Just about every plan I had this weekend kind of fell apart so I ended up with a whole lotta nothing going on. A more ambitious homeowner would have spent the weekend cleaning or doing yard work.
I, ran, went shopping, played with my dogs, watched TV, and eavesdropped on my neighbors.
It’s worth noting, I think, that the last one was unintentional.
I (on purpose) went to a mall. Aside from the kiosk Nazis that wanted to sell me new gutters, or straighten my hair, or spray me with ‘genuine impostor perfume’ I was still far less irritated than is my usual custom. So I found myself in various dressing rooms. While I’ll freely admit my figure is not that of a 12 year old boy, I’m not the owner of TL’s bodacious rack either. So someone, anyone, pretty please ‘splain to me what exactly is up with the chestal area of women’s clothing these days. Everything I put on either compressed the girls so much I felt like a deep breath would result in a button popping experience that could potentially be hazardous to the eyes of anyone in the room with me, or just the opposite, to the point of me wondering where ‘they’ went. Is there something up in the fashion world I’ve missed? I’m 37. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shopping. It’s not even the first time I’ve been shopping in these stores. I’ve had these very same boobs my whole life, with very little variation. So uh, what gives? Is it just now in vogue to walk around with your chest looking like two puppies fighting under a rug? Really? Can I pass on this particular trend? Yeah? Cuz I’m gonna.
I stumbled on some great TV this weekend, Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe. I can’t be the only one watching this show, right? Aside from Mike Rowe just being cute as hell, his irreverence and ability to make an awful situation so much worse is uncanny, and hysterically funny. He also seems to be one of three people on the planet who probably have found their true calling in life. (The other 2 being, Richard Simmons and Alice Cooper [okay then, you tell me what other jobs those two would have had]). I killed more hours than I’m willing to admit watching this show over the weekend. And I have to agree with Mike, ‘time flies when you’re having fun, and it moves much slower when you’re cleaning up poop.”
Lastly, while sitting on my deck late Saturday evening drinking wine I had the unpleasant experience of hearing my neighbors. Yeah. Hearing. Them. I’m still trying to block the memory (it’s why I asked for the ice pick). Here’s a question. Am I the only woman in the world that finds that “Daddy” stuff downright creepy? I had to share this because frankly, I can’t carry this one on my own.
Thankyouverymuch mother nature for returning the temps to such that windows in my neighborhood are closed again.
We can all hope my weekend plans don’t get cancelled next weekend, now can’t we?