Left-Handers' Curse
Nov. 23rd, 2005 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7I bought myself new pens today.
I don't know that anyone who reads this truly knows the depth and extent of my goddamned freaking Pen Obsession of yore, but I have been known to be a bit wacky about the different-colored inks, in the past. So during a recent excursion to an office supply store (nothing says "holidays" like office supplies!) I splurged and got a 7-pack of colored v-ball rollers. Mmmmmm. However, as I began my card-writing binge, I have rediscovered the Left-Handers' Curse: i.e., when I write fancy on a glossy surface with ink pens, my hand drags through it and smudges the shit out of it. So fucking much for writing pretty.
Anyhow: the rest of today. Z and I arose and went forth into the world, and were mightily amused at playing hooky. We went first to The Original Pancake House, where I ate a Dutch Baby, which true to its name was... well, a large baked pancake. It was awesome. I mowed through it like a champion. I am acquiring something of a reputation for my phenomenal ability to consume food. I dunno, I just like a clean plate is all.
From thence we made our way down Transit, where we discovered an Office Max, and I restrained myself tastefully from going mad with glee in the pen aisle. I also did not actually roll around in any paper supplies. So, it was a successful expedition.
We continued down Transit all the way down to East Aurora, where we reached our original destination: Vidler's 5 & 10. This is an old-school five and dime that has been in the same location since the early 30s. It has everything. We had a blast and spent like four hours playing with all the toys. I bought a cookie cutter shaped like a buffalo, and some shaving soap. It was awesomeness. I also suddenly remembered that two of my three sisters have birthdays coming up extremely soon. Shit: I always forget. So I bought birthday cards for both of them, thereby beginning my Holiday Greeting Card Orgy of Orgiastic Orginess. I hope to actually parlay this enthusiasm into my Maiden Experience of sending out Christmas cards. People, I ordered way too many, so I really do mean it: if you want a really cheesy and yet heartfelt greeting card, do email me your address.
After this we dashed off to the mall, for some more conventional gift shopping. I picked up a gift for one of my sisters, and also bought socks and a present for my mom. I feel like I must have purchased so much more, given how very light my wallet is, but alas! that is all there is. Still and all, that's more shopping than I've done in like a year, and Z didn't whine one bit. Although he did sort of have a blood-sugar crash that necessitated an emergency stop for French fries. (He gets real sleepy and hard to drag around when he hasn't eaten.)
I paused to drool over the corsets in Frederick's of Hollywood. I do so dearly wish that my ginormous hooblers were well-enough behaved that they could actually be trusted in one of those insubstantial and yet adorable confections, but alas! the girls have a Will of their Own, and will not be confined by anything less than sprung steel and reinforced cotton duck. They scorn flimsy plastic-and-satin-with-lace-and-feather-accents.
Sigh. I do need to get me a custom corset one of these ... decades. And I almost bought myself lace-topped fishnets with a back seam, but alas, talked myself out of them. Z, nearly comatose, was no help by this point. "Nice," he muttered, as I waved the package at him. "Ew, this lotion claims to be edible. Huh?"
We came home, at last realizing that the poor dog needed to be let out, and found her so excited to see us that she was doing Snoopy's Supper Dance. We lay around exhausted for a while-- surfing the Web in a desultory fashion, looking at straight razors and locally made soaps (including shaving soap) and the such-- and suddenly Z was possessed with a mad desire to go foraging through his mom's basement, I am not sure why. He was down there for a while, during which I wrote out birthday cards to both my December sisters. Suddenly he returned, triumphantly, with a lantern shaped like a Viking. He plugged it in and discovered that the 30-year-old lightbulb had burned out. But this did not deter him. He went down to the basement again, and returned with still more treasures: not only his elementary school, but also his high school yearbook. He would not let me read either tome, but paged through them and gave me a tour, carefully avoiding showing me anything he considered embarrassing. His high school photo was actually adorable, although I did confirm my suspicion that part of the reason he wears a ponytail now is that he has terrible trouble with his hair standing straight up if it's short. I sort of agree with him: it was cute when he was sixteen, but at nearly twenty-six it would be rather silly.
Now Z is reading me an August 1997 issue of MacWorld, which is pretty amusing. "Adobe Photoshop 4.0!"
I am just about ready for bed. Thanksgiving dinner is tomorrow at 5 at Aunt Ruta's. I work from 11-7:30, so I may just get out late enough that I go straight home and make myself some pasta, rather than showing up starving just as Z's aunt serves the after-dinner tea. Which would be sad, and depressing, and ridiculous, but... well, that's how my fucking job is. Last year they staffed the bars with a skeleton staff and sent everyone home early, but this year the Supreme Asshat has decided we must have a full staff and work right through on schedule, despite the fact that absolutely fucking nobody flies on Thanksgiving. I know we're having a Weather Event, and I've been glancing at the online flight schedules and know everybody's delayed tonight, but they will go out tonight or tomorrow morning. There will not be crowds at the bars tomorrow night. It's ludicrous. And so if I am kept at work until 7:30 to stand around with my thumb up my ass, then Supreme Asshat had better fucking be there with me and NOT be at home with his wife and his baby son and his parents and his father-in-law, or he will know my wrath. IF I AM GOING TO EAT PLAIN PASTA ALONE ON THANKSGIVING THEN SO IS HE, GOD HELP ME.
But I digress. Either way I'm sure I'll get some divine leftovers on Friday, although as I'll be spending that day at work as well I really can't say as I'll eat many of them.
I don't know that anyone who reads this truly knows the depth and extent of my goddamned freaking Pen Obsession of yore, but I have been known to be a bit wacky about the different-colored inks, in the past. So during a recent excursion to an office supply store (nothing says "holidays" like office supplies!) I splurged and got a 7-pack of colored v-ball rollers. Mmmmmm. However, as I began my card-writing binge, I have rediscovered the Left-Handers' Curse: i.e., when I write fancy on a glossy surface with ink pens, my hand drags through it and smudges the shit out of it. So fucking much for writing pretty.
Anyhow: the rest of today. Z and I arose and went forth into the world, and were mightily amused at playing hooky. We went first to The Original Pancake House, where I ate a Dutch Baby, which true to its name was... well, a large baked pancake. It was awesome. I mowed through it like a champion. I am acquiring something of a reputation for my phenomenal ability to consume food. I dunno, I just like a clean plate is all.
From thence we made our way down Transit, where we discovered an Office Max, and I restrained myself tastefully from going mad with glee in the pen aisle. I also did not actually roll around in any paper supplies. So, it was a successful expedition.
We continued down Transit all the way down to East Aurora, where we reached our original destination: Vidler's 5 & 10. This is an old-school five and dime that has been in the same location since the early 30s. It has everything. We had a blast and spent like four hours playing with all the toys. I bought a cookie cutter shaped like a buffalo, and some shaving soap. It was awesomeness. I also suddenly remembered that two of my three sisters have birthdays coming up extremely soon. Shit: I always forget. So I bought birthday cards for both of them, thereby beginning my Holiday Greeting Card Orgy of Orgiastic Orginess. I hope to actually parlay this enthusiasm into my Maiden Experience of sending out Christmas cards. People, I ordered way too many, so I really do mean it: if you want a really cheesy and yet heartfelt greeting card, do email me your address.
After this we dashed off to the mall, for some more conventional gift shopping. I picked up a gift for one of my sisters, and also bought socks and a present for my mom. I feel like I must have purchased so much more, given how very light my wallet is, but alas! that is all there is. Still and all, that's more shopping than I've done in like a year, and Z didn't whine one bit. Although he did sort of have a blood-sugar crash that necessitated an emergency stop for French fries. (He gets real sleepy and hard to drag around when he hasn't eaten.)
I paused to drool over the corsets in Frederick's of Hollywood. I do so dearly wish that my ginormous hooblers were well-enough behaved that they could actually be trusted in one of those insubstantial and yet adorable confections, but alas! the girls have a Will of their Own, and will not be confined by anything less than sprung steel and reinforced cotton duck. They scorn flimsy plastic-and-satin-with-lace-and-feather-accents.
Sigh. I do need to get me a custom corset one of these ... decades. And I almost bought myself lace-topped fishnets with a back seam, but alas, talked myself out of them. Z, nearly comatose, was no help by this point. "Nice," he muttered, as I waved the package at him. "Ew, this lotion claims to be edible. Huh?"
We came home, at last realizing that the poor dog needed to be let out, and found her so excited to see us that she was doing Snoopy's Supper Dance. We lay around exhausted for a while-- surfing the Web in a desultory fashion, looking at straight razors and locally made soaps (including shaving soap) and the such-- and suddenly Z was possessed with a mad desire to go foraging through his mom's basement, I am not sure why. He was down there for a while, during which I wrote out birthday cards to both my December sisters. Suddenly he returned, triumphantly, with a lantern shaped like a Viking. He plugged it in and discovered that the 30-year-old lightbulb had burned out. But this did not deter him. He went down to the basement again, and returned with still more treasures: not only his elementary school, but also his high school yearbook. He would not let me read either tome, but paged through them and gave me a tour, carefully avoiding showing me anything he considered embarrassing. His high school photo was actually adorable, although I did confirm my suspicion that part of the reason he wears a ponytail now is that he has terrible trouble with his hair standing straight up if it's short. I sort of agree with him: it was cute when he was sixteen, but at nearly twenty-six it would be rather silly.
Now Z is reading me an August 1997 issue of MacWorld, which is pretty amusing. "Adobe Photoshop 4.0!"
I am just about ready for bed. Thanksgiving dinner is tomorrow at 5 at Aunt Ruta's. I work from 11-7:30, so I may just get out late enough that I go straight home and make myself some pasta, rather than showing up starving just as Z's aunt serves the after-dinner tea. Which would be sad, and depressing, and ridiculous, but... well, that's how my fucking job is. Last year they staffed the bars with a skeleton staff and sent everyone home early, but this year the Supreme Asshat has decided we must have a full staff and work right through on schedule, despite the fact that absolutely fucking nobody flies on Thanksgiving. I know we're having a Weather Event, and I've been glancing at the online flight schedules and know everybody's delayed tonight, but they will go out tonight or tomorrow morning. There will not be crowds at the bars tomorrow night. It's ludicrous. And so if I am kept at work until 7:30 to stand around with my thumb up my ass, then Supreme Asshat had better fucking be there with me and NOT be at home with his wife and his baby son and his parents and his father-in-law, or he will know my wrath. IF I AM GOING TO EAT PLAIN PASTA ALONE ON THANKSGIVING THEN SO IS HE, GOD HELP ME.
But I digress. Either way I'm sure I'll get some divine leftovers on Friday, although as I'll be spending that day at work as well I really can't say as I'll eat many of them.
