Where I live the sidewalks are spotted.  The grey cement is covered in old pieces of gum.  Enough to say that it is spotted.  T

here are more people walking around than anywhere else I’ve ever been.  And they do not care about you.  They will run into you, because YOU are in the way.  And after you get hit so many times, or ran into, or rammed into like a football player, you stop saying excuse me, you stop trying to move out of peoples way and you do the same thing.  You walk without caring if you hit someone.  The only people who say they are sorry are tourists.  And every tourist has an accent.

“Free” actually means “contributions welcomed, or please don’t take it.”  Singers and the like stand by the larger parks (Bryant, Central) and by large areas of shopping (columbus circle) and offer you their CD for free.  They are an up and coming artist, they have a flyer to tell you when their next gig is and if you bother to reach out and take the CD they are practically forcing into your hand and keep walking, you immediately have a stalker.  “let me autograph that for you!”  And they follow you until you stop, and they talk to you about the CD while they ask your name and sign the case and ask for a contribution of “any” kind as well.  They will take a dollar, they will also try to make you feel guilty about offering only one dollar until you give them five.  I’ve never given them money for a CD.  Sam did, once.  He was in a really good mood.  The reason I haven’t bothered with these CD’s are because I can tell from the way these people look, and the cover art of their CD, and the names of the songs–that I won’t like any of it.  I am not their market.  And I’ve told them this a few times.  Sometimes they try to convince me it’s for “all people mamma” which gets and eye roll and “I’m not ‘yo mamma'”  or they just stop because they know I’m right.  I am not their market.

Other people want you to sign up for things like a free cut and color and gloss and wash and style and I don’t know, but it’s a 300$ thing, for only 75$, But I have to pay it TODAY and I”ll get a receipt.  Just give me your card or brochure.  I’m still not your market.  You’ve stopped me on my way to work to insult the color and cut of my hair and based on how I’m dressed you should know I don’t have more than 10$ to my name.  No credit cards either.  Then they act all surprised.  I stare at them like they are stupid and remind them I’m not the person they are looking for, and I move on with a “take care.”

You can buy almost anything at a fold out table outside the shops you’re going into.  In major shopping areas (Herald Square, Times Square, Columbus Circle and other shapes as well) there are men and women selling you stuff on tables.  Kid books, DVD, Purses, pashminas, video games, sunglasses, jewelry, hats, gloves,  and shoes.  Raw Cocoa butter, perfume, stuffed animals, lotions, oils, drawings, paintings, magnets and more.  There are also people offering their services to you as an artist drawing a characature of you in the big city etc.  It’s all very oooo and aaah, and inexpensive.  These people are not to be bargained with, the prices are set.  It’s not like at a swap meet, or a yard sale. The price is clear on their cardboard sign stating “DVD’s 5 and up”  They are also, clearly marked with a price tag.  There are a few people here and there not fortunate enough to have a table, and there stuff they offer is set on a blanket on the sidewalk.  The reason, I’m told, they do this is because it is illegal.  When walking by them there’s no one really standing right there, but if you stop to look suddenly a ninja dressed as a semi-homeless person is telling you the price.  There are only a few options on the blanket sells.  They are never really worth stopping for.

Soliciting seems to be acceptable in all areas other than big corporate places, and sometimes they sneak in there anyway.  So, any nail place or unisex hair place, laundromat or bodega is likely at some point to have someone walk in offering stuff to sell from their big duffle bag.  Movies, toothpaste, toothbrushes, pens, stuff like that.  I’ve never purchased anything from them either.  I imagine it is convenient for some people on the train or the crowded McDonalds to purchase 3 DVD they didn’t have before from the stranger slyly offering from his duffle–but I’m just not into that.  Yet. heh.

There’s more.

I can’t possibly speak for ALL of new york or EVERYONE’s opinion of it.  I can only talk about my own experiences.  Right?

I haven’t been in NY nearly long enough to say that “I know” anything.  Besides,  the logic and philosophy classes I took kind of pulled me away from being able to say I really know ANYTHING anymore what will all the levels of knowledge and stuff.  And it feels weird to say “I have found” because it’s not like I lost something.  I’m not sure if I can say “I’ve learned” either.  I mean, I don’t look at the good and bad and find the lessons and say I’m better for it and bla bla bla.  So, I guess what I can say is “What I have seen.”  I mean, I suppose I can trust my eyes.  Shrug.

Rats.  Tons of ’em live beneath the surface of the earth by the trains and stations, and above ground as well.  They like “the parks.”  I put that in quotes because around here a small place of grass, a tree (or two!) and a bench is considered a park.  At any rate, they like parks and schools and the asphalt and the trash.  But they don’t seem to like each other.  I never see them together.  Only once I saw a couple of them fighting over what seemed to be a candy wrapper of some kind covered in water and rust from the tracks.  I haven’t seen mice since leaving Macy’s.  Yes, they have mice in there.  My guess is most buildings that are old, do.  And this one is over 100 years old.  It’s just something that exists.  They smell when they’re dead.  Most things do I’m sure.  No rodents have been in my apartment, and I am grateful.

Street Meat.  There are taco trucks, fried chicken cars, ice cream trucks, hot dog stands (“dirty water dogs), pretzel stands, breakfast carts full of danishes; bagels; coffee and more, and halal stands.  There are probably more, but I haven’t seen any and/or can’t think of anymore off the top of my head.  I rather enjoy Taco Truck during my excursions into West Village.  It’s inexpensive, fairly good and tastes even better after a few Jamie & Gingers.  I still can’t stand cilantro though, damn–I have to remember to tell them NO cilantro.  Shish Kabob’s are fairly good.  They just take meat and season it with sauce and stuff and cook it on their portable grill and serve it on a stick.  Not bad.  I don’t crave it though.  Haven’t tried fried chicken from a truck yet.  I have mixed feelings and the lighting is bad.  Chicken looks a pale green-yellow in the window and the guy selling it doesn’t speak enough english for me to get answers that make sense out of him.  I have had dirty water dogs.  They taste like regular hot dogs.  Ta-da.  I had a croissant and a small coffee (with 3 sugars and cream that they put in for me).  The croissant was hard and crunchy and the coffee was gross.  Burnt, or just not good–maybe I’m a little spoiled.  I don’t know, I also don’t really care.  Halal trucks.  Now THEY provide yummy stuff.  Falafel sandos.  Chicken and Rice on a plate with BBQ and “white” Sauce.  I don’t know what’s in the white sauce, but it’s good.  Really good.  It’s filling and I can get two meals out of one dish, which is only about $5.  Yes I like Gyros. (pronounced EE-ro, or Hero, not Gy-ro rhyming eith eye-ro).  I have not bothered with an ice cream truck.

Stuff sold on carts.  Some people have shopping carts that they carry fruit in.  This fruit is “prepared” for you somehow.  As in all the oranges are now peeled for your convenience.  A bundle is whatever amount and there’s more where it came from.  Sorbet things.  I say “things” because I’m not sure what they actually are.  It’s served into a what looks like a sample cup and the flavors are the likes of Pina Colada, Berry, and other fruit like flavors.   They seem to be a dollar or so.  Kids like them, I can’t be bothered to try them.  If I want ice cream, I’ll get ice cream.

Salons…or Hair places.  From the Upper West Side to the Heights, where I live, there are 2-4 salons on each block.  Ninety eight percent of those “salons” (and I use quotes because the ideas of what a salon offers or what defines it are different for everyone, I think) have something every common in their salon name.  It says “Unisex.”  This baffled me for a while.  I didn’t and still don’t know why they are all called that.  I guess there is something about a barber shop or girl hair-cut place that is different, and these unisex salons offer hair-cutters for both the male and female persuasion.  I say hair-cutters because I have an idea of what a “stylist” does and doesn’t do.  What they do and do not look like–it’s the same category of what a salon looks like.  These places are not super duper trashy, but they are not classy or tasteful either.  The floors are the large tiled black and white tiles, or a terrible would be wood floor. Sometimes it’s some kind of cement, but ultimately it’s ugly.  The lights above the mirrors are bright and different shapes sometimes.  The walls are painted bright colors, like orange, and they swirl on the wall like the yellow brick road in munchkin land.  It’s dizzying.  There ARE salons with stylists, the kind that I imagine and am used to–but they cost 150$ for a cut.  That’s almost what I net in one paycheck (I’m paid weekly).  So, that’s not gonna happen.  As a side note, men DO care what their hair looks like.  They get it braided, trimmed, cropped, shaved, buzzed, colored and styled like all the women I know.

Grocery Shopping.  There is not a Ralphs, or Vons, or Albertsons around here.  The larger markets are called Food Emporium, Gristedes, and Whole Foods.  Yah we have that here.  There’s also Fairway and West Side Market.  Fairway is by far the biggest grocery store I’ve seen here.  They have a room dedicated to their refrigerated section.  Instead of walking down an aisle and opening doors to get something cold, walk into a room and it’s cold in their.  Things are on shelves, like in a frige, but there are no doors. It’s cold in there.  Really.  But it’s a small walk from the train, and there’s a hill I have to walk up to get home.  I hate walking up that damn hill, for any reason–and I certainly don’t want to do it with bags of food.  I tend to stick to C-Town, a smaller scale store offering the likes of larger grocery stores, just on a smaller level.  Or the bodegas downstairs, or the carnicerias. The thing with those are what they offer is more expensive.  Because of the convenience.  I guess it makes sense.  But for the mini grocery stores, they are likely to get my business because it’s close to home and I won’t have to carry too much the few blocks away and up the stairs to my apartment.  And even if I DID buy a lot at a bigger grocery store, there isn’t alot of room in the kitchen for food.  There’s five of us here, and we all buy food to eat at some point.

There’s more.  I’m sure.  But this is what comes to mind right now.

Window shopping is not what we mean when we say “I’m going window shopping.”  What we mean is “I’m going out to buy something.  I don’t know what it is, I may or may not need it, but I’m a little bored and would rather spend this ‘spare’ or ‘extra’ time looking at stuff.”    We are not, in that moment, thinking about the money we don’t actually have to spend on stuff that we may or may not need.  We’re not thinking about what we SHOULD spend our money on, like bills or food.  And we’re certainly not thinking about saving any money.  We know, somewhere in there, that we really don’t have money to spend but are not, in that moment, listening to that.  In that moment all we know is “I’m going out for a bit.”  And that is good enough for us.

The ride there is peaceful.  “There” is whichever place we choose.  Some of us choose clothing stores.  Some make up or perfume stores.  Some of us go to thrift stores.  It doesn’t matter, we don’t have a plan.  We aren’t looking for anything in particular, so we’ve chosen a place we know we just *like.*  And *I* like Marshalls.

There are a few that I’ve been to in Manhattan.  But I hadn’t, until yesterday, been to the one on 125th.  I had a book with me, but I didn’t end up reading it.  I took my glasses off and closed my eyes and the sun beat against my face through the bus window.  We stopped every few blocks and people would come and go, but it was quiet for the most part.  The ride is peaceful because we aren’t thinking of anything else.  We’re not thinking about any issues or problems.  We’re not thinking about chores or dinner for that night.  Just, enjoying the ride, to a place I enjoy to walk around and look at stuff.  I’m in the best world at this moment.

I step off the bus and walk a few blocks and find the new-to-me Marshalls and open the door and take the escalator up to the first floor of shopping.  It smells like a step up from a thrift store right before you smell the JC Penny.  Some clothes are flung over the racks, signs are hanging from the ceiling and the beeping sound of constant price checking is somewhere to my left.  And so is the skin care “stuff” and shampoo and conditioner and perfume.  That’s my favorite place in a Marshalls.  They sometimes have high end salon and spa products for less expensive than in the salon or spa.  That’s always a fun find.  Now, I’m not looking for anything in particular.  That’s where “window shopping” is so much better.  When we are actually looking for something, we walk into a store and go directly to the department, or we ask someone.  We want it to be over quickly.  Shopping because we have to, is never fun–and a complete story on it’s own.  Shopping because we want to–that’s what’s exciting.  Shopping with no idea what we may or may not buy, is what drives the meandering.

The meandering, and wandering about is not set to songs.  It’s not like getting on a treadmill and playing remixes of Lada Gaga’s newest top 10.  We are not taking this time to get our heart rate up.  It’s not supposed to be fast paced.  Meandering around in a store is like moseying through an airport while waiting for a connecting flight.  You have time to waste, so you waste it by slowing every move you make down.  So I meander to the “beauty” section where the salon size shampoos are available and on sale for $8 instead of $30 in the salon.  Careful of half emptied bottles.  Smell the lotions and body washes, the hand soaps  (currently shaped like pumpkins for the November festivities)  Try on said lotions, but first making sure I have my sanitizer with me in the event of allergic reaction.  Which DID happen this round, eh.  And if one finds a lotion they like we gotta look for one that hasn’t been opened or tampered with and still looks full.  It’s part of the risks you take during such a crazy meander.  I found an oversized bottle of shampoo I like for color treated hair for 8$ and nabbed it.  I held on to it while looking at fancy boxes of soap, different eye creams and syrums and Joico hair products.

When I finished I glanced up and reviewed the layout of what I would meander by next.  Bags, Candles, Junior girl clothes, Misses, Women (because Misses is different than women, which is also different from Plus…did you know that?–that’s a different story, too), and shoes.

There’s something in the DNA of women when it comes to shoes.  Now, just because not every women is as addicted to heels and such as Carrie Bradshaw does not mean that the shoe department gets passed up.  Granted, for the most part–the shoe section is about fun heels and deals.  Boots are up and coming for the year as fall starts to leave and winter sets in.  And to be honest, I didn’t see one sneaker or tennis shoe. .  I mean, it’s Marshalls not a Big 5.  Again, if we are looking for something specific we’ll go to a specific place and ask for help.  To my disappointment the clearance wall (which during a “window shop” period is the only section I look in) is quite a mess and the size 10 section is accompanied with sizes ranging from 6 1/2 (the size I wore in kindergarten) to 12.  So I do what every other girl does: I glanced over each pair slowly until I saw something I liked, then grabbed it to verify the size.  I wasn’t pleased once.  Bummer.  Every time I felt the small build of excitement stir in my gut, I was shot down by seeing a single digit number size shoe.  I’m bored.  I’m moving on.

Oh look, an escalator going up.

My faith in the window-shopping-gods has been restored and I secure my purse to my shoulder and and tuck my shampoo under my arm and head confidently to the escalator, at this time we do not meander.  We, women;girls; ladies etc, are on a mission.  Nothing else on this floor matters.  What now matters are the possibilities that lay in front of me on the next floor up.

Baby clothes, kitchen ware, bathroom, bedroom, boys, men and more on this floor.  Sounds funny when I say men and more on this floor…And of course now that I’m up here, the slow meander can return.  No one has bothered to ask if they can help me.  No one has got in my way to make sure I’m finding everything okay.  They understand me here, at Marshalls.  They let me mind my own business, and they mind theirs.

Although I don’t have any children of my own, the baby and kid section is still something I like to walk through.  I have nephews and pseudo nephews ranging from new born to 11 years old and a niece with bright blue eyes potty training and prepared for the cutest girly outfit her auntie finds.  I walk through the small aisles full of diapers, baby wipes and baby lotions.  I look at the baby toys and think of baby Bennett and little Jamey.  I look at the superhero PJ’s and think of Sammybear.  I think of how big the Caper and Peanut are now.  And I think of how I missing out on birthday parties and soccer games and T-Ball games, but I still smile and look through my phone and see the pictures of all of them.  Then I keep meandering.

Christmas stuff is already in great abundance, and I’m sure there will be more, much more.  But I walk through anyway and see the oversized decorations like basketball size ornaments the color purple with a silver snowflake glittered on top.  I love snowflakes, they are my favorite part of christmas time.  I look at the prepackaged gifts and make my way to the picture frames.  I see red tags on almost every frame and I’m filled with excitement.  Because the best thing about window shopping is finding the sales.  Finding the tags that say compare to $45, marked to a Marshalls tag of $12, on sale for $5 and it says something awesome like “The Gang” and I instantly think of a sunset dunes picture I could put in there.  But I continue to look at all the other frames.  Paying close attention to the red tags and little saying on them.  The “Love” frames hit the soft spot and I think of My Darling.  The ones for babies and families make me smile and I think of pictures I’d put in there, or whom I’d give them too.  I move on and turn the corner to find cook books and stationary and think of all the love notes I could write and send randomly to people I care about.  I think of all the food I could make from the 2$ cook book red tagged just for me, I just know it.  I pick out a few books to review closer.  Kid books, cook books, crafting books.  There are no chapter books in view, no mysteries, no dictionaries for the oversized magnifying glass I just had in my hand.  Could’ve got that for 5$ and read my Complete Works or the newest edition of Cambridge, but alas–none are available.  My eyes make their way to boxes that are designed to look like books and it reminds me of a set that looked like books that Papa had (my grandpa on my mom’s side) and inside the book-box, were binoculars.  I wanted them always.  I never got them. Wah.  I kept moving in the store.

Now, the only thing better than window shopping, is window shopping with a friend that has the same favorite place to go as you do.  For a while in my life it was Wally World, and I would go with my friend DaveBrewer (I say his name as one name).  Used to walk around the SLO mall with Ro before it was nothing but a Millers Outpost and Afterthoughts (which was like a Claire’s Boutique).  Always liked to look at STUFF though, never clothes.  That’s another story (which makes three extra ones by now, doesn’t it?  Damn).  But since I was alone this round, when I’d see something I would share with my counterpart had I one, I–of course like any other woman–fell into a mass text frenzie of what I was looking at to include them.  I’m the girl who will walk through an aisle I would never buy anything from and manage to say–out loud– things like “that would totally go inside Charlotte and Trey’s apartment had Bunny kept decorating.”  And whoever I was with would have heard me from three aisles away and come running to see, then we could laugh together.  But again, I was alone this round and since my brain doesn’t stay on one path all the time, the mallard I saw reminded me of other Sex and the City quotes.  And as they flooded my mind the one that stood out was when Charlotte pointed at Miranda when making sure she would show to her own baby shower, she said “Miranda!” and I laughed out loud, then thought of my friend named Miranda, which reminded me she was married to a doctor, which reminded me of all the hospital and doctor bills I still owe which depressed me–so I stepped back and walked away from the mallard.  And that’s what happens when you go down the aisle you’d never buy anything from.  Your mind finds a way to remind you why you’re not there. heh.

But that doesn’t mean I’m done for the day.  A jolt back to reality is sometimes what we need to up the ante.  When this need-to-up-the-ante feeling arises we immediately do one of two things.  We head towards things too expensive for us to get, or out of character for us to get.  This is when the shy un-adventuresome girl would walk to look over at sexy lingerie, or someone who rarely wears jewelry looks at big colorful bangles and necklaces.  When a single girl will bolt for faux wedding sets.  Or someone afraid of children will attempt to pick out matching baby furniture, just to see if they can do it.  I am no different, and I landed in what looked like: the ingredients aisle.  heh.  Cooking stuff–definitely out of a character.  I looked at the 7 different kinds of olive oil and wondered if we…and when I say we I mean my darling…need any for home cooking.  I look at the shelf FULL of different seasonings and spices and wonder if I should go back and grab that two-dollar cook book a few aisles back. ha.

Eventually my confidence in my ability to meander without a shocking brain jump returns and I continue my walking about.  Purse and shampoo still secure.

We like to touch things when meandering.  Using as many of our senses for whatever we damn well please is invigorating during the window shopping time.  We smell every lotion and candle.  We look at every shoe, and you’re damn right if there are samples (like at Costco) we’ll eat something.  If we need to grab a bag of some “organic” dark chocolate covered pretzel from switzerland , or doritos while on our excursion we just take it off the shelf and start eating it.  And if we believe in karma n honesty (ish) we’ll even keep that bag and pay for it when we go to check out later.  We’ll walk through the kids section and play the toy piano or squeeze the stuffed animal that instructs us to do so, so why would touching sheets, and blankets and pillows be any different, am I right?

I mosied through the bedroom stuff aisles.  And even though I don’t need twin size or king sheets I’ll still look at them and the fun patterns.  I’ll stop longer by the queen sheets and unzip the plastic bag  and feel the thread count and wonder if I have the 50$ to get them, and I know that I don’t, but it’s nice to pretend that I’m thinking “if.”  shrug.  I touch the soft blankets and think about curling up by a fire place that I don’t have…I look at the pillows and touch them and decide if they are a good couch throw pillow or good for the bedroom. I think about Josey in Never Been Kissed and how she makes pillows..like…alot of put-this-knitted-pillow-on-my-bed pillow, and laugh–like you do.  I see which pillows match some blankets and I look at rugs and I get to the bathroom stuff aisle and ponder a new hangy-thingy for all our face cleansers and razors and stuff.  I look through all the bathtub curtains and their matching accessories.  I look at trash bins and plastic bins.  Then I’ll take a short lived trip through the mens section getting ideas for gifts, and seeing electronics aaaand I’m bored.

Maybe I’m done.  I’ve been here for a while now, and we don’t ever want our places to become places we DON’T want to be, so I head towards the escalator going down and of course, take one more lap through the beauty products.  It’s my favorite section, every girl can spend a long time in a favorite section–which is a reason I can’t go into Hallmark or stop at the card section in a Target…I won’t move from there.  But I’ll go back by the skin care and beauty section for a last looksy before getting in line with my *find*, I mean…I don’t want to risk having lost something.  Right?

I make it to the line, it’s a few people deep and like many people with time to waste, I look at the impulse purchase stuff while waiting in line.  I’ll look at the deal on cotton sport socks and the mugs for christmas.  I’ll see Kona Coffee from Hawaii and want to do a french press of it at home.  And I’ll even stare at those “pineapple flavored” licorice bags long to wonder what they taste like, then I’ll successfully shake my head and roll my eyes at whoever thought it would be cool idea to make them.  But I’ll also secretly want to get them as a gag gift.  We love getting out of the ordinary stuff for other people, ESPECIALLY during window shopping, because it’s a fun conversation topic which will inevitably allow us to tell you all about our excursion window shopping, and why you should’ve been there.  You always want to be there, you know it.

I make it to the register and here is the first time an employee has asked me about my experience or reasons in the store.  Here is the only place an employee looks at me “did you find everything okay?”  I always say “yes.”  Especially during window shopping trips, it reassures me as well–and I like to be reassured.  I mean, if I didn’t find something I was looking for I would’ve asked, and if I was asking for something in particular I was not window shopping–can’t get all that mixed up, it’s too much trouble.  heh.

I proudly hand over the money I have for my one purchase, shampoo and say thank you and head out of the store.  Here, is where we congratulate ourself in our heads and a little smirk meets our face and the only thing we can think of next is treating ourselves for finding something during window shopping.  We need to be congratulated.  The purchase needs to be validated.  And if we’re alone we’re going to tell you about it when we get home and you will have to be excited about it.  If you are not excited about our story and find,  it is because you do not think it was a big deal or warranted–and you will be wrong. I mean…what if I HADN’T gone window shopping today, I WOULDN’T have found THIS!!!!!  But nonetheless, a congratulatory treat is in order and mine that day was a Venti Chai no water straight egg nog, Eggnog latte.  It was perfect and delicious and I am now proud enough of my time spent to go home.

Walking back to reality is always bothersome.  It’s up there with finding all the food on sale but realizing you are unloading the car by yourself and putting it away by yourself, then everyone else eats the food.  Returning from The Land of Time to Waste is a slow sting, but it has to be done.  This is when the guilt sets in.  It’s during this time we feel that we’ve wasted the day and money was not well spent.  Isn’t that crazy?  Just meters away from that blissful nothing-but-meandering place, we’ve now reached guilty territory.  Damnit.

And from there it can go only two ways.  We will either continue home and then relive the excitement when we have someone to relive it WITH and hope that THEY will validate our find and congratulate us, relieving us of our guilt.  Or we’ll do what I did:

See something I should have purchased instead.

God.

Damn.

It.

As a matter of fact I DO need a new bag that size and color! CRAP I mean I have THIS purse but I need a purse/tote that will close so the rain or snow doesn’t get it in.  I DO need to have the long strap option to drape it over my body, instead of just on my shoulder.  It WOULD hold everything I need to carry AND MORE!  And if I hadn’t purchased this stupid shampoo, I could’ve gotten this purse.  Something I actually NEED.

It’s here that we hate ourselves for window shopping.  It’s here we remind ourselves why it’s never a good idea to waste time like that, or be impulsive or to only ever get things we actually need.  It’s here we remember the reason we went out to begin with was to escape the things we need to do, and we feel bad for not listening to “that little voice of reason” earlier.  We feel semi-defeated for spending money and we finish off our “treat” of congratulations saying under our breath why that also was not a valid purchase and we head home.

We are in the same mood arriving, as we were when we were departing earlier trying to excite ourselves.  Then we reach for that glass of red wine and switch to soft pants and a housecoat and put on another episode of our current show we like–we do this to feel better about ourselves, if you can believe it.

Now just imagine what could happen if I spent your money instead of mine…because that’s what I’m thinking about when I open the next bottle.  That and the fact that we need a better, more efficient bottle opener at home because I shouldn’t have to work this hard to relax. heh.

I find that the more and more I feel sad or disappointed, the more I feel like giving myself a reason to be sad or disappointed.  I don’t crave chocolate, but I’ll eat it.  I don’t feel like sitting here and moping, but I’ll do it so that when I hit that low of mopey I can look at the clock and say “well you’re mopey because you sat here for 6 hours watching Nip/Tuck, looking for a job that doesn’t involve coffee or too much face to face time with people who think I’m worth nothing more than my hourly pay and the dime they’ve thrown in the tip jar to steam their milk and follow directions set by a fleet of people in a bigger office that actually enjoy their involvement with coffee.

It’ like eating a pint of ice cream because I’m sad and fat, but this way by eating the ice cream I can say “well the reason you’re sad, is because you’re fat.  The reason you’re fat is because you ate this pint of ice cream.”  It doesn’t make it better, it just reminds me of the reason why.

The problem (well there are many problems but I’m just gonna go into one of ’em) here is it doesn’t get me anywhere.  Sure it lets me complain, I love that.  I love the sarcasm and wahwahwah-ing.  It’s not putting much positive energy out there, like I’m supposed to, but I at least I know that.  There’s a lack of positive energy within me anyway and a negative thought that comes out first “why bother?”  The problem remains.  My…problem(s) remain, I’m just running and hiding like I always do.  It used to be with Vodka.  Then it was 7&7’s.  Then it was Jamie & Ginger’s.  Then it was wine, lots of bottles of wine.  Now it’s pints of ice cream or pieces of dark chocolate.  When I get sick of it, I’ll turn to something else–after buying bigger soft pants and investing in maternity jeans because they have that elastic top.  Then I can complain about wearing maternity jeans and not even being pregnant.

Then maybe I can become someone so different that my person will become fed-up with me.  Wonder what happened to me, or to us, then he’ll leave–then I’ll cry and find my next pint of ice cream or hide-out and cry into it while drowning in it.  Then maybe…just maybe I’ll figure out what rock bottom really is.  But even then, I don’t know if I’d bother trying to get out–and that’s where the real problem is, isn’t it?

There are spoilers in this.

So, I saw a trailer for the Human Centipede and thought “eh looks like the same kind of ‘ew’ you’d get from the Saw movies” which I think are comedies–they’re just…SO…out there I can’t even look at the guy and say “You’re psycho and it freaks me out,” instead I say “wow.” and call it a day.  And I got some comments beneath the post comparing said centipede with tool-from-garage (ish) That’ it’s more disturbing.  The gore is less, but the idea is pychotic and what allows it to be grouped and ranked with horror flicks.

shrug.  Well–now I gotta see it (i think) said I.

Talk to my brother The Smurf, whom together we create “The Middle Child” and goes “oh sister…you don’t wanna see that–but you gotta.  You don’t want to, but you have to.”  I laughed and said “sure, okay”

Last night I did.  With Ro and Sam.  Ro saw it once before, by herself and was one of the people that said it disturbed even HER.  Which is apparently not easy.  I said well, I’ll make fun of it to lighten the mood. And I did comment a few bits here and there.  But you know what–It wasn’t as disturbing as the build up.  Oops.  Sorry.  It’s gross, for sure.  It’s a crazy idea, granted.  But the scenario  in which we land in this guys house makes me roll my eyes.  And there are the defenses “it’s not the girls, it’s the doctor! he’s CRAZY” yes, and he played it well enough to pull this movie into actual horror genre, without him they have a low-grade B movie.

It is a gross thought to surgically attach someone’s mouth to another persons anus.  I got it.  It IS worse than death by drowning or fire burn, I’m agreeing with all of you.  But what the hell were the stupid girls–who were established as airheads in the beginning while on their phones–doing going SO far off the highway, or path by civilization?  I’m not gonna badly perm my hair and forget my frizz ease by John Frida, pack on racoon eyeshadow, wear a jean skirt from 1984 from the kids section and take my rental out to the middle of no where.  I’m gonna stay where there are lights, and people.  How long did they stay driving in the middle of no where before they realized “oh, I guess we’re lost?”  And why don’t they know how to change a tire?  Isn’t that something we’re all supposed to know?  No?  Well, maybe it should come with drivers ed or something.  You don’t need mechanic school, you need to be able to get back to where you can get stuff fixed.  Pull the jack out of the trunk, use the tire iron/wrench thing to remove those big lug-nut-things (yah I don’t need a techinal term to know what to do with them).  When you have successfully removed said lug-nuts, jack that car up, pull the tire off and place your spare on it. Lower car and secure it and move on.  Even in the rain and mud in your heels.  NO?  You’re right: lets wander out FURTHER in the wilderness for an HOUR and complain to one another, blaming each other then go up to the house in the middle of no where…???  It’s 2011, haven’t we seen enough scary movies to know what you’re supposed to do in times like those? Like when that japanese guy at the front of the centipede-thing stabbed the Doctors foot and leg, he needed to keep stabbing, or better yet, take that stupid scalpul and make some significan slices.  Say, wrist to elbow? across the throat?  I mean, you don’t to just injure this guy, he cut a hole around your asshole and pieces of your flesh are now attached to some strange girls face behind you.  KILL THAT BASTARD.  Geez.

But, yes, I suppose if we didn’t follow the “rules” for films like this, they’d be short films based on “what if” stories.  Those girls would’ve turned around to the highway, or where ever they were before the forrest, found their club, had their cocktails made out with some foreign boys, gone back to their hotel room drunk and with coffee the next morning and makeup smeared across their face they could bust out they’re creative side and say “wow, what if we had gotten lost on our way to the club last night? What do you think might’ve happened?…” bla bla bla–I know, it’s boring and not movie worthy.

The problem I have with horror flicks are they don’t seem like they could actually happen. THAT is what scares me.  Like in 1998 when SCREAM came out–F WORD, that is plausible ( to an extent) two guys, stabbing people with knives–I mean…that could happen, and it does.  It’s the scenarios of these horror flicks that I don’t buy–but that also keeps me safe from scary dreams and anxiety attacks brought on by being disturbed.  It is these movies, however, that I think are scary to the likes of Ro (and her kind..hahah) because of the higher intellectual place the bad guy is coming from.  I think its disturbing because she thinks about how that guy is so creepy because he’s coming up with this idea.  He was considered the best at what he did (does?) for years, separating siamese twins.  He then, at some point which never gets explained–which could also count as creepy for Ro in my opinion, not enough background story of “why” he decided to do this to dogs, then try it on humans–decides to attempt the opposite of separating, but joining.  This guy was so in love with his masterpiece he kissed his reflection in the mirror.  I laughed at that, so did sam, Ro looked away I’m sure thinking something like “how did this doctor even BECOME this horrid psychotic??”  AND even if his “background story” was explained it would never be enough, am I right?  Which also plays into his craziness.  AND it could be MORE creepy that he HAS no reason, he just said he doesn’t like humans (and he does say that in the movie) so I’m gonna do crazy shit to them.  That’s enough to freak some people out.  We always want to know why, and when we do we never go “OH!  THAT’s what happened?? Well no wonder.  I mean, I would join humans together mouth to anus too if that happened to me.  No way.  Nothing would ever make it okay.  It’s gross no matter what.  Yep, psychotic and all of that crazy in the head stuff.

And apparently, there’s a part 2 out, or coming out soon (rolls eyes and sighs).  I guess the story line is that some guy became obsessed with the “first sequence” as it was called, and then tries to do it himself but he’s not a surgeon, so it’s grosser.  Which means most of the audience will be grossed out, but probably not nearly as disturbed because they will have accepted (go with me on this) that he’s psychotic BECAUSE he’s obsessed with the movie.  There’s your background story.  It doesn’t make it okay, it just tells you why.  And now that you know why, you can say it’s still not a good reason to try stapling people together–but you’ll probably be less disturbed and more grossed out exclaiming words like “ew” followed by laughter or “What the–??!”

I’m gonna see it though, I mean: I have to.  I saw the first one, can’t stop there.  Gotta see how it all unfolds, gotta have a conversation topic over Thanksgiving while asking someone to pass the cranberry sauce.

And someone tell me why the can of fruit cocktail. That was like… a Costco size can for crying out loud.

I’m gonna watch some Castle, or Weeds, or something and have some coffee.

Sunday was the big day.  We practically had a countdown of My Darling being swarmed by a group of my close friends.

But first, we woke up in Los Osos, and got ready for the day and we headed to Bon Temps in SLOville for the Eggs Sardou.  We looked at the menu but I knew what I was going to get, and I had spoken about it before (several times) and he was looking forward to it as well.  So we both got it, he got hashbrowns and I got grits.  Man, I love grits sometimes.  I can have it with a tinge of salt n pepper with butter, or with some honey depending on my mood.  The first time I had grits I was in Russia, and I didn’t know what I was eating–but it was delicious with the scoop of butter melting on top.  But I digress.

Then it was time to head over to Seanah’s house.  Several people had RSVP’d with yummy dishes they were bringin’ along and I couldn’t wait to stuff my face with food.  We arrived and My Darling was greeted with hand shakes and hugs.  Richie was in charge of the BBQ, he had brought his pit from his house and was set to cook 2 tri tips and four chickens and some garlic bread.  Both My Darling and Ginger said they’d bring Vodka, neither of them did.  heh.  Most of us brought wine.  So that’s what we started with.  There was two kinds of potato salad, a veggie dip. Julia’s famous Guacamole, Mama Vickie’s fried rice, Jen brought a killer pasta salad–that I later ate the remainder of during a drunken snack-time feeling.  I just took that serving spoon and had at it, win–that was a huge hit among the people.  Kitten showed up with her son Peanut, and I remember upon arrival the little Caper (Atreyu) ran around the corner yelling “Autnie Fishy!!!!” and he jumped into my arms.  It was amazing.  Dominatti showed, Brenna and DaveBrewer, The Rosens, Jason Lee brought his amazing stuffed mushrooms and Anna with her Mini Me also attended.  My uncle Rik even stopped by for almost a whole minute with Devon.  (Shakes head).  Bree-Ann even made me my own personal jumbo-sized jell-o shot.  Sue brought a cake that I licked the top of and we moved from Wine to Hard Liquor as the day moved on.  People were singing, since Kevin provided the karaoke,  my brother the Smurf was there and we sang together.  In face, I believe Kevin, Smurf and I did the THE BEST rendition of Bad Romance by Lady Gaga that the world has ever seen. We skyped with Loke and her son KK.   Kevin sang Patience by My Darling’s friend Axl and my Darling slow danced with me.  He wore his white shirt that I love so much with the design on it, he jeans with a similar design and his smile.  I love the way he looks at me.  Atreyu and Nahnnah sang a few times, I actually cried at how adorable it was.  I’m pretty sure most of the women there cried.

It seemed as though the world was in a perfect place, for me and my darling.  I remember thinking that if I lived home we could probably do this every sunday.  Get together, have a cookout, sing some songs, have some drinks and love each others company.  Those thoughts soon turned into sad ones, that I DIDN’T live there, and it wouldn’t happen like that, so I moved on from the thoughts.

I don’t know if I could ever be successful on the Central Coast.  Good at something, sure; but success is different.  Success, to me, is money. And I don’t know if I’d ever have a job/career that I made good money at on the central coast.  So if/when we move back, it’s gonna be to lalaland area, with frequent visits of course.

The evening came and I was hammered, and my Darling had stopped drinking so he could drive and I held a small pow-wow with some people.  Even after knowing some of these people for 10+ years, they can still surprise me with their love and comments and encouragement.  It was nice to be honest, it was terrifying to be vulnerable.  hmmm.

Oddly enough we agreed to go to karaoke at Alex’s in Shell Beach.  Why, you ask–because we’re dumb.  hahahha  We were SOOO tired, but still I wanted to go and sing more; but no drinks…no no no, I was done with those.  heh.  I remember attempting an Adele song and not actually knowing the words or how it went.  And I remember singing Tell Him with Sue, something I’ve wanted to do for a long time and it was really difficult. hahahha  But it was fun!  She made me a scarf too,  and I wear it often.  Yay.

Sigh,  it was such a long day.  Such a good, family and friend lovin’, happy and singin’, eatin’ n drinkin’ day.  Everyone who met My Darling like him.  They hugged him and kissed his cheeks.

We drove back to Los Osos and fell asleep immediately.

I woke up next to My Darling and smooched his handsome face and exclaimed something like “I get to see the baby again today.”  He smiled and put his hands on my face kissed my forehead then nose then mouth and smiled.  We got ready for the day.  I wore a fun “block” dress.  I think that’s what Ro called it.  Black and grey striped, thick stripes at the top, thin stripes from the waist down.  It was cold so I put on black tights and brought my black boots.  Only to later strip off the tights and slap on the zories.  It was so pretty where we went, but first–the babester.

Little Bennett was (still is) so tiny and precious.  The softest skin.  The cutest little hands and feet and nose.  I smooched his little mouth over and over and just…stared at him.  Eventually my Maamm met up with us there and she, Sam and I went to Bridlewood Winery in Santa Ynez.  My Ma is a member there so she was picking up her shipment and we wine tasted I’d say…10-12 wines, then we took a bottle and went to the lake, still on the property pass the horse drawn carriage track and over the bridge by the waterfall, by a big willow tree and chips n salsa, cheese n crackers, they had olives and I didn’t, we drank wine and ate grapes then we headed home.  It was a beautiful day out there.  We drove by Neverland Ranch, although the sign was removed and it was blocked off by large orange cones, we looked over at the gate and had a mini conversation about Michael Jackson then it was quiet in the car.  Sam had fallen asleep, and I nodded off eventually.  Woke up when we got to my sisters house and I stayed to spend time with Sister and Baby Bennett, while Ma and My Darling ran a couple errands.  It was nice to just be there with her, I miss my sister, as I miss all my siblings–often.  I cuddled with the baby more and eventually put him down.  I ate some lasagna and headed up to my Ma’s house.

I curled up on the couch at Ma’s house next to My Darling and watched some TV.  Shortly after my arrival, Ginger (one of my besties in CA!) came over and curled up on the couch with us, and the three of us with my Ma and brother Rik watched “Don’t Tell Her It’s Me” which is now known as “Boyfriend School.”  A cute romantic comedy with Steve Guttenberg, and Shelly Long as brother and sister when mullets were THE thing to have.  hahahaha  Sister and my Ma and I watched it countless times years ago, now we all have it on DVD and once in a while we bust it out.  Tonight was the once in a while moment.  It was also a bit more fun because I was sipping chocolate whipped cream flavored vodka…

End of the movie all went to sleep, or home, or Los Osos.