May
7
May 7, 2007
Remember how I was crabbing that JB didn’t get me anything last Mother’s Day and this year he suggested a trip to the cabin instead of diamond-studded pancakes in bed and OMG, wah, etc? Well, this year for our wedding anniversary he got me a box of presents, a lovely card, and I got him . . . nothing.
We said no gifts! WE SAID NO GIFTS GODDAMNIT. Does using caps lock absolve my guilt? NO IT DOES NOT BUT IT FEELS GOOD.
So I’m a shithead, basically, and I think the time for shutting up about manufactured holidays is now.
Also, I think JB deserves some sort of Beyond the Call of Spousal Duty Recognition Award for accompanying me to Nordstrom’s on Saturday and semi-patiently cooling his heels nearby while I tried on literally 439175 pairs of “premium denim” jeans. I believe some of you male readers may know the exquisite hell of having your woman emerge from the dressing room, disheveled and sweaty from the cardio workout required to repeatedly climb in and out of a pile of pants with various fits from “it’s Hammertime” to “Code blue! Asphyxiation eminent!”, position herself in front of you and ask the world’s most clichéd and horrifying question:
“Do these jeans make my ass look fat?”
I also asked if these jeans looked like they were worth their astronomical pricetag, and JB could only shrug frantically, waving his hands in what may have been a fervent hope to flag down any passing emergency vehicles so he could be evacuated from the situation. “They look good, baby,” he said, clamping his lips against the rest of the sentence he so clearly wished to shriek at top volume (if I stay here one more minute I will burn this department store to the ground and crap on its rubble, so whatever they cost please for the love of god just buy them and let’s go).
“But did the Sevens look better?” I mused, frowning and twirling a lock of hair.
I managed to decide on a pair of Joe’s (sized for short people, apparently. But I’m 5’5″! And a half!) before JB’s head exploded, thanks to a very helpful salesgirl who not only brought me every style in the store, but also coached me through my fear of low rise (it’s true these jeans are totally different from Old Navy or Gap low rise—which is to say they are low, but they stay put) and instructed me to stick with the 29s that were a little snug because they would stretch to a perfect fit (and she was right!).
Here is a crappy photo taken in the Westin’s mirror of the jeans, which I may have already outgrown thanks to all the pigging out we did over the weekend.
Anyway, I am loving my new jeans and I think they go quite nicely with the $8.99 gas mask bag (perfectly sized for carrying a Nikon around!) from the army surplus store that I also bought this weekend. I am very fancy.
It was nice to relax all weekend, knowing that Riley was in good hands:
But we missed him. I mean, the Westin may have had room service and deliciously crisp bedsheets, but did it have this kind of quality entertainment?
No, it did not. Although I’m sure housecleaning is glad for that.
May
6
May 7, 2007
A few photos from the weekend:
Much more here.
(Not pictured: amazing Tom Douglas meals, side-crampingly hilarious Hot Fuzz viewing, slothful bed lolling, and non-toddler-oriented conversation. Such a fan-freaking-tastic weekend.)
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