Not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Today was another GLORIOUS day--it must have been 80 degrees, all sun and blue skies. People commented on my perkiness and customer service skills all the live long day (and I assure you, NO ONE compliments these imaginary skills).

When it's beautiful out and it's Friday, I believe that god, nature, the world, and Jose Cuervo all call for a tribute---margaritas and back porches and drinking in the afternoon. Nothing says spring like falling down drunk before 3pm.

However, this ritual is still very much a "concept" as I' ve never had the opportunity or the inclination to get truly smashed before the dinner hour--but it's always sounded like a good idea.

So today, I convinced the girls to meet up at H&J's for an impromptu Margarita Porch Party. Sadly, we weren't rallied until way after 8pm (my before-noon dream was shot to shit), but we did our best to make up for lost time once assembled. I had four Tangelo margaritas and despite my considerable bulk, I'm a hell of a lightweight. It made for an interesting evening.

We started planning both H & J's bachelorette parties, camping trips, and all kinds of nefarious plans for spring and summer fun. There was even talk of Burning Man. Should I be inclined to return, I may do so with the Lesbian Love Rumble. I felt honored to be their token straight girl--I want a t-shirt designating me as such.

And with the plans there was more drinking, and more drinking, and...macadamia nuts. Unshelled Macadamia nuts to be more specific. Someway, somehow, I got into my sozzled brain that I could shell the nuts with a common walnut nut cracker and despite everyone's insisitence that it was impossible, I made it my goal for the night to prove them wrong. I fear that I may have paid for the prize with one of my beloved opposable thumbs.

Yes, I cracked the nut....and my thumbnail. There's a huge growing bruise under the nail where I brought the nutcracker down. It hurts like a bitch and I'm learning to negotiate my nighttime routine without the aid of my beloved thumb. Gah. I felt like Forrest Gump when I had to come in nursing my smooshed thumb saying, "I'm not a smart man Jenny..." Shit. This is going to hurt tomorrow when I have to go to class and take notes---nevermind the inevitable hangover.

Damn.

But despite injury to person, it was a GREAT evening. I love my friends! I love spring! I love tequila (at least until tomorrow morning). Life is beautiful!

(no subject)

Hurray for no hangovers!

Boo for this side of 25.

Girls, here's a tip--once you cross the magic line dividing your 20's, your skin will look like shit after a night of drinking. Hands down. Luckily, I drank all kinds of water last night and despite being drunk, paid extra special attention to my skin care routine--I even slathered a ton of my "very expensive" moisturizer and my rarely used eye cream on in anticipation of today's Cruella De Ville a la a night of margaritas look. When I woke up, I was fine in every single way. I think there's something to be said for the expensive stuff.

Hoorah.

I went to class, it sucked. I think I'm going to do my final paper on prison rape or abortion. Today we talked about teen pregnancy rates in other countries and I was the only one who asked what the impact of availability and social acceptance of abortion might have been on the statistics. It amazed me when many women in class responded with, "Anyone can get an abortion" and "it's free." I spent several minutes of the class time explaining that those statements were not true, especially when stepping out of our happy little state of California. It's interesting how little most of us know about things that can potentially impact our lives so greatly.

I didn't go to Starbucks today because I didn't want to. That was a major victory.

I scoured this godforsaken town for a map of China, unsuccessfully, and went to the evil empire (Old Navy) to buy a gift card for my baby sister's birthday.
I even managed to slink over to the larger women's clothing store and Ross in search of flip flops and t-shirts.
I have a complaint. Just because you're a larger woman, it does not mean that you are either a child or a whore (the Ross options) or built like a box (Lane Bryant, Avenue, etc.). I have tits, I have an ass--I'd like them recognized but not auctioned, covered but not cloistered. As a larger woman, that's almost impossible. It makes me wonder who the hell designs the crap that lines the shelves of these stores that are theoretically catering to my needs, because they clearly have no appreciation or understanding for a fat woman's body. Needless to say, I wasn't particularly successful in my search, but I did wind up with some flip-flops (from the Men's Department--who the fuck thought putting a heel on flip flops was a good idea? or making the straps out of hard plastic so you'll never be comfortable? WTF?) and a tank top from the Old Navy "intimates" collection (a top which my breasts are destined to hang out of---but it's all I could get). It's not all I need for the warmer weather, but it's a start.

I got very frugal today on my adventures. My prescription drug worries paired with the looming expenses of much-needed new tennis shoes and Chacos (I can't wear shitty unsupportive shoes or my feet punish me--reference my dance with plantar facitiis last year). Life is expensive and just when you think you've gotten to a place where you can close your wallet, there's something else that needs attending to. I'm so glad I don't have to do all of this with a kid--I have no idea how I'd make it.

I'm thankful for my decisions.

Sidebar: I hated college with a passion unparalleled. I'm not sure if it was the school or simply my experience with the school, but I got very icked out driving by my old college campus today.