Mean, Yet Entertaining, Old Women

So yesterday I was at Kohl's, searching for dressy/work jackets. It has been quite the hunt, let me tell you. This weekend, after a clothing crisis of epic proportions, MHM and I hit about a thousand (on second thought, 6 or 7) stores looking, searching, trying on, arguing the possible merits of each one. Mostly it was finding either something hideous that could NOT WORK even with intense tailoring, or something that was fabulous but $250. I feel like this whole thing would be easier if I wasn't so significantly on the plus size end of things, but then I realize that I'm a picky girl and it would probably not make a difference. I just have to know where to look.

So, we went to: Macy's, Dillard's, Parisian, Lane Bryant Outlet, Lane Bryant (regular), and some other store sort of like that but way cheaper and more casual and a lot more denim. The best was at Parisian, a Nine West (very favoritist brand) velvet jacket with cool seams in a really pretty dark teal color, but it was $249. Ummmm, no. I might have a job that pays decent and all that, but I've still got student loans and dumb credit card decisions to pay down, so there was no way. I sulked home, thinking I'd have to settle for some color-blocked black and red monstrosity, with horizontal stripes and great big gold buttons. This is the genius design scheme of entirely too many plus size lines: detract attention from any "flaws" by concealing them with horrible shapeless bags in hideous prints and enormous stripes. Ugh. What is a 20-something person to do? Wait, and watch, and wait. I was sooo excited when Old Navy started a Women's section, I hardly knew what to do with myself. It's progress. (Aside from the fact that their fabric is so cheap it shrinks up to unwearable after about 4 washings. I guess I'll have to stop with all that silly laundry business.)

In desperation and a bit of obsession, I went to Kohl's yesterday on my lunch break, and tore through the small but, for the most part, tasteful plus size area and picked up some stuff to try on. A t-shirt, 3 jackets, a sweater, a Daisy Fuentes gathered monstrosity that just looked fun, and some ruffled, tiered, lace number. Wooo hooo! Tried it all on. And wonder of wonders, a shrunken velvet blazer and a suit jacket worked. Perfectly. Best of all, they were 1/2 off. Off I went to the register to get out of there before my jackets turned to dust or something.

This was where the real fun began. At the register was a family- Grandma, Mom, Dad, and little girl. Mom was pregnant. Mom was on a wheel chair. Mom was crazy. Every single thing that got rung up, and believe me, there was a lot, wasn't ringing up with the discount Mom thought she should be seeing. They were there for 20 minutes, and she fought every single price that rang up. Kids shoes for $8.70? NO! That should have an extra 10% off! It didn't. She changed her mind over 87 cents. Jeans for $16.00? No, they were supposed to be $15.50. Believe me, I'm on a budget and I understand saving money, but she was militant.

All this did not go over well with the next person in line, who happened to be in front of me. She was in her 60s, a tiny bird-like (I hardly ever see where that expression is useful, but it is here) woman who was getting more irritated by the minute. She turned to me and held an entire conversation from the side of her lipstitcked mouth. "That woman has been at it for 15 minutes now. Everything has to have a discount."
"Oh. Really?"
"Yes, I'm going to kill her. She's pregnant, and has to be in a wheelchair. Well she don't look pregnant to ME. And she doesn't have to keep me waiting for this long, I didn't get her that way. Bitch."
"Ummm, oh." I really wasn't sure what to say to this lady. The Mom wheeled by.
"Fat COW." This was said a bit louder than strictly necessary. Which would be as quietly as possible. She looked at me and smiled broadly. "I'm mean."
"At least you're entertaining...."

And the Captain Obvious Award goes to...

So on Wednesday night I was feeling like total crap, but I was out of the good medicine. So I dragged myself off the couch, still in pajamas, and drove to the drug store. There it was, more of the TheraFlu Multi-Symptom Cold Thin Strips, and I was so happy I picked up two boxes. In my snotty state I also headed over to the papergoods aisle and got 3- count 'em- 3 boxes of tissues.

I lugged all that up to the counter (tissue boxes aren't as portable as one would think, they're sorta awkward), and started unloaded my loot. The woman at the register looked up at me and gestured toward the counter.
"May I interest you in a packet of tissues?"
Hunh?
I look down at the counter, and there in those little cardboard displays are some little generic pocket packs of tissues. Something I could go through in about a minute. I looked at her in disbelief, but she was looking at me waiting for a response. There was absolutely no hint of joking or anything on her face.
"No thanks, I think that 3 boxes ought to do it for now."
"Oh.... Well, alright." She said in a dreamy sort of way. And she started ringing up my stuff.

Seems like I'm not the ONLY one on cold medicine today.

I am the snottiest snothead

I hate being sick.

I know that seems like the most obvious sentence on earth, but you'll just have to forgive me- I'm on drugs. Tylenol Cold, to be exact. And it really is crap. Someone needs to tell them that their meds are doing nothing for the aching, sneezing, runny noze, watery eyes, fuzzy-headed feeling that I get in the middle of a head cold. I want to curl up and die. I guess instead I'll settle for a nap.

It started Sunday when I woke up with a wickedly sore throat (that's my very least favorite part of a cold, or maybe I should say most hated part- the sore throat). I started Zicam

and Vitamin C, and although I felt sorta icky on Monday, yesterday I was actually functional. Today... well, today I woke up and couldn't breathe. I blew my nose and heard that clicking/popping sound in my head that means no matter how much I blow, there's much MUCH more where that came from.

I dragged myself to work for a couple of hours, but admitted defeat at lunch. I went to Quiznos for a smoked turkey sub, hit Starbucks for some Caramel Apple Cider (YUUUUMMMM!!!) and took it all home, where I am sacked out on the couch for the day watching Food Network. And sleeping. And coming back here to the computer to play solitaire. Because really that's all my brain can take today.

Fabulous. And MHM is sick too, poor guy.

Turkey Icecream with Goat's Milk

MMMMmmmMMMMMM! My Dad is in Asia this week on a business trip, and this is what he took a picture of in the Seoul Airport. I think my Thanksgiving dinner plans have been changed!

Frivolous Crap

Sometimes I am amazed at how caught up I get with really vapid things. It is almost embarrassing. I grew up Quaker. I was homeschooled. I know nothing about music from the 80's. (And I constantly hear, "How do you not know this? This is PRINCE! Depeche Mode! Cyndi Lauper!") I was a huge backstage theater nerd. I played viola. I wore bad 80's glasses. Are we getting the picture here?

But then down the road I majored in fashion design. And started wearing jeans that didn't come up above my waist. And t-shirts with some shape to them. I listen to the radio. I have a slight obsession with Grey's Anatomy. And now all I can think about this weekend is that I have to get to the department store that has a MAC counter so I can get another eyebrow pencil because my favorite one is OUT and I don't know how I'll manage. Is that not sad? I mean, I could go on and on about how great it is, and have at length at makeupalley.com (one of my favorite websites). Any blondes out there? I was born with blonde hair, which has darkened up a little, but my eyebrows are so light as to be almost invisible. And for some reason most makeup companies have decided that blonde girls would like to parade around with red brows. Because really, isn't that the most flattering thing in the world? MAC makes the only truly blonde pencil. And for this I might give them a prize. Oh wait, I already give them $12.50.

But at least I haven't bought the new black Chanel nail polish! (What? What black Chanel nail polish?)

Exactly. My mother (the grad student) and my sister (the grad student) are out changing teenagers lives and being advocates for sick people. And I'm thinking about eyebrows and fingernail polish. Which I'd never even wear because I bite my nails like they've wronged me. And while part of me feels it should be beneath me or something, the other part of me knows I'm going to get my makeup. And is thrilled about it. :)

Dark Chocolate

MHM just helped me get my list of links up, which was funny because he tried to go all IT on me and I was like HEY! I'm just your girlfriend here! But now all of my links show up and it's like magic. YAY!

And when it all worked and my link to Google News actually got us there, he jumped up and said, "This calls for dark chocolate!!!" And ran to the kitchen to get the Dove Chocolates.

This is why he rocks.

But then he found my blog before I found his so I'm not sure if he rocks at all. Sneaky bastard.

EEUUUUWWWWW!!!!!

So as I was walking into work this morning, this is the conversation I overheard between 2 women in their late 40s/ early 50s.

#1 "I have to get surgery on my hernia at the end of the month. It's torn away the skin (or muscle or something) from the walls of my abdomen, and so I'll have to get a tummy-tuck now so that it all looks right when they're done."


#2 "Oh that's what they had to do to me when I have that tumor removed from my breast. They had to give me a breast lift. Now I have to get mammograms twice a year."

#3 "Well ever since I had colon cancer I have to get colonoscopies every 4 months. And those aren't fun because they have to...."

I was hungry for breakfast when I walked in, but lost my appetite in about 30 seconds. Yuck.

Ohhh, what a FUN weekend (?)

So, this weekend is so not really fun. MHM is in the middle of quitting smoking, and totally cranky. Me, I'm PMSing like mad and totally bitchy. Together we are like the incredible irritatable team. I think we should have t-shirts with logos, maybe a big box of chocolate for me and some salty snacks for him.

To try to make up for it (cheaply), we went to the library to find some books. Alas (alack!), all the books MHM wanted were at the main library, and not the branch. Well that was fine with me because I've been wanting to see the main downtown library and it is GORGEOUS. Big and open and airy, with a very serious reading room, HUGE lobby-type area, and lots of local collections, computers, and BOOKS. It was so much fun, and made me slightly happier, which seems to be the name of the game right now.

Topping off the afternoon, we went to Baskin-Robbins and each got a pint of ice cream for the weekend. His is some sort of Cherry Cheesecake something or other, and mine is Pumpkin Pie, which tastes EXACTLY like pumpkin pie! Who woulda thunk it?

So now I'm going to go read my Stephanie Plum book, and some Sweetpotato Queens (this is the wedding planner and divorce guide, and not NEAR as funny as their first two books), and maybe eat some more ice cream, and wait out the hormonal roller coaster. I LOVE being a girl! Like one of my friends used to say, "Just think, all this cramping, bloating, bleeding, breaking out, moodiness, and fatigue, and one day I too can bear precious little children...."

Yeah, it's really not that bad a weekend, I'm just not in the mood for it.

I guess I'm not really a girl

Things have been happening at work that have led me to believe that I was not born with some chromosome necessary for the survival of the Southern Woman. In fact, I am so deficient my co-workers could actually be plotting to inject me with some serum that will make me a better, more enthused fit within the group.

On Friday there was a bridal shower for a girl I work with. I had not previously thought her to be so... girly. But the room draped in white crepe paper and white Chinese lanterns and yellow roses and white battery-operated candles and a white-board covered in cutesy pictures. White-board, you said? Why yes, it was in a conference room at work. There was all of the food- white sheet cake covered in white icing with little plastic silver wedding bands stuck in the top of each piece, punch, nuts, mints, and a veggie tray (hardly touched, except by the three skinny girls on Weight-Watchers).

All of that was fine, and expected. But the really irritating part was the video camera. And the digital camera. And the Ohhhing and Ahhhing over every little thing. "Ohhh! A sombrero-shaped chip & dip bowl!" "Ahhhhhhh! A blender for individual smoothies!!!!!!" Gag me. It was all so fake, so trite, and so... estrogen-filled. I'm not doing that. MHM and I are eloping, I swear. I hate that crap.

The Bride at work is best friends with the Glamazon, who is 4 1/2 months pregnant. Yesterday she went to get her sonogram (ultrasound? is there a difference?), and find out the sex of the baby. You would think we were awaiting the status of, say, a major earthquake. People kept calling Bride to see if she'd heard from Glamazon, and she'd take on a very serious tone and say, "No, we've heard nothing yet. I'll call you as soon as I know." The tension was, for many, unbearable.

Finally, the call came. Bride put Momma-to-be on speaker phone. In a fit of calm, controlled maturity, she took a deep breath and said, "Yes, we know the sex of the baby...." (At this point I could just imagine her laying on the table, with her shirt pulled up and gel all over her tummy, peering at the screen.) There was a fit of incoherent squealing, which apparently meant she's expecting a girl. From there it was like the Bride went into battle-mode. She made a flurry of phone calls, saying in a very high excited, squeaky voice, "PINK! It's PINK! Yes, we're so excited! PINK!" Then she'd hang up and do it all over again. Gross.

I don't want to sound like I'm against weddings or babies or anything like that. I think weddings are so optimistic and touching. I invariably cry at them. And I LOVE babies. I could start in about perfect toes and noses, but I won't. Babies are beautiful. Kids are fun. I'm a kid person, I've au paired and babysat for YEARS. The best part for me is seeing the unbridled curiosity as they explore and learn about their worlds. Okay, I'm stopping now. Really.

I just really don't like the gushymushy, overly dramatic atmosphere going on. Weddings to me are about marriage. Babies are about starting a family. It's not about registries and pink streamers, it's about a whole new phase in your life. I wish it was treated more seriously than PINK! It's definitely PINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wait, I take that back. Registries are pretty nice.

The One Where....

So, I just found out on Friday that my gay boyfriend in college is no longer. This was the guy who was my escort to all sorts of single-girl events, such as movies, dinners, fashion shows, coffee shops, the MAC counter. He would loudly critique the male members of society, and I would giggle with embarrassed delight. Together we would go to the Home Depot to pick out the right shades of forest green and khaki to go with his FABULOUS bedspread. So much fun having a gay boyfriend. Unfortunately, once I left for this Bigger Southern City, we fell out of touch a little.

Sound like he's dead? No, he's not. Out of the blue, I got a very cryptic email, sent to masses of people, telling us to call a brutha cuz there's been some biiiiiig changes. That's the understatement of the year.

My former gay boyfriend is no longer gay. That's right folks, after 28 fabulous years of being fabulously gay, he's taken a different path. Recently he's become a Christian again. And then God told him that he didn't need to be a homosexual anymore. Homosexuality is about lust, not love, and God says he doesn't need that anymore.

????????????????????????????????????????????????

I can't believe how much this upset me. Not only because he's turned his back on what he's believed since 1st grade, but because of how much his attitude has changed in a matter of a few months. He was just a lustful, untrusting gay man incapable of love. Now he has met a "nice young lady" through church. She's so innocent. They're dating, and he finds it refreshing that people in straight relationships don't jump into bed with each other on the first date. Riiiiiight. I'm glad to see he's really becoming familiar with the whole arena.

I'm mad at him for letting himself be brainwashed. I feel like I've lost a friend. And I hope I can keep being his friend so that when he comes back to his senses I can be there for him.