wicked

Several weeks ago (because I'm totally on top of blogging) I attended the musical Wicked with a bunch of hotties:

i love this picture. 
and brianne, you look topless.
you're welcome for posting this.

It was just that.
Wicked.
Am I allowed to say things like that?
No?
I didn't think so.

We carpooled downtown and took pictures of ourselves.
Because you can NEVER have too many self-portraits:

This is the only picture I managed to snap before my camera died:

Awesome.
I'm so mature.

I LOVED the show. 
The costumes were amazing. 
The singing was perfect. 
And I teared up at the end when G-lenda and Elphaba said their goodbyes. 
I might be a touch emotional.
It seemed like an ironic foreshadowing for my upcoming separation from these lovelies:

i seriously look like i smashed into a wall on the way to the show.
why was i cursed with a heart shaped face???

You know what else was wicked?
The vintage dress that I scored for $1.60 at Thrift City.
I was hoping for an excuse to wear it.
And this was a perfect one.

A huge thanks to Debbie for fixing the top of the dress so my breasticles didn't pop out.
I (along with all the other show-goers) really appreciate it.
Apparently women were more busty 70 years ago.

Oh, and I have never had a chance to wear those heels.
I got them over a year ago at the bins.  I had them resoled and the insides replaced at a local shoe doctor.  All that work for a pair of bin shoes?
Yeah...they're Dolce and Gabbana. 
And according to the shoe doctor, they're authentic.
And he's a doctor, so I'm pretty sure it's true.

I'm going to miss these ladies when we all go our separate ways.
And I'm going to miss all the thrifting here.
And I'm going to miss excuses to use the word wicked.


xo,
tracy