So You Had a Good Day

I'm happy for you, because I did, too.

It started off as possibly being not-so-good, though. I was almost late (the outfit I ended up in provided evidentiary support of that claim), the skies were rainy and gray, and the worst: Hairstylist J hurt his hand! He's been out of commission all week with a pinched nerve. Of course I freaked out in the car, not because I need my hair done (well, partially, I admit), but because I love Hairstylist J to death and it would majorly suck if he couldn't do hair anymore, mine included. But I texted him at TV Station and he said he'd be back to work soon. I told him not to rush, though, I can't have his hand falling off in the middle of my press and curl.

At TV Station, I did a phone interview for Website Girl with a local rapper, about his music and his tour and stuff. He was a great interview, and really nice. I know the common standard is that many interview subjects aren't forthcoming with information, and can even be downright curt, but luckily I haven't come across too many folks like that. If anything, I've learned to ask better questions. But Local Rapper was great. I can't wait to write the story. The bad part of it all was when I rewound the tape to transcribe it. Holy shizz, I never knew how nasally nauseating my voice is! At some parts I had to turn the volume down so I wouldn't gag at the sound of my crack-enhanced, Valley-girl tones. I know I'm probably exaggerating, but seriously, I might get one of those automated voice-mails because I am thoroughly disgusted and mildly embarrassed.

But, this evening, I got a pleasant surprise. Turns out, I got a scholarship through this journalism association for $2500. Or, as my mom pointed out, 6 months of rent! That was the one that I was complaining about because of the postage, when I ran into the Runner at the post office. This scholarship was particularly tumultuous because I didn't have a transcript and turned the application in late, if I recall correctly. And lo and behold, I got it! But honestly, I don't really see it as, "ooh, go me, I rock!" as much as "Good, this at least puts a little dent into the cost." I did have fun picking out my headshot, though. And, at the end of August, I might get to go to the association's annual convention in Chicago. Fun!

This deserves a treat, no? I'm thinking Forever 21 undies sale. And please don't give me any grief over my underwear addiction, because I've come to terms with it. I have to ask, though, do people actually buy panties from F21? I mean, they're like 3 for $10, but they're not low-quality, are they? Because, I mean, underwear that's priced so low seems kind of risky.

I Scarfed it Down, Too

Impossibly tired so will make this short.

Thank God for small victories: when I got home from a long (grueling) day at work this evening, there was a Ram's Horn burger and chocolate shake waiting for me in the fridge.

Score.

Revelations Revealed

I couldn't sleep last night. I tossed and turned and pondered over things so insignificant I can't even remember them. I do remember that I spent hours on the hilarity that is Beyoncitis, (pure comedy). I do also know that there were visions of clothes involved, so that's something. I get materialistic at night.

Today's shift at VS was a roller coaster of Tag-Team Co-Worker (aka TT) and I's shenanigans, pushy customers, and visits from various members of my family. They didn't see my at my best work moments, because I was dealing with said pushy customers at the time. Besides that, today was probably one of the better (funner?) days I've had so far. The downside of hot guys coming into the store is that they're almost always with their girlfriends. Husbands are funny, though, they either get right into the selection process or they wander around uncomfortably and wait until their wife is done giving the credit card a workout. Lots of cute couples came in today; that was actually mildly depressing. But, alas, life goes on.

And now, the coup de gras: today, a real, live tranny** walked through the door and made my life complete. I know. Who else could this have possibly happened to but me? I nearly died with delight right there on the showroom floor and crashed into the clearance 34DDs. Now, as far as drag standards go, s/he was more Madea than RuPaul. (S)He was actually kind of sad looking, when he came in, as (s)he made his/her purchases (oh, yes, our friend didn't leave empty-handed!), and as he-or-she left. Didn't matter, still made my day. What drag-a-licious goodness. If Favorite Co-Worker had been there, we would have had a collective fit of calamity because, as it turns out, we are both fag-hags of the highest order. Which, among many other reasons of course, is why she's my Favorite Co-Worker.

**I just read this article about the word "tranny" being a derogatory term. Say it ain't so! If it turns out that I've been using a term commonly accepted as "dirty" to describe the dear transgendered folk among us, I will absolutely hang my head in shame! I use terms of endearment and words of love, dammit! "Tranny" is no different. But if, after I do some research, "tranny" is the N-word of the intersexual/transsexual community, I will of course attempt to mend my ways. I'm sorry to say, though, that the descriptive phrase "hot tranny mess" can and will be used when necessary.

If Only...

Can't you see this being me and my man (and my Blackberry C)?




"Wait, babe, do I just scroll back up? I want to get to that first screen again. No, the one with the...oh, okay, I see. Thanks. Stop laughing, I told you I suck at the little rolly-ball thing..."

That Went Differently in My Head

I need some new underwear to cheer me up, dammit.

I don't ask for advice too much because it's usually counterproductive. Don't get me wrong, I've gotten some gems of wisdom (get 2 envelopes when you go to the ATM, never leave your drink unattended, etc etc), but unless you ask the absolute right person, you could end up worse off than when you started.

Like when Jennifer Hudson wore that horrendous bolero jacket to the Oscars at the advice of the be-turbaned Andre Leon Talley, for example. And, dear God, that dress had pockets.

But say your sister decides to Facebook message Off Limits Boy who we decided we weren't going to talk to. And, in a moment of weakness combined with "well, let's just see what he has to say," you go with the flow and writes what she says, which is, invariably, not what you would have said left to your own devices. At this point, the conversation is horribly stilted because, in any case, if you were to hardcore flirt, you wouldn't do it in front of your younger sister. More's the pity, because if it ain't serious flirting, you just don't know what to do, not to mention it's been awhile since you flirted via Facebook. I can't even tag this post under "fun conversations," that's how un-fun it was.

Needless to say, I'm a little disappointed with the outcome of this little 2am adventure. I should have put my foot down and said "No, I will not be talking to this young man tonight. End of story." But nooo, I had to give in to curiosity and my sister telling me that how I "deal" with guys is all wrong and of course her way is so much better. Not.

Top Chef had to put me right again. "Just try again tomorrow. And dammit, Lucky, this time, you will NOT do the chasing!" Well, that was the gist of his pep talk, from what I surmised. Haven't I garnered a lot from a short little conversation that wasn't? It's just how my mind works. Well I can't leave things like this, now can I? I'll hit him up in a few days and attempt to do this properly. Man, I'm slightly irritated. I broke my no-boy hiatus for this?

Some Things I Have Learned

Work was actually fun. Favorite Co-Worker was there, and she and I gossiped the day away amidst the leopard-print bustiers and whatnot (God our merchandise is so cute). Boy advice and stuff. Apparently she poured out her heart and soul and he still acted an ass. Abort! Abort! But of course I didn't say that because when well-meaning people would tell me to "Just stop talking to him and move on to someone who wants what you want," it made me do the exact opposite. It ain't easy, girls always want to give him another chance or the benefit of the doubt. Maybe one day some advanced civilization of women will be able to be like, "He didn't call? Fine. Eff him, delete that number, and let's move on!" But we are light-years away from that kind of strength.

As it turns out, an Oreo and Wavy Lays potato chip-sandwich is a mighty tasty little treat. Yum. But dammit, I'm still hungry. If anyone has some chicken lo mein with a Snickers Ice Cream Bar and a big, soft pretzel on the side, we could be in business. Throw in a Sprint Blackberry Curve for $250, and I'm yours for life.

I know, I know, what a cheap date I am.

To the Front Lines I Go

Turns out I have to work the entire weekend. The one weekend, of course, that Florida Godmother and Atlanta Godfather and his family are coming to town. When I told FG that I had to work even today, she scoffed, "Pssh! Girl, you've got your whole life to work!"

But, as I told her, I need money like, now. And since it will be awhile before my rich husband comes to sweep me off my feet, I need a Plan B in the form of the closing shift at VS. It's not even my real shift; I agreed to fill in for a co-worker who was in a bind. Sigh. I mean, it's Friday and everything, but it's not like I can really see the light at the end of the tunnel because, like I said, I have to work Saturday and Sunday. But I refuse to let The Man bring me down (and for once, The Man is not a nickname for a ne'er do well ex, hah!). As they say, "make that money, don't let it make you!"

Crud. I still have to get dressed and throw some makeup on. Maaaaaan that couch and that DVD player are so calling my name right now. Come on, girl. Get thee to the bathroom, stat. Half-priced lingerie waits for no woman...

I'm rolling my eyes, but when I return I shall be in a better mood for which to entertain y'all, my dears.