I went to Yankeeland and all I got was some stupid rocks
Yesterday I took a break from stuff and went exploring with bratchild. I was in search of the mythical HomeGoods-a rare and highly hyped destination. We have Marshalls and TJ Maxx and, don’t get me wrong, they are fantastic but since my main love affair is with the random home crap you have to have but never knew existed-I was all about exploring a HomeGoods-like a Spaniard discovering the new world, I was off to find my city of gold.
And? I bought rocks. Some other things too. But yes, rocks. There were plenty of things I wanted but I didn’t have a way to get them home. Using Mitt Romney as inspiration, I suppose I could have strapped a chair to the top of the car but I didn’t want that to come back and bite me in the ass should I run for office one day. And, it is a pretty big ass chair:
I'm a writer...I like stuff with words and letters.
And I found the aforementioned rocks. I like to do crafty things and needed rocks for some terrariums I am working on PLUS they had lightweight faux rocks covered in moss which now means I don’t have to cover real rocks in moss. I’m pretty excited about it.
Most of all? I can’t WAIT for J to be loading up the trunk and to innocently lift the rock bag and say, “what on earth do you have in here-rocks?” Mainly so I can say, “exactly” and collapse in giggles.
- Yup…rocks.
One thing I noticed while we were driving around neighborhoods and shopping centers was the large amount of random women hanging out on the street. I was telling J that I didn’t know they had such a problem with prostitutes up here but at least they were dressed sensibly.
Me: I just can’t believe how many hookers were standing around everywhere I went but they were all bundled up and dressed for the cold weather so that’s good.
J: What do you mean hookers were everywhere?
Me: We’d see them all over, just standing on the side of the road-I guess it’s not true they just work corners.
J: And you were around shopping centers and neighborhoods?
Me: Yes, I guess high traffic areas are good for business.
J: (laughing uncontrollably) Those aren’t hookers, they were waiting for buses.
And that’s how unfamiliar with public transportation I am. I couldn’t grasp that people would be waiting for buses and assumed they were all hookers. Wearing scarves and coats in the middle of the day. Since my town doesn’t really have buses, prostitution seemed the next likely step.
One day I will remember to share my story about a previous trip to Baltimore where I had a conversation about shoes with a working girl, a man with his face wrapped in Saran Wrap wanted to box me for money, a nation of Islam man tried to give me pies and a newspaper and I stumbled onto a protest by militant Hari Krishnas…
Fish may get us kicked out of this hotel
It would surprise many of you to know, that no, my family does not often (read ever) get kicked out of places. In fact, the last TWO times I was kicked out of somewhere they weren’t involved in the slightest.
The most recent time was several years ago at a Gap in Birmingham when I called an employee gay and the manager said we don’t allow that kind of talk. Despite the fact that the employee had said to me he was “a big old fag” and agreed with me that yes, jeans should not be cut so low that your clitoris hangs out. The Gap is not as hip and understanding as they would like you to believe. The employee was not at ALL offended and probably would have defended me had he not been collapsed in giggles in the fitting room next to a mountain of unsuitable, clitoris exposing jeans.
The time before that I was kicked out of a country western bar in Huntsville while I was in college and my sister was in high school and dating a boy I liked to call Rodeo Bob. This was the kind of bar they let teenagers go to and I got in trouble for (barely) underage drinking. (How else do you make a country western bar with old people line dancing and 16 year olds thinking they’re cool bearable?) I’m pleased as spiked punch to say she broke up with him not too long after as, hi we called him Rodeo Bob TO HIS FACE and he was clueless. He actually thought he was going to be invited to my wedding-the first one at any rate. I am sure by the second he had given up any delusions or I would hope so as I never liked him in the first place. (My sister should have listened to me. She should also set up a blog.)
Regardless, I am fairly certain we may be well on our way to being kicked out of the hotel we are currently inhabiting. I love hotel life. I work in the morning, screw off on the internet, ride the stationary bike, get in the hot tub and schedule my activities around what time the hotel puts out the fresh cookies and what time the manager’s reception with free wine starts. I could totally live in a hotel. They have people to change your sheets. If they just had someone to come blowdry my hair I wouldn’t have to want a sister-wife anymore. They even have people to DRIVE me places-if I wasn’t so much of a control freak I could stand to schedule the courtesy shuttle.
Last night I had to miss the free cookies and wine because I was hiding from a super annoying person and, no, I am not married to him. I should see if they will deliver to my room…
This hotel also has a fish pond which bratchild loves. Also? Children will do anything for money. This is important to know going into this.
J: I will give you $10 if you can catch one of those fish.
Bratchild: Really? I totally will.
J: Really. Catch a fish and I will give you the cash.
Bratchild: general squeals of excitement.
Me: You know she’s totally going to fall in the pond trying to catch a fish with her bare hands.
J: Uh, yeah. She’s going to have to get in the pond to catch the fish. That’s kind of the point.
Me: We’re totally going to get kicked out of this hotel.
J: And it will be well worth it…and the ten dollars.
Stay tuned…the fish are circling like they know something is up.
How does my spellcheck not recognize sister-wife and bratchild at this point in time? My phone totally does. Plus, it can text predict Nordstrom for me…
