As I told you yesterday, with my cliffhanger headline, my Aunt Mary sent me a box of pants. She loves to shop, see, it's kind of her hobby, see, and now she's retired. This means she has all kinds of time to peruse her closets and her tubs of clothes from other seasons--yes, she's one of those people who has to put away winter clothes and get out summer clothes and probably fall and winter clothes--and she found all kinds of pants in my size with tags still on them.
"I have all these pants. Want me to mail them to you?" she asked me. Of course I did.
The point of my story is (a) pretty much my whole life, my Aunt Mary has dressed me and (2) among all the pants was a silky tank top that's bright blue on one side and green on the other. It's reversable, see, and I don't know why I have to keep saying "see" all the time.
So I now actually have a green thing to wear today, which is exciting, because in general I don't, as green is not my color, and most of the rest of the year I will wear the blue side of my tank top because I look good in blue.
People also seem to like me in brights, further proving the '80s were right about me being a winter. Plus I'm as cold as ice. I'm willing to sacrifice our love. I never take advice. Wow, that really is my theme song.
Anyway, aye! I be wearin' the green, Katie Scarlett. For land is the only thing that matters.
You should talk to me in real life. All my accents end up sounding like Rik, my idiot Italian neighbor in LA, or Ville, this Finnish guy I went to school with. Finnish-ing school.
This day gets my Irish up.
I remember my grandmother, not the one I'm turning into but the other one, the nice one, getting ready for some event on St. Patrick's Day. She had on a green rhinestone pin I was seriously wanting to single white female her on, and she was spraying on her signature Emeraude, and I thought, "St. Patrick's Day is my favorite holiday." I was forever making sweeping statements to myself like that, as opposed to now, with my I'm gonna lose 30 pounds and so on.
Actually, I've done pretty well sticking to my Weight Watchers, except for Famous Amos, who lives in the vending machine to fuck me up. This week it's double chocolate Famous Amos, and what Amos is gonna be famous for is sucking my dick, with his cookie deliciousness. Also, someone brought in delicious macaroons to work yesterday and I had almost a sexual reaction to them.
Oh, mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law.
They weren't on the "anyone can take it" table, so all day I thought about them and wished for them and looked up how many points they'd be, and at the very end of the day, the person at work WHO I DON'T KNOW offered me one, because I must have been looking at her like Tallulah. Do you think the part where I kept putting my paw insistently on her was unprofessional?
That macaroon was delicious. It was every bit as good as I thought it would be, and so what. Oprah's eating bread on Weight Watchers, and right now bread is a Nazi, but of course sugar is currently Beelzebub, so you can't win.
Anyway, spring is here in North Carolina, and I can't wait for the Facebook updates where everyone capitalizes the word "spring." On our three o'clock walks at work now, we walk through the neighborhood near work and it's lovely. All the ducks are pairing up and it's only a matter of time before I become obsessed with duck babies. Also I'd like to note ducks can find a mate and I can't.
I'd better duck on out of here and go to work. I hope no one fucks me up with any macaroons today. It was like the last temptation of Christ up in there yesterday.
Chubbily, and arrrrrrrr!