Tangled up in blue

Tonight I started learning French. I've always talked about taking a foreign language class and I finally signed up for one through the Royal Oak continuing education program -- the sort of place that is designed for people with nothing better to do than learn how to cross stitch or to cook Indian food or, in my case, learn to speak French with a haughty American accent.

The class starts at 6:30, and is taught in a classroom at one of the local high-schools. I never thought I would ever take another high-school class but here I am, stuck with a group of mostly middle-aged women, perched on an uncomfortable chair, surrounded by crappy lockers and pictures of winning football teams, learning to be a student again.

As I was leaving the building, I was hit by a wave of smells that I can only describe as high-school. The slightly waxed floors combined with stale cafeteria food and the cool air of the autumn evening, and I was suddenly 14 again, learning to kiss behind the bleachers after football practice and going to my first Homecoming Dance.

I always thought that high-school was crap compared to college, but tonight I'm feeling nostalgic for those first few years on my journey to adulthood. There's something about figuring out who you are that's so painful, yet so incredibly enchanting .

Burr, and shit

You know fall has arrived when:

• you get up for work and actually have to turn the light on in order not to run into furniture
• the rain actually gives you the shivers rather than that whole thank god it's raining feeling of summer
• you reached into the back of your closet to pull out and dust off your black leather boots to wear to work instead of black heels
• the only thing you want for breakfast is donuts and cider

Footloose and fancy free

Tomorrow I leave to go up north with my family, high gas prices and all. At times like these I really realize that, as much as my family makes me want to pull me teeth out one by one, I'm really lucky that we can take this holiday weekend and trek up to the cabin with them. With everything that's going on down in Mississippi and Louisiana right now, we're lucky to just have solid ground under our feet and foot to eat, let alone be able to head off for a family vacation together.

I'm going to try to hang on to this good cheer when my mom and aunt start yelling at each other over who's washing the dishes, or when my cousin starts in on how he NEEDS to have a car even though he JUST got his license and doesn't have a job with which to pay for the gas for said car, or when my mom says something so utterly ridiculous that blood starts to shoot out of my nose and I reach for the pliers to work on that teeth thing I mentioned earlier.

Right. Now I'm going to go pack.

Bite me

I am just the crabbiest girl today. I am stomp-my-feet-and-throw-things crabby. I am I-can't-believe-I-wore-the-itchiest-pair-of-pants-ever-on-a-day-I-could-have-worn-jeans-to
work-but-didn't-know-about-it crabby. I am can-they-ever-play-anything-other-than-Bon-Jovi-and Stevie-Nicks-on-the-radio crabby. I am I-can't-believe-I've-been-packing-boxes-for-my-boss-all-day-in-heels-and-itchy-pants crabby. I am could-this-day-be-any-longer-or-suck-any-more crabby. I am just plain old CRABBY.

Pimpin all over the world

The Cadillac Escalade has really grown on me. I have no idea why, honestly. It's just so shiny and sparkly! Even though the website says it comes in all the normal colors, I think they only actually allow you to buy it in white or pearl (or, as the website calls it, 'white diamond' -- how can you resist a color called WHITE DIAMOND?). And have you ever seen one dirty? It's like the car that never gets dirty. I think that the Cadillac people secretly send someone over to your house once a week to wash and wax it. How else can it stay so shiny and sparkly? It just makes me want to drive it down the road, blasting Ludacris, hanging out the window shouting, "Bling-bling, bitches!".

The Devil wears iMac

I am a self-confessed impulse shopper. I'm so bad that I won't allow myself into the mall if I know I don't have money to spend (actual money-money, not credit-card-money) because I know I won't be able to resist that skirt on the clearance rack or that gorgeous new pair of Kenneth Cole heels. Some people are addicted to smoking or intravenous drugs -- I am addicted to the immediate gratification that I get from buying the thing that I want at the exact moment that I want it.

Yesterday after work I should have known I was in trouble. I should have seen the warning signs when I decided to stop by the mall and take a stroll through the Apple store -- just to "check things out" after staring at the iBooks online all day.

"You could take that home today," the salesman whispered seductively in my ear. "We have them in the back. Oh, did I mention that if you purchase one RIGHT NOW, you will get an iPod for free? A pink one. ... That's right, honey. There you go, just make that check out to Apple. Yes, that's right, I said pink." All rationality left my brain, and before I knew it I was walking out of the mall with a beautiful new laptop.

See, the thing is, I know enough about myself and my weaknesses to know that I need checks and balances. Last night, I did not open the box. Instead, I opened my online bank account and figured out all the things I need to spend money on in the next month or so (car leaking oil, muffler acting up, keg for party). I needed a good dose of reality. Man, I hate reality.

Today on my lunch break, I returned the laptop. I grinned sheepishly at my salesman who stared at me as I left the store -- watching his commission walk out the door. When I go back (and, mark my words, I will be back), I will be sure and ask for him.