace. The first concert I went to I wore a vintage pastel knit skirt with a pink lace top and denim wedges - It was a Matchbox 20 concert in 1999 and I screamed out ‘I LOVE YOU ROB THOMAS’ while I was perched on my friend’s shoulders. The first time Mr Smaggle kissed me I was wearing this skirt. On my first day of university I wore a vintage hounds tooth skirt with a white t-shirt and black suede wedge Mary Janes. The first time I puked in a nightclub I was wearing a knit top covered in square gun-metal coloured sequins, fitted black pants and an awesome pair of strappy black heels that I never wore again… for obvious reasons. At the top of the Eiffel Tower I was wearing Doc Martins and black cords and cursing the fact that I was backpacking and didn’t have room for an evening gown and stilettos. 

Does anyone else do this? Do you remember what you were wearing when you had your first kiss? When you got drunk for the first time? When you first told someone that you love them? When you got arrested? On your last day of school?

Love Lady Smaggle

xxx

P.S For the record on my last day of school I was wearing my uniform covered in signatures and torn to shreds. I accessorised the ensemble with three senior school ties from the boys school across the street and my skirt was tucked into a pair of satin boxers that had been in my locker for around three years.