I am afraid of being reduced to only being able to shop at K-mart

My sister had her baby last Monday, the 23rd, and my sister-in-law in Spain had her baby last Thursday. I have a lot to say about this whole thing, miracle of life, and all that sappy shit, but it is a work in progress and I've been really busy with classes starting and pretending to have a life - i.e. doing what my mother refers to as "partying" and what I refer to as drinking too much and falling asleep in my friends beds, playing with strangers' hair (because I'm a cosmetologist and have mild OCD when it comes to hair and people that have good hair), and watching terrible tv. It's all very productive.

Anyway, if you've read my blog for long enough (or ever, really) you are probably aware of my prejudices towards fat and stupid people. And when those two things are combined I, well we just won't talk about it.

Yesterday I took my sister to K-mart. Yes, K-mart. She's on all sorts of meds still and isn't allowed to drive. She wanted some new shirts and nursing bras (SEXY!) but she didn't want to spend a lot of money on something that she probably won't be wearing for very long anyway. Really this was just a trip to reduce the frequency at which she has to do laundry. So K-mart, that godforsaken box with dingy lighting didn't have anything suitable. But they did have a lot of embroidered and bedazzled sequined sweatshirt-like things. The types of things that you only see morbidly obese people wearing. I used to think that only obese people bought that sort of thing, but then I looked at the sizes, they only had them in huge sizes - 1XL, 2XL, 3XL!

And to think, I have always wondered why larger people wore such ridiculous things as to draw more attention to how large they are. But it's not their fault! It's the only clothing they can buy in their size! I don't get it. Why can't they have a plain teal shirt without any sort of adornment? Why can't they have their elastic-waisted pants in normal denim washes? And surely it doesn't cost more to make something generic and basic than it does to make something that's tacky? And are people only that size within a certain income bracket? What is so wrong with the world that we've doomed large people to this fate?

So, as a result of yesterday, I almost feel sorry for all of these people who take up way too much space.

And because my sister was unsatisfied (thankgod, I'm not sure I could handle it if my sister was reduced to shopping at such a depressing place) we went to Target - another box store, but at least the clothes are cheery and blatantly rip off more expensive designers and has better lighting. Seriously, lighting makes such a difference.

No Babies

Sometimes I'm not the one sending drunk text messages.

Him: When I'm 30 will you have my kid?
Me: What?
Me: No!
Him: Why not?
Me: Because I'll be 24?
Him: So?
Me: And I probably won't want kids then...

But really, this guy would actually probably be down with the Sunday-Dinner-Daddy situation.

A different conversation:

Him: Are you pregnant?
Me: No.
Him: Are you sure?
Me: Yes.
Him: You're kind of religious, right?
Me: Not really...
Him: Well if you were pregnant...
Me: Dude, I'm 20...

I'm not going to write out the rest of that conversation. 1) My mom would cry. 2) I have no reason to believe that I am, or soon will be with child.

Dudes are so weird sometimes.

Also, baby related - my sister's due date was this paste Monday. The baby is still in her belly. And I spent last Wednesday with my 6 year old nephew, who is great, but I am so down with not having one of those for a very long time.

Summervention - Tubing Edition

Two weekends ago I drove from Richmond to DC to go dancing and make out with strangers at my friend's party - which totally didn't happen this time (sad face). Then I drove to Baltimore the next day for dinner, and then I had planned to drive back to Richmond. But I ended up drinking and dancing in the rain in Columbia Heights where it was decided that we, the people currently there, were going to go tubing the following Sunday. I didn't actually think it was going to happen, though since going on the Fourth I've wanted a re-do.

Tuesday rolled around and plans were underway and what started as a drunken suggestion was coming to fruition. (note: Fruition is really fun to say.) Then Saturday morning I got a text message that started "Pt. 1 of 2..." explaining all of the details for the trip. You probably don't care about these details, but these small details are huge. You see, I am a planner. I like planning things. I have always had to be the person to plan anything that I've ever wanted to do. I mean, seriously I have planned every single birthday party I have ever had except for my 18th birthday where my mom attempted to give me a surprise party that turned into a roast, "write down something you've always wanted to say to Amanda, it doesn't have to be a compliment..." THANKS, MOM! Anyway, I have given up on birthdays and generally other people planning things because other people are lazy and prefer to wait around for someone else to do all the work. I got to be one of those lazy people this time. AND included in the plans was a driver and a van "so that everyone can drink." Yes. YES!

So yesterday I picked up a chick and we headed to the van! And the van not-so-quickly filled up with people and soon Brite - that's "beer plus Sprite" (actually Bud Light Lime), was being consumed and Powerade bottles were being emptied as to be filled with mixed drinks later. So everyone got their electrolytes and was fairly hydrated before we hit the river.

Once on the river we managed to not make it to the far, less rocky side like you're supposed to, but we too occupied with making sure that we were close to the coolers. And each rock we came to then became a "bar." Pretty soon we were divided and people had floated away but I fortunately (or unfortunately) was tied to the person tied to a cooler. This made going over and around rocks all the more fun, and as we caught up with people more attached themselves thanks to the rope and knife our Planner had brought.

When the rain came, and the tornado sirens were going off and it was raining harder, we stayed in the river and watched the lightening and finished our bottles of various fun things. It was at some point during the rain that we untied our "crafts" and the cooler tube got away before we were able to close the cooler. The cooler was saved as was an actual Sprite bottle full of vodka. And after that it's mostly a blur, a really fun, messy, painful blur.

I lost my tube at some point and somehow, thankfully, but not really helpfully, the Planner found it and returned it. Because he got back way before me. I'm pretty sure it was the lack of tube that resulted in all of the scrapes and bruises on my body. Except for my feet, they are perfect because I wore these.

Last night when we probably should have showered and sprayed our bodies down with bactine, we didn't. But if we had, our bodies may have felt slightly better this morning. I haven't seen all the spots on my body, but every time I move I feel something new that I didn't know could hurt before. It's all fine, I can deal, except for the gash on the left side of my left middle finger. For all you right handed people, the idea of this happening probably isn't very distressing, but for me I can't properly hold things and my handwriting has been reduced to third-grader scrawl.

The exchanges today have been along the lines of "my body hurts" and the reactions have been "what the hell happened to you?" But the best reaction was my sister who explained to her husband that I looked like "someone locked me in a cage with a rabid cat."

Moving is Living

I made the mistake of watching "Up in the Air" again. I saw it for the first time when it was in theaters with my friend Spencer. We were escaping out families around Thanksgiving, I believe. He and I were both speechless at the end of it. I mean, what can you say? It's about our supposed realities that we create for ourselves based on delusions of our future.

Anna Kendrick's character, Natalie, is a foil to the selfish, conceited, condescending Ryan, played by George Clooney. Natalie is young, naive, indignant and Ryan has to show her the ropes and generally all the flaws in her way of thinking. That idea, of course, is that life is empty, meaningless, and weighing us down. He thinks it's revolutionary, Natalie thinks he's lonely and a pathetic shell of a human being. His love interest, a woman named Alex (played by Vera Famiga) seems to share his philosophy and love for travel or as she puts it so curtly they are "turned on by elite status."

Ryan and Alex make a point to see each other and fuck on their respective business trips. It's supposed to be a purely physical, maybe intellectual relationship - she seems to be the only person to understand his bubble. So, as movies go, their relationship deepens, or seems to. This is the part that I love because movies are always made about stupid women falling for jerks. But in this movie, he is the stupid one and ends up getting his heart crushed. I know on some level it's probably wrong for me to feel good about this, but this movie is about that guy who refuses to acknowledge anything beyond his glamorous career, and for once, there's not a fairytale ending. He doesn't see the light and she doesn't decided to be with him, they move on and I would assume are more careful in communicating their wishes with other lovers in the future.

It was already in the DVD player when I watched it again. My roommate recently got Netflix, I probably wouldn't have watched it again - not because it's not a good movie, it's a great movie, but because it makes me feel restless. All the feeling that I have right now are the exact same that I had the first time. And their very familiar. Their the ones that I get whenever I get too comfortable. This is a trait I inherited from my father and am drawn to in others. It's terrible. Wherever I am, I feel like I'm missing out on something else. If I'm in Richmond I want to be in DC, if I'm in DC I want to be in Baltimore, or Annapolis or New York or fucking Kinston, North Carolina. And if I'm in Kinston, I usually end up feeling terribly depressed and want to be in DC.

I have never lived in DC-proper, but I can honestly say that it will always be home base. One day, when I travel and have elite status at various hotels and frequent flyer miles I will also have an apartment in DC and will stay in it when I get tired of being elsewhere. And I probably won't go out while I'm there, unlike my current over-socialized trips to DC, I imagine that at the point in my life when I can have this, I won't go out much at all.

Until then I will continue to pretend.

dancing > crying

Do you ever have days like this? Where those closest to you completely mock you and tell you that you're feelings are unwarranted? The whole having unreciprocated feelings things starts at such an early age.I could go on and on about how gender roles are defined and uncomplimentary from a very early age, but I'll save that for a research paper.

When I was three I was set on marrying the red power ranger or Elvis Presley - and I totally cried when I found out that Elvis was dead. I also cried when I found out that George Washington was dead - I had gone to "his house" shortly before finding this out and my dad did not tell me that we were going to a dead dude's house - MISTAKE! Ms. Malinowski, my kindergarten teacher, had to deal with a very distraught five year old that day.

The video won't let me embed, so watch it on YouTube .

If you're having one of those days, you can just watch this:



Do you feel better? Because I laughed for the entire duration of that video, and I would be content with that man singing the soundtrack to my life.

Now that you feel better, go dancing tonight, and if you're in DC maybe we can dance together.