15 October 2008

Oh, the weekend...

Columbus Day Weekend has come and gone, and it has been my most eventful one to date. Some of that may be because, all through school, both high school and my undergrad, I never had Columbus day off. Why? Beats me, since it is a national holiday and all. But it doesn't really matter. What matters is that this year I was able to take a full day off of everything. And, as if that wasn't wonderful enough, that came on top of an eventful weekend.

Saturday, my family and I spent the day up at Woodbury Commons, a huge, ritzy factory outlet mall in New York. It’s a place we've known about for years, and have always wanted to go to, but just never quite got around to it. Beautiful buildings, on a beautiful day, combined with beautiful and bountiful shopping opportunities. What could be better?

Well, as it turns out, the novelty of shopping in a place that houses couture designers wears off quickly once you realize that no, you can't afford that Fendi purse on your grad student budget, and that no, no matter how much you wish and hope, those Jimmy Choos will never be in your closet because they cost more than your entire wardrobe put together. I went with some money I had socked away so that I could buy myself one, really nice, name brand thing. I left with most of that money, a jersey wrap dress from GAP for 50% off, a two dollar silicone egg poacher that I really only bought because of its immense cute factor, and a GorillaPod tripod, the one purchase of the day I wouldn't have been able to get at The OBF Mall right around the corner (found that at Eddie Bauer, of all places). Oh well, at least I still have that money socked away. I've had my eye on a vintage coat on Etsy for a while now (the link for which I will not share until I make up my mind, because I'm selfish like that). Maybe I'll spend the money on that. As if I need more coats.

My brother, on the other hand, had far better luck than I. Brooks Brothers was having a huge sidewalk sale. Now, I wonder sometimes if the two of us are actually related, since my brother is financially savvy and because of that, he can afford that stuff every once and a while. Jealousy? Thy name is Lunaticraft. It's alright though, I console myself by repeating the mantra that in a year he'll have massive student loans, just like I do. In fact, he'll probably have even more, since the schools he's looking at give squat in financial aid... Although, he will bear the brunt of the debt in designer clothes, so it might be worth it.

Sunday, I did some politically oriented stuff, which I'm not going to really get into, because I know I'll end up turning this into a soapbox on which I will undoubtedly stand. And the thing about me standing on soapboxes? I have a terrible sense of balance, and it can be dangerous. Plus, nobody cares about the local politics of OBF anyway. What matters is that I enjoyed myself.

Then came glorious Monday. Words I never thought would come out of my mouth or my fingers onto a page. A day filled with relaxation, some scattered cleaning, watching of old Gilmore Girls episodes (the Dean vs. Jess ones are the best), and decorating for Halloween with my mom. But, I'll save photos of that for Friday.

Unfortunately not everything on Monday ended up being wonderful... one horrifying revelation accompanied the relaxing and the decorating: I ate a whole stick of butter. By myself. Now, before you judge, it's not like I sat there snacking away at a stick of butter like it was a popsicle or something. It was unintentional, and went unrealized until I reached in to grab more for toast. The stick was gone. Between putting it on top of things, and adding it to my cooking, I managed to consume a whole stick by myself. If that's not a sign that my eating habits need to change, then I don't know what is. My body did exact its revenge in the form of incredibly bizarre dreams.

No, it doesn't involve 'Salka in a silly getup. That one's not a dream. So, the funniest real dream, and the one I will share, involves me being back in high school without changing age. Always great dream territory, isn't it? So anyway, Nick Stokes from CSI (not George Eads, the actor who plays him, but rather the character of Nick Stokes complete with Crime Scene Vest and Kit), was teaching my class Social Studies (not history, but social studies, even though the actual topic being covered is history), and he was explaining the evolution of the Parliamentary system of England all wrong. So I'm sitting in my seat (the same seat I sat in during 9th grade when we watched the news as the Twin Towers fell) getting more and more frustrated. The rage is building with every wrong fact and inaccurate metaphor or comparison, and I can feel the corrections bubbling in my throat, but I can't speak up for some reason. Finally, everything boils over. I leap out of my seat, my degree in History (which in real life I do not yet have) magically appearing in my hands, and shout in my also magically acquired British accent, "NO! You're WRONG! Stick with the dead bodies and Texan accents, you f***wit!" Then, the classroom door bursts open and the principal rushes into the classroom. He just happens to be Henry VIII, who then shouts, "Off with her head!" ala the Queen of Hearts, and proceeds to swallow me whole like a boa constrictor. So he's sitting there in this classroom, now looking like Jabba the Hut (although by the time he died, the real Henry VIII kind of looked like that anyway), with all my classmates, and the "teacher" staring at him. That's when I woke up.

So, needless to say, from now on I'm definitely monitoring my butter intake.


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