i pass through the doors and see all of the wonderful racks of clothes. knowing full well that they rob you blind in this place, i still was eager to unload my wares and eventually get a check in the mail for a few hundred buckaroos. i see the teenage fashion victim salesperson, clad head to toe in what looked to be marc jacobs and costume national (covet.). she looks snarky, but then again, this is beacon hill and i look like a drenched carpet bagger. now, as some of us know, i lost quite a bit of weight about a year ago (thank you, stay-at-home-moms and aged jewish women of weight watchers). so, naturally many of my clothes no longer fit. it wasn't like i was huge before; i'm just smaller now. anyways, back to the show. so, the salesteenager is a mean whore to me from the beginning, taking my bag from me and sorting through my wares. when i tried to explain about a pair of shoes, she said, "you can look around while i look through these" to brush me off. she was a real sweetheart. she goes about her bizness, putting her icky petty bourgoise hands all over my stuff, contorting her face at certain items as if i have no fashion sense. i wanted to drop kick her, but had my eye on the prize of consigning as many items as possible and boarding the train for the long commute home, the glow of future money making in my cheeks. she gets to a david meister gown that i wore to a charity function a year or so ago. it's midnight blue, old hollywood style, and fucking gorgeous. not to mention it was expensive and purchased at neiman marcus. oh, and it's a size 12. she holds it up and says, "we don't accept plus sizes here." i nearly pissed myself. "that's not a plus size; it's a 12." now, even though i no longer wear a size 12, i am taking offense and feeling bad for any other patrons in the store who are overhearing this willowy bitch being, well, a bitch. she glares at me and says, "let me put it this way - we don't have many people who come in here looking for size 12," as if there are no normally-sized persons in beacon hill (yeah fucking right). i realize this is a losing battle and the dayquil is making me loopy and uncensored (which actually felt kind of cool, like being an out-of-control hobo for halloween). i gather up all of my goods, shove them back into my bag, whilst she's saying "what are you doing?" i head for the door, but just before i reach the door, i turn to her, ever so dramatically and say, "you know, i have the flu. but if i had the energy, i'd tell you to go fuck yourself." i realize, of course, that i essentially did. but that's what makes what i said so cool and whogivesashit. what i really meant to say was, "if i had the energy, i'd snap you over my knee," but i only thought of that as i was boarding the train. how do people get away with being so rat nasty to customers - or to people in general? thank god i'm moving to chicago. while it might not be perfect, i have a sneaking suspicion that the midwest is not as chock full o' these ridiculous, entitled little vineyard vines, baby pink red sox hat wearing groupies who went to wellesley academy and think that the cape is the only beach in the world.
i'm hopped up on caffeine. damn you, job hunt stress! i tell ya, i had a weekend of nervousness, but this evening somewhat redeemed me. tomorrow, i plan to stroll into work, bang out a wicked presentation (not before analyzing a spreadsheet of 400+ pages. nice.), send out 5 applications to big consulting firms, and run 3 miles, all before 5pm. that could be the super strong coffee that i had at 10pm talking, but i know that i won't feel good about my october trip if i haven't given it my all. speaking of my all, i could be a borderline stalker. this organization that i am madly in love with, that is tres exclusive (i've talked to a few folks there and they seem interested in meeting, but oddly aloof), i found out is going to be at the kennedy school of government consulting fair on monday. i saw this on the org's website and thought, "a ha! fate!" - but subsequent research shows the career fair to be listed on the ksg website, but the details to be not disclosed (ie. it's only for ksg students). hmph. so, i'm thinking about finding out where it is, showing up (sneaking in, if i have to), and introducing myself to the president and founder of the org (who i've had an email exchange with). would this be creepy? i can't tell. because right now this sounds like an awesome idea, a real way to show interest and moxie. your feedback is appreciated. heck, i've crashed ksg events before. my mind goes to the ksg event at the state house that dan black took me and kristen behnke to. everyone was wearing suits and i was wearing jeans. by the end of the night, i was hammered and some chick from cape verde recruited me to be a model for her clothing line (turned out her clothing line was comprised of tube tops and mini skirts which were modeled in bars. it was a no-go). it was a fun time listening to all those harvard folks pontificate about how they were going to revolutionize politics and save the world. some of the conversations i had with folks were hysterical and bordered on the dialogue from the show 'frasier' where someone asks frasier where he went to school. he snobbily says, "harvard" and the person talking with him says affectionately, "oh, i always wanted to go there." frasier proceeds to yak about how exclusive harvard is and then asks his companion where he attended school. his snobbery is silenced when the guy answers, "oxford." i'm certainly no academic genius, but it's funny to see people catch themselves when they're being ivy league elitists.
on another note, i went to the mall today with veronica and her two babes, aged 3 and 8 months. hi, they're amazing and lovely and beautiful - and AWESOME birth control, as if i needed it. maileah, the 3 year old, is a dear heart/bipolar wild child as all toddlers are, but we had a nice day where i let her be my clothing advisor at old navy (she opened the dressing room door thrice while i was changing) and watched as she picked cranberries out of my salad, licked them, and threw them back on my plate (all the while, i'm like (channeling my inner social worker/day care center drone from back in the day), "ma'am, can you behave like a lady, please?" to which she'd respond with a nonchalant, "nope."). she also has an obsession with juice. veronica is smart in that she waters down juice to the point where it's no longer recognizable as juice, but the kid is a hummingbird. some of the choicest phrases of the day from her were, "hey, what's that?" (said about and to everything); "max and ruby, ruby and max. you've never watched ruby and max? hey, you need to get with the program;" and "mama, i want juice. i want zapatos! i want piggies!!!" (said over and over again in the car). it was amazing to see veronica do her thing - truly, i'm in awe. she's an amazingly patient, nurturing, unphased mother. we were both tired by the end of the excursion and took naps at our respective homes and i got those wicked shoes with the shit on the toe (as seen below).
i am now going to read the ikea catalogue in the hopes that it will lull me to sleep. goodnight, fair readers and friends. oh, and many thanks to those who called, emailed, sang, and sent well-wishes for a speedy recovery. big smooches to you all.
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