Retail therapy is the best.
Went to Harp's. Dragged someone through a knit store. Had an excellent lunch, awesome dinner. Found a new store, that I'm reluctant to share, because it had such cool stuff that I found Christmas presents galore. Bought shoes. And have shoes on the list for next payday. Found red things to buy. To go with the red things I bought with my sister the day before.
So despite the last blog entry, which I got phone calls about -- how sweet, thank you Princess -- it really was a very good day. And I play on having another one today. Maybe going to buy some socks at Target. Or IKEA. New throw pillows at IKEA. And Swedish meatballs. Yum.
And to bed early. Have concerts this week and parent teacher conferences. And plural concert is never good when there are school nights.
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shopping. Show all posts
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
I'll Just Knit Instead
My headache is finally gone . . . after 48 hours of lingering. Needless to say, I did not go snowboarding, although today would have been an excellent day for it. But snowboarding with a migraine just didn't sound like fun.
And snowboarding alone just doesn't sound like fun, either. I want to learn to do it . . . and I can't seem to find someone to go with me . . . but there seem to be "hot chocolate kiosks" according to my mother, so that seems comforting. (I've never been skiing, so there is a black void in my brain as to what to expect. My mental image is a kinda surreal Sound of Music movie set kind of thing, which is wrong, I'm sure.) I do have wrist guards. And knee pads. I found some at Target for $3.74. Best bargin find all month.
The Lily Allen CD is good angry girl music. I suggest it. Kinda dirty and some f-bombs . . . but bouncy.
Let's see . . . I sliced my fingers three times in class tonight. Was introduced to the band-aid storage, as I was bleeding all over. There is a paramedic in the class, who offered to give me stitches. Invested (covered in plaster) a pretty cool skully ring and some hemlock pinecones (itty-bitty pinecones), so if everything works out Mere, Mom and I will have matching necklaces. The dragon ring is cleaning up nicely, but I need to make sure my wax models are cleaner. I get impatient and then have to file and sand the metal, which is harder to do. In metal the imperfections are easier to see however. (I'll end up using five different colors of wax and the prof doesn't like alcohol burners, so uses candles instead. This causes lots of burnt wax and ash in your wax.) I might want to cast the hemlock in white gold . . . the instructors eyes lit up when I asked about it. 90 grams though. Expensive.
Am toying with the idea of going to the D to take pictures tonight but again, with the alone. So will stay in the house. I guess I can go tomorrow in the daylight. If I was a really good student, I would get up at sunrise. (so not going to happen)
And snowboarding alone just doesn't sound like fun, either. I want to learn to do it . . . and I can't seem to find someone to go with me . . . but there seem to be "hot chocolate kiosks" according to my mother, so that seems comforting. (I've never been skiing, so there is a black void in my brain as to what to expect. My mental image is a kinda surreal Sound of Music movie set kind of thing, which is wrong, I'm sure.) I do have wrist guards. And knee pads. I found some at Target for $3.74. Best bargin find all month.
The Lily Allen CD is good angry girl music. I suggest it. Kinda dirty and some f-bombs . . . but bouncy.
Let's see . . . I sliced my fingers three times in class tonight. Was introduced to the band-aid storage, as I was bleeding all over. There is a paramedic in the class, who offered to give me stitches. Invested (covered in plaster) a pretty cool skully ring and some hemlock pinecones (itty-bitty pinecones), so if everything works out Mere, Mom and I will have matching necklaces. The dragon ring is cleaning up nicely, but I need to make sure my wax models are cleaner. I get impatient and then have to file and sand the metal, which is harder to do. In metal the imperfections are easier to see however. (I'll end up using five different colors of wax and the prof doesn't like alcohol burners, so uses candles instead. This causes lots of burnt wax and ash in your wax.) I might want to cast the hemlock in white gold . . . the instructors eyes lit up when I asked about it. 90 grams though. Expensive.
Am toying with the idea of going to the D to take pictures tonight but again, with the alone. So will stay in the house. I guess I can go tomorrow in the daylight. If I was a really good student, I would get up at sunrise. (so not going to happen)
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Wet and Pleather
"You're very hard to shop for, you know. . ."
My sister said this over the phone last night, while I was calling to confirm that I had bought the right size of thing (the thing that does not have a size, because that would be spoiling the surprise, and she doesn't want to know, but the lady only gave me one gift receipt for two items, so Mere can't return it, so it has to be the right size).
Evidently, posting a list of things I wanted on the internet is not enough for my family. Nevermind that you can't find the first thing on the list anywhere (I've tried) . . . tire gauges aren't sold out at Murrays.
So I'm done. Well, still have my brother and a two friends. I bought gifts for the friend's kids, but probably should buy something for the adult too. Although I think bathtub paint is good for all ages really. And my brother? He lives in Miami and doesn't ever come for xmas. So he gets after xmas sale stuff. Sad but true.
But this was supposed to be about my adventures yesterday. When I arrived at the eye doctor's, Mr. Crabbypants had already made his choice. A choice that I would not have made. He was all proud of himself . . . they were "free" . . . totally covered by insurance. I made some other selections and made him try them on, in an attempt to swing him over to my way of thinking. But the choice had been made. I would have been more insistent (my sister uses the line, "But Daddy, we have to look at you . . .") but somewhere in the conversation I was told that these are "extra" glasses. The glasses guy thought our conversation was very amusing. "Are you sure you aren't married?" he asked . . . even though if he thought about he has known our family for ten years and KNOWS my mother.
This is not the first time I have been out with my father and people have asked if we are married. Always gives me a crawley sensation. Don't know if it is because I will actively bicker with him, or if people assume because some men marry younger women. Whatever sales person says it, they too get grossed out when I say "Ummm . . . that's my dad."
From there we went to IKEA, so early that we were corralled in the cafeteria area until the rest of the store opened. Had a nice breakfast with the old people who show up to eat breakfast at IKEA. The old people did not appreciate when my father started swearing at his phone (his email) but by that time I was listening to my ipod, so I could only vaguely hear him. I walked him all the way through the IKEA, despite his loud proclamation that he "only wanted to look at lightbulbs. Where are the lightbulbs? Did we miss the lightbulbs?" The lightbulb section is on the first floor and you start on the second floor of this IKEA. So at the end, there were lightbulbs to look at . . . and he was happy. And I only bought four things . . . two of the items being 25 cents each.
We parted ways. It was too early for lunch, so no Swedish meatballs.
(spoiler alert: My brother D. and ALL his friends shouldn't read this until after xmas)
I drove to Comerica Park to get my brother's present. Parking was too easy, and then the attendant came out and told me it would be $10. Why would the gate be up if it was ten dollars? I think gates up is "free" in the international language of parking. Eventually found out that I could get parking validated. Well, why wasn't that mentioned in the first place?
It was raining. Rained all day. I'm Emily, so I don't have an umbrella, even though it rained all day yesterday also . . . and Princess didn't share her umbrella the night before . . . so I did have the thought in my head that I should get the damn umbrella and put it in the truck. But I'm wearing this dumb pleather jacket that I got at Target. (My father mentioned at breakfast, "So . . . when did member's only come back in?") So I'm somewhat waterproof. Not warm, but waterproof. And so far, all day, I've walked from parking lot to door and door to parking lot. So I'm dry and the hair is still somewhat good.
Walk to ticket office. Closed. And mysteriously there are all these people hanging out in the alcove. Like the ticket office could open soon. And they are people who look like they could afford tickets. They don't seem to just want shelter from the rain. Stand there for at 5 seconds . . . and see that the clothing shop is open. Walk to there . . . wet, wet, wet.
"How do you buy tickets?" No one in the official Tigers souvenir and clothing shop (the big one) knows. I was told buy them online (but I'm here . . . ) and then told to call 1-248-TIGERS (but that isn't enough numbers). Finally the manager takes pity on me and gets the main lobby of Comerica park . . . has to call three people to get the phone number and it is delivered on a piece of looseleaf paper. Evidently, the phone number to the main desk of Comerica park is a big secret (it's in my phone if anyone wants it). I call. They tell me to come on over. I get my parking validated without buying a thing.
I now have to walk around Comerica park. Wet, wet, wet. Get there. No tickets. "I'm really sorry, I haven't been here since Friday. We're sold out of those." Great. Wet. Cold. And blew the mission, so my sister is going to be mad. "But you can get gift certificates and he can just buy whatever he wants." Explain that I do not have the authority to make that decision. Call sister. Leave message. Make executive decision, precipitated by the rain and the fact that I am very wet. Buy more gift certificates that anyone needs. Have a nice chat about knives with the guy at the desk. Go and get even more wet.
I then take my soggy self to the Majestic complex. Meters only take quarters. Search for quarters. More wet. Again the box office is closed. Manage to buy tickets at the bar. Almost buy tickets for that night . . . but remember that the person I'm going with will back out at the last minute. Stick with just the Mustard Plug tickets.
Since I'm there, decide to go check out "City Knits" in the Fisher building. Park. Meter takes dimes, which is good, as I have no quarters (spent them all in Ferndale the night before). I have never been to the Fisher building, so there is a lot to look at. Get really wet walking there. City Knits is cool. Pure Detroit is kind of a let down (I'll go to the Made in Detroit store first next time). My sister calls and leaves an angry message about the tickets I was supposed to buy on Monday (and now have gift certificates on Friday . . . who knew everyone would buy their loved one a Pepsi six pack thingy for Comerica park?) Get really wet walking back to the truck.
So now I'm soaked, except for the parts covered in pleater. Decide to go to Northland. Then to Target. Then home. Just before I decide to get ready for the concert, IM the dude I'm supposed to go with to make sure his coming. He's not. Go to Twelve Oaks instead.
And that's how I finished my xmas shopping. And I'm not hard to shop for. And don't buy me an umbrella. I have one, I just don't bring it with me.
My sister said this over the phone last night, while I was calling to confirm that I had bought the right size of thing (the thing that does not have a size, because that would be spoiling the surprise, and she doesn't want to know, but the lady only gave me one gift receipt for two items, so Mere can't return it, so it has to be the right size).
Evidently, posting a list of things I wanted on the internet is not enough for my family. Nevermind that you can't find the first thing on the list anywhere (I've tried) . . . tire gauges aren't sold out at Murrays.
So I'm done. Well, still have my brother and a two friends. I bought gifts for the friend's kids, but probably should buy something for the adult too. Although I think bathtub paint is good for all ages really. And my brother? He lives in Miami and doesn't ever come for xmas. So he gets after xmas sale stuff. Sad but true.
But this was supposed to be about my adventures yesterday. When I arrived at the eye doctor's, Mr. Crabbypants had already made his choice. A choice that I would not have made. He was all proud of himself . . . they were "free" . . . totally covered by insurance. I made some other selections and made him try them on, in an attempt to swing him over to my way of thinking. But the choice had been made. I would have been more insistent (my sister uses the line, "But Daddy, we have to look at you . . .") but somewhere in the conversation I was told that these are "extra" glasses. The glasses guy thought our conversation was very amusing. "Are you sure you aren't married?" he asked . . . even though if he thought about he has known our family for ten years and KNOWS my mother.
This is not the first time I have been out with my father and people have asked if we are married. Always gives me a crawley sensation. Don't know if it is because I will actively bicker with him, or if people assume because some men marry younger women. Whatever sales person says it, they too get grossed out when I say "Ummm . . . that's my dad."
From there we went to IKEA, so early that we were corralled in the cafeteria area until the rest of the store opened. Had a nice breakfast with the old people who show up to eat breakfast at IKEA. The old people did not appreciate when my father started swearing at his phone (his email) but by that time I was listening to my ipod, so I could only vaguely hear him. I walked him all the way through the IKEA, despite his loud proclamation that he "only wanted to look at lightbulbs. Where are the lightbulbs? Did we miss the lightbulbs?" The lightbulb section is on the first floor and you start on the second floor of this IKEA. So at the end, there were lightbulbs to look at . . . and he was happy. And I only bought four things . . . two of the items being 25 cents each.
We parted ways. It was too early for lunch, so no Swedish meatballs.
(spoiler alert: My brother D. and ALL his friends shouldn't read this until after xmas)
I drove to Comerica Park to get my brother's present. Parking was too easy, and then the attendant came out and told me it would be $10. Why would the gate be up if it was ten dollars? I think gates up is "free" in the international language of parking. Eventually found out that I could get parking validated. Well, why wasn't that mentioned in the first place?
It was raining. Rained all day. I'm Emily, so I don't have an umbrella, even though it rained all day yesterday also . . . and Princess didn't share her umbrella the night before . . . so I did have the thought in my head that I should get the damn umbrella and put it in the truck. But I'm wearing this dumb pleather jacket that I got at Target. (My father mentioned at breakfast, "So . . . when did member's only come back in?") So I'm somewhat waterproof. Not warm, but waterproof. And so far, all day, I've walked from parking lot to door and door to parking lot. So I'm dry and the hair is still somewhat good.
Walk to ticket office. Closed. And mysteriously there are all these people hanging out in the alcove. Like the ticket office could open soon. And they are people who look like they could afford tickets. They don't seem to just want shelter from the rain. Stand there for at 5 seconds . . . and see that the clothing shop is open. Walk to there . . . wet, wet, wet.
"How do you buy tickets?" No one in the official Tigers souvenir and clothing shop (the big one) knows. I was told buy them online (but I'm here . . . ) and then told to call 1-248-TIGERS (but that isn't enough numbers). Finally the manager takes pity on me and gets the main lobby of Comerica park . . . has to call three people to get the phone number and it is delivered on a piece of looseleaf paper. Evidently, the phone number to the main desk of Comerica park is a big secret (it's in my phone if anyone wants it). I call. They tell me to come on over. I get my parking validated without buying a thing.
I now have to walk around Comerica park. Wet, wet, wet. Get there. No tickets. "I'm really sorry, I haven't been here since Friday. We're sold out of those." Great. Wet. Cold. And blew the mission, so my sister is going to be mad. "But you can get gift certificates and he can just buy whatever he wants." Explain that I do not have the authority to make that decision. Call sister. Leave message. Make executive decision, precipitated by the rain and the fact that I am very wet. Buy more gift certificates that anyone needs. Have a nice chat about knives with the guy at the desk. Go and get even more wet.
I then take my soggy self to the Majestic complex. Meters only take quarters. Search for quarters. More wet. Again the box office is closed. Manage to buy tickets at the bar. Almost buy tickets for that night . . . but remember that the person I'm going with will back out at the last minute. Stick with just the Mustard Plug tickets.
Since I'm there, decide to go check out "City Knits" in the Fisher building. Park. Meter takes dimes, which is good, as I have no quarters (spent them all in Ferndale the night before). I have never been to the Fisher building, so there is a lot to look at. Get really wet walking there. City Knits is cool. Pure Detroit is kind of a let down (I'll go to the Made in Detroit store first next time). My sister calls and leaves an angry message about the tickets I was supposed to buy on Monday (and now have gift certificates on Friday . . . who knew everyone would buy their loved one a Pepsi six pack thingy for Comerica park?) Get really wet walking back to the truck.
So now I'm soaked, except for the parts covered in pleater. Decide to go to Northland. Then to Target. Then home. Just before I decide to get ready for the concert, IM the dude I'm supposed to go with to make sure his coming. He's not. Go to Twelve Oaks instead.
And that's how I finished my xmas shopping. And I'm not hard to shop for. And don't buy me an umbrella. I have one, I just don't bring it with me.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Fashionista
Be still my heart. A boy that loves shoes.
My nephew and I went shopping for Christmas today. My vision was to get him and his mother done in one trip . . . buy him an outfit, which he would get to pick out (there seems to be control about his clothes, so the present was really "choice") and then to take pictures of him in the outfit for his mother. Quite the adventure.
I rarely get the chance to take boys shopping. Occasionally a brother . . . once for ring shopping, usually for "what would my wife like" shopping. Never the clothing shopping. So Z. and I went out to lunch, tried some new food, (When trying new food, he only takes the tiniest bit. Not enough to really taste it. Made him try a whole bite. He found out that he likes spinach pie. Add it to the list.) wandered around Gap kids. Clothing stores are "boring". Pants aren't cool. Only jeans are. And jean jackets. And shoes with ties are bad. But fancy leather loafers . . . good. Love the grown up shoes. And you can get to school faster if you don't have to tie your shoes. Oh, and the High School Musical CD and Pirates of the Caribbean II on DVD are on the wish list for Christmas. And D and his mom are painting his bedroom gray and he doesn't like it. And would like a white leather jacket for some reason. At the moment.
Turns out that if you get to pick out stuff, then clothing stores are not so boring. Dressing room was a challenge, if only because there were about 25 people waiting for dressing rooms and you could only bring in five items . . . and he would unbutton every button and then have to re-button after he put in on and then unbutton after he showed it to me. Soon Aunt Emily was standing in the doorway saying "Arms up" and throwing things over his head. He only likes medium wash jeans . . . and seems to understand the concept of labels. We had a chance to really think about our purchases, as the line for the register was to the middle of the store. We did all the math. I pointed out that we could buy three pairs of jeans at Old Navy for the same price as this pair of jeans. Nope. Really want these clothes. The selection? One pair of jeans, medium wash, with the least amount of holes that Abercromie jeans can have, one shirt that looks like what my brother would pick out . . . blue with stripes, and one polo shirt, which was against my better judgement because it is white with brown stripes . . . and little boys (and myself for that matter) . . . they aren't so good with white . . . it stains.
Then went to Macy's to look at shoes. Not seriously look at shoes, because he wears a size 7 men's shoe and I just can't get next to paying $100 to put shoes on a 9 year old. I can pay that for an outfit, just not shoes. But then a light from the heavens appeared in the clearance section. Steve Madden black leather loafers, size 8 (close enough, his feet are still growing) for $25. Down from $100. The shoes completed the look and when I looked doubtful, Z. would list all the places he would wear them . . . church . . . Christmas . . . Easter . . . affairs of state . . . dinner with the President . . .
So new shoes were purchased. It kinda looks like he's wearing his dad's shoes, but it works for him. So we went home and tried to "re-gel" his hair but his parents weren't home. So he worked on his hair in the Starbucks bathroom and we took lots of pictures. Black and white. Very Abercromie. Lots of attitude, due to the cool new shoes. The best are in front of this rusted iron gate. He was very afraid that I was going to run out of film. "It's digital. I won't run out of film." So out of the 75 or so shots that I took throughout the day, I should have 5 really good ones to print up and frame for his mother. I kept having to tell him to close his mouth . . . and every time I gave that direction, he would close his eyes first. Made me really glad that I didn't go into professional photography.
I took all the clothes and sadly, the shoes, so I could wrap them. Otherwise, he would have very little to open. When I pointed this out, he made me promise that he could open them a day early (we do all our gifts on Christmas Eve . . . and then just lie about on Christmas day . . . ) so that he could wear the clothes for the Christmas Eve festivities. Fair enough. Have to get those shoes on for the affairs of state before he grows out of them.
And the pics turned out cute.
My nephew and I went shopping for Christmas today. My vision was to get him and his mother done in one trip . . . buy him an outfit, which he would get to pick out (there seems to be control about his clothes, so the present was really "choice") and then to take pictures of him in the outfit for his mother. Quite the adventure.
I rarely get the chance to take boys shopping. Occasionally a brother . . . once for ring shopping, usually for "what would my wife like" shopping. Never the clothing shopping. So Z. and I went out to lunch, tried some new food, (When trying new food, he only takes the tiniest bit. Not enough to really taste it. Made him try a whole bite. He found out that he likes spinach pie. Add it to the list.) wandered around Gap kids. Clothing stores are "boring". Pants aren't cool. Only jeans are. And jean jackets. And shoes with ties are bad. But fancy leather loafers . . . good. Love the grown up shoes. And you can get to school faster if you don't have to tie your shoes. Oh, and the High School Musical CD and Pirates of the Caribbean II on DVD are on the wish list for Christmas. And D and his mom are painting his bedroom gray and he doesn't like it. And would like a white leather jacket for some reason. At the moment.
Turns out that if you get to pick out stuff, then clothing stores are not so boring. Dressing room was a challenge, if only because there were about 25 people waiting for dressing rooms and you could only bring in five items . . . and he would unbutton every button and then have to re-button after he put in on and then unbutton after he showed it to me. Soon Aunt Emily was standing in the doorway saying "Arms up" and throwing things over his head. He only likes medium wash jeans . . . and seems to understand the concept of labels. We had a chance to really think about our purchases, as the line for the register was to the middle of the store. We did all the math. I pointed out that we could buy three pairs of jeans at Old Navy for the same price as this pair of jeans. Nope. Really want these clothes. The selection? One pair of jeans, medium wash, with the least amount of holes that Abercromie jeans can have, one shirt that looks like what my brother would pick out . . . blue with stripes, and one polo shirt, which was against my better judgement because it is white with brown stripes . . . and little boys (and myself for that matter) . . . they aren't so good with white . . . it stains.
Then went to Macy's to look at shoes. Not seriously look at shoes, because he wears a size 7 men's shoe and I just can't get next to paying $100 to put shoes on a 9 year old. I can pay that for an outfit, just not shoes. But then a light from the heavens appeared in the clearance section. Steve Madden black leather loafers, size 8 (close enough, his feet are still growing) for $25. Down from $100. The shoes completed the look and when I looked doubtful, Z. would list all the places he would wear them . . . church . . . Christmas . . . Easter . . . affairs of state . . . dinner with the President . . .
So new shoes were purchased. It kinda looks like he's wearing his dad's shoes, but it works for him. So we went home and tried to "re-gel" his hair but his parents weren't home. So he worked on his hair in the Starbucks bathroom and we took lots of pictures. Black and white. Very Abercromie. Lots of attitude, due to the cool new shoes. The best are in front of this rusted iron gate. He was very afraid that I was going to run out of film. "It's digital. I won't run out of film." So out of the 75 or so shots that I took throughout the day, I should have 5 really good ones to print up and frame for his mother. I kept having to tell him to close his mouth . . . and every time I gave that direction, he would close his eyes first. Made me really glad that I didn't go into professional photography.
I took all the clothes and sadly, the shoes, so I could wrap them. Otherwise, he would have very little to open. When I pointed this out, he made me promise that he could open them a day early (we do all our gifts on Christmas Eve . . . and then just lie about on Christmas day . . . ) so that he could wear the clothes for the Christmas Eve festivities. Fair enough. Have to get those shoes on for the affairs of state before he grows out of them.
And the pics turned out cute.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Overscheduled
I had three things to do this morning . . . and none of them are done. I did just manage to get some socks on, so forward progress.
Had accidental plans last night. Have plans for early afternoon (Harps with a friend . . . so more not touching the bras), early evening (Noel Night) and evening. Then I have to wake up at an reasonable hour tomorrow so we can change the brakes on my car. (unlike this morning, where I woke up at a reasonable hour but didn't get out of bed) (cold day, blankets and duvet . . . good.) And I can not be crabby for the brake changing, because my brother is doing it and not charging me a dime . . . and brakes, they're important. You want them to work when you are operating a motor vehicle. So sunshine and friendliness tomorrow. Smiling and ready to hand over the correct wrench thingy.
Have to back to Somerset and return things that are the wrong size. Last time I listen to the saleswoman at Soma. "Oh no, you definitely want a size ____" which wasn't the size I already have. But Somerset has three Starbucks, which would not be all that bad a thing to ingest right now.
And I shouldn't be this overscheduled on a weekend. It's making my stomach kinda tight . . . or that might be the not eating yet. (And no, those who read this. I do want to go to all the fun this weekend, just didn't expect the sleeping in . . . and now have to catch up.)
Had accidental plans last night. Have plans for early afternoon (Harps with a friend . . . so more not touching the bras), early evening (Noel Night) and evening. Then I have to wake up at an reasonable hour tomorrow so we can change the brakes on my car. (unlike this morning, where I woke up at a reasonable hour but didn't get out of bed) (cold day, blankets and duvet . . . good.) And I can not be crabby for the brake changing, because my brother is doing it and not charging me a dime . . . and brakes, they're important. You want them to work when you are operating a motor vehicle. So sunshine and friendliness tomorrow. Smiling and ready to hand over the correct wrench thingy.
Have to back to Somerset and return things that are the wrong size. Last time I listen to the saleswoman at Soma. "Oh no, you definitely want a size ____" which wasn't the size I already have. But Somerset has three Starbucks, which would not be all that bad a thing to ingest right now.
And I shouldn't be this overscheduled on a weekend. It's making my stomach kinda tight . . . or that might be the not eating yet. (And no, those who read this. I do want to go to all the fun this weekend, just didn't expect the sleeping in . . . and now have to catch up.)
Friday, November 24, 2006
Rabid Consumerism
My sister and I found out that the outlet mall opened at midnight. Having little to do after eating, other than waiting for our parents to get home from Miami so they could tell the "prodigal son" stories, Mere and I decide to tool out there.
The outlet mall is relatively near my parents' house . . . in the way that everything is "relatively" near my parents' house. The nearest grocery store is fifteen minutes away from Stately Wayne Manor, so the outlet mall being 35 minutes away is "near".
Two miles before exit 133, the traffic stops. That was not a good sign. The line at the Gap spiraled the store three times. My sister bought shirts for $3. I decided that I could just pay full price and NOT stand in line. Evidently, I've gotten to that point in my life. Everything at the Banana Republic was 40% . . . but again, the line spiraled the store. So for me, it was just an interesting sociological study of the Midwestern American Populace. They like to stand in line. And smoke.
We got to Stately Wayne around 3 a.m. and I figured I would just stay up and buy a television. Mr. Crabbypants was tired from traveling so did not want to go with me for the electronic store tour. Again, just people watched . . . didn't buy anything . . . well, until I went to the mall. Went to the super secret Wixom Target, because I thought no one would go there, and the line was all the way from the door to Wixom Road. Didn't really want or need anything at Target, but it was on the way to the mall. People were rioting in the toy section, though I'm not sure why. And there was this guy . . . in the middle of the chaos . . . just carrying a large tub of Oxiclean. Like he got up at 6 a.m. to go to the Target, special, to get some Oxiclean? It wasn't even on sale. And you had to dodge carts driven my suburban mommies who were foaming at the mouth.
Please keep in mind that I am not in want or need of anything. I went to the mall to kill time . . . sis and the rents wouldn't be up until 9 a.m. or so (turns out Crabbypants was up at 6 a.m., but he hasn't been doing that lately) H&M had everything in the store at 25% off . . . so bought the sweater that I was eyeing, plus some underwear and a dress. Grand total, less than $50. Touched the ipods. Had the Fossil people take a link out of my watchband. Wandered around Macy's. The mall was not frenzied. Had my MP3 player on by that time, so pleasant music drowning out the Christmas music. All good.
It occurred to me that I should do some Christmas shopping. Wasn't that what all these crazed people were doing? But I usually make gifts. Or we all go in on one "big" present. Or I wait until Dec. 24 and do all my shopping then. Better to stick with the $5 underwear and the sweater with a bow (yes, it's black . . . does H&M make stuff in colors?)
Funny that people can get so excited about inanimate objects . . . or just the fact that they are getting 6 dollars off . . .
Oh, and I was only bruised three times. One full body slam and two elbows.
The outlet mall is relatively near my parents' house . . . in the way that everything is "relatively" near my parents' house. The nearest grocery store is fifteen minutes away from Stately Wayne Manor, so the outlet mall being 35 minutes away is "near".
Two miles before exit 133, the traffic stops. That was not a good sign. The line at the Gap spiraled the store three times. My sister bought shirts for $3. I decided that I could just pay full price and NOT stand in line. Evidently, I've gotten to that point in my life. Everything at the Banana Republic was 40% . . . but again, the line spiraled the store. So for me, it was just an interesting sociological study of the Midwestern American Populace. They like to stand in line. And smoke.
We got to Stately Wayne around 3 a.m. and I figured I would just stay up and buy a television. Mr. Crabbypants was tired from traveling so did not want to go with me for the electronic store tour. Again, just people watched . . . didn't buy anything . . . well, until I went to the mall. Went to the super secret Wixom Target, because I thought no one would go there, and the line was all the way from the door to Wixom Road. Didn't really want or need anything at Target, but it was on the way to the mall. People were rioting in the toy section, though I'm not sure why. And there was this guy . . . in the middle of the chaos . . . just carrying a large tub of Oxiclean. Like he got up at 6 a.m. to go to the Target, special, to get some Oxiclean? It wasn't even on sale. And you had to dodge carts driven my suburban mommies who were foaming at the mouth.
Please keep in mind that I am not in want or need of anything. I went to the mall to kill time . . . sis and the rents wouldn't be up until 9 a.m. or so (turns out Crabbypants was up at 6 a.m., but he hasn't been doing that lately) H&M had everything in the store at 25% off . . . so bought the sweater that I was eyeing, plus some underwear and a dress. Grand total, less than $50. Touched the ipods. Had the Fossil people take a link out of my watchband. Wandered around Macy's. The mall was not frenzied. Had my MP3 player on by that time, so pleasant music drowning out the Christmas music. All good.
It occurred to me that I should do some Christmas shopping. Wasn't that what all these crazed people were doing? But I usually make gifts. Or we all go in on one "big" present. Or I wait until Dec. 24 and do all my shopping then. Better to stick with the $5 underwear and the sweater with a bow (yes, it's black . . . does H&M make stuff in colors?)
Funny that people can get so excited about inanimate objects . . . or just the fact that they are getting 6 dollars off . . .
Oh, and I was only bruised three times. One full body slam and two elbows.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Benefiting from Low Expectations
Mr. Cat has been fed . . . and kissed at his insistence. And I washed and disinfected his bowl before feeding him, because I don't like eating off of dirty dishes, why should he? And he can't just go out and buy more dishes . . . like I can . . . because my parents refuse to give him the car keys.
He shouldn't be this lonely, the Crabbypants only left this morning. Attention whore, that Catman. He has now sulked off to someplace warmer . . . Stately Wayne Manor is cold, as you would expect it to be. I'm about to steal some socks.
I still have to go to the store and get what I'm making for tomorrow. Heck, I still have to search the Martha Stewart website for what I'm making for tomorrow. And because I only cook two days a year, I will have to buy everything. Every ingredient. Wait . . . I have sugar and flour . . . I think . . . sugar and flour don't go bad, right? It's amazing that I'm considered a functioning adult. Oh, and I have brown sugar . . . so three whole ingredients in my house . . . and I might have some filo dough . . . and I know I have three bottles of V-8, due to failure to take inventory before going to Meijer. And V-8 does go bad . . . so I better get on drinking some one of these days.
The best thing about cooking only two days out of the year? Everyone is really impressed when you pull it together . . . or it's just not burnt. Last year (was it last year?) I made a pie, from scratch, with little Martha Stewart-y leaves and everything . . . and there were the pumpkin cupcakes . . . though made too many of those. We had to eat them forever. Anyhow, I digress, it's easy to impress when there are such low expectations. Second best thing is going to touch all the produce at Whole Foods.
Don't tell Mom that I washed the cat's bowl with her scrubby. She'll wonder why it smells like liver and figure it out eventually. It is sorta a foodstuff and I cleaned it off really well afterwards. The guilt may kill me. It wasn't the favorite scrubby anyhow.
He shouldn't be this lonely, the Crabbypants only left this morning. Attention whore, that Catman. He has now sulked off to someplace warmer . . . Stately Wayne Manor is cold, as you would expect it to be. I'm about to steal some socks.
I still have to go to the store and get what I'm making for tomorrow. Heck, I still have to search the Martha Stewart website for what I'm making for tomorrow. And because I only cook two days a year, I will have to buy everything. Every ingredient. Wait . . . I have sugar and flour . . . I think . . . sugar and flour don't go bad, right? It's amazing that I'm considered a functioning adult. Oh, and I have brown sugar . . . so three whole ingredients in my house . . . and I might have some filo dough . . . and I know I have three bottles of V-8, due to failure to take inventory before going to Meijer. And V-8 does go bad . . . so I better get on drinking some one of these days.
The best thing about cooking only two days out of the year? Everyone is really impressed when you pull it together . . . or it's just not burnt. Last year (was it last year?) I made a pie, from scratch, with little Martha Stewart-y leaves and everything . . . and there were the pumpkin cupcakes . . . though made too many of those. We had to eat them forever. Anyhow, I digress, it's easy to impress when there are such low expectations. Second best thing is going to touch all the produce at Whole Foods.
Don't tell Mom that I washed the cat's bowl with her scrubby. She'll wonder why it smells like liver and figure it out eventually. It is sorta a foodstuff and I cleaned it off really well afterwards. The guilt may kill me. It wasn't the favorite scrubby anyhow.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Explains It All, With Illustrations
I think this explains it all . . . except my disgust with itunes.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Culling the Herd
I bought shoes today. Which means I'm over the fifty count and will have to cull the herd. Do the flip-flops even count? I could just put three pairs in one cubbie . . . and then have room for the new ones.
I didn't just buy shoes . . . I bought ridiculous, frivolous, gorgeous shoes. Two pairs of them. A beautiful pair of pointed toe heels that I will wear as power shoes for Monday (I am presenting with Princess. She'll be so proud). They were on super sale, because they ran really small . . . and what woman wants to buy shoes that are a size bigger? Other than me, because I don't care as long as they are not pinchy. So beautiful, Stacie and Clinton say leg lengthening, heels to wear with pants.
The second pair? A pair of ruby satin pumps that I may only be able to wear inside my house. They look so good that a stranger walked up to tell me that they looked good. So I had to buy them. However, being that they are satin . . . they will be ruined if I breathe on them, let alone walk outside. When asking the salesperson if there was something I could put on them, like fabric protector, there was face squinching and "Well, I wouldn't wear them in the snow." Otherwise, the salesgirl was not helpful about the wearing of the shoes somewhere other than in my house. I will have to be carried. Or bring them in a Ziploc bag. But only to very clean places where nothing will be spilled or sticky. They really are gorgeous shoes though.
And then felt so guilty for dropping $100 on shoes that I did not buy an ipod. And there were no boys . . . just a girl with some interesting tattoos. I do think I want the red one though. And some knives . . . I'd really like some real "big girl" knives. Because the $9 Betty Crocker set is just not cutting it. (get it? cutting it?) And crap, I should probably think about Christmas soon, shouldn't I?
I didn't just buy shoes . . . I bought ridiculous, frivolous, gorgeous shoes. Two pairs of them. A beautiful pair of pointed toe heels that I will wear as power shoes for Monday (I am presenting with Princess. She'll be so proud). They were on super sale, because they ran really small . . . and what woman wants to buy shoes that are a size bigger? Other than me, because I don't care as long as they are not pinchy. So beautiful, Stacie and Clinton say leg lengthening, heels to wear with pants.
The second pair? A pair of ruby satin pumps that I may only be able to wear inside my house. They look so good that a stranger walked up to tell me that they looked good. So I had to buy them. However, being that they are satin . . . they will be ruined if I breathe on them, let alone walk outside. When asking the salesperson if there was something I could put on them, like fabric protector, there was face squinching and "Well, I wouldn't wear them in the snow." Otherwise, the salesgirl was not helpful about the wearing of the shoes somewhere other than in my house. I will have to be carried. Or bring them in a Ziploc bag. But only to very clean places where nothing will be spilled or sticky. They really are gorgeous shoes though.
And then felt so guilty for dropping $100 on shoes that I did not buy an ipod. And there were no boys . . . just a girl with some interesting tattoos. I do think I want the red one though. And some knives . . . I'd really like some real "big girl" knives. Because the $9 Betty Crocker set is just not cutting it. (get it? cutting it?) And crap, I should probably think about Christmas soon, shouldn't I?
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Wearing Down My Blasphemy
I'm going to have to go buy an ipod. I know . . . I've held out against the Apple demons for this long. But my Mp3 player is not working . . . again. And it's cold and wet. And I promised myself that I would walk to dinner, which now that I think about it, must happen in the next 40 minutes if I'm going to Westborn. Shit. Damn. Mother . . . .
Usually, if I hit it, it will work. Or stick my earring in the little reset hole. Done both. Currently, it's hooked up to the computer and "charging" and we'll see if it turns on in six minutes (will have to be out the door by 8:30 or all will be lost). Otherwise, it's off to see the Apple demons tomorrow in their shiny little lair at Somerset. Thank goodness it's payday. I think. (Remember, I don't have a calendar?) I hate that store with it's shiny candylike everything (okay, I do want to press it . . . the pretty, candylike button . . . always) and it's good headphones and it's ubercute employees with overly cool everything. I hate that I will have to succumb to the itunes and everything evil that comes with that submission. Gaarrgh.
And no, I'm even considering a zune, or whatever the fff-ing thing is called that Microsoft is putting out. I already have a Mp3 player that shuts down if I look at it funny, don't need one that will run like Windows.
Okay, 8:30. It's working. Pray that I don't have to go kiss the pretty candylike simple design gods.
Usually, if I hit it, it will work. Or stick my earring in the little reset hole. Done both. Currently, it's hooked up to the computer and "charging" and we'll see if it turns on in six minutes (will have to be out the door by 8:30 or all will be lost). Otherwise, it's off to see the Apple demons tomorrow in their shiny little lair at Somerset. Thank goodness it's payday. I think. (Remember, I don't have a calendar?) I hate that store with it's shiny candylike everything (okay, I do want to press it . . . the pretty, candylike button . . . always) and it's good headphones and it's ubercute employees with overly cool everything. I hate that I will have to succumb to the itunes and everything evil that comes with that submission. Gaarrgh.
And no, I'm even considering a zune, or whatever the fff-ing thing is called that Microsoft is putting out. I already have a Mp3 player that shuts down if I look at it funny, don't need one that will run like Windows.
Okay, 8:30. It's working. Pray that I don't have to go kiss the pretty candylike simple design gods.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Celebrating the Hallmark Holiday
I had forgotten that it was sweetest day . . . which I don't really consider a holiday anyhow. Might explain why all the single men in the world are holed up, probably watching television (well, it is the World Series). Just too much pressure. I was blissfully unaware until I saw a display at a Birmingham florist.
So today I donated 13 bags of clothing and shoes. I bought some yarn, because I've decided all my hats are itchy and I can’t run in an itchy hat. So I bought some silk yarn . . .
I went to Harp's and bought some underwear with my mother. Saw Mrs. Harp, which was very cool. They don't let you go through the bins though . . . which I would have preferred. Harp's doesn't have much on display and there are no bras on display at all. They are all packed in bins, by size, and are behind the counter. When you get a sales person, they send you in a room and just show up with bras. Mine all came in candy-like colors because my mother was outside and told the lady that I had too much black (who can have too much black?).
Even more disturbing . . . you don't get to put the bras on . . . they put them on you. And adjust the straps. And shake things around to make sure it fits. It's a bit unsettling. I knew my size from going to Bravo, in Royal Oak (where there is much less touching . . . they'll tell you to do things, but won't handle anything) but I don't think the lady believed that I knew my size.
So they tell you to turn around and bend over slightly and they pull the bra around you quickly. And then there is looking and adjusting and pulling . . . and then they are off to get the next bra. I'm not especially shy, but there is some standing and wondering about if you are supposed to leave the previous bra on until the new one comes? Or if there is some etiquette about this that I have somehow missed? It was much like a car crash, but repeatedly. I bought matching "pants" (as the woman called them), which my mother mentioned later. And you know what? It’s not about matching all the time . . . it’s about the ability to match when needed. Or if needed.
I then went to the glasses store and spent way to much on a pair of very, very cute red glasses with rhinestones. Our little helper man wanted me to get the bloodred ones, which he thought made me look authoritative. I don’t think I need to look any more authoritative. So I went with the cute ones. Of course, I’ll now not be able to wear pink or green with them because I don’t like to clash. But I compensated for that when I had red hair, so most of my clothes are already red or black. And they are so fun. I’ll have to put up pictures when they arrive.
So "sweetest day" is really just spending day for me. Luckily, I didn’t know . . . or I might have been depressed and spent even more money.
So today I donated 13 bags of clothing and shoes. I bought some yarn, because I've decided all my hats are itchy and I can’t run in an itchy hat. So I bought some silk yarn . . .
I went to Harp's and bought some underwear with my mother. Saw Mrs. Harp, which was very cool. They don't let you go through the bins though . . . which I would have preferred. Harp's doesn't have much on display and there are no bras on display at all. They are all packed in bins, by size, and are behind the counter. When you get a sales person, they send you in a room and just show up with bras. Mine all came in candy-like colors because my mother was outside and told the lady that I had too much black (who can have too much black?).
Even more disturbing . . . you don't get to put the bras on . . . they put them on you. And adjust the straps. And shake things around to make sure it fits. It's a bit unsettling. I knew my size from going to Bravo, in Royal Oak (where there is much less touching . . . they'll tell you to do things, but won't handle anything) but I don't think the lady believed that I knew my size.
So they tell you to turn around and bend over slightly and they pull the bra around you quickly. And then there is looking and adjusting and pulling . . . and then they are off to get the next bra. I'm not especially shy, but there is some standing and wondering about if you are supposed to leave the previous bra on until the new one comes? Or if there is some etiquette about this that I have somehow missed? It was much like a car crash, but repeatedly. I bought matching "pants" (as the woman called them), which my mother mentioned later. And you know what? It’s not about matching all the time . . . it’s about the ability to match when needed. Or if needed.
I then went to the glasses store and spent way to much on a pair of very, very cute red glasses with rhinestones. Our little helper man wanted me to get the bloodred ones, which he thought made me look authoritative. I don’t think I need to look any more authoritative. So I went with the cute ones. Of course, I’ll now not be able to wear pink or green with them because I don’t like to clash. But I compensated for that when I had red hair, so most of my clothes are already red or black. And they are so fun. I’ll have to put up pictures when they arrive.
So "sweetest day" is really just spending day for me. Luckily, I didn’t know . . . or I might have been depressed and spent even more money.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
The Lost Have Been Found
I have been missing my favorite pair of glasses for several months. Not that I ever wear my glasses in public . . . and not like they are the right prescription, because they are over five years old. But I liked them. They were my favorite glasses. And they worked for watching television in bed. And for occasions on the weekend where I had to go out before I wanted to put on my contacts. And they were missing.
I longed for them. But I had taken to the theory that if I didn't look for them, they would eventually turn up. That strategy was taking a long time . . . and we all know how patient I am. Did I leave them in France? No. I remember wearing them after that. They weren't in all the places that I would put glasses. I almost wanted RBBF to look for them because the last place I remember wearing them was with RB . . . and RBBF is helpful, or wants to be helpful about stuff like that.
So I went shopping for some new ones. And gosh darn it, there aren't new ones. They glasses at See were all too square, or too black, or too thick . . . not like the perfect glasses.
I just found them underneath my bed. Which is a great place to store eyeglasses. Very useful. With the killer dust bunnies. Now I can take them to the store to buy new ones, just like them. Cause the rhinestone ones hurt my ears. And are too much in most situations.
I longed for them. But I had taken to the theory that if I didn't look for them, they would eventually turn up. That strategy was taking a long time . . . and we all know how patient I am. Did I leave them in France? No. I remember wearing them after that. They weren't in all the places that I would put glasses. I almost wanted RBBF to look for them because the last place I remember wearing them was with RB . . . and RBBF is helpful, or wants to be helpful about stuff like that.
So I went shopping for some new ones. And gosh darn it, there aren't new ones. They glasses at See were all too square, or too black, or too thick . . . not like the perfect glasses.
I just found them underneath my bed. Which is a great place to store eyeglasses. Very useful. With the killer dust bunnies. Now I can take them to the store to buy new ones, just like them. Cause the rhinestone ones hurt my ears. And are too much in most situations.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Homecoming Dress
It is almost time to shop for homecoming.
Every year, that magical time on Saturday, where I plaicate my dread and horror about going to another homecoming dance by buying a new dress. This year there is so much dread and horror that the shopping may have to involve shoes.
It is very hard to find a homecoming dress that fits well and is attractive . . . ask any girl. It is even harder to find an "adult" homecoming dress that doesn't make you look like a dork . . . or worse yet, a dorky teacher. It's bad enough that I have to listen to three hours of horrible music and have to act shocked and say "Leave room for Jesus!" about 586 times. One year it was ultra-bad and I had to carry a camera AND a walkie-talkie. I want no part of the walkie-talkies. If I have to do all that and look dorky . . . well . . .
Although I love the hunt, finding the dress is hard. Any cleavage is out . . . don't want too much leg either. Certainly don't want anything that remotely resembles what the kids are wearing. I usually go with black (well, duh) and sometimes a suit. Oh, and I don't want to spend more than $100, not including the shoes of course. So that will be my Saturday afternoon. So that I can bear spending my Saturday evening in a large echo-y gym surrounded by sweaty teenagers, who frankly need to not dance that way, avoiding anyone in charge, in case they figure out they don't have enough chaperones and want me to do something official, like watch a bathroom . . .
You should be proud of me for only wanting a new dress. (And maybe a lobotomy)
Every year, that magical time on Saturday, where I plaicate my dread and horror about going to another homecoming dance by buying a new dress. This year there is so much dread and horror that the shopping may have to involve shoes.
It is very hard to find a homecoming dress that fits well and is attractive . . . ask any girl. It is even harder to find an "adult" homecoming dress that doesn't make you look like a dork . . . or worse yet, a dorky teacher. It's bad enough that I have to listen to three hours of horrible music and have to act shocked and say "Leave room for Jesus!" about 586 times. One year it was ultra-bad and I had to carry a camera AND a walkie-talkie. I want no part of the walkie-talkies. If I have to do all that and look dorky . . . well . . .
Although I love the hunt, finding the dress is hard. Any cleavage is out . . . don't want too much leg either. Certainly don't want anything that remotely resembles what the kids are wearing. I usually go with black (well, duh) and sometimes a suit. Oh, and I don't want to spend more than $100, not including the shoes of course. So that will be my Saturday afternoon. So that I can bear spending my Saturday evening in a large echo-y gym surrounded by sweaty teenagers, who frankly need to not dance that way, avoiding anyone in charge, in case they figure out they don't have enough chaperones and want me to do something official, like watch a bathroom . . .
You should be proud of me for only wanting a new dress. (And maybe a lobotomy)
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Sunday
I ran into a former student at Starbucks today. Not really all that much of a problem, as I like the person. Actually, nice to see him and see that he is doing well. Told him that it was time to go to big boy school (he's at a community college currently, and not being challenged enough in my opinion). I read "Lord of the Flies", he did his math homework. It was weird, but okay. Weird to be a "real" person, in my boys' hoodie and Birkenstocks. Weird to be seen and talked to, in my territory. In a year or two I'll probably run into him at the Front.
I need to stop buying clothes simply because I can . . . almost bought a $100 pair of pants simply because they fit and I could wear them in pubic. Thank goodness they were too long. Bought two shirts instead. At Banana Republic. Someone take me out and shoot me. Just in the foot or something so I can't go to Somerset. Oh, and the new ipod nanos are out. The next running prize. I think I only need a 4 GB.
The vacuum is still sitting the in the middle of the living room. The plants still haven't been watered. I have to transfer all the school stuff, that I didn't touch this weekend, from truck to car. I feel like I haven't gotten anything done . . . but I fixed the laundry tub drain, did all my laundry, and mowed the lawn. And went for a short run. But I should probably use the vacuum. It's pretty, sitting there in all it's Dyson-ey glory, but it really needs to go back in the closet. And I've discovered, it's just getting started with me. Once I get over the starting, I'll clean the whole house, no problem.
I need to stop buying clothes simply because I can . . . almost bought a $100 pair of pants simply because they fit and I could wear them in pubic. Thank goodness they were too long. Bought two shirts instead. At Banana Republic. Someone take me out and shoot me. Just in the foot or something so I can't go to Somerset. Oh, and the new ipod nanos are out. The next running prize. I think I only need a 4 GB.
The vacuum is still sitting the in the middle of the living room. The plants still haven't been watered. I have to transfer all the school stuff, that I didn't touch this weekend, from truck to car. I feel like I haven't gotten anything done . . . but I fixed the laundry tub drain, did all my laundry, and mowed the lawn. And went for a short run. But I should probably use the vacuum. It's pretty, sitting there in all it's Dyson-ey glory, but it really needs to go back in the closet. And I've discovered, it's just getting started with me. Once I get over the starting, I'll clean the whole house, no problem.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
"Shelia Take a Bow"
"OOooh, Shelia take a . . . Shelia take a bow . . . boot the (something) of this world in the crotch dear. And don't go home tonight . . . go out and find the one that you love and who loves you . . . "
I put money in a jukebox yesterday. I never do that. It was the Front and no music was playing and the place was kinda dead for a Saturday and both my friends have "someones" and are not looking. Plus I needed to show off the shoes. Because I had wicked good shoes on last night . . . peep toe, patent leather, three inch heel . . . very fifties. And right now, the only excuse I have to wear them is when I want to have the Ozzie and Harriet fifties experience, so I'll put them on with an apron to clean. Except that I seldom clean.
Despite the good shoes, again no one talked to us. I went up to talk to some boys for about four seconds but it did not go well, so the mission was quickly aborted. They weren't cute enough to work at . . . so struck out again. Not that I expected anything, in the least. I didn't. I expect nothing at this point. Well, nothing except for the stalker to eventually stop emailing me.
The questions on matchdotcom were difficult to publish . . . the matchbots don't like it when you just have lines of text. They want you to have PARAGRAPHS. And I included an _ , which they didn't like at all. So the word "butt", as "Can you kick my butt in Trivial Pursuit?" somehow better than "kick my _".
The questions were finally approved at about 2:16 a.m. and I've already gotten a pretty cool response from someone, who took the time to answer all of the questions. Impressive, because I just kept typing to fill the space (2000 characters) so there are a lot of questions . . . he numbered them so there must be 39 or so. And he used the word "suckitude" . . . which is awfully cute, in my opinion. Don't get too excited, or your underwear bunched up, he's younger and I think he has a "Failure to Launch" situation going, plus he works midnights. But it's nice to see some more intelligent life on the match.
Speaking of shoes and underwear, I only lusted after shoes yesterday but found the greatest underwear store ever . . . Soma. They have my size and matching . . . so now I don't have to create an underwear store. So takes the pressure off. It was hurting my head, with all the four way and all way stretch fabric. Oh, and I finally bought some damn pants. One pair in a color other than black. I feel like I've grown as a person.
So good shoes, matching underclothes, pants that are a color other than black. I might even look put together. Less like an art teacher, more like an English teacher . . . or heaven forbid, assistant principal.
I put money in a jukebox yesterday. I never do that. It was the Front and no music was playing and the place was kinda dead for a Saturday and both my friends have "someones" and are not looking. Plus I needed to show off the shoes. Because I had wicked good shoes on last night . . . peep toe, patent leather, three inch heel . . . very fifties. And right now, the only excuse I have to wear them is when I want to have the Ozzie and Harriet fifties experience, so I'll put them on with an apron to clean. Except that I seldom clean.
Despite the good shoes, again no one talked to us. I went up to talk to some boys for about four seconds but it did not go well, so the mission was quickly aborted. They weren't cute enough to work at . . . so struck out again. Not that I expected anything, in the least. I didn't. I expect nothing at this point. Well, nothing except for the stalker to eventually stop emailing me.
The questions on matchdotcom were difficult to publish . . . the matchbots don't like it when you just have lines of text. They want you to have PARAGRAPHS. And I included an _ , which they didn't like at all. So the word "butt", as "Can you kick my butt in Trivial Pursuit?" somehow better than "kick my _".
The questions were finally approved at about 2:16 a.m. and I've already gotten a pretty cool response from someone, who took the time to answer all of the questions. Impressive, because I just kept typing to fill the space (2000 characters) so there are a lot of questions . . . he numbered them so there must be 39 or so. And he used the word "suckitude" . . . which is awfully cute, in my opinion. Don't get too excited, or your underwear bunched up, he's younger and I think he has a "Failure to Launch" situation going, plus he works midnights. But it's nice to see some more intelligent life on the match.
Speaking of shoes and underwear, I only lusted after shoes yesterday but found the greatest underwear store ever . . . Soma. They have my size and matching . . . so now I don't have to create an underwear store. So takes the pressure off. It was hurting my head, with all the four way and all way stretch fabric. Oh, and I finally bought some damn pants. One pair in a color other than black. I feel like I've grown as a person.
So good shoes, matching underclothes, pants that are a color other than black. I might even look put together. Less like an art teacher, more like an English teacher . . . or heaven forbid, assistant principal.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
50 Pairs are Enough, Right?
I am limiting myself to 50 pairs of shoes.
This is the current number of shoe cubbies I have. While the Water Heater man was working, I did many of the little jobs that I had put off all summer . . . bleaching the bamboo rocks, moving the digitial cable box upstairs and . . . building more shoe cubbies.
I did throw some shoes away.
Well, this is not really true. I have set some shoes aside in a "throw away-donate" pile . . . so I can think about them and be really sure. They are like old friends, so we have to go through the grieving process in order to end our relationship and move on.
It doesn't help that I bought five pairs today. Some high heels with lovely open toes, showing some toe cleavage. Two pairs of ballet flats (though both very different), one pair of pointy flats (but not too pointy, otherwise I feel like an elf) and a pair of "Aunt Hazel" shoes, which is only a good description if you have an Aunt Hazel.
I also went to H&M 5nd bought a suit and a dress. Evidently, spending two thousand on a water heater (when you are only supposed to spend $500) puts me in an "Ah, f$%k it" mood, causing me to spend money at the mall. The shoes are good though.
What's up with men calling me after midnight? Makes me think that they went trolling earlier in the evening and it didn't work out, therefore I am the backup plan. F.Y.I. . . . I don't answer the phone after 11 p.m. Even if I'm interested.
This is the current number of shoe cubbies I have. While the Water Heater man was working, I did many of the little jobs that I had put off all summer . . . bleaching the bamboo rocks, moving the digitial cable box upstairs and . . . building more shoe cubbies.
I did throw some shoes away.
Well, this is not really true. I have set some shoes aside in a "throw away-donate" pile . . . so I can think about them and be really sure. They are like old friends, so we have to go through the grieving process in order to end our relationship and move on.
It doesn't help that I bought five pairs today. Some high heels with lovely open toes, showing some toe cleavage. Two pairs of ballet flats (though both very different), one pair of pointy flats (but not too pointy, otherwise I feel like an elf) and a pair of "Aunt Hazel" shoes, which is only a good description if you have an Aunt Hazel.
I also went to H&M 5nd bought a suit and a dress. Evidently, spending two thousand on a water heater (when you are only supposed to spend $500) puts me in an "Ah, f$%k it" mood, causing me to spend money at the mall. The shoes are good though.
What's up with men calling me after midnight? Makes me think that they went trolling earlier in the evening and it didn't work out, therefore I am the backup plan. F.Y.I. . . . I don't answer the phone after 11 p.m. Even if I'm interested.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Now I Don't HAVE To . . .
The H&M opened Friday in Ann Arbor . . . it's Sunday and I've already been there twice. The bigger store is opening at Lakeside on June 2 and I'm half thinking of working there. It would keep me off the streets and give me a 25% discount.
Ikea is opening in Canton in 23 days. So it is the summer of shopping (like last summer was different . . . before these stores). Now I don't have to travel to New York, Chicago or, in the extreme, Paris, to shop. Not that I won't do that anyway. I don't even have to leave the state. I may become provincial . . . except that most of my friends have left me, so I have to travel to see them.
So glad that Detroit is kinda becoming real.
Ikea is opening in Canton in 23 days. So it is the summer of shopping (like last summer was different . . . before these stores). Now I don't have to travel to New York, Chicago or, in the extreme, Paris, to shop. Not that I won't do that anyway. I don't even have to leave the state. I may become provincial . . . except that most of my friends have left me, so I have to travel to see them.
So glad that Detroit is kinda becoming real.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Two Closets of Nothin' to Wear
Shopped for hours yesterday, with no luck. No dress for tonight. Yes, yes, I know I have four dresses from friends weddings, plus the five previous prom night dresses and all of the "affairs of state" outfits that I have stuffed into my closet. But it wasn't about having nothing to choose from . . . it was about bribing myself into being excited about Prom. It's always so much better with a chipper attitude, otherwise I am tempted to go catch the smokers . . . and no one wants me to do that. Not even the adults in charge.
Being an adult shopping for prom dresses is much more complicated than if you are in high school. It can't be too dressy, as you're not there to upstage anyone. I think floor length is way too much. Not too "Jenny Cleves". For some reason the "alternate length" trend meant there were old lady dresses that were way too short. And black is nice . . . you really just want to blend into the wall for the most part. The dress is really for the book club afterward anyhow.
So I will have to make do with what I have. I didn't even get new shoes . . . because, quite frankly, there were a few contenders but none of them were on sale enough. Found a great fifty dollar dress that was actually $182.00, but it was only fifty dollars worth of good to me. And you can't get the shoes until you know which dress. So I will dig deep . . . I'm sure I have shoes that I have forgotten about.
Being an adult shopping for prom dresses is much more complicated than if you are in high school. It can't be too dressy, as you're not there to upstage anyone. I think floor length is way too much. Not too "Jenny Cleves". For some reason the "alternate length" trend meant there were old lady dresses that were way too short. And black is nice . . . you really just want to blend into the wall for the most part. The dress is really for the book club afterward anyhow.
So I will have to make do with what I have. I didn't even get new shoes . . . because, quite frankly, there were a few contenders but none of them were on sale enough. Found a great fifty dollar dress that was actually $182.00, but it was only fifty dollars worth of good to me. And you can't get the shoes until you know which dress. So I will dig deep . . . I'm sure I have shoes that I have forgotten about.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Oooh! A Sparkley!
So I went to the mall on Friday . . . had a nice lunch, went to the Gap, same old, same old. Walked by the engagement ring display (of the 4 thousand of them located in the mall) and paused a minute . . . thinking "hey, I may never really get one of these". And there was a little ache. It was the store where my first "real" boyfriend worked (when he finally graduated from high school) and even fifteen years later, I'm leery about standing too long in one place near it. (rumor is that he "went gay" and moved to California -- Good for you Guenter!)
Went to Marshall Field's simply because I had a coupon from the paper and was somehow genetically drawn to their fine jewelry counter also (theme of the day). I do like to look in the clearance section . . . gotta love "scratch and dent" gemstones. Of course, the lady swoops down, wanting you to try things on so you will hopefully fall in love and she will make the sale. I rebuff her and move on to the diamonds and then the emeralds . . . when I see "the ring". I had picked it out three years ago when my brother was shopping for engagement rings. Very 1920's looking, with filigree. It's a little high . . . and had an emerald instead of a diamond but I love that ring.
I don't know if it was the turning 35 angst . . . or the "be careful what you wish for" angst . . . but the lady was still there, hovering. "Do you have this ring (pointing on the glass at the emerald) with a diamond?" She did . . . and let me put it on and priced it for me. And I bought it. I hesitated, don't get me wrong. I looked at the clearance section again, tried on a nice ruby for less but still went with the diamond. Bought it and sent it off to be sized. It's little . . . only a quarter carat and I can wear it on my right hand . . . and I can be over the ring angst.
But then I had to shop with the ring gone for a week to be sized. I almost went back to get it . . . but went to J. Crew instead and then my mom called. Not the best influence about the sparklies, my mother. "A ruby for $200? You can't get a ruby for $200 . . . " she says.
They had the ruby in two matching rings, which I thought would be nice . . . we could have matching rings. She did give birth to me and all. So I went back and bought them both. Gave one to my mother as a "giving birth to me 35 years ago/Mother's day present". May be able to sucker my siblings into paying for some of it. If not, oh well. She's worth it . . . and it's super cute and it matches my hair. Didn't get it sized so I could wear it (and it needs to be sized) so I will drop it off when I pick up my diamond.
So I have Sparklies . . .
I don't suppose they get used up or go bad. Thank goodness I get a raise next year . . . at this rate, with the jet-setting and the fine jewelry, I'll never have a garage. I'm a "material girl", who knew?
Went to Marshall Field's simply because I had a coupon from the paper and was somehow genetically drawn to their fine jewelry counter also (theme of the day). I do like to look in the clearance section . . . gotta love "scratch and dent" gemstones. Of course, the lady swoops down, wanting you to try things on so you will hopefully fall in love and she will make the sale. I rebuff her and move on to the diamonds and then the emeralds . . . when I see "the ring". I had picked it out three years ago when my brother was shopping for engagement rings. Very 1920's looking, with filigree. It's a little high . . . and had an emerald instead of a diamond but I love that ring.
I don't know if it was the turning 35 angst . . . or the "be careful what you wish for" angst . . . but the lady was still there, hovering. "Do you have this ring (pointing on the glass at the emerald) with a diamond?" She did . . . and let me put it on and priced it for me. And I bought it. I hesitated, don't get me wrong. I looked at the clearance section again, tried on a nice ruby for less but still went with the diamond. Bought it and sent it off to be sized. It's little . . . only a quarter carat and I can wear it on my right hand . . . and I can be over the ring angst.
But then I had to shop with the ring gone for a week to be sized. I almost went back to get it . . . but went to J. Crew instead and then my mom called. Not the best influence about the sparklies, my mother. "A ruby for $200? You can't get a ruby for $200 . . . " she says.
They had the ruby in two matching rings, which I thought would be nice . . . we could have matching rings. She did give birth to me and all. So I went back and bought them both. Gave one to my mother as a "giving birth to me 35 years ago/Mother's day present". May be able to sucker my siblings into paying for some of it. If not, oh well. She's worth it . . . and it's super cute and it matches my hair. Didn't get it sized so I could wear it (and it needs to be sized) so I will drop it off when I pick up my diamond.
So I have Sparklies . . .
I don't suppose they get used up or go bad. Thank goodness I get a raise next year . . . at this rate, with the jet-setting and the fine jewelry, I'll never have a garage. I'm a "material girl", who knew?
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