Flashback Friday: You’re the inspiration...

Hundreds Tens of you have read my blog and a few of you have even been inspired to start your own, which I find really cool (and yes, a little flattering). You know I’m all for anything that gets you guys off your asses and doing something productive (like rehashing your favorite reality show for my entertainment).

So have you ever wondered what inspired me to jump on the train to blog-town? No? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway. In a word…Winona. No…not Judd (she’s much cuter) and not Ryder (although she likes to shop, she foregoes the “lifting” part). Somehow I stumbled upon Daddy Likey and, aside from the awesome name, I found myself thoroughly entertained by this blog. In fact, it’s the first blog I read on a regular basis (I was super late to the blog party…I think my invitation was lost in the mail.).

Anyway, DL was running a contest to find the most terrible, awful outfit readers wore as children/teens (mostly in the late 80s, early 90s). I was bored so I decided to enter. It was a little hard…not the writing part, but narrowing it down to just one amazingly bad outfit out of the hundreds I wore growing up (can you say cowprint cowgirl shirt and wrap skirt…with Ropers? Not. Even. Kidding.).

I ended up choosing one, entered the contest and was one of three finalists, which made me think I might be funny enough (to others, not just myself and TheProfessor) to actually write my own blog. Sadly, I didn’t win the contest (and the Charlie perfume, Boys to Men CD and Bonne Bell lip gloss prize pack – dammit!), but it remind me of how much I love to write about normal (i.e. non-work-related…not always normal) stuff.

So today’s Flashback is actually a two for one. A double-back if you will…

Not only did you get to learn why I started blogging, I’ll also let you in on the post that started it all. Mine is the first one, codename: Mortified. Read it and you’ll see why that moniker is especially fitting..

Which bring us to your assignment. Since I’ve spilled it about my hideous outfit, I want to hear about yours. You can even send pictures if you want to itwasfunnyinmyhead@yahoo.com and I’ll post them when I return.

And by the way, I realize I’m totally stealing Winona’s idea, which I would usually never do…but it was such a good one and I’m giving her credit. So I’m sure she (and you) will forgive me.

Today's title selection: You’re the Inspiration – Chicago

We don't have to take our clothes off, to have a good time...*

Holy shit.

SuperHusband just went to take the trash out and came rushing back in to tell me there was a guy in the alley BUTT ASS NAKED! I am not even kidding! Of course, I had to run outside to check him...er...the situation...out. Sure enough...he was just standing there in the alley across the street (we live on a corner).

So what the hell?? It's not like we live in a bad area or near a college or something. For the most part, our neighborhood consists of original owners (houses built in the 50s...so this means old folks) and young couples/families. Not usually the naked in public crowd. The weird thing is, he saw SH and didn't take off, which leads us to think he was fucked up on something. But still...you think he'd at least try to hide...I totally would (although his ass was smaller than mine, so maybe he wanted to show it off).

So what do you think? Prank? Drugs? Nudist?

Discuss.

*=Three posts in one day! WTF?!? Don't get excited...this probably won't happen again anytime soon...

Today's title selection: We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off - Jermaine Stewart

A week without you, thought I'd forget…

I know I was just gone a week for work and it totally sucked for all of us. Well guess what? I'm leaving you again. And I bet you can't guess where we're heading?

That's right...another wedding. By the way, I'm currently waiting for my commemorative certificate from WeddingChannel.com that names SuperHusband and I as the recipients of "Most Weddings and Wedding-Related Activities in One Year" honors. (I'm hoping it includes a cash award to help off-set some of our destination wedding expenses.)

But actually, this wedding is going to kick ass. My good friend Sugar (who is one of the sweetest girls you'll ever meet...and I'm not just saying that because she reads my blog...it's not like she comments or anything so there's no real incentive for me to be super nice) is getting married on Tuesday in Colorado so we're road-tripping it to help her celebrate her big day. And we decided since we'd have to take out a second mortgage to afford gas to get there, we might as well just make a vacation out of it.

Here's the gameplan:

Friday afternoon: Pick up Precious, who is making the trip there with us and head west until we can't drive any more. By "we" I mean SuperHusband because I hate to drive about as much as he loves to...which works out well for me.

Sleep on the side of the road in the car (just like truck drivers! Well...the ones who aren't on mini-thins) for a couple of hours. We did this on our "See America" adventure a few years ago and it's really not that scary.

Saturday: Arrive in Durango. Find hotel. Sleep in real beds for a few hours. Go out. Drink.

Sunday- Tuesday: Drive to Telluride, where we plan to go white water rafting, to bars and participate in wedding-related activities. We will be meeting TheProfessor here on Sunday (she flies in that morning).

Wednesday: Wake up, load up TheProfessor, drop off Precious at the airport (she has to get back to work). Drive to Bear Lake, UT, where we'll meet TheProfessor's boyfriend at a cabin we've rented:

Wednesday-Saturday: Drink, do lake stuff, drink.

Saturday: Begin the 19 hour trip home.

I know you'll be sad that I'm gone...but don't worry. I plan to give you an assignment in tomorrow's Flashback Friday, so you'll have plenty to do in my absence. Unless of course you'd prefer to work, clean or do something else productive. But I know you wouldn't do anything crazy like.

Today's title selection: Vacation - the Go-Go's

Jump! For my love...

In case you didn't believe Monday's post...here's photographic evidence:

Photo courtesy of Precious.

Obviously, I won't be posting pictures of the boys in speedos. Unless they piss me off.

Today's title selection: Jump (for my love) - The Pointer Sisters.

Mother...tell your children not to hold my hand...

If you've been following my blog (or know me in "real life"), you probably are aware of the fact that I'm not really into the whole kid thing. I mean I love them (and they are strangely attracted to me for some reason), especially my super-fucking-cute nephew, DoodleBug. I just don't have that whole "maternal instinct" or the need to procreate that so many of my friends seem to have. I'm not really sure why this is, but I can venture a few guesses:

1. I am an only child, so I never took care of brothers/sisters (or had to share my toys, which was an added bonus).
2. I didn't babysit, so I probably wouldn't know what to do with one most of the time (although I am a kick ass diaper changer and can cut food into tiny bites, thanks to DoodleBug).
3. I was raised by my grandmother and had a sort of strange relationship with my mother. So I think it's always in my head that since I essentially "didn't have a mom" I wouldn't really know how to be one (ohhh...deep and insightful, huh?).
4. I really, really like to take naps (which I hear you can't do too much once the babies start coming).
5. I'm pretty selfish.

Or maybe I just spent so much time and energy in college praying I wasn't pregnant that I'm just used to it now?

Whatever the case may be...I'm just not mommy material. And you'd think because I don't know much about that whole world that I would avoid most things baby/kid related (unless said tiny person in question is related to me), right? But guess what....you'd be wrong. Things changed a few months ago when I was looking for a Yo Gabba Gabba sweater for DoodleBug and stumbled upon something previously unknown to me...the mommy blog.

Google took my to Ashley's Closet and it catapulted from there. Now, there are several blogs that I read on a daily basis because these ladies are smart (and smart asses - like me! - which I love), hilarious and love reality television as much as I do. A few of my faves are (in no particular order):

Mom to Bee
Pearls of Wisdom
Ravings of a Mad Housewife
Hammie's Blog
Mama's Losin' It

Those are the ones that come to mind off hand. My computer is still in the shop and all my bookmarks are on it, not this shitty loaner so I might've left some off. But if you've ever in the mood for a laugh and my blah-g just ain't doin' it for you...check them out. You just might get sucked in, too.

Today's title selection: Mother - Danzig (the child-size dude from The Misfits...)

Loaded like a freight train...flyin' like an aero-plane...

I finally made it home from St. Louis (insert applause here)! It was a long week, made longer by the fact that there was no wireless Internet in our hotel (I know I've said that a million times, but when you're used to the crack, it sucks when your dealer goes missing). Anyway, no more worries and boring days for you (and me)...I'm back!

And the even better news is I made it home in time to attend (yet another) wedding reception/after party for our close friend who got married last Saturday. This involved me landing...hopping in a bus to get to another terminal to pick up my luggage that arrived on an earlier flight that I was, unfortunately, unable to get on myself, catching a $60 cab home, asking the sweet cabbie to load my luggage directly in my car, then driving an hour to the wedding. This was all after waking up at 6am for a 7 o'clock meeting that morning, by the way. But the important thing is, I made it.

The reception was nice, but it was the after party that is blog-worthy. A little background...my in-laws (MamaE and Cowboy) have the perfect party place. A big back porch, lots of seating, a pool and, most importantly, no neighbors on either side. 90% of the weddings we attend (including our own) end up in the backyard after the reception is over.

I won't go into too many details...mainly because between the VO, wine, champagne and beer, I don't remember a whole lot. I will, however, give you a rundown of some of the highlights:

1. SuperHusband and another friend in speedos - around midnight. And, yes, I have pictures...
2. Naked people in the pool (including SuperHusband and the aforementioned friend, plus many others) - around 2am.
3. The bride went off the diving board in her wedding gown (it's not like she's ever going to wear it again, right?).
4. Sister and I pissed off two girls who didn't like our choice of music. I think they left...which was fine by us because if you don't like Rancid, you don't deserve to party with us.
5. A girl I went to high school with was trying to have sex with some random guy in the bathroom. Because I knew her...oh...say 15 years ago, I was charged with ensuring this didn't happen. (I think her powers of seduction at that point were on par with her ability to speak without slurring, though...)

The aftermath of the party was pretty interesting, too.

1. A thong on the kitchen floor...several pair of boxers in the backyard.
2. Naked girl sleeping on the couch....other folks passed out throughout the house.
3. Tons of empty bottles of champagne all around the pool.
4. Vomit in several places throughout the house.
5. A missing custom-made throw pillow.
6. Every towel in the house had to be washed (bless MamaE, who spent the night doing laundry after returning from the Bahamas that afternoon).
7. Found items: purse, bag with clothes and cocoa butter, camera, 2 dresses, 1 shirt.
8. Lost items: gold clutch, camera (a different one that the one we found), several people's dignity

I know you totally want to come party with us now, huh? And you are definitely invited...just take your underwear with you when you leave.

Today's title selection: Nightrain - Guns N Roses

Even though its been so long, my love for you keeps going strong

Dear Blog:

I totally miss you. I'm still in St. Louis (without wireless internet), but will be back soon...and I promise to give you my full attention when I return.

XOXO,
Ro

Today's title post: I Miss You - Natalie Cole

She works hard for the money...

As I write this I am sitting on a slab of concrete outside the convention center in St. Louis. I'm here for a week for work and - of course - our hotel doesn't have wireless. However, I just learned if I tilt my computer at a 70 degree angle toward the setting sun and prop it up 2. 5", I can steal a signal. God...the things I do for you people!!!!

Anyway, I will be in meetings all day tomorrow and will have time to come up with an amazing, post I'm sure. In the meantime, hop over to Imeda's place to read my hilarious (and tragic) guest post - The Pursuit if Happyness...my take on some hideous bridesmaid dresses of days gone by (of which I have had more than my share...)


Today's Title Selection: She Works Hard for the Money - Tina Turner

I really wanna know (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)...

Ah…the MySpace headline. A way (in 55characters or fewer) to give the world (or at least the 100 million or so registered MySpace users) a little insight into who you are, what you like, your values…or your favorite Adam Sandler movie quote.

In my personal quest to come up with the above (under the aforementioned space constraints), I looked at what others had written. Before long, I was sucked into the MySpace vortex on a quest for a great quote to steal (or at least a little inspiration). I came up empty, but learned three valuable facts:

1. There are an overwhelming number of people who “Live each day like it’s your last.” This quote (and its variations) is by far the most popular headline I’ve encountered. (Incidentally, if millions of Americans are truly doing this, that really explains a lot about our state of affairs.)

2. Strangers are entertaining! I really enjoyed reading the headlines of others…so much, in fact, that I’ve compiled a few of my favorites into categories to share with you. I hope you find them as amusing (and at times as puzzling) as I do.

3. I am STILL a loser who can’t come up with my own creative headline. Even worse, I’m making fun of what other people use as theirs. However, I do recognize that the authors were ballsy enough to actually type something original in their headline fields, which is admirable…although often regrettable. So I give them props for that.

Anyway….here are the fruits of my Hilarious Headline Hunt (sorry, I am an alliteration addict. Hey! Maybe THAT’S my new headline!) All typos and grammatical errors have been preserved to maintain the dignity of the headline and its author (including any of my own which may appear in the body of this post).

Songwriters in the making…(if the songwriter in question is Paul Stanley):
"If I should die tonight, i would want to be reborn as a tear, To be born in your eyes, to live on your cheek and to die on your lips"

"True Love Hurts When You Suffer"

"Honey dipped and well equiped!!"

"Staying sharp as a broke glass bottle"

"You're my addiction, my prescription, my antidote."

MySpace Mathematics:
"25%Cowboy + 25%Biker + 50% Fun = Tons of fun times."

"Alcohol + Lake + 6 People = WILD & CRAZY WEEKEND!"

A country boy can survive:
"4 wheelers mud and racing is there anything else "

“Beer, Bait and Ammo"

""fishin on the boat or trollin on land""

You may not think I’m hot, but:
"I'm bored, take me out!!"

"~*I Am Me....Love It Or Keep On Walking*~"

"Gastric Bypass Surgery really works!"

Huh?:
"Just some nothing about everything"

"Suspense, thrills & ghost."

"Getting dragged kicking and screaming into the 19th century is no fun."

"I like to pick ass and take names." (Ro: I HOPE this is a typo)

From people 30 years of age and older (not 14-year-old girls):
"NEVUH TAKE LYFE 4 GRANTED, CUZ IT'Z 2 short!!!"

"Yeah, I'm HAWT!!! "

"m3Rry M33+, m3rRY p4Rt, 4N) M3Rry m33t 4941n!"

Self esteem issues:
"Don't tell me I'm beautiful. Don't tell me I'm sexy. Don't tell me I have beautiful eyes. Because we both know that you don't really mean any of those words that you are saying."

"I feel old! I am falling apart!"

“WHY DO I EVEN CARE? NO ONE ELSE GIVES A F***!!!”

I still haven’t found what I’m looking for:
"IM A SUCKER FOR CORN ROLLS AND MANICURED TOES"

"I am looking for "more then just friends."

"Mistress looking for sub or slave for 24/7 live-in "

"I lie to girls"

A couple of my genuine favorites:
"i've got mood poisoning, it must be something that i hate"

"Tact is for People who aren't Witty enough to be Sarcastic "

"When I said I'd hit that, I meant with my car..."

"If your gonna ride my ass at least pull my hair!"

Today's title selection: Who Are You - The Who (duh...)

I want you to be mine tonight...

OK. I know I was going to post the long-lost-post, that I barely remember writing . (Maybe it was following a horrendous sinus infection I had a while back that was totally worth the kick-ass painkillers* they gave me...). Anyway, I'm putting that on hold for two reasons:

1. Fry's sucks and refused to give me a loaner laptop, which means SuperHusband and I have to share the desktop (and he works from home a lot).
2. I had a CRAZY ASS dream last night and I know you'll want to hear all about it (and maybe you can tell me what in the heck it all means?!?).

OK. So you know I love Nikki Sixx, right? Well, he makes an appearance in my dreams every so often. And last night he brought some friends.

So Nikki and I meet and (of course) he asked me to go on tour with him and I said yes. (I was single and SuperHusband was nowhere around, so "yes" was the only logical answer to this question and not a violation of my marriage vows.). Nikki, however, wasn't on tour with Motley Crue. Instead, he was with a guy from Blue Oyster Cult, a guy from Slayer and a back-up singer for Bell Biv Devo (who had her baby with her). I don't think they were in a band together, it was more like a random showcase thing. A showcase of what exactly, I am still trying to figure out.

I remember bits and pieces of the rest...we were all hanging out on the tour bus watching E! True Hollywood Story-type shows about everyone on the tour, then all of us were in this "common room" place, singing Can't Stop by Babyface.

Aside from waking up briefly and telling SH I needed to go back to sleep to see Nikki, that's all I remember. Random, huh?

Today's title selection: Piece of Your Action - Motley Crue

*Vicoprofen (Heard of it? Have some extras?)

Another one bites the dust...

My damn laptop is dead. Well...not completely dead, but something is seriously wrong with the motherboard and wireless connection according to the nice Indian man SuperHusband spent two hours on the phone with tonight. It's a good thing one of us in this relationship has some patience...

Thankfully, I am still under warranty and the store from which I bought it promised a loaner in the paperwork I somehow miraculously found tonight. So, I'll be waiting outside when they open in the morning.

On the plus side, as I was deleting questionable photos from my hard drive and saving some work-related stuff I came across a blog post I wrote a long time ago and never published. I'll try to get it up tomorrow...I am too tired from banging my head against the wall to deal with Blogger formatting issues tonight.

Until then...

Today's title selection: Another One Bites the Dust - Queen

I've got too much time on my hands...

I know I watch a lot of TV. Of course, I blame it on TiVo...that little sucker makes it too easy. In my defense, though...I'm usually multi-tasking (checking work e-mail off hours, reading a book/magazine, searching for new shows to tape, drinking...) so it's not like I am totally into what's on most of the time.

That being said, it takes a lot for me to dislike a reality show. Sure, there are some I'm over (Hello Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise!). But usually, even the terrible ones are so-bad-they're-good train wrecks that can hold my attention (like Farmer Wants a Wife with it's ridiculously out-of-place opening rap song and Rock of Love with its ridiculously coiffed star).

Anyway...I tell you all of this because I need to share my latest television disappointment:

The Next Food Network Star totally sucks.

I wanted to like it. I LOVE Top Chef (Go Stephanie!) and I liked last season's NFNS (Rory was totally robbed!). But we watched two episodes tonight and it was just bad. The contestants were all pretty boring, didn't seem to cook all that well (or that thoroughly...) AND a guy cried on the first episode (which is usually a deal breaker for me). For some reason we gave it another chance and watched episode two. Believe it or not, another contestant who screwed up started with the tears. Seriously...is that a requirement of this show? I seem to remember a lot of that last season, too.

Anyway, if you haven't watched it yet...don't bother. If you have and disagree...I'll be happy to hear your argument for it. I might tune in again...if for nothing else than to check out Lisa's cute outfits.

But probably not.

Today's title selection: Too Much Time on My Hands - Styx

Flashback Friday: Goin' the the Chapel

I am about to head out of town for another wedding (I know, I know...I should get paid for this shit) and I have a bachelorette party back here tomorrow night (which will be fun because my friend Sugar is laid back and doesn't want penis veils and crap like that). Since I've spent all day doing my actual job (they pay me, so they like for me to work once in a while), I wasn't able to get to today's post, which sucks because I love my Flashback Fridays (and I know you totally do, too).

So, I'm giving you all an assignment. In honor of FF, below is what I'd like for you to do today. You can choose any one of the items below, or you can get a little crazy and do them all. Just report back to me what you did and how it went (I'm going to make y'all comment if it KILLS me!).

1. Watch The Wedding Singer and remember how cool it was to wear a guy's Van Halen/Motley Crue/Metallica t-shirt. If all your guy had was Poison, please accept my condolences.
2. Tight roll your jeans, put on a hyper-color t-shirt and throw together a side ponytail. If you don't still have your hyper-color shirt, put on a colored one and sweat. Same effect.
3. Watch an old-school 80s video on YouTube. A few ideas: Sister Christian by Night Ranger, Africa by ToTo, Puttin' on the Ritz by Taco. If you're "dressed up like a million dollar trooper" while doing this, you get bonus points! (And a big "SUPER DUPER!")
4. Go to amazon.com and read the descriptions of your favorite Beverly Cleary/Judy Blume/other YA authored books. If you were really into YA books (especially Sweet Valley god-this-would-be-better-if-I-were High), check out this site, which is genius.
5. Make a prank call. You might want to try an infomerical number as to not annoy someone you really know. I've found this is espeically fun late at night after cocktails. (FYI, according to the sales rep, the CriCut scrapbooking thing CAN be used by a tattoo artist to create new and exciting body art. I told him I had to justify the astronomical cost to my inker-hubby.)
6. Reader's Choice!

Have a great weekend, y'all! (God...I totally feel like Britney Spears when I say y'all now. Bitch!)

Today's title selection: Goin' to the Chapel -The Dixie Cups

Who's cheatin' who? And who's bein' true?

I can't believe I forgot to tell you guys about this...

Remember Precious' annual 29th birthday a couple of weeks ago? Well I totally neglected to mention one of the best parts. SuperHusband was on Cheaters!!!

I'd better back up and explain that neither of us were unfaithful. They just happened to be filming one of their famous confrontations at the bar next door (which just happened to be having a "foam party" that night. Welcome back, 1995.).

Anyway, if you've seen The Soup, you know what Cheaters is. Basically, if you think your significant other is being unfaithful, you can call Cheaters and they will look into it for you (for the low, low price of your dignity).

For the uninitiated, each show is essentially divided into four segments:

The Introduction: You meet the person who initiated the investigation. Typically, s/he is kind of low-class and really clueless. For instance, a couple of weeks ago on The Soup, a girl talked about how she and her boyfriend were a match made in heaven..."just like Sid and Nancy." (I am not even kidding.) Anyway, Cheaters writers usually say something witty here like, "Meet Candy. A PetSmart employee who is afraid her boyfriend is barking up somebody else's tree."

The Investigation: The cracker-jack investigators are on the case. They strategically tape a few phone calls between the couple when they know the cheater is not where s/he claims to be. They also spend a lot of time taping super-grainy cheating surveillance footage that is shown to the accuser later (typically at night in a well-lit parking lot).

The Confrontation: This is the best part. The cheated on, along with host Joey Greco and a crew of big dudes in black t-shirts with giant fuzzy boom mics, ambushes the cheater and lover in some public place. Cursing, crying, slapping, clawing ensues. Joey, with his ridiculous questions, fuels the fire (as does a screaming crowd of onlookers who just happened to be in the right place at the right time).

The Conclusion: This is perhaps the most disturbing part. The dumbass who called cheaters in the first place usually takes the cheater back.

Anyway, during the confrontation, SuperHusband and a group of our friends ran over when they saw the tell-tale boom mics. Everyone was trying to get on camera and SuperHusband assures me that he placed himself in front so much that there's no way he won't be on the show.

Joey and the cheat-ee get back into the famous white Suburban. An amused crowd surrounds them.

The downside to this is now I am TiVo-ing Cheaters. Not that it's the most embarrassing thing on my playlist...


Today's title selection: Who's Cheatin' Who - Charly McClain

Who's that girl?

I have connections through work and can sometimes get great tickets for local sporting events (not often enough, but it's still a nice unexpected perk with it happens).

So a few months ago, SuperHusband and I went to an NBA game. Our seats were great, but they were with the opposing team's family and friends. No big deal (however, if this were a Dallas Cowboys game...it would be a different story, as SuperHusband is SuperFan and can sometimes get loud and a little crazy rooting for the Boys).

Anyway, we saw this girl who looked SO familiar. She was tiny, busty, blonde...much like most of Dallas. But there was something about her; we knew she was "somebody" but couldn't figure out exactly who.

Flash forward to this weekend when we were driving to Austin for yet another wedding (I'm really going to have to post about how poor we are from traveling to all of these out of town weddings!). We were listening to the sports radio station and they were talking about the team Dallas was playing that night and how a certain porn star is a major fan and goes to all of the games when they are in town:


For those of you who haven't seen Naked Aces #2, Jesse's Dolphin Finger Diver (huh??!!!) or Island Fever #3 (and #4), that's porn star extraordinaire Jesse Jayne. Had she been wearing the swanky little bustier she's rockin' in the above pic, we probably would've realized who she was much sooner, but unfortunately (well...as far as SuperHusband is concerned anyway) she wasn't.

Anyway, this really explains so much. There were a few guys taking her photo (the rest were with their wives and understandably remained tight-lipped about recognizing her). Of course, when we heard her name, SuperHusband and I said...almost in unison..."Of course!!! That's exactly who that was!!" and then discussed at length how we can't believe we didn't realize it then.

Speaking of porn stars and the movies that showcase them...why are so many movies named things like (insert title here) #3; #33; #780 and so on? It's not like they are spending a lot of manpower coming up with dialogue. You'd think they could at least come up with an original title (says she who is too lazy to name her posts herself and just uses song lyrics that aren't always the most relevant...). But seriously. It can't be that hard. And I highly doubt the Ass Monkey franchise has so many fans that they need to title each in sequential order so Crazy Larry from Idaho doesn't miss any of them, thus rendering his Ass Monkey library incomplete. Or do they?


Today's title selection: Who's that Girl? - Madonna

There was an old lady who...

Dear Marshall's:

First, I must commend you on your practice of hiring older employees to work the cash registers in your stores (or at least the one I frequent). I think it's super that you don't discriminate based on age...even though a couple of these blue-hairs are working with at least one foot already in the grave. However, my experience with Donie (doe-knee? Donnie misspelled? Not sure) last Friday was frustrating, and I think you need to know about it.

I went into the store really quick to grab a new bra. I knew this wasn't the smartest decision, because although you guys have a pretty good quantity, apparently nobody who works there is any good with numbers. After 10 minutes of pulling 40FFs and 32As out of the 36B section, I gave up. Still, it wasn't a wasted trip, as I found a Natori thong for, like $2.99, a cute pair of tennies for DoodleBug, some fishnets and a new pair of leggings.

So, I get my haul and head to the checkout. There were two open lines...one was 8 people deep, the other had only one woman in it. When I saw Donie, I knew why. But I sucked it up and got in her line.

When it was my turn, we started with the leggings. They were removed from the hanger.
S-l-o-w-l-y. Then they were folded and refolded at least 4 times. (They are now on my floor, so all of that care was for nothing. But I didn't say a word.) Next up, the shoes. They are super-cute black Vans with flames. Perfect for a rockin' little 2-and-a-half year old! Unfortunately, Doni didn't think so. She opened the box. S-l-o-w-l-y. She took out one shoe, looked at it, raised an eyebrow, tsk-ed a couple of times, then took out the other shoe and did the same thing. When she was packing them back up (after her 12 point inspection) she forgot one of the sheets of tissue paper. I told her not to worry about it. So she threw it away. Sounds simple, right? Not this time. Is it company policy to keep the trashcan under lock and key or something? I don't know what she was doing down there...but it took forever. Then the fishnets were scanned, another eyebrow raised. And finally, it was time for the underwear. Doni had to remove them from the hanger, which was neither easy for her to do, nor was it easy for me to watch. Seeing her wrinkled, bony, elderly finders all over my new skimpy, white, mesh(!) thong was just too much. Then she folded them. This was, of course, after giving me a horrified look that screamed, "You Harlot!!!"

This ordeal took a grand total of 12 minutes. Yes, I kept track. That doesn't seem like a long time, but when you're watching an old lady fondle your unmentionables while she silently judges you...it's an eternity.

So here's my suggestion, keep Donie. But maybe try her in a different role where her talent for being meticulous can be an asset. Arrange the shoes by size...fold and sort the towels by color and texture...organize the bras for the love of god! I, and I'm sure most of your other customers, would really appreciate this (and might just come back for some skanky panties again).

Oh, while we're at it...are you affiliated with Target? Because Rik over there is slow as Christmas, has a potential missing letter on his nametag and always comments on my purchases. Needless to say, I pick up my lube elsewhere.

Sincerely,
Ro


Today's title selection: There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly - nursery rhyme writin' folks