In Which it Was THAT Kind of a Week

Holy balls, y'alls, it was a sick and twisted kind of a week. And not in the good "i decided randomly to dye my hair pink and run off to vegas where i met the handsome head of a major record label and now i am a staaaaaaaarrrrrr" kind of way. More in the way of crying in my office at lunch and calling five sets of parents and crying in the bathtub and rethinking my job choice for the 80 millionth time and crying myself to sleep. The sheer satanic power of 7th and 8th grade boys cannot be overstated. I have a colleague who swears that 8th grade girls are more evil-stink-of-satan, because they're all so influenced by Gossip Girl, but no, he is wrong. It is the boy-children who will destroy me.

So I'm sorry to report that there was minor depression shopping-one blind, I still sort of can't remember why I even went there trip to CVS, where I spent $56 and left with 3 cans of Progresso, a mineral foundation (in a tube! with a built in brush! which I don't even come close to needing!), a lipgloss which fortunately I really do like, even if it violates the terms of my mental treaty with myself, and some bags of candy for my kids, to celebrate the holiday. (Cause I want to be likkkkkkeeeeedddd. What is so wrong with me? Can a FYT discipline and bribe simeltaneously? Discipline and be nice simeltaneously? Isn't there a mixed message there?)

Jeezum, how did that add up to $56? I remember that I literally felt hypnotized as I handed over the card; my eyes were seamed hut with crusty-crying-eye syndrome, and I remember that I had to leave the house RIGHT NOW, and I remember that I hadn't eaten anything that day. Here's hoping that all that gets to stay a memory. I don't know how many of those my psychic armor can stand up to. (Although I do say that every time it happens, and I ain't dead yet.) (Although my throat is really sore, and I am praying in much the same way I have prayed for love previously that I get sick and lose my voice and can't teach on Monday. Your kind wishes would help, no doubt.)

There was also a hit on AmVets, yesterday, where I must say, I was a very lucky girl.


Observe, if you will: a F-elly bag (a faux, donchaknow; apparently the 7th grade way of implying that you KNOW perfectly well you own a knockoff is to sub an "eff" in for the first letter; fake Ray-bans are Fay-fans, etc, etc. Like duh, you didn't know that???). A tooled red leather belt that works if I keep it really high on my waist. A pair of vintage wedges with a New Testament verse inscribed on the insole. Which I find a puzzling location for a verse from a sacred scripture; I personally would never think to put a pasuk from the Torah in my shoes.

And here:

Burgundy tooled Mexican leather 80's slouch bag. Now maybe the hipsters around here will stop spitting on me. (J/K, y'all. The hipsters around here are too busy starving themselves and trying to keep their ridiculous fedoras on their heads to notice me.) A pair of white woven Saltwater Sandal lookalikes. Very comfy, although given my newfound love of wedge heels, I'm not sure how much wear flats will actually get. A rayon sundress, which was a bad-eye buy; it had a huge rip in the pocket. I'm undecided if it should go into the Pile of Alterations or just back to the donation bag.

Two of the four dresses I lugged home. I am wicked excited about the plaid shirtdress--even though I prefer a fuller skirt, I love plaid! And this one is particularly Maine-waspy. Right next to it is a beautiful jersey dress with a print that reminds me of robins and fall. I failed signally to hit the sale tags on anything except a denim wrap dress with gold lame woven into it--it's got a subtle yet totally trashy sparkle to it that whets my will to Pull Anything Off.

I would take a picture of the dress currently vying for Favorite Ever-mint green, gray polkadots, such clever details and HUGE POCKETS--but as I am wearing it and a face full of Queen Helene Mint Julep mask, I say no. And you will thank me for that.