NOT born to shop.
Nov. 13th, 2004 03:06 pmWelcome to the crazy farm.
Wendy-- my best friend from high school-- and Derrick-- a kid who graduated from the same high school a year before us-- are both coming and moving in with me and Tom just after Thanksgiving. They should be here between the 30th and 2nd.
My household just doubled.
Tom already found us a new apartment, which we will be looking at and (no doubt) be making the deposit on tomorrow evening. It's a recently remodeled three-bedroom a block from the art institute and three from Nicolet Ave, and they mostly rent out to graduate students and young professionals. Off-street parking, laundry, all utilities except electric included, first month's rent waived, 1200/month.
Swweeeeeeeeeet.
I have to be a little more careful with my money right now, as I will be making the deposit, and we're gonna need a U-Haul, and we're gonna need some more furniture (such as futons for everyone except Tom), etc. ect.
That said, I just went clothes shopping and blew 240$.
It hurts me.
But...I haven't really gone clothes shopping in since junior high, so I guess it's about time. I was having a panic attack in the middle of an aisle-- heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, chest pain, emotional distress-- because I was so completely freaked out by the idea of wasting money on clothes; I had to retionalize it by saying to myself that I would even think twice if I was buying books instead of clothes, and books are a lot less practical. Still, I feel really uneasy about it.
Call me sexist, but I just thought that all women could just naturally clothes shop and know what to buy and so on and so forth...but damn, I don't know how to shop! And I don't like it, either. Hours in freakin' Target trying on clothes that are too small, strain across my bust, too big, the wrong color, sweating as I change in and out of outfits, bumpng my elbows into the fitting room walls, steering my cart into racks of sweaters, my hair sticking up and all-around looking and feeling frumpy and frazzled.
...sigh...
I'm slowly working up my courage to ask Theresa-san (aka: HotASLLady) out. It's stress-inducing. I'm unhappy about it. I'm going to do it anyway so that no one can call my a coward and say I didn't try.
God, I hope she likes Italian.
AND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE CHILDREN:
Stop being weird and talking about one another and sex in public. Stop being judgemental. Stop qualifying yourselves.
Or, if you want to do those things, do it face to face.
...yeah, you know I'm talking about you.
Wendy-- my best friend from high school-- and Derrick-- a kid who graduated from the same high school a year before us-- are both coming and moving in with me and Tom just after Thanksgiving. They should be here between the 30th and 2nd.
My household just doubled.
Tom already found us a new apartment, which we will be looking at and (no doubt) be making the deposit on tomorrow evening. It's a recently remodeled three-bedroom a block from the art institute and three from Nicolet Ave, and they mostly rent out to graduate students and young professionals. Off-street parking, laundry, all utilities except electric included, first month's rent waived, 1200/month.
Swweeeeeeeeeet.
I have to be a little more careful with my money right now, as I will be making the deposit, and we're gonna need a U-Haul, and we're gonna need some more furniture (such as futons for everyone except Tom), etc. ect.
That said, I just went clothes shopping and blew 240$.
It hurts me.
But...I haven't really gone clothes shopping in since junior high, so I guess it's about time. I was having a panic attack in the middle of an aisle-- heart palpitations, difficulty breathing, chest pain, emotional distress-- because I was so completely freaked out by the idea of wasting money on clothes; I had to retionalize it by saying to myself that I would even think twice if I was buying books instead of clothes, and books are a lot less practical. Still, I feel really uneasy about it.
Call me sexist, but I just thought that all women could just naturally clothes shop and know what to buy and so on and so forth...but damn, I don't know how to shop! And I don't like it, either. Hours in freakin' Target trying on clothes that are too small, strain across my bust, too big, the wrong color, sweating as I change in and out of outfits, bumpng my elbows into the fitting room walls, steering my cart into racks of sweaters, my hair sticking up and all-around looking and feeling frumpy and frazzled.
...sigh...
I'm slowly working up my courage to ask Theresa-san (aka: HotASLLady) out. It's stress-inducing. I'm unhappy about it. I'm going to do it anyway so that no one can call my a coward and say I didn't try.
God, I hope she likes Italian.
AND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE CHILDREN:
Stop being weird and talking about one another and sex in public. Stop being judgemental. Stop qualifying yourselves.
Or, if you want to do those things, do it face to face.
...yeah, you know I'm talking about you.
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