New Year's Eve and it's hard to believe
another zodiac has gone around.

While you drank yourself high on hoping
and watched the ceiling spin from the ground.

Counting down from ten it's time
to make your annual prayer.

Secret santa in the sky
when will I get my share?

Then you tell yourself
what you want to hear.

Cause you have to believe.

This will be my year.

This will be my year...Semisonic


Go Ahead Punk: E-Mail Little Squaw @ squawpunch@hotmail.com

AIM: gimletgurl7 (Remember when she used to be here?)

Sunday, April 25, 2004

I've been in a foul mood all day. A fact which I can only attribute to the fact that last night was odd. Well that and the fact that work is hell (and I for some reason have to go back) and I am just plain grumpy.

Last night Gilly and I stop into the mall to pick up a quick birthday gift and I wanted to purchase something at V.Secret because it seemed an obvious choice for a girl soon to be married. I hate that store. I do. I think it's tragically over rated and the sizes are all askew. I can't for the life of me fit my breasts into practically anything there. And you know what? The one in our mall is HUGE but it has nothing in it.

Well we stroll in there and I find a babydoll & g-string combo (yes string not thong)...we go to pay at one of the THREE registers in the store which is spit into three different rooms (don't ask me why) apparently formal panties, makeup and regular bras and knickers aren't allowed to mix...but the girl at the register is on the phone shooting the shit (pardon my French), talking about how she only has ten more minutes to work and she ignores us.

So we pass through room number two (makeup) into room number three (regular bras and knickers) and there are two girls ringing. Well girl number one apparently thought it was more important to get someone to sign up for a credit card (someone who still needed to shop)...and girl number two was ringing up $170 worth of flim flam for a 17 year old who was sporting a Gucci backpack and a gold AMEX...then she had to "gift wrap it" which was a process that took ten minutes...By now even Gill the king of calm and poise is fuming...so I get to the counter (with everything off the hanger to save time)...and the girl starts trying to sell me a card, "No thank you." and coupons in exchange for my number, "No thank you." and then I ask her to gift wrap it and she says, "Oh I can give you a box but we don't gift wrap." To which I respond, "SHE JUST DID!" and then she had to wrap it even though she said to the girl, "You're not supposed to do that."

Mind you "wrapping" involves putting it into a box and attaching a PRE-TIED bow! Such is life...it gave Gill and I plenty of time to discuss the Bob Dylan CD's on the counter and how he should be ashamed of himself and what the hell does he have to do with Victoria's Secret and those commercials are just plain creepy. We did this very energetically because we had rested up during the long wait.

We got into the city and found a parking garage near the bar...while going down into the garage Gill snapped at a man walking, "Get out of the way dude!" of course the man couldn't hear him but I almost died when we parked and then I saw that the "dude" was a priest. We walked to the bar and while crossing Madison Ave? we were met by three Asian men standing on the corner who looked like they were going to cross and well one of them kept bouncing side to side rather than moving out of my way...after trying to get around him for the third time I actually went (and this is a first) I actually went "GURRRRRRRR" very loudly.

Yup, I growled at an Asian man on the corner of Madison and 52nd. That was a first. We got to the bar and people were falling out the doors. It looked like Senore Frogs or some similar kind of bar full of people, loud music and well, people falling out the doors. Apparently, there was a fireman's benefit there that had been there all day. We located our party standing looking mystified on the street in front of a row of fireman Harleys and after figuring out that the last invitee was not going to show we set off to find a more quiet locale.

We ended at a...insert British subtext...(meaning I read about them all the time in my British pop culture books)...well we ended up at a WINE BAR. Tee hee. I didn't realize that there were actually bars that sold expensive wine by the glass and encouraged you to experiment. It was a wine and tapas bar. We all got settled on some velvet chairs, cubes and a couch and ordered misc. snacks and beverages. I drank a black cherry lambic (as did Gill), someone drank a "Dirty Dick" boy do the servers have fun with that. Very odd, etc..etc...etc...I later drank a little bottle of champagne that came with a straw...I don't know why you should care but it was fun. Very dry.

Three of the four men all had the same first name. So I offered up "Gill" which is a first 'cause nobody is allowed to call my Gilly that...but then of course I kept calling him by his real name which screwed the whole arrangement.

So where does the bad mood come in? The birthday girl's beau didn't say a word all night! Not at all. He was one of those sit in the corner and not speak types. The other couple and the birthday girl's gay best friend were all chatty. I thought Gilly was going to fall off his velvet cube because he found the gay best friend hysterical.

I don't know. The beau rubbed me the wrong way. It was kind of sad. She's very outgoing and he's just not. Not that you need to marry your twin 'cause Gill is much quieter than moi but he interacts and well, he strikes quite a handsome figure on velvet cubes in a wine bar/tapas joints.

We got home at one or two.

What else? I decided to test some self tanning stuff on my legs. I NEVER EVER EVER EVER tan. Not even after sitting on a beach for a week (though SPF 45) probably doesn't help. So anyway Real Simple did a review of the different kinds gells and such and I took their advice. I was going to practice on my legs because it's supposed to be cold the next couple of days and if I screwed it up I'd have time for it to fade.

So I ask Gilly to help me because I want to make sure that I get the back of my legs covered. Well he's says he'll help and while I am starting and calling for his assistance he strolls into the room holding a bag of Jax and munching away. I look at him and I say, "You're supposed to help smooth this stuff on and your fingers are covered in cheese curl dust??? Are you insane???" He looks at me and says, "What?"

Oh boy...so while I browned and I kept saying, "Look! I have a tan!!! Look how dark I am!!!" and we're folding laundry I point out what I called "saddle bags" on my thighs and you know why I married that cheeze curl munching man? Because he looked at me like I was crazy and said, "More like change purses than saddle bags." How cute is he?

I am now going to languish for the ten minutes that I have before I need to attempt to fall asleep...well I am going to gaze lovingly at my golden brown legs. Okay maybe not "brown" so much as lightly toasted or two shades darker than blazing white.

I may be hooked.

Look Loki & Gert! It's how to get brown without the disproving look and me saying, "Oh dear. That's going to be cancer in about five minutes. What do you want to turn into a mahogony prune?"
posted by JustKeepMum on 10:57 PM