Yeah. I'll believe that.
So that wasted the whole afternoon. No fun at all. Normally I'd love driving BMWs, but not when it comes to trying to help indecisive people buy a car they aren't sure they really want anyway. So, from now on, I'll confine my expertise to serious buyers or fellow enthusaists; I don't want to spoil the joy of future test drives.
I got home around 6:00ish, wasn't very hungry, and wanted to do something fun. As there was a shortage of accessible ice skating Hungarians, I thought I'd take care of returning some shoes I recently purchased at Nordstrom. Nothing wrong with the shoes, mind, they're just the wrong size. Ugg boots are so cumbersome to buy, but eternally worth it once you find the right pair. But, I'll only ever buy them through Nordstrom, because they're so perfectly accomodating. Seriously, I walked back in there tonight, explained that they were the wrong pair, and there was no problem. The young man in the impeccable suit just smiled and said, "Right away, ma'am, what size would you prefer?"
Unfortunately, they didn't have my size in stock. I'm still in shock, honestly: not that they were out of stock, but that I'm wearing a size 7 ugg boot. The shoes don't come in half sizes, so if you wear a half size you have to go to the next round number. I think I wear a size 8 and a half regular shoe, but for some reason I'm in a size 7 ugg. I don't get it. I think maybe I should have my feet measured again, because this would explain why none of my dress shoes fit anymore. It would also explain why Stephen was mocking my "teeny feet" while we were at the new Air & Space Museum the other day. Of course, it doesn't explain why my feet are shrinking, but I doubt even Nordstrom - in all its capitalistic glory - could explain that anyway.
Nordstrom's going to have a pair of size 7 uggs transferred from one of their other stores to my local Nordies, just for me. With the assurance that I'd have my uggs in a week or so, I started to wander around the store. It was around 8:30pm by this point; I had no where to go, no appointments to keep, and no one else to entertain but myself. That's when I saw the make-up!
Getting make-overs at the mall, I have to admit, is rather fun. If you've never done it - and if you're a girl, obviously - you should. Nice ladies pamper you, make you look beautiful, and then pour on the compliments. Of course, it's all in an effort to get you to buy something, but it's fun nonetheless. This evening I was pampered by Cynthia at the Clinique counter. I wasn't just doing this for nothing, I was on a mission: I've been meaning to take a few self-portraits of myself recently, but never wanted to bother putting on any make-up in order to take nice pictures. With Cynthia right there and ready and willing to make me beautiful, why not let her take care of that?
She cleansed, she foundationed, she shadowed and blushed, and by the time she was done I looked done up, but natural. I appreciated that, since that's my favorite look. She was very sweet and eventually did convince me to buy some cleanser - but only because I needed some anyway and it was cheap. She was extremely nice, though, and she even offered me a free facial! So on March 10th at noon I get to go back to the magical land of Nordie's and have a facial done by some kind of expert at the Clarins desk. Pretty cool, eh?
After Nordie's, I made a quick stop by Target to pick up a few necessary accessories (I'm serious, this wasn't a fun stop at Target, nothing but business), and as soon as I got home I made sure to get those self-portraits done before I sullied my make-up. See, I had a deadline for those pictures - I found out about this show that's filming in DC the week of the 8th, and there was an open casting call for extras. I figured, hey, something to do, I'll get paid, and I'll get to be in some Disney tv show. All in all, not a bad way to spend a day or two. In order to apply, though, I needed to email in my resume and a recent photo. I realized that practically all of my photos are over a year old by now. That photo that used to be here on my blog, that was taken *three* years ago! So it's time for an update, and an update is exactly what I got.
Here's the photo I sent in with my application, and here's the only other photo that I was at all pleased with. Not bad for only about 30 minutes of photo-taking. And as you can see, I've updated the three year old photo here on the blog, replacing it with my second-favorite photo (it just fit better in the tiny image size.) All in all, I'm quite pleased, especially since Sujit said that I look more grown up in these photos. That was quite reassuring because I've been rather afraid that I'm looking younger for some reason. Partially because a couple people have thought I was only 16 lately, but Cynthia assumed I was a young 20-something, so maybe something happened this week to make me look older. I don't know, whatever it was, I'm glad I'm at least not looking like a baby anymore.
So it's been a good day after all, all thanks to Nordstrom. I really love that place; the piano player in the foyer, the happy smiling faces, the free gift with purchase. Outside, there's chaos in the mall; inside, there's a calm euphoria of shopping amongst people who understand that shopping is an investment. And dang it, if you decide you don't like something you paid for, you should be able to get your money back, no questions asked. Ever. Thank heaven for Nordstrom. (And send extra thanks for whoever thought of Nordstrom Rack: capitalism at discount rates.) :)
I actually wasn't all that interested in the activity itself: the plan was for a big ice skating party, but since I'm horrific at roller-skating and I have awful luck with sports, I thought it would be too much of a temptation of fate to strap blades to my feet. I was more interested in just getting out, interacting with new people, and watching the ensuing carnage from a game of broom-hockey.
Turns out, as I was laughing at the various people waddling around on the ice, chasing three separate balls around the ice, a very nice Hungarian man came up to me. I had met him before, at the New Years Eve dance that I went to way back when, but I hadn't seen him since. He spotted me when he walked in the room, then came up to talk to me. We stood there for probably a half an hour, talking, and laughing at the people on the ice.
Much to the detriment of my plan to avoid the ice like the plague, the nice Hungarian asked me if I wanted to skate. How could I resist? Ever since I was a little girl I've always thought how cute it would be to waddle around on the ice, not knowing what I was doing, being led along by the hand of a nice man with an accent. (Just between you and me, I think that's exactly why I've never taken serious ice skating lessons - would have killed the dream if I already knew how to skate, don't you think?)
So there I was, facing a nice man with an accent, asking me to go rent myself some skates so he could teach me. He set off for the rink while I found some skates, put them on, and walked out onto the ice. I didn't like it at first, clinging to that wall, watching the Hungarian speed around the rink even after he had told me that he wasn't all that good at ice skating. Psh. Apparently he's a nice man with an accent who's too modest when it comes to athleticism. He was literally the fastest guy out there, even did cute little spins and things then smiled at me as he passed by. He said I needed to try by myself first, clinging to the wall, and every few feet he'd have made it around the rink again and he'd stop to check up on me. Once I got halfway around the rink by dragging myself along the wall, he came back, grabbed my hands, and dragged me out to the middle.
There followed many trips around the rink, several ridiculous falls, even one where I dragged him down with me. And I swear, I didn't even do it on purpose! I did as I was told, I kept my feet even, I bent over so I could lower my center of gravity, which led to many people later saying to me, "Oooh, you were the girl out there who skated the whole time bent over, weren't you?"
I didn't care, though. :) It was nice to have an accent telling me how great I was doing, even though I looked like an idiot. Again, I didn't mind one bit. I took a short break because we had both fallen at one point and my calf landed on the top of his shoe, and I could feel a nasty bruise coming on. So I sat and watched him spin around and around, smiling and waving at me and other people there, then eventually I went back out. Second time on the ice, he and I went around the rink two whole times at pretty impressive speeds without falling down once! I was so proud of myself, especially since I almost fell but managed to recover without actually falling down. So hurrah for me! And hurrah for nice men with accents and ice skates!
After the ice skating activity was officially over, a bunch of people from my congregation got together and went out to a local diner to get some ice cream. There were about 20 of us all together, I think. We ended up staying there until around one in the morning. Fun, huh?! It was great! I got a root beer float and ended up sitting next to a very funny young American man, and across from a very kind Greek man.
The Greek and I talked about books, writing, producing, and how he wants me to critique something he's written. I must say, I'd be more than happy to do that. It'd be nice for a change to read something written by someone over the age of 15. He's very sweet, smiles a lot, and is still quite funny even when he's really tired. Eventually, though, he got dragged away to another table.
But I was sitting next to that nice young American man. We started up a conversation and eventually ended up on a topic that we both felt very deeply about: cars. Specifically, sports cars. We got into a BMW vs. Nissan debate - still not sure who won - and then got to talking about upper-echelon sports cars like Ferraris, Aston Martins, and we both agreed that the McLaren F1 was to die for. When he heard that I had a BMW, he was quite impressed and asked all sorts of questions. As other people started to get up to leave, we both stood up and ended up talking to other people. Then, from across the room, he smiled at me and said, "Let's go see the mini bimmer!" We left the restaurant and stood in the parking lot for a while, talking about cars, my BMW, and black cars in general and how much more fun they are to drive than other colors. It was fun; I like flirting over cars, it's so... un-girly. :)
I finally got home around 1:15 in the morning, now here I am, still glowing from a great night of friends, fun, ice skating, root beer, and international flirting. :) I swear, that's the best way to turn around any bad day.
I'm not sure that made any sense. Oh well. To make up for the lack of sense-making, I did manage to take a lot of really nice pictures while I was downtown. I've spent many (many, many...) hours picking out my favorites from the whole weekend, turning them into web galleries, and uploading them. In one weekend I ended up with enough pictures to fill ten web galleries - I could have condensed them to five, but I thought I'd make each invidiual web gallery a bit more petite so they aren't quite so daunting. If you'd like to see them, you can get to all of them from the new and improved Photos page. Be sure to post a comment here and let me know what you think. Oh, and I'd like to add that the Korean Monument gallery is my favorite out of the lot.
Also, while you're at that photo page, take a look at the pictures of the new WWII Memorial. It's not quite done yet, but I managed to get a few pictures that are free from construction equipment. That memorial is going to be incredibly gorgeous when it's done, and very moving. Actually, I was so inspired by seeing it that I've decided to volunteer to help out with the four-day dedication ceremony events. I faxed in my application today; I really hope they accept me and let me help. I don't care what I end up doing, just so long as I can be a part of it. I think it will be a great memory, to have participated in dedicating a memorial 59 years in the making.
I had a nice time getting to know Cameron. It was pleasant to have someone who liked going around downtown and who moved at the same speed I did. The last few times I went through DC were at marathon speed and that cuts down on the enjoyment, the introspection, and the chance to get really good pictures. Plus, hey, he was just fun to talk with; how many people will walk with you near the Washington Monument and discuss things such as how to plan the perfect murder? It was great! Weird, but great!
What else have I been up to? I finally got my drivers license switched over from Colorado to Virginia. I drove past the DMV yesterday and noticed that the parking lot was only half full for a change, so I decided to waste the afternoon waiting in line. Fortunately the whole process only took me about half an hour, which was amazing. Now I've got a perfectly legal and wonderful license with the mandatory goofy picture.
So, you may be wondering by now, 'what the heck does that quote up there have to do with this blog entry?' I'm getting to that, I promise. :)
My brother Steve (not the same as the Zealous Man, Stephen - that's a different Steve) downloaded a hilarious song from the 80's that I've been so addicted to it's almost sad. Apparently it was a Doctor Demento regular by Julie Brown, the same musical genius who created classics along the lines of, "The Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun." This one, though, surpasses all of her previous work; it is the opus of her collection. It is, "Cause I'm a Blonde."
Seriously, I'm tempted to bleach my hair just so I can sing along with this song with all my heart and soul. Unfortunately I'll have to settle for the 30% of my hair that's naturally blonde, because if I became any whiter I'd probably be invisible. The song is full of remarkable blonde wisdom, such as, "I can't spell VW, but I've got a Porsche", "I see people working, it just makes me giggle; I don't have to work, I just have to jiggle", "I know lots of people are smarter than me, but I have this philosophy: so what!", and - my favorite - "I'm a freshman in my fourth year at UCLA, but my goal is to become a veterinarian, because I love children."
I think 30% blonde is enough for any girl in this life. If I had a higher percentage, I think I might be braindead, because I already have enough blonde moments as it is. The best blonde moment I think I've ever had was about a year ago, around three in the morning, and I was watching Katharine Hepburn in 'Mary of Scotland.' As I was half paying attention to the movie, my mind began to wonder, and I thought to myself, "I wonder if, way back in Elizabethan times, people ever stopped and thought to themselves, 'Hey, someday, people will make movies about us.'"
Um. Yeah. Brilliant. :)
Now, about the quote up there at the very very top of this entry. I was at Wal-Mart recently (Gag me with a spoon!), digging through the DVDs for $5.50 bin, expecting to find absolutely nothing of value but looking just the same. Turns out I found something that I've actually been wanting for a long time, but didn't want to pay full price for: "True Stories", the amazingly weird mockumentary by David Byrne of the Talking Heads. If you have a strange sense of humor, have a thing for meek geeks in cowboy hats, and think that fake towns in Texas are your idea of a good time, then "True Stories" is the movie for you. I bet you didn't know that it was John Goodman's first film, either.
"True Stories" is a fake documentary about the 100th anniversary of Texas, as celebrated in the tiny town of Virgil, Texas. The citizens of Virgil are getting ready for their Celebration of Special-ness, and David Byrne plays tour guide to this strange and beautiful display of southern oddities. The best thing about the movie are the throw-away lines that David Byrne comes up with while he's driving around the Texas countryside in his awful red convertible, wearing his big ten gallon hat. I'm actually going to make myself a tshirt with a picture of David Byrne in just such a hat and a horrible yellow cowboy shirt. I can't decide which quote to use. I'm torn between three: "I have something to say about the difference between American and European cities... but I forgot what it is... I have it written down at home somewhere." Then there's, "Do you like music? Sure, everyone says they do. But personally, I believe... I can see Fort Worth from here!" And then there's the one I used as today's blog title. It was delivered quite interestingly by David Byrne as he walked through a bleak 1980's shopping mall, but it loses its effect outside of the film I think. But it does look good on the tshirt. Ah well, I guess I'll have to give it some more thought.
Has anyone else seen the movie? Thoughts? Comments? Surely I'm not the only person who's seen this quiet classic movie. I think Netflix has it if any of you care to rent it. Of course, if you have no idea who David Byrne is, the movie may lose some effect. The reason it's so funny is because of David Byrne, his strange lilting voice, his whole demeanor of being so serious you know he can't be serious. Gotta love him for being his own kind of person, you know?
Okay, I think I'm finally all caught up now on the latest happenings, thoughts, and randomness. That means I should finally be done with the Dostoyevskyesque posts. (How's *that* for a word?) Sorry they've been so long lately, but I've just been so busy, so much going on, so much to see, so much to talk about. Ah, life is good. :)
I couldn't sleep in on my birthday because I had church to go to, which was alright. I came home from it a bit early, though, because I wasn't feeling too well and I wanted to come home. Once I got home, I goofed around on the computer for a while before having to prepare for the night's festivities. On Saturday night, after falling on my butt at Target, I bought about twelve boxes of those little necco heart candies to serve as placemats at the table. Mom told me she changed her decorating plans at the last minute to accommodate my newly-found preference for pink. I thought these little conversation hearts in bright pink, heart-encrusted boxes would be appropriately sicky-sweet. I tied cute pink ribbons around the boxes, curling ends to form wringlet bows. I cut out 9 pink hearts out of cardstock to tape to the boxes, a name eloquently written in the center of each heart. I placed one box atop each plate at the table, arranging who should sit where. It looked lovely and oh so very girly. Wanna see?
In the midst of cutting out paper hearts and curling pink ribbon, I was also busy cooking my birthday dinner. I know that sounds bad, but I honestly wanted it that way. My favorite home-cooked meal is the special spaghetti that I make. I haven't been able to really teach the recipe to anyone else because, well, honestly I just wing it. And yet, every time it turns out scrumptious. The sauce takes quite a while to cook because the sauce needs to cook down until it's so nice and thick and the meat kind of absorbs it and it really turns out as more of a thick beef sloppy-joe-style goop rather than actual spaghetti sauce. But ooooh is it yummy.
Thankfully my timing was perfect: the heart placecards were set and the spaghetti sauce was done right about the time people started arriving. Kevin, Jen, and Max came a bit early so we all got to work on Mom's little birthday activity she'd thought up: making valentines for a bunch of people (hence why we went to Target to buy valentines.) That was entertaining just long enough for the cute Mormon missionaries to show up (they're the two on the left.) The missionary guys made some valentines for their families, but by that point it was time to eat.
We all filed into the dining room (isn't it cute?) and started chowing down. But not before I could get a picture of the whole group (aren't we cute?)
Dinner was fabulous and I think the spaghetti was a big hit. We talked, laughed, had some fun, then most importantly, had some cake. Although, we did take a break between dinner and cake to open some presents, which I quite liked, including a DVD - "The Day The Earth Stood Still" - two CDs - Lyle Lovett's "Joshua Judges Ruth" and The Flaming Lips' "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" - a gorgeous silver hair-clip, some traveling cases, and a nice check to subsidise my travel expenses. It was great! Even the cute Mormon missionaries brought me a present - one of them enjoys drawing, so he drew my name in really cool ink patterns and stuff, it's very cool and was very nice of him to take the time to do something for me.
While eating cake we talked for a really long time about all sorts of things; traveling, The Kids in the Hall, movies, opera (one of the missionaries likes opera, can you believe it? He's 20, he's cultured, and he *likes* it. I thought those guys were extinct, didn't you?), music, food, Utah, and all sorts of great things. It was a great party, very laid back but full of laughter. After dinner the missionaries had to go, but not before taking some rather ridiculous pictures (which I won't post - I have to blackmail him first.) One of the two missionaries has a very strange sense of humor and he got it in his head that he needed a "serious, slightly scary" portrait taken. It was very entertaining and had me rolling with laughter.
So what have I been doing for the past ten days? Finishing up lots of things. Guess what I did today. :) Go on, guess. It's big, cost me $500, and will mean big things for my future.
I finished my 501(c)3 forms!!!! I mailed them in today and I'm SO thrilled! This huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, I feel great. I really couldn't have done it without Monica, my fabulous sister(-in-law), who is an absolutely brilliant accountant. She volunteered to help me out and believe me, she really came through. There's no way I could have gotten them done without her and I'll always be grateful to her. So, three cheers for Monica, everybody!
This means that I'm all set and I think I can receive donations for the DP while I'm waiting for my 501(c)3 status to be confirmed. I wonder how long it will take... I hope not too long, I really want to move full steam ahead. I'm thinking of adding a whole new section to the Daily Prophet, apart from the already planned Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings departments. I've read all sorts of statistics that say that boys are performing far worse than girls when it comes to English and creative writing, so I really need a way for the site to appeal directly to boys. Honestly, I can't believe I didn't think of this idea earlier: Marvel! Wouldn't a website all about your favorite superheroes kick serious literary butt? At first I was trying to decide between my favorites, Batman or X-Men? Batman's great and all, I really think he's my all-time favorite, but he doesn't have the wide appeal that the X-Men series does. With X-Men, kids have dozens of opportunities to feel a connection with characters, because there are so many of them.
But then I thought, why limit it to just X-Men? Marvel has a surfeit of characters, we should open up all of them to potential users of the site. That's why I want to get Marvel in on this project and create the Marvel Universe section, where kids can write about superheroes as if they were real, expressing their feelings, views, et al in the form of articles framed around the entire Marvel archive of stories, characters, and worlds. It'd be huge, widely appealing, and a great way to connect with boys especially. Plus, it'd be really cool! It's been a dream of mine ever since I was a little kid to work with Marvel, I really hope they go along with it.
What else have I done? I went on a mini-road trip with my friend Stephen! This past Monday - President's Day - we decided we should go somewhere, so after far too much deliberation, we finally made our way out to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. The trip was a fantastic success, except for one slight problem on the way there - I got car sick. I haven't gotten car sick for as long as I can remember, it never really used to be a problem after the age of two or so. But suddenly, just as we were nearing Gettysburg, I really felt icky. I won't go into details, but let's just say it wasn't fun.
Thankfully, after walking around and a quick pit stop, I felt so much better. In fact, I didn't get sick at all the rest of the day. We toured around the Gettysburg museum, we watched a funny little presentation called "The Electric Map." Sure, just like everyone else there, we were a little confused at first; wouldn't you have thought that The Electric Map was a popular dance during the Civil War era? No? Okay, then maybe we're just weird...
(I hope you realize I'm kidding about that.)
The Electric Map, rather than being a pre-disco disco dance, was in fact a funny map about the size of three king-size mattresses with little light bulbs that lit up as Wilford Brimley told us all about the battle at Gettysburg. The orange lights represented the South, the blue were from the North, and again and again we were reminded that the big white light was where we were at the present time, sitting in the visitor's center. After just recovering from a bout with car-sickness, I was a bit giddy and I ended up giggling every time ole' Wilford reminded us where we were, as if we couldn't remember that the big white glowing orb that was about three times the size of the Union battalions was our present location. No one else seemed to find that funny, but I sure did. I must be really annoying when I'm sick, bursting into fits of laughter whenever someone says something over and over again. Especially when that someone sounds like Wilford. Or John Wayne, but he sounds funny at any time.
After The Electric Map, we walked around in the bitter cold to see the cemetary and take some really neat-o pictures. But dang was it cold. My ears turned bright red from cold, I had to perform the "I've Got Ice in my Shoes!" dance, and I had to walk through ice and snow in clogs to get some of those pictures, so you'd better dang well enjoy them, understand?
After we were done in the cemetary, it was time for lunch! We drove into downtown Gettysburg and stopped right by Lincoln Square which was so cute it made me go, "Ooooo!" We ate at the Lincoln Diner because Stephen was in search of a Lincoln Sandwich, cause hey, what would a Lincoln Sandwich look like? Corned beef in the shape of a bearded dude with a stovepipe hat, perhaps? Unfortunately, the diner didn't have a Lincoln Sandwich, but they did have French Toast ala Lincoln. We still have yet to figure out what the french toast had to do with Lincoln, but he said it was yummy anyway.
After a short nap in the car (don't worry, I was the one that napped, he drove and didn't nap), we drove around Mount Saint Mary's College, just to see what it looked like, then we intended to go up to see Cunningham Falls. Unfortunately, my clogs didn't agree with the ice-encrusted hiking trail up to the falls, so I had to say no to that idea. I still feel bad about it, it would have been lovely to see, but I didn't like the idea of falling on my butt again ala Target.
So that concludes the tale of the trip to Gettysburg, and thus concludes this blog entry, for it has grown to incredible lengths once again. Tomorrow, True Stories, funny quotes, house guests, Blonde Ambition, and cookies. At least, I hope there are cookies somewhere.
Because my birthday this year was on a Sunday, and because I - as a Mormon - don't go shopping on the sabbath, I decided to pretend that my birthday was on Saturday, to allow for my day of birthday extravagence. My Mom and I went out to lunch at Sweetwater (naturally), and it was absolutely perfect. The ozzie rolls couldn't have been better, the burger was pure meat bliss, and the chocolate waffle was to die for. After that, I decided I wanted to stop by Nordstrom Rack to buy a nice pretty new shirt to wear to church on my birthday. That one stop at Nordstrom Rack turned into seven straight hours of shopping.
I know, I'm as blown away by it as you are.
Normally I really don't like shopping all that much. It's exhausting, expensive, and rather disheartening at times. But for some reason I really got into it. I didn't get anything at Nordstrom Rack, which was rather upsetting because I really wanted something "sparkly" to wear. That, in unto itself, should have been a huge warning sign. I hate "sparkly" unless it's made up of platinum, diamonds, or gemstones. Anything else just looks silly. Like rhinestones; not my cup of tea.
Having not been successful at Nordstrom Rack, my Mom suggested we go to Hecht's (funny name for a department store, I know), because apparently there are sales around this time of year. Oh boy were there ever! We walked in and found *huge* racks of all sorts of lovely things at 75% off discounts! I got over my phobia of shopping and went nuts. I should say, I suppose, I went nuts with being girly, not necessarily nuts that I bought more than I should have.
I went through the clothes racks and suddenly found myself doing something that shocked me. I actually went looking for pink. I've never really been much of a purveyor of pink before. I've never really been that much of a girly-girl. Sure, I like make-up occasionally; sure, I like pretty dresses; sure, I do find myself in random fits of giggles at various times in my life. But for the past eight years or so I've never really been much of a girly-girl in the sense that I swoon over "hot guys", wear pinks and pastels, or chit-chat with my girly friends at the mall. It's just not me. And yet suddenly I found myself taking the pink plunge.
After piling up my shopping cart with blouse after blouse after blouse - mostly in pinks or various other bright colors in an array of silks - I decided to head for the fitting rooms. Unfortunately Hecht's only allows three items at a time in their fitting rooms, and I wasn't about to slowly weed through my mountain of clothing. It would have taken hours to do it that way. So instead I went back through everything with a discerning eye and selected only the few items I was fairly certain would fit and look nice. I ended up with about 20 blouses, I think. Don't gag, I had every intention of returning about two thirds of that. I'd buy them now, try them on at home, and return what I didn't like. It's more fun that way.
Most of the silk blouses ended up costing between $5 and $10, so I was really pleased. But that wasn't the most exciting bit. Nope, they also had hats and handbags on sale! Hurrah! (I can feel the estrogen resurfacing now, and I think it might be making me sick.) I tried on two pink hats, which I ended up wearing around the store for a while (one at a time, of course). It totally clashed with my outfit, but I didn't care; hats are empowering. I don't know why, they just are. Especially when they're pink.
Now I'm slightly worried that Sweetwater spiked the root beer with something. Only four days later and this sounds ridiculous.
Both of the hats were abot $6 a piece and too cute not to get. After playing with the hats, I looked to my left and noticed positively huge tables chock-full of cute little handbags. I found one absolutely gorgeous flat leather handbag that was perfectly stylish. That was $12. Then, for the sake of fun, I bought a funny purse that looks just like a cigar box. It has a bamboo handle, a little bit of beadwork on one side, and even has a little surgeon general's warning along the top. It's really hilarious. Just to top it all off, the inside is lined in faux fuzzy leopard skin. I know that sounds tacky, but it's really funny, honest. It's that same sort of feeling as wearing really elaborate, outrageous, ridiculous underwear - you know it's there, you know it's funny, but no one else knows. It's like having a really great secret that just makes you laugh. So I was very pleased when I saw the leopard print inside. It's one of those things I'd never wear or have on me, which only makes the secret greater.
Mom wasn't too sure what she thought of me carrying a cigar box purse, but honestly, I just think it's funny. I think I'm even going to take it with me to church next Sunday. :)
Let's see, what else did I get... Oh! I also managed to find a *gorgeous* real suede skirt that went down past my knees and kind of flares out nicely. It looks amazing, if I do say so myself. The best part is, it was originally priced at $118 - I got it for $20!
After Hecht's I decided that, since I was already at the mall, I might as well go check out Claire's and Hot Topic. Just to set your fears at ease, no, I didn't become girly enough to actually shop at Claire's in the way you might expect. No, instead I went there with a purpose: to find Happy Bunny. I had read about this big scandal where people are protesting the mass marketing of the It's Happy Bunny line, as well as its co-conspirators, David & Goliath's "Boys Are Stupid" products.Honestly, I don't see what all the hullaballoo is about - both of those products have been at Hot Topic for years. They're finally reaching a wider market, being sold at places like Claire's and even a few department stores. I think they're rather funny; they're meant to be stupid, that's the whole point. But some people seem to think that if an 8-year-old girl buys a pair of socks that says in cartoon captions, "Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them", that they'll actually be urged on to violence towards men. For goodness sake, these products are meant to be jokes, they're stupid, they're ridiculous if you look at them. And I must say, it's a heck of a lot better than other things marketed to 8-year-old girls; what about the thongs for seven year olds that Claire's was selling last year, with things like "Eye Candy" written on them? Now *that's* sick.
Anyway, I've been a fan of Happy Bunny and Boys Are Stupid for ages. I own a few products from both lines, and I wanted to stop by Claire's and see what they had to offer. Turns out Claire's had some really great stuff - I got a Happy Bunny patch that says, "It's cute how stupid you are", as well as a fabulous baseball cap that has a little cartoon boy on it, and then written in small print on the brim is, "Boys are smelly!" It's hilarious, I think, and not bad for only $10. Besides, it's just plain fun and makes me smile. What's wrong with that?
After Claire's, I walked down the mall to Hot Topic, bounced to the music, giggled at the new vintage Nintendo shirts (I want one!!), was shocked to see they're carrying Fairly Odd Parents merchandise (other people like it too! I'm not alone after all!), and talked with the dyed-hair pierced-everything employees. I love that place, just the juxtaposition of the harshness of the environment, mixed with the kindness of the employees and everyone in there. It's automatic, as soon as you walk in, even if you're as white and preppy as I always seem to look, you're accepted, people smile at you, and suddenly you have five new best friends. Fun, fun, fun! I asked one of my new pierced best friends if they still had any Nightmare Before Christmas merchandise, and their little faces lit up and they were all excited to show me that most of it was real cheap on the clearance rack.
How could I resist? :)
Actually, I've been waiting for a few months now for most of this stuff to end up on the clearance rack, so I felt perfectly justified in buying it. I got a funny little notebook set where the notebook is in the shape of a coffin; I bought a tiny notecard set; and a great gray t-shirt with black stripes on the arms, and a picture of Jack Skellington on the front, and on the back it says, "That's right... I AM the pumpkin king!" It's great, I love it! It's my new favorite shirt. In fact, I have it on right now.
I figure buying all of this borderline goth/punk stuff kind of evened out the earlier foray into pink paradise, don't you? After that, Mom and I went out to Target to pick up some valentines for the birthday party activity we were planning for Sunday night. Everything was all well and good, I was in the best mood ever, when suddenly as I was walking across the parking lot I hit a patch of ice that was barely visible. It felt like I was in a cartoon: I could see my legs going back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, I knew I was going to fall, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Then suddenly, BAM! I found myself on my butt, my right shoe had flown off and tumbled a few feet away from me, and I had a seering pain in my hip. I tried to pull myself up but couldn't manage to do it, so I slid myself as far as I could to try and get out of the road. Thankfully the drivers around me saw what happened and decided to be thoughtful and not run me over. I even heard someone go, "Ooooooh, that's gotta hurt!" as I fell.
I finally picked myself up, hobbled around Target, and managed to find the valentines I went in there to get. I also got a Harry Connick, Jr CD as an Owie I Fell On My Butt present.
Once I got home, I sat down for a while before trying on my mounds of new clothes. I had to give my hip some time to cool down. Eventually, at 9:00 at night I dug into the pile and ended up keeping only five shirts out of the twenty or thirty I'd brought home. I also tried on that suede skirt and was happily prancing around the room in it when I realized that they had forgotten to take the big huge magnetic security tag off of it.
I was rather frantic, because I had my heart set on wearing it to church the next day. I quickly called Hecht's to ask how late they'd be open, and much to my relief they said they didn't close until 11:00. I explained what happened, the lady apologized profusely, and said to just bring the skirt in and they'd remove the tag ASAP. Unfortunately my Mom had taken the car out at just that moment to run to Home Depot, so I waited anxiously for her to get back. At 9:30 she returned, and out we went straight back to the mall. As I was walking into Hecht's, I told Mom about the phone conversation and right as we passed through the doors, the security tag made the scanners beep. We were immediately followed by a store employee who called to me and said, "Hey, did you just call about a security tag?"
Turned out I just happened to walk into just the right door, where the lady I talked to on the phone was outside having a smoke break. She apologized profusely, took me over to a counter, removed the tag, and said, "I'm so sorry; if you'd like to buy anything else, I'd love to get you an extra 20% off to make up for the trouble."
20% off!? More?! Huzzah! Mom and I sped through the store and I knew exactly what I wanted - earlier that day I'd spotted this cute little Nine West leather handbag that was just way too cute. It was from the monogram line, which is apparently very in this season (who knew?). Anyway, I wanted one with an M on it - for "Meg". I'd get an H, but no one seems to be carrying H monograms. But, earlier this afternoon, the bag would have been about $25 or so, and that was just too expensive for a bag that I just thought was funny. With all the additional discounts, the bag ended up being only $15. I was so proud of myself!
On the way back to the register, something bright pink caught my eye. Guess what it was. "Boys are Stupid" pink socks!! I was so happy! It was the perfect blend of the girly and the punk, I had to have them. It was the crowning glory to the day's events. They're bright pink with blue toes and heels, and they're coated in this goofy stick drawing of a boy, and says, "Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them." They were $3 after all the discounts, and they make me smile.
So there you have it, my Saturday birthday adventures. I'd cover what we did on Sunday, but this entry is already long enough. The next post will chronicle the exciting adventures of spaghetti, pink table cloths, cute Mormon missionaries, and birthday cake, all in one event! Can't you just feel the suspense? :)
After spending several hours tormenting myself, I tend to throw up my arms and cry, "That's it! I can't handle it anymore!" Toddling downstairs, I end up sitting on the couch some time in the late afternoon and watch a movie or blow up some aliens thanks to the catharsis that is Nintendo, thinking desperately about how I might be able to pull my writing abilities out of the proverbial toilet. Needless to say, I haven't gotten much writing done, despite the average of four/five hours I spend agonizing over it every day. Hey, at least I designed the portfolio. The words may be cheese, but good gracious, those words are going on absolutely gorgeous pages.
At least I've watched some rather entertaining movies. I saw 'Psycho' for the first time - personally, I wasn't that creeped out by it. Mostly, I felt extremely sorry for Norman. Although, that classic shot of him at the very end was rather frightening. If you haven't seen it, right at the end Norman's sitting in this all white room, wrapped in a blanket, thinking. The camera slowly zooms in on him and suddenly, with his head down, his eyes flick up and stare right into the camera. It scared me, and I don't know why.
I've noticed that look in a lot of movies. Take, for example, the end of Return of the King. Frodo does that exact same look, glancing up at Sam, while they're inside the volcano about to get rid of the ring. Why is that look so automatically frightening to everyone? Just that certain contortion of human facial features is enough to make people gasp. Why? In unto itself, it's just a glance, just a downward positioning of the chin, while pointing the eyes up and forward. That shouldn't be scary, and yet we see that expression throughout history in many forms of art. I've tried to place it in some kind of classic horror film to see if maybe it became a sort of iconic movie image, but it's not. It can be found anciently, between cultures that never interacted as far as we know, and it's always associated with evil. Kind of makes you wonder why.
Anyway. That was an unexpected tangent. So 'Psycho' was good, very beautifully made. I also watched another Alfred Hitchcock film I'd never heard of before, 'Strangers On a Train'. That was by far more frightening than 'Psycho', and it completely solidifies my feelings that carousels are evil and should be destroyed. It's a great film about a lunatic who meets a tennis star on a train, and proposes they swap murders; both of them have people they'd prefer to disappear. Only problem is, the tennis star never intended to murder anyone, and was indeed creeped out by this stranger on a train. One thing leads to another, the lunatic murders the tennis star's wife, and creepiness ensues. You've got to rent it, it's an amazing movie and the acting was phenomenal.
The night before last, Steven and I couldn't sleep so we watched 'Misery'. I had recorded it (thank you, tivo!) a few days before. I wasn't expecting it to be that scary, but Steven apparently got a kick out of watching me cringe at the film. It's enough to prove to anyone that you *never* ever want to be famous. Ever. Now I see why Kathy Bates deserved that Oscar, she was so incredibly frightening. Unlike Norman Bates, I didn't feel sorry for her character at all. She was just absolutely insane, and unlike Norman Bates, I didn't have anyone to blame for treating her so badly that she was driven mad.
Then, of course, yesterday afternoon I was so frustrated that I just couldn't stand it anymore. I had to watch something so absolutely stupid that it was entertaining. I turned to 'Army of Darkness' (thanks to tivo, yet again), which oddly enough, aired on AMC. I think it's great that stupid movies such as that one - when made with the intention of being stupid - are considered american classics now. That movie really is the epitome of stupid American humor. "This is my BOOMSTICK!" Hehe.
I think all of these movies have gone to my head, though. Last night I had the strangest dream. I'm not sure I should blog it, though. I told it to Sujit today and he said that I'm freaky. Of course, that's beside the fact that I was just as freaked out by the dream as he was, if not more so. Eh, this is my blog, maybe I'll write about it tomorrow if I still can't figure out what the dream was all about. It was so confusing, and yet at the same time could easily mean *something*, just can't figure out what exactly. (And no, the dream didn't have anything to do with being a writer, stalked by a pair of Bates while riding a carousel haunted by an army of the dead. Although, I wouldn't have complained if Bruce Campbell were in the dream...) But as for right now, this entry has gotten long enough. So, until next time, hail to the king, baby.
On a less constructive note, my brother Kevin has been too bogged down at work and thus had to tell me that he won't be able to program the Daily Prophet expansion. Crap-o-la! That means I'm left without a programmer and I seriously need to get that expansion done. *sigh* Joy. Stupid work. Always gets in the way of saving the world...
The bad news was that the folks running the MRI test did the wrong study. It said very clearly on the order for the test that it was a very specific MRI scan called a CSF Flow Study, which was supposed to determine whether or not this brain stem malformation thing I have is actually causing the headaches. I even asked the technician running the MRI if they were doing the flow study, and they said yes. Well, they didn't. It was just yet another scan of my brain. That's nice and all, but I already had one. It wasn't what I needed, which means at some point this month I'll have to drive all the way back to Walter Reed and have *another* MRI done. Fun fun fun.
So I talked to the neurologist, who was very sweet and considerate and oh so very thorough. He actually recommended other forms of pain management besides just another slew of medications, since I've tried about half a dozen already and none of them have done anything but make me feel ill. He actually suggested I try acupuncture. I've been trying to avoid that for ages, what with my past history of bad luck with needles. But, he said that Walter Reed - the Army hospital(!) - actually has an acupuncture clinic now, run by highly trained MDs. The only people actually dealing with the needles are doctors, so that made me feel better.
My neurologist gave me a consult to get some acupuncture done, and I went down to that clinic to set up and appointment, and wouldn't you know it, they had a cancellation that very same day. That was a huge relief because apparently acupuncture's very popular in the Army - the clinic was booked solid until the end of of March! So they told me to come back at one o'clock that afternoon for my first treatment.
That was perfect! That gave me just enough time to drive down to K Street to pick up my effects from the First Star office. I showed up, walked in, told Debbie that I couldn't stay long because I had an appointment, grabbed my stuff, and back out I went. It was great! I was really worried she'd try to sit me down for a talk or something, but nope, nothing like that. Such a relief; I was so nervous about that as I sat at the computer there, deleting my files, that my heart was pounding against my ribcage. Not fun at all.
After that, Mom and I went off to an art supply store, bought some fun stuff, and then, heaven! Lush is finally open in Washington, DC! Just like an answer to my prayers, there it appeared on M Street, right smack dab in the middle of Georgetown. (Actually, I found out it opened a few weeks ago and purposefully mapquested a route to get there... what can I say? I needed to be enveloped by that Lush-store wave of scents as you walk inside one of those cute little cubicles of cosmetic loveliness.) I bought some more shampoo, some bath bombs for some very nice ladies at the Tricare office. (Tricare is my military insurance health coverage - there are two ladies who work in a local office here who have been fighting for nearly two years to get Tricare to pay for the prosthetic toe I got. We got word a week ago that Tricare is going to pay the whole bill, every cent of it. We got the check it was nearly unbelievable! That was a huge chunk of change. So, I thought, since they worked so hard, those lovely Tricare ladies deserved a Lush present.) Lush was exactly what I needed. It brightened me up, although driving in Georgetown traffic and parallel parking wasn't too fun.
After that, it was time to head back to Walter Reed. It took ages to get back there, even though technically it wasn't all that far. Darn city traffic. But I'm very proud to say I drove the whole way, avoided several evil drivers, and didn't even come close to an accident. Hooray for me!
Back at the acupuncture clinic, I met the funniest Gap Model Doctor yet (I believe he's number eight, but I've kind of lost count.) Anyway, GMD#8 was exactly how I imagine my brother Tim behaving about eight years from now: hyperactive, sly sense of humor, and absolutely in love with his work. He talked to me for a while and explained all about how the Chinese believe that acupuncture releases chi, lets chi flow more easily, or something like that. All in all, he said it has a lot to do with chemicals and muscles and all that good stuff. Either way, he said that it wouldn't hurt too bad and it would most likely help with my headaches. I was game.
I got into my hospital gown, laid down on the little bed thing, and he started sticking the little needles in me. Whooooa, he picked the *wrong* place to start: he stuck needles in my feet! What's worse is, he stuck needles right in the same area where I recently had serious nerve pain thanks to the bones in my left foot shifting due to the amputation. It hurt pretty badly for the first few minutes, and then my whole leg started aching to the point that it went kind of numb. He then proceeded to put needles in my legs, my stomach, my hands (YEOW!), wrists (PAIN!), and then, worst of all, my forehead (GAG!!) I have a really high pain tolerance: I've been stabbed by icky things twice, I've gone through over six operations, had a digit amputated. I think I'm pretty good at handling pain. But I can tell you, there was nothing like having those needles put into my forehead. According to the Doctor, that proves that there's something painful going on with my headaches: he said they've found that when they've hit just the right spot with the needle, the skin around the needle will turn red. The redder the skin, the more effective the needle.
My forehead looked like the fourth of July. I had five needles in my forehead, two kind of underneath my ears at the base of my skull, and one on the very top of my head. The forehead was the worst, with one right between my eyes, one on each temple, and then one about an inch or so above each eyebrow. The eyebrows hurt the worst, mostly because he ended up pushing them into a muscle and oh my heavens that made the nastiest noise I have ever heard in my life. And he *meant* to do that, he said it was a *good* thing! I highly doubt that the internal sounds of squishing matter can be a good thing... eeeugh. I was very happy when they came out.
Interestingly enough, the final pin to come out - the one between my eyes - provided the most entertainment. It actually made the doctor giggle. What happened? It was the only needle that started bleeding. He pulled it out, giggled, and said, "Wow, that was some impressive chi!" He mopped up my forehead and went on and on about what a great point that was, and then finally said, "Oh, and you might notice some bruising... um, yup, there it is..." Mom looked at me and said it looked like my forehead had been attacked by a swarm of bees.
Thankfully, the redness has since subsided. Unfortunately, I do have a massive bruise and a bit of a bump right between my eyes. And holy crap does it hurt. I can't move my forehead too much, and just forget about touching my face. Not gonna happen. I think the bruise itself looks rather disconcerting. Having the shape changed and the discoloration right there, I can't help but feel like some kind of alien off Star Trek. It's like I'm growing klingon ridges, and that's a very scary thought.
Hopefully by tomorrow my klingon forehead will go away and I'll quit feeling like an alien. That would be nice. It's also very nice that I get to sleep in. Hooray! But before I go tuck myself in, I have to send out a message to Stephen:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :) Hooray! Let the February birthday events commence! :)
And that's it from me for tonight. It was enough, don't you think? Okay, more than enough... What can I say? A week of nothing to do, it all gets piled into one day. :)