November 26
 
 
 
 

Nicole: You know what would make Target even better?
Dana: What's that?
Nicole:  If they sold beer.
 
 
 
 

First off:  It's that time again! Holiday cards!!  Want one?  Want to send me one!?  I love getting cards from you guys!  Email me with your address and I will email you with mine.  As usual, gifts, checks and small animals are cheerfully accepted!
 
 
 

Wheels:

I'm tired of moping about my car.   Cleaning it out on Saturday really sucked.  There it was, all looking cute and perfect and ready to drive.  When I hit my beloved open the door button on my keys, all the doors opened and it flashed it's lights at me cutely, but there was sorrow underneath.  My car was the supermodel who's bones are all rickety and broken from one too many binge and purge.  Except that, of course, it was like a million binges and purges all in one night.  Huh.  Maybe that analogy didn't work at all.  The car looked good on the outside, but the inside was very very bad.  Imagine a beautiful face with a mouthful of rotten teeth, and there you have my car.  So, I drove to the body shop in a rental car (Note to people considering buying a Saturn:  Don't.  The car is tinny and light and feels cheap.  It also contains no pickup whatsoever and is just about useless for merging onto a highway.  You've been warned.)  and cleaned out my beloved GTI.  You know how you never know when you're having a time that's the LAST TIME you're going to do something?  Of course, the last time I drove that car, I had no idea it was the LAST TIME, so the whole thing was really very depressing.

Anyhow, since it's done now, I'm looking ahead to my next car.  Tell me what you think of this --it's what I'm considering.  I'd get another GTI, no questions asked, but I don't think they make a 4 door model, and I told my grandmother I'd get a 4 door car because they're easier for her to get into and out of.  Who's a better grandchild than me?  (of course, I don't actually HAVE a car yet, so I might well wind up with a Spyder and to hell with her) This whole thing is dependent, too, on insurance.  I'll probably wind up with a bike.
 
 
 
 

Anyhow:

So, last night, Nicole and I went shopping.  I'm pro-mall,  as you all know, but for whatever her insane little reasons were, she had no interest in going, wanting instead to kind of bounce around this 1/4 mile radius of strip mall, containing a TJ Maxx and MORE (MORE?!!?  SHIT YEAH!!!), a  Kohls, a store named Bon Ton, along with some other crappy little places. (note:  I've cut some stuff from here.  Deal with it...)

I am realizing as I write this that it was the kind of shopping trip that was definitely higher on the laughs than actual shopping.  We walked through store after store, desperate to consume, to spend, to be good Americans, but sadly, none of the places cooperated.  Well, except for the gloves.  Did you notice the glove in the photograph up there?  Go on, take a look.

Have you ever come across something that makes you laugh unreasonably hard?  Something in the middle of other things that at another time might not strike you as being funny?  Those gloves were exactly that thing.  Take a closer look at them.  Look how far down on the finger they've decided nails are (for the uninformed:  those are supposed to be NAILS).  The thumbnail is painted up around the tip.  The middle finger, somewhere around the first knuckle, and believe me, I thought that it was because my fingers were too long for the gloves (as was the case with Nicole), but I have these little tiny fat hands, so it was determined that the gloves were made by midgets.

Anyhow, it was the kind of trip where we really gave it a try--we really WANTED to spend money, but the money didn't want to be spent.  Imagine this--a trip to Target where I spent $29.00.  That's how it went.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing we stumbled across (well, I stumbled across--I think that my meter is more tuned to the Freaky Shit wavelength than Nicole's is)  was in the kid's section at Kohls.  Behind the training bras (Me: "Most GUYS have bigger tits that this!!!"  Also--what exactly IS a training bra?  What is it training breasts to do? "I got a training bra, and now my kid's boobs are competing in the olympics!!!") and the glittery little girl underwear (which is disturbing, right there.)  I found, in the leftover seasonal crap section a veil with a headband, and sticking up over the veil was a little sign that said "BRIDE TO BE".  Now how fucked is THAT???

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  We all have a lot to be thankful for.  Well, at least I do...
 
 

the other day   -   home   -   email    -   tomorrow
 
 
 
 

Oh, and lastly:  Happy Birthday, Rob.  If I wasn't a lazy turd, I'd make a wacky graphic depicting what 35 looked like to me, in my head, but really, no one needs to see that because it would be kind of sad and scary.  Like that pig up there...(Note:  The pig has nothing to do with the birthday, except that it is scary, as would any graphic I made.)