Spoiler Alert–If You’re on My Christmas List, Consider Yourself Warned

December 24th, 2009

What I’m doing right now is glutting myself on indie rock.  I’ve been listening all afternoon the Band of Horses, Kings of Leon, Spoon, Deathcab for Cutie, and Fleet Foxes.  I just realized I can’t publish this until after Christmas, just on the off chance that the person who is receiving all those albums shows up here.  It’s going to make a great gift, and I’m actually really enjoying the music.

I got my mom six cd’s and a (n admittedly second-hand) book, Devil in the White City, which is based on the true story of the serial killings at the 1929 Chicago World’s Fair.  She’s going to love the music, I know it.  I’m stoked.

I’m also excited to give another gift I don’t want to spoil, and this person would be reading, so now I really have to keep this under my hat for the next six days.

Anyway I got a certain someone some shirts from threadless.  He’s always complaining, and rightly so, that you can’t find a guy’s shirt that doesn’t have a brand name, a crown, a cross, or an eagle.  Or all four.  Are there only four things in the world worth putting on a shirt?  Just the eagle?  Not the jellyfish, or the lion or the elephant or ant?  And just crowns?  Not telephones or chemical formulas and models or airplanes?  And why does he have to advertise for some company that makes clothes?  Why is their stupid made up name the statement he’s supposed to want to make?

“Hey everyone, I just wanted to get your attention and say, Billabong!  Volcom!  Ha!  That is all.”

Babykin got everything he asked for from Santa.  He is a good boy and I coached him into asking for what I wanted to get him–well, for the one main item that is, and then he asked for one medium thing I’d never heard of and cars.  So he got a large, medium, and small from Santa, plus one surprise, and then gifts from Mommy.  He also got a gift from his elf on the shelf, Krissy.  Krissy took his camera that didn’t work up to the North Pole to get fixed, and get a new USB cord.  He wrapped it in a box Isaiah loves and got him a matching photo album to put his pictures in.

I got myself something too, so I’m happy.

Mazda3 and Me

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Damage Control

December 20th, 2009

My mom and I went to a certain makeup megastore to reup on beauty supplies.  I needed blush, translucent duster, an eyeshadow, and a couple of nail polishes.  Now let’s find out if you do what I do when you buy nail polish, because I think it’s normal but maybe it’s not.

I paint a little stripe of the color on my nail to see if I like it.  There, I said it.

On this certain Sunday, I probably had 10 different colors dabbed on my digits.  An embarrassing scene ensued when the manager asked me what I was doing.  I stated the obvious.  She made a cartoonishly disdainful face; she scooped up her lip until it was just under her eyebrow.

“Well, those aren’t testers. Now I have to damage that out.“

I felt like she’d just caught me letting my dog take a shit in her sandbox.  I mean, she made it seem like I was trying out q-tips and putting them back or something.  These are my fingernails.  They’re dead and clean.  And the brush goes back into paint.  What can live in paint?  I mean, salons use the same nail polish on everyone, and that doesn’t spread disease.

I don’t know, am I in the wrong?  I’ve been doing that for 15 years, and no one has ever said word one about it.  And if I consider that other people have maybe tried the nail polish I buy, it doesn’t bother me, in all honesty.  I mean this is an upper middle class, suburban crowd in the first place, but even if it wasn’t, I’m pretty sure I’m not that fragile.  I think I can fairly easily survive having the same nylon brush coated in formaldehyde and ethyl acetate touch me as touched a potentially dirty stranger.  It’s not like tweaked out truckers and trailer park hookers are coming in there and trying out toothbrushes or something.

On another subject, I’m looking forward to the annual ornament exchange tomorrow.  I haven’t done any holiday baking, but I think I’m going to take a short cut and make boxed cupcakes.  Do you think that makes a good gift?  A box of cake mix and a can of frosting?

Anyway, I’m going to make some red velvet cupcakes.  It calls for white chocolate frosting, but I might be lazy and just use the canned chocolate frosting.  I can still put the peppermint extract and the crushed candy canes.  We’ll see.

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What I’ve learned so far

May 24th, 2009

So far, I haven’t bought any new clothes, shoes, or handbags in a little over a month.  It hasn’t been that hard, really.  One thing I notice is that it’s kind of freeing to walk into Ross knowing I am only there to look for a mirror for my bathroom and a new cutting board.  It saves me the time of looking through the whole store just in case there’s a really good deal on something I “need”.  Usually, if I go to a store that sells things I like, I look at all of the departments I’m interested in, look carefully through my sizes, and then if I find something I really want I start trying to figure out how to pay for it.  That behavior has been eliminated, and so far I really don’t feel like I am missing anything.

I’ve also paid more attention to the shopping I should be doing, like for other peoples’ birthdays, mother’s day, and for the hostess when I go a wassailing.  Drawing a line in the sand and eliminating buying stuff for myself has freed up some cash flow to buy stuff for other people, and that leaves me with a good feeling.  I got my mom a leather case for her passport (newly minted, go mom) and a book about the sweet shops of Paris, since she has always wanted to go to France and loves chocolate and desserty things.  For my stepdad’s birthday, I got him a travel wallet that is big enough for a passport but not much bigger than a regular wallet. 

When I arrived at my friend’s house last night, I had a bottle of wine in hand for his parents and a 30th birthday gift for him stashed in my duffle bag.  He’s about to start a Real Job, which will require him to go to meetings and take notes and so forth.  In Africa.  So I got him planner and organizer that zips shut and has a little pouch in the front where you can keep pens and hotel keys and passport.  Knowing him, there’ll be cigarettes in there at one time or another.  I’m hoping that once he gets to the point that he can start making suggestions around the place, one of those suggestions will be me.

To that end, I guess I should start working on my Masters.  I’m planning on doing it through USF in International Health or Maternal and Child Health.  I need to take the GRE, and now that I don’t look at the $140 fee as a pair of jeans I’m missing out on, maybe I’ll go ahead and register to take it this summer.  Fortunately for my bank account, extensive preparation is not required.  “Helping” type programs and professions are not usually super picky when it comes to test scores.

“Young lady, if you want to help dig wells in the Congo, you are going to have to study.  You’ll be of no use to the starving millions with those test scores!”

Now if I could just get Mr. Obama to send some of those CRAP funds my way, since my car’s in the shop needing timing chain and clutch plates and $1200 to be sprung loose from there.  Crisis Recovery Action Plan, or something, wasn’t it?

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