Last night and today i spent some time making an under tunic for war, to be paired with an over tunic/dress. It's a sort of bastardized viking dress inspired by one my friend made, though with some notable differences.
I made the undertunic by combining the patterns for a shirt/skirt combination that, as presented are pretty hideous, but as an under tunic, serve my purposes rather well. "Why adapt a random pattern," you are undoubtedly asking yourself? Because I'm cheap and can assume I know better, even when that's obviously bullshit. But in this case it's worked out. So far.
I did the under tunic first, as I intend to base the dress off of the finished under tunic, and the under tunic, after all will be UNDER the dress. Any major flaws will be covered if need be.
Both are linen, the under tunic being a sort of off white, the over tunic being a sort of navy/prussian blue.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
something old, something new, something kinky and something drunk
This week I spent a lot of time with Robin and Brandon, it being their spring break after not really seeing anyone for the entire week before.
Thursday we had nothing to do, and, bored as hell starting making phone calls. That afternoon was the first San Rafael Farmers' Market of the year and, as per Farmers' tradition there was a small shindig at The Basement, next to Blue Lotus/Bloodlines {formerly Area 51} on 2nd street.
Despite having not regularly attending Basement functions for months we decided to go, Dan in tow, because it's always been a pretty welcoming place if the company's good.
We were a little hesitant to bring Dan, because the Basement can be a pretty kinky place.
Going in through the street level side door is a hallway with doors leading to small back rooms. Through the first door on the left is a small kitchenette followed by a living room with old couches, books, posters, sharpie drawings on the walls, rpg's and so on.
This leads to the final back room.
This last room is equipped with a low bed in the corner; a couple of sturdy wooden chairs; several yards of soft, silken Japanese bondage ropes; two large black toolboxes, neither of which containing anything you could find at Yardbird's....that I know of anyway; and walls covered in leather, latex, rubber and steel 'toys,' one of them being the device affectionately referred to as "the rascal," which resides in it's opened plastic package like a mounted big mouth bass. There's also a TV and an X-Box.
But if Ted is the kinkiest guy I've ever met, he's also the sweetest. He'll hold your hair when you vomit {or, in my case, grab some latex gloves and a damp sponge after you've tried to dash to the bushes, but only made it to the deck at a friend's birthday party}. He'll listen as you rant about your problems and when you're done he'll tell you about the organic vegetable garden he hopes to plant out back.
He treats everyone equally, in that anyone is attractive as a potential partner, and, failing that, a friend.
Everything went well. Bizarrely well, in fact. Gatherings at the basement range from festive summer parties to four kids playing video games with Ted offering drinks between running in and out of the next room where he'll flog some chick you've never met, while she's tied to a support beam, wearing only panties, with the door open {because she gets turned on by 'humiliation play,' and Ted is, if anything, accommodating}. Once you get past the partial nudity and squeals of ecstasy, those nights are pretty boring.
This time the party was lively and after our long absence we were greeted like rock stars. People we never see, whose names I hardly remember talked about how good it was to see us. A girl I've never actually talked to told me about how cool she thinks I am. From there it was all jokes, laughter and flirtations.
Wednesday, Lora, Diana, Robin and I swapped tid bits about the latest drama, with Byron caught in the eye of our gossip storm, inspiring this little drawing.
Thursday, after BITCHIN' fajitas, Robin, Brandon, Diana and I were kind of down because of some goings on that we couldn't change. We hung around the Aroma Cafe, because heard something was happening at Nate's house later, because some guys from our sister ship, the Merrilee,* were in town.
Diana said she didn't "want to wait around for someone else's party while two of our friends destroy each other." We agreed, but didn't have any other ideas, so we wound up going anyway and it put us all in a much better mood and we went to bed that night happier.
Friday, Nate hosted a BBQ. When we got there, Scott and Chad where shitfaced and we ran around shooting each other with Nerf guns. Scott and Chad wanted more Nerf guns, so they serenaded Gail in hopes that she would take them to target. She wouldn't relent, but eventually Paul did. An hour later they returned with two Nerf katanas, two Nerf tommy guns and one semi-automatic, tripod mounted Nerf machine gun, with two reloadable plastic Nerf bullet belts. The unholy, foam rubber spitting mother of pre-pubescent faux artillery. The sun set over a scene of grown adults, filled with beer, tequila and tri-tip chasing each other with over priced, plastic weapons of terrifying, imaginary destruction. God bless America.
* Our sister ship in that at WAR** we're privateers and the Merrilee is made up of some friends of ours
**WAR is an SCA*** event, which takes place across the country at different times of the year, lasting anywhere from three days to three weeks. If you've ever been disappointed by a Renn Faire, WAR is what you were hoping for. It's overnight, there are parties every night, the merchants are better, everyone is in garb, the garb is cooler, no one speaks in a lame fake accent, it's cheaper. It's just all around BETTER.
*** Society for Creative Anachronism.
Thursday we had nothing to do, and, bored as hell starting making phone calls. That afternoon was the first San Rafael Farmers' Market of the year and, as per Farmers' tradition there was a small shindig at The Basement, next to Blue Lotus/Bloodlines {formerly Area 51} on 2nd street.
Despite having not regularly attending Basement functions for months we decided to go, Dan in tow, because it's always been a pretty welcoming place if the company's good.
We were a little hesitant to bring Dan, because the Basement can be a pretty kinky place.
Going in through the street level side door is a hallway with doors leading to small back rooms. Through the first door on the left is a small kitchenette followed by a living room with old couches, books, posters, sharpie drawings on the walls, rpg's and so on.
This leads to the final back room.
This last room is equipped with a low bed in the corner; a couple of sturdy wooden chairs; several yards of soft, silken Japanese bondage ropes; two large black toolboxes, neither of which containing anything you could find at Yardbird's....that I know of anyway; and walls covered in leather, latex, rubber and steel 'toys,' one of them being the device affectionately referred to as "the rascal," which resides in it's opened plastic package like a mounted big mouth bass. There's also a TV and an X-Box.
But if Ted is the kinkiest guy I've ever met, he's also the sweetest. He'll hold your hair when you vomit {or, in my case, grab some latex gloves and a damp sponge after you've tried to dash to the bushes, but only made it to the deck at a friend's birthday party}. He'll listen as you rant about your problems and when you're done he'll tell you about the organic vegetable garden he hopes to plant out back.
He treats everyone equally, in that anyone is attractive as a potential partner, and, failing that, a friend.
Everything went well. Bizarrely well, in fact. Gatherings at the basement range from festive summer parties to four kids playing video games with Ted offering drinks between running in and out of the next room where he'll flog some chick you've never met, while she's tied to a support beam, wearing only panties, with the door open {because she gets turned on by 'humiliation play,' and Ted is, if anything, accommodating}. Once you get past the partial nudity and squeals of ecstasy, those nights are pretty boring.
This time the party was lively and after our long absence we were greeted like rock stars. People we never see, whose names I hardly remember talked about how good it was to see us. A girl I've never actually talked to told me about how cool she thinks I am. From there it was all jokes, laughter and flirtations.
Wednesday, Lora, Diana, Robin and I swapped tid bits about the latest drama, with Byron caught in the eye of our gossip storm, inspiring this little drawing.
Thursday, after BITCHIN' fajitas, Robin, Brandon, Diana and I were kind of down because of some goings on that we couldn't change. We hung around the Aroma Cafe, because heard something was happening at Nate's house later, because some guys from our sister ship, the Merrilee,* were in town.
Diana said she didn't "want to wait around for someone else's party while two of our friends destroy each other." We agreed, but didn't have any other ideas, so we wound up going anyway and it put us all in a much better mood and we went to bed that night happier.
Friday, Nate hosted a BBQ. When we got there, Scott and Chad where shitfaced and we ran around shooting each other with Nerf guns. Scott and Chad wanted more Nerf guns, so they serenaded Gail in hopes that she would take them to target. She wouldn't relent, but eventually Paul did. An hour later they returned with two Nerf katanas, two Nerf tommy guns and one semi-automatic, tripod mounted Nerf machine gun, with two reloadable plastic Nerf bullet belts. The unholy, foam rubber spitting mother of pre-pubescent faux artillery. The sun set over a scene of grown adults, filled with beer, tequila and tri-tip chasing each other with over priced, plastic weapons of terrifying, imaginary destruction. God bless America.
* Our sister ship in that at WAR** we're privateers and the Merrilee is made up of some friends of ours
**WAR is an SCA*** event, which takes place across the country at different times of the year, lasting anywhere from three days to three weeks. If you've ever been disappointed by a Renn Faire, WAR is what you were hoping for. It's overnight, there are parties every night, the merchants are better, everyone is in garb, the garb is cooler, no one speaks in a lame fake accent, it's cheaper. It's just all around BETTER.
*** Society for Creative Anachronism.
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