judisunshine

Okay. The fact that I really could not care much less about modern fashion is no secret. Part of this, as I have explained, is that I have no more credit cards. Part of it is that I want to lose more weight before going shopping again.

But. BUT. Is it just me, or does fashion this summer look exactly like 1987, with a touch of ’89 thrown in for good measure? Seriously. I just passed a coworker, and she’s wearing bright pink Capris. And I thought to myself, as I did yesterday when a different coworker was wearing bright pink Capris, “I wish I could wear pink pants.” Then my brain spun around, and I was like, “WAIT…no I don’t!

I was annoyed enough when I was informed that in order to be stylish in 2005, I had to wear clothing that was the color of vomit. I was flabbergasted and appalled when Nancy Drew bicycle shorts got renamed Bermuda shorts, which already were shorts, like can’t you even think of a new name for these ugly fashionable shorts, fashion industry, and started appearing everywhere.

Then my heart sank further as the clothes on “The O.C.” got uglier and uglier to the point where I was filled with despair. Yes, I want to lose more weight, but regardless, I am a very curvy person. How on earth was I supposed to pull off those hideous maternity/cleavagey monstrosities? Those things are UGLY. Seriously. UGLY. They make everyone’s boobs look ridiculous, and saggy, so the cleavage sticks out, but the boobs hang low, and then there is no redemption in the rest of it, which billows out like you are a crack whore trying to shoplift a wheel of cheese.

Only to follow the body down lower, where we find MORE ugliness, in the form of putrid, heinous, bright-ass colors that really belong on traffic cones or in the corner of a forgotten bodega where the Ecto-Cooler still lives. Because WTF? Seriously.

I thought maybe I was just bitter. Bitter that I still want to be thinner, bitter that I can’t afford this stuff anyway. Maybe it was sour grapes. But no. It’s all ugly! It’s the frumpiness of 1987, with the fluorescents of 1989, topped off with some disco-type nonsense.

I want it to stop. I need it to stop. Or maybe I should just start shopping in thrift stores again. Maybe they’ll have some stuff from 1999. That year, I liked.

© June 15, 2005

My ultimate inspiration comes from my best friend,
the dazzling woman from whom I received my life’s blood.

Thank you, Mom. You are my guidepost for everything.

~ Rory Gilmore

I think I love my mother more than anything in the world. You know how sometimes there are those people –maybe a professor in college, maybe a friend. And they are the most awesome people, but although they are confident, they are even more awesome because they dont seem to realize how great they are? That is how my mom is.

To me, my mom is the perfect example of why youth should NOT be valued as highly as it is. Dont get me wrong — she’s still young, but in a way, she gets more youthful as she gets older. She’s always been beautiful — so, so pretty but even though she rolls her eyes when I say this, I stand firmly behind my assertion that she gets lovelier with every single year.

And I think this is due in large part to what makes her so special. She’s far from perfect, as we all are, but she never settles into a rut. She never stops growing. She reads a lot, and is constantly educating herself, whether by learning TurboTax or teaching herself Russian in order to communicate with the pre-teen children she and my father adopted three years ago.

My mom has always been a true mom, in the best way. She’s not Jean Weir — mushy and matronly and softspoken and that traditional mother type, and I know that she sometimes wondered if that made her cold. But it doesn’t. She’s just a person who happens to be a mom, if that makes sense. She’s smart and has the sharpest sense of humor. She’s tough and would rather shop at Home Depot than Bloomingdale’s any day, and she’s not very sentimental, and in my opinion, she’s perfect just the way she is. I don’t know where in the world she finds the energy, but even with three teenaged kids, and two older ones still kicking around wearing out our welcome, she is always involved in our lives. If we are sick, she makes us chicken soup. Whenever I am experiencing trauma with guys, I know that I can go into her room even when it’s late, and she will care and give great advice and hug me and pray for me. When I was three years old, and she was working full time, she taught me how to read using magnetic letters on the refrigerator, while she cooked dinner. Now she homeschools Eric, because that is what’s worked out best for him. She gives, gives, and gives.

The most amazing thing about her though, is that she never stops seeking the truth and trying to be a better person. She is the best example of someone who is devoutly religious (Catholic), and gives a good name to her faith. Because she truly believes in it, and lives it. She follows the Golden Rule to a T, and although I struggle more with finding my faith footing, she never acts like I should be exactly like her. She just cares that I find it for myself.

And I know that I am far from the best daughter, and sometimes I take a lot more than I give. But I am trying to be better, because she deserves it more than anyone. And I wanted to give her public props, because she is the best.

I love you, Mom. Thank you for being the one thing in my life that is always beautiful.

© May 20, 2005

Have I mentioned how much I love karaoke? It’s true. For a while, karaoke and I were on a break, because it is quite difficult to find the delicate balance of a good DJ, good songs, and a good crowd. The crowd is key. You dont want a bunch of divas, and you want people to be friendly, and supportive, and there to have fun. And the bar has to be at least okay. You dont want two chicks behind the bar who are more interested in adjusting their ridiculous boob shirts right in front of you than actually bartending, taking 10 minutes on a slow night to give Babz a bottle of Coors Light (*cough* Crazy Cocktail in Levittown *cough*).

So I have once again found good karaoke, but nothing will ever be able to compete with the insanity that was Red Lobster on Wednesday nights. I worked at Red Lobster for five years, and in the later years, they brought in karaoke to the bar, which was awesome. It was the most wildly random crowd you could ever hope to meet, and we became one big, utterly bizarre family. Every week provided at least one bout of madness.

For example. Every week, Writer Boy and I were there, but we were not dating anymore. For a while, I was dating Chucklehead, whom Writer Boy felt threatened by in a very Chandleresque way, because not only did it mean I liked someone besides Writer Boy, but I found Chucklehead hilarious. Double whammy!

But Chucklehead was a bit of a chucklehead, and had some truly chucklehead friends. One night he brought one of these friends, Unfortunate Roommate, to karaoke. Unfortunate Roommate was your quintessential insecure, homophobic, tough guy. You know who I mean. He didn’t exactly have a sense of humor about himself. Or much of anything, really, but especially himself.

So Writer Boy was getting his bitch on, as he is wont to do at karaoke, and decided to mess with Unfortunate Roommate. Writer Boy is like the exact opposite of Unfortunate Roommate –very not tough, extremely witty, and everyone thinks he is gay, but he of course doesn’t care. He’s awesome. And at one point, while we were chilling out, looking over the book, he leaned in to Unfortunate Roommate, and very seriously suggested that Unfortunate Roommate sing “You Dont Bring Me Flowers” with Chucklehead. Of course I started cracking up, as did Chucklehead.

But MARONE, did Unfortunate Roommate lose it! Well, not all at once. First he stared uncomprehendingly at Writer Boy, saying he didn’t know that song — of course not! It’s about flowers, and everyone knows flowers are gay. So Writer Boy and I sang a few bars of it, as I added in my own encouragement over the song choice.

What followed was the textbook Meathead Simmer. You know the Simmer. Said Meathead in baseball cap leans against the wall, muttering to his buddies about how that guy is looking at him, and dude, he might have to fight. And like, seriously? Meatheads? YOU DON’T HAVE TO FIGHT. Bar fights, particularly ones started over inferred threats to your manliness or whatever, are the stupidest things ever. If you can’t enjoy your bottles of Bud and shots of Jager without getting into a fight, or worse yet, TALKING ALL NIGHT about how you’re gonna fight, then STAY AT HOME. Or go do some other heterosexual male activity that doesn’t involve alcohol. Like reading Maxim or something. I dont know. But stay out of my bars.

Anyway. Unfortunate Roommate stalked away from us, and spent the next hour alternating between muttering to Chucklehead and glaring at Writer Boy, never taking his eyes off of him for more than a moment, lest he catch The Gay.

Let me tell you, you havent lived until you’ve heard the Meathead Simmer, where instead of, “He looked at me/he’s looking at my girlfriend (Jen),” it’s, “Yo — yo — why did that guy tell me to sing “You Dont Bring Me Flowers?” Why does he want me to sing “You Dont Bring Me Flowers?” Why does he want me to sing it with a dude? And he was totally serious. Writer Boy found this even more hilarious, which obviously just pissed off Unfortunate Roommate even more.

Finally, Unfortunate Roommate had to leave, because if he didn’t, he was gonna punch that guy. He never came back, and then he moved to Kansas with a girl. Because you know, he likes chicks. Not dudes. And definitely — DEFINITELY — not flowers.

© May 19, 2005

Great news, everybody! First off, Tom Westman won “Survivor!” This thrills me to no end. He is, in my opinion, the best winner ever. Although he wasn’t all Machiavellian like Rich or Brian, I think he played a truly excellent game. He sold himself short at the reunion, in my opinion, when he said his strategic game wasn’t so great. Maybe he was just being humble. But although it is true that Koror never had to worry about tribal council except for that one time where Willard got voted off, that was due in HUGE part to Tom! He was tough as nails in every challenge with Koror, and provided them with tons of protein. He won five out of seven individual immunities, and came close to winning the other two.

From a strictly strategic standpoint, I think it is remarkable that he survived the post-merge tribal councils where he didn’t have immunity, because Tom wasn’t exactly flying below any radar. We saw him stay steps ahead of what was going on, and he was very smart. He was right in telling Ian that they shouldn’t go on that reward together, and he worked on Caryn, whom most others were ignoring. Although Katie felt strong armed by Tom when he pointed out to her why she should stick with Ian and himself, he was correct. The man was no strategic slouch. I wasn’t crazy about how he handled things with Ian towards the end, especially because I love Ian and think he is a beautiful person in every way, but it won Tom the game, so there you go.

So big congratulations and love to Tom and his family, and to Engine 108. NYFD, go! Whos better than New York firefighters, really? I am hard pressed to think of a group, and I think Tom did them proud out in Palau.

The second part of the great news, to me, is that “Survivor” is once again accepting applications! I was so nervous when the site said that they had stopped. I’ve wanted to apply for a while now, and thought I’d really blown my chance. But it’s back!

I think the game of “Survivor” is amazing. It’s not just a reality show of whining and complaining. “Survivor” takes real skill on a multitude of levels. It’s like chess, with people. And starvation. And possibly having to eat huge grasshoppers or drink blood. I always thought that I had it in me to do the physical stuff. Although I’m not the world’s best athlete, I think I’m fairly tough, and very stubborn and competitive. But it wasn’t until I won an online game of “Survivor” last year, that I realized I’m pretty darn good at the strategy part. That was exciting!

So wish me luck, okay? And, I’ve said it before, but Mark Burnett give me a chance! You won’t regret it; I promise! I promise never to quit, and never to whine about integrity and honesty, because that’s annoying. And I’m not a superhero like Tom, so I’ll have to scheme and manipulate to go forward. Please — your show RULES!

And Tom, if you ever want to go for a beer, email me! Congratulations again — you’re awesome. Thank you for helping to make this season of “Survivor” my favorite one ever, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for protecting the people of New York.

© May 16, 2005

– Yesterday after the gym, I walked to my car. In the parking lot, which also hosts a number of restaurants and bars, I noticed something peculiar. Next to an SUV, was an uncapped Revlon lipstick. This, in and of itself, was not so mysterious. But the thing is, it had that shininess and perfect shape of an unused, red lipstick, which was swiveled up just the right amount. And right next to it was the cap. It really looked as though someone had laid it there as a message. It killed me to drive away from all this intrigue.

– There has been much in the way of candy resurrection these past several years, as well as a nice effort on the part of candy companies to give us some new choices. HOWEVER. Why has Peanut Butter Snickers failed to come back, yet those stupid Almond Snickers remain? We don’t need Almond Snickers. We already have Mars Bars, which are way better. But we DO need Peanut Butter Snickers!!! They are awesome! Twix had the presence of mind to bring back Peanut Butter Twix, so get it together, Snickers!

– The ending of RC Racers in Archie comics. My brother and I were obsessed with these comics, because the whole premise was so bizarre, even for Archie. It was like fanfic. Everyone had these pimped out vehicles to race around in, and it was very intense. But we never found out who won!

– Remember Glintz? You know, by Clairol, with Rebecca Gayheart in the commercials, around the same time she was the Noxzema Girl? Glintz was fairly awesome, but even better was its sister product, Brights, a slightly more dramatic color enhancer for your hair. Anyway, my question regarding Glintz and Brights is twofold: First, where did they go??? They were great, and had very cool marketing. What happened? My second, more pressing question, is why was it “Glintz” but not “Brightz?” Wouldnt that have been more consistent?

– Why did Rachel Griffiths name her son Banjo? Normally I would chalk this up to another celebrity nonsense baby naming, but I refuse to believe that Rachel Griffiths isn’t the coolest person in the world. So there must be a deeper meaning that I dont know about.

– How does one tan the inside of one’s elbows? Right now, I have some halfway decent color, but my arm is like a toasted marshmallow! Golden brown on the outside, ghostly white on the inside. Its quite distressing.

– What the hell is Lindsay Lohan doing??? She’s lost so much weight that she doesn’t even look like herself anymore. I just don’t get it. I know, Hollywood pressure, blah blah blah, but wasnt one of her appeals that she was curvy and had boobs? Not just that she wasn’t thin (which she still was), but that she was a bombshell! So why is she all diminished now? Where did she go?

– Why is “Survivor” not accepting applications at this time? Mark Burnett, give me a chance! PLEASE!

© May 11, 2005

Possible Spoiler Alert!

1. Anne of Green Gables — Anne desperately wants a dress with puffed sleeves to wear to the fancy Christmas party with Diana, because that is her ultimate dream, now that shes been adopted and tasted ice cream at a picnic. Marilla, however, says no, because puffed sleeves are impractical. So Matthew, who loves Anne very much but is painfully shy, goes out to the mercantile and is so embarrassed to talk to the lady at the counter, that he orders a rake and 20 pounds of brown sugar before he can ask for the dress. But he finally does. And then there is The Scene. Anne is totally ecstatic, of course, but then the enormity of what Matthew did for her overcomes her. She goes into the barn where he is working and she is tearing up. He looks crestfallen, thinking that she’s crying because she doesn’t like the dress. But then, through her tears, Anne says that it is the most exquisite thing shes ever seen and Matthew looks so happy! Then she goes to hug him and he is worried she’ll get her dress dirty, but she wraps him into the most loving hug, and it is just one of the sweetest, most beautiful scenes ever.

2. Thirteen — The big scene where Evie tells Melanie that Tracy is a cutter. The sheer terror that Evan Rachel Wood (Tracy) conveys as she desperately tries to hide her arms, even though the secret is out, is chilling. And then, despite Melanie’s absolute horror at seeing her daughter’s scars, she immediately switches gears into protective mother mode, and basically forces Tracy to let her hug her. Then Tracy sobs and sobs, and Melanie holds her, and you can tell she is so torn between helplessness and relief that Tracy is finally her daughter again.

3. American Beauty — As I have admitted, I am a sucker for a good montae, and the last one in this movie gets me every time. Especially Annette Bening, burying herself in Lester’s clothing and just losing it.

4. My Girl — Of course! “He can’t see without his glasses!”

5. Lean On Me — Basically every moment in this movie is awesome, but I well up when Joe Clark looks out the window and sees the students out in droves, rallying for him. And there is that great laughter through tears moment with Sam’s, “We don’t want a good principal! We want Mr. Clark!” This whole movie gives me chills. Granted, Morgan Freeman could make me feel 12 powerful emotions all at once just by reading an Olive Garden menu out loud, but still.

6. Life Is Beautiful — When Roberto Benigni dares to let Dora know that he and their son are still alive over the concentration camp loudspeaker. “Bonjourno, principessa!” And he plays their opera for her, and oh man! Dora looks absolutely beatific in her relief and her love, even, or especially, through all that is happening.

7. The Little Mermaid — When Ariel says goodbye to her friends and family from the sea, and hugs King Triton — “I love you, Daddy.” Awwwwwwwww!

8. A Beautiful Mind — Alicia has already admitted to Adam Goldberg earlier in the movie that she has totally mixed feelings towards John, and you see what a toll this is taking on her, understandably. But somehow, her love for him is stronger than the bitterness, and she finds the strength to reach her husband who has become a stranger. “I need to believe that something extraordinary is possible” — with the trembling of the voice, and the holding of the stare — goosebumps!

9. Titanic — I know this gets movie gets the eye roll from many, but I don’t care — I love it! And seriously, the montage towards the end, when everyone is waiting to die, is insanely powerful. The older couple lying in each others arms in their bed makes me tear up just thinking about it. It’s utterly heartbreaking, yet beautiful in a way.

10. Glory — Again, Morgan Freeman! But also Denzel Washington! And everyone, running around being awesome, and the score! Oh, the score. The final scene on the beach, from CHARGE! to FORWARRRRRRD! to that moment after Shaw is killed, with the dawning realization, and the absolute frenzy the soldiers go into, to the utterly haunting moment that Denzel Washington’s body floats down in slow motion onto Matthew Broderick’s — so, so amazing.

© May 10, 2005

Very exciting news, everyone! Beverly Cleary has published another book! I love Beverly Cleary so much. You know those surveys you get in your email, where one of the questions is, “Who would you most like to have lunch with?” My answer is always Beverly Cleary. Because she is awesome.

Seriously, I cannot imagine what my childhood would have been like without Mrs. Cleary’s books. My mother taught me how to read when I was three, and I got immediately hooked. I read everything I could get my hands on, which was greatly facilitated by my dad’s working for a publishing company. We didn’t have much money at all, but we always had books in our home. And you know how I’m all obsessive with my TV shows and characters? I was the same way with books. I read Little Women when I was four, and would rotate which character I was. Depending on the day, I’d be Meg, Jo, Beth, or Amy, and God help the person who refused to call me by the proper name, especially when I was Amy. She was my favorite, with all of the drama. Falling into lakes, throwing tantrums. I still laugh when I think of her throwing Jo’s manuscript into the fire, because what a randomly evil thing to do! Also, I was in love with Amy’s hair. My hair has always been fine and pin straight, so of course I have a jealous obsession with long, thick, curly hair.

And you see, Beverly Cleary? She got that. The first book of hers that I ever read was Ramona the Pest, where we meet Susan with the boing-boing curls. Ramona sits there every day in wistful agony, gazing at Susan’s luxurious hair. So how does she respond to this? By reaching over and pulling Susan’s hair, of course! While whispering, “boing!” So awesome! Ramona is constantly acting out on her fantasies, for better and for worse. She has this rapid mind thats constantly thinking and observing, and often at war with her deep compulsions. That was me! Or I guess, still is me, but I’m just saying. When I was five, reading about this other five-year-old girl who begs for shiny red boots, and gets them despite her mothers better judgment and financial situation, only to immediately ruin them because she simply cannot resist playing in the mud? And then gets stuck and has the whole town in a very Stars Hollowian way try to rescue her? Was GREAT!

And every chapter is like that in every Beverly Cleary book. She’s said that she writes intuitively, without outlines, because that keeps the stories fun. She has also said that she was inspired to write because when she was a children’s librarian, none of the kids in the books sounded real. I think that is one of the reasons she is so universally beloved — because she gets it. She gets kids; she gets the human mind. She gets that life never really stops being funny, if we look at it from the right angles. Beverly Cleary was all about the dry humor before dry humor was trendy. She’s always been able to capture the idea that in a child’s world, everything is equal parts wonder, trauma, agony, and exuberance. And really, that never changes much, does it?

So, if you’ve never read Beverly Cleary, or haven’t since you were a kid, I highly recommend that you pick up one of her books. My personal favorite is Ramona Quimby, Age 8*, in great part because of the public vomiting, because what’s more humiliating than that, but it’s a really tight race among the Ramona books. And all of Beverly Cleary’s books are fantastic, including her memoirs.

Happy almost-birthday, Beverly Cleary. Thank you so much for writing back to me when I was nine, and again when I was 25. I really hope to meet you one day. Thank you so much for everything youve given to the world. And I can’t wait to read your new book!

© May 4, 2005

* Update: Six years later, I think Ramona the Brave is my actual favorite-favorite, for the way Cleary captures the terror of sleeping on your own for the first time, in a new room. But again, they are all A+ books.

1. I think I have an ulcer. An ULCER! One way or another, my stomach was in awful knots yesterday, twisting and turning to the point where I was afraid to go to sleep in case my appendix burst in the night. It was an extended symphony of pain, featuring panic attacks over my inability to relax.

2. And because of this, I got no sleep. None whatsoever.

3. And because of THAT, I don’t know how I’ll be able to exercise tonight.

4. And my stomach still hurts.

5. And I can’t drink any coffee.

6. And I can’t smoke any cigarettes, either.

7. And now I have to go to the gastroenterologist. Dont even get me started on that nightmare.

8. Okay, get this. We play Lucky Bucks here at my job. And the lady who runs Lucky Bucks? Has won four times. Possibly five. And her husband, who also works here? Has won at least twice. Does anyone else not see something sketchy about this? This is all within the last several months. But seriously. Maybe they are just that lucky, but if you were in that position, wouldn’t you maybe STOP RUNNING LUCKY BUCKS? Because otherwise, everyone will hate you, regardless. Mad, mad shady.

9. “They’re saying there is a chance of frost.” Someone in the cubicle next to me just reported this, so of course it needed to go immediately on the list.

10. Mothers Day is this weekend. Since when?? It always coincides with the “Survivor” finale. Except this year. Now everything’s thrown off.

11. Voice-activated menus. I HATE THESE. Why do they exist? The push-button ones are annoying enough, but at least they basically work. Voice menus are awful. They are annoying to you and everyone around you. Because the annoying operator lady never hears you right, and you get pissed, the people around you get pissed, it’s all very tedious, and you end up slamming down the phone and/or just getting transferred to an operator who asks you the same questions you just took 15 minutes to answer anyway.

12. There is no work to do, so the day is dragging even more than I expected.

13. Not to mention no Babz OR Shannon today.

14. And Frank is supposed to be entertaining me with emails, but he keeps disappearing from his desk or something.

15. Ads with feet. I dont get these at ALL. Yet there they are, all the time…haunting me. Why do so many advertisers think I want to see some stranger’s FEET staring at me? Because I don’t. So, please, advertisers. Feet on dashboards don’t make me think of vacation; they make me think of feet. Feet by a poolside dont make me feel like Im enjoying a day in the sun; they make me feel like I’m looking at feet. RANDOM FEET! No more, please.

© May 2, 2005

So I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I never wear girly shoes. Now, in many ways, I am a very girly person. I have long hair and I like dresses and “Gilmore Girls” and all that jazz. But I am missing, like, a gene. The one that gets girly girls really excited to go buy fake Luis Vuitton bags.

Or any bags, for that matter. I have a lot of crap that I need with me at all times, you know? This includes: my hairbrush, 27 lipglosses, and all of my makeup so that I can get ready in the car as I go to work. So in an ironic twist, I can’t be pocketbook (or “purse”) girly, because I need all my makeup. I don’t have the time or the energy for those tiny little clutchy things that hold like, one lipstick and my wallet, because first of all, what wallet? Second of all, don’t even talk to me about those compact brushes. They don’t work. And third, I lose every single smallish bag I try to use. So that’s out.

But yeah, I’m also really not into shoes. Part of it is that I don’t like the “cool” style that’s been around awhile — those pointy things that make me think not of sexiness, but of the Wicked Witch of the East. So I’m not very motivated to spend my money buying them, or my time and energy trying to walk in them. Because that’s the other part of it — I really like being comfortable, and resent the notion that in order to look nice, one has to be in pain or unable to run around.

My missing gene and indignance with society are compounded by the absence of my credit cards, which I got rid of. It used to be that if I wanted to buy clothes, I’d just use my magical cards to go shopping. Hence the not having them anymore. Also, I’m lazy about errands. So somewhere along the line, I got into the habit of not putting much effort into my wardrobe.

But yesterday I decided I was going step out of my comfort zone and be a girly girl for a change of pace. I went shopping and managed to find some good sales, and came home with clothes and a plan. I lay out — get this — a skirt (with lace!), black hose (not tights!), a (dressy!) shirt, my (matching!) underwear, and…SHOES! Honest to goodness, bona fide, girly shoes. My mom got them for me. And while they are not pointy, they are definitely girly. They even have pink stitching in them that matches the pink in my skirt!

This morning, everything seemed to be going well. I even did most of my makeup in the house instead of the car, and blew out my hair a little bit. And by the time I arrived at work, all of my jewelry was on. Of course, I was 12 minutes late, but that is neither here nor there.

Anyway, I walked into work, like a full-on girl who maybe if you didn’t look closely would even seem like she got her nails done on a regular basis, and I think it was then that I upset the natural balance of the Earth. Like in “The Little Mermaid,” when Ursula starts breaking out of that brunette Ariel guise, and while she is not big scary octopus Ursula, she is certainly no fair maiden.

Because first, my shoes got big on me all of a sudden! So I am clumping around like a six year old playing dress-up, and that is not sexy.

Then Babz blew ashes on me by accident.

Then mysterious crumbs and random markings appeared on my outfit out of nowhere.

Then I got a hole in my stockings.

Then I got a run.

A battle was waged, you know with valor and whathaveyou, to defend my girlyhood against these relentless attacks. Armed with a lint roller, hairspray, and toilet paper for the toes of my shoes, I put up a good fight. But to no avail. I’m tired now. Too tired to fight anymore.

Maybe its ’cause I don’t have a girly purse. Maybe that is the magical element that keeps the forces of dirtbaggery away. I don’t know. I will lay out my clothes again tonight. But this time, its going to be a sweatshirt and jeans.

And sneakers. Definitely sneakers.

© April 26, 2005