A full day

Saturday was one of those full, great days where things just seem to cosmically align and go smoothly. I woke up early and managed to get out of the house in 45 minutes- from waking up to out the door that is pretty impressive especially since it includes a shower, blow drying and curling my hair and make up application. Honestly though, my makeup is exactly two products- a face lotion and blush. What can I say, I'm a pretty low-maintenance woman.

All the way to the store in Columbus I was hearing awesome music: Cher, Kenny Loggins, Billy Joel, etc. Really fun car music for singing along to (at the top of your lungs) and then there is the car dancing. Oh the car dancing, since one is constrained by being in a seated position and being strapped in, range of motion is seriously limited. Basically there is much flailing about with the arms and head to the beat of the music.

While in Columbus I dropped some money at the L'Occtaine store, since I was in serious need hand lotion. It may sound ridiculously vain and lame but it's important to me to have soft, lovely hands. Which means nails need to be polished/buffed (oh-new favorite nail colorOPI Royal Rajah Ruby- buy it, it's perfection) and hands need to be properly lotioned for niceness. Why this obsession with hands care? Most likely it is that I'm a little self-conscience about the size of my hands and the fat little fingers that are attached. I long for lovely long and slender fingers, instead I have plump little digits. I know it's something probably no one else but me notices (I hope like hell people aren't talking about my hands behind their backs, calling them big, meaty paws or man hands. Don't get me wrong, I love man hands. ON MEN.)

Bloody hell, perhaps I'm just obsessed with hands in general.

But enough about that jazz, lets get to my favorite part of the whole damn weekend. I stopped at Trader Joe's to refuel on cheese and decided to pick up some beer for a party I was going to on Saturday night. While stand in the beer aisle a cute fellow asked me if I had any beerrecommendations , and I pointed him in the direction of an apricot ale. Flirting over beer ensued and right before he walked away he said "You're beautiful. Uh, I mean you're helpful. Thanks."Awesomest Freudian slip EVER. I think I fairly floated around the store on the cloud of that compliment- even the checkout guy flirted with me. Which was another awesome exchange, he was asking me aboutProsecco and I was telling him why it was good especially for brunch (I'm a traveling wikipedia of alcohol, folks). I added that is if you like to start drinking early on the weekends like I do, and he said "You are my kind of girl!" By some funny twist of fate I was parked next to Freudian-slip guy and there was more flirting as we loaded the cars but he never asked for my number, damnit (oh well).

Who knew all I need to do to boost my confidence was head to Trader Joe's and dispense alcohol advice, letting the compliments roll in.

Then on Saturday night was a childhood-themed pot-luck for the ladies. There was lots of drinks, food, pictionary and randomly swinging conversations. A few topics covered included: Prince being a Jehovah's Witness, kumquats, cake decorating, tea-bagging, prowlers in my neighborhood (holy shit!), and pony play.

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2 Comments:

  • At April 14, 2008 9:04 PM, Blogger Lincoln said…

    I grinned as I read this post. Good for you.

     
  • At April 18, 2008 1:26 PM, Anonymous Jemima said…

    I love those days. You can walk around feeling faintly feline, and you must be able to give off some hotness pheromone.

    Sadly, it's hard to do that when your butt is sore and your feet are wrecked. Hobbling around like a constipated cripple = Not Sexy.

    Sigh.

     

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