The Christmas season has officially arrived and it's taken a big crap on the city of Cincinnati. Now, I know you're saying, Alyssa, you do not live in Cincinnati; stop pretending you do! And you'd be right, but I don't much care. You have to go into Cincy if you want to do anything anyway, so I just pretend like I live there. Nobody's heard of Ft. Thomas anyway, and if they have, they ask me if I'm a "cake eater" - that is the nickname given to our high school because apparently we are all rich snobs and want to have a our cake and eat it, too. Actually, I'm not a cake eater, although I am enjoying some lovely pancakes left over from this morning's trip to First Watch, which is a super little breakfast/brunch/lunch restaurant.
Well, you will all be happy to know that my eyes are a-ok! Yippee! I'm not going blind. So, while my mom and I were waiting in the waiting room, we were treated to some muzak, which I think is like the best form of music ever invented and also the worst. I can't explain it. I absolutely love it, but it's horrible. Kind of like my affinity for mullets. Anyway, some songs should never be set to muzak, like anything by Fleetwood Mac or R.E.M. Trust me.
So, I went shopping with my mom and stepdad today. Let me just explain to you what this experience is like. First, we circle the entire department of whatever we're looking for, i.e. men's pants. We do this about 6 times, each time feeling every article of clothing. Then, we spend 20 minutes rummaging through every pair of pants there, looking for a particular size, and, in this case, pleats. At this point, I want to point out that when my stepdad wears pleats, he looks like he's got way too much going on in the nether regions. He has some hips. Anyway, back to my story. We spend forever looking for the damn things, and we find them, hold them up, and decide that we don't really want them in the first place. What the hell? Where did I put that Calgon???
So, funny story related to this: I was so used to going through and touching all the clothes that I accidentally went up to a woman and touched her shirt. Oops. That was quite embarassing.
The weird thing about the fort is that it's full of all these uppity, well-to-do folks (I don't not fall into this category, by the way. My dad is neither a doctor, nor is he an orthodontist, and my mother was NEVER a member of the PTA), but the town itself is surrounded by all of these little towns which are not quite up to Ft. Thomas par, shall we say. I know it sounds snobby of me, but I'm trying to make my point clear. Anyway, if you want to go anywhere, like to the grocery store, the mall, to get gas, etc. you have to drive into one of these towns. So, Mom decides that she NEEDS to have one of those "candy coffees," as my stepsister Melanie calls them, and we must venture out to the local Speedway, in Southgate. It was mullet-palooza! I've never seen so many rednecks gather in one place at one time. There must have been some sort of signal that summoned them all and Speedway is their mecca. All I can say is that I wish I'd had my camera. Nothing says class quite like a fatigue-sporting fellow on the local pay phone with a GPC hanging out of his mouth sporting a curly mullet poking out of a nascar cap. Yee haw!
I must be off now. The 'rents are watching "Rocky" and I feel the need to join in.
Oh, I realy have to go now! Are You Being Served? is on! If you have never watched this show, I don't want to know you! Mr. Humphries is my man!
My apologies and a farewell??? - 2005-10-20
It should be Friday somewhere. - 2005-10-03
It's Friday again! - 2005-10-01
Amendment to previous entry... - 2005-09-26
Longer than I intended. It's to tide you over for another week. - 2005-09-23