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My winter wardrobe is almost entirely black and grey. Like, the clothes most often in my rotation were, as follows: black pants, grey pants, long black skirt, grey skirt that hit around the knee, grey and black vertically striped skirt, and black corduroy skirt that hit around the knee, with a variety of shirts and sweaters on top. I came to work every day looking like I was on my way to/from a wake.
Now I'm segueing into springier clothes and have discovered that I'm buying tons of brown. And own tons of brown. Could I be more boring? The problem is (and I know this is riveting, really), I'm not sure all my browns match. Today I mixed and matched this brown sleeveless shirt with a tan button down over it which I usually wear with this long brown skirt I got with it, but today I'm wearing it with these newly-purchased brown pants. And I'm not sure the browns match perfectly. My mother says it's no big deal but I'm obsessing. Anytime anyone looks at me I'm tempted to screech, "I know! I don't match! STOP STARING AT ME!!!!"
Now, I just don't get why my mother thinks I'm neurotic and obsess over stupid things. Silly mothers.
Anyhoo. Obligatory Embarrassing Lunch Episode of the Week: Today I went to my regular lunch place, where I have become a regular and thusly have a "usual" which is really kind of thrilling. I feel like a recurring character in some show about a deli. Oh God, how lame am I. Must get out more and stop equating everything to TV shows. Anyhoo! I go there every day and today it was raining and, naturally, I had left my umbrella in the most convenient place possible (in the backseat of my car on the fourth level of the parking garage located in the opposite direction from my office of the lunch place), and so I'd resigned myself to being Drowned Rat Temp for the rest of the day when I was saved! By the office accountant, who lent me her umbrella for the lunch hour. Some gentle ribbing ensued from other office staff, all "don't lose it!" I hadn't realized that the office is already so completely aware of my flakiness.
After assuring everyone I would not lose the umbrella, I dashed off to lunch with this massive umbrella that could shield the Jets' offensive line from the elements, happy and dry, if feeling a smidge of muscle strain from keeping the wind from whipping the umbrella off to the heavens. And then I got to lunch, ordered, and when I had to pay, placed the umbrella down on the counter next to the cash register and thought to myself, "Now Jess. Don't forget you put that there! You can't lose someone else's umbrella!"
Lalala, fast forward through delicious lunch (seriously, this place has the BEST SALAD EVER -- lettuce, dried cranberries, almonds, shredded carrots, tomato, pear slices, and almonds with orange-cranberry vinagrette) spent reading Dostoevsky (ok, ok, a young adult novel). I got up to leave at the end and -- horror of horrors -- THE UMBRELLA WAS NOT WITH ME! Proceeded to have traumatic wavy-lined flashback to placing the umbrella next to the cash register, and whipped my head around to look at the counter and saw how totally not there it was. !!! Did someone steal it? I was dying.
Before I made it to the register, I spotted it out of the corner of my eye leaned up against the wall and raced over to grab it, all "Oh my goodness! Is this anyone's? I think this is mine!" The kindly deli staff were all, "It's YOURS?!" with an amount of surprise in their voice that kind of threw me off because, hello, yes, I'm a customer, is it really that unlikely that it would be mine?
And THEN the deli owner says, "I sent my son running out of here after people when we noticed it lying here! We thought someone had left it behind and when no one here said it was theirs, he ran around the block trying to find these two men who had just left! It was yours?"
And then I died. Seriously. Died of embarrassment. I'm posting from beyond the grave here (little did you know there was an LJ kiosk by the pearly gates).
How did I not hear this? Or notice this was going on? I mean, okay, I wasn't sitting right next to the door. I was sitting a FULL THREE FEET AWAY. There was one (1) small table for two between me and the door and I didn't SEE the guy race out there with MY BORROWED UMBRELLA?! I should be placed in a special school, with courses like "Common Sense 101: From Clothes Coordination to Simple Social Graces" and "Paying Attention for Dummies".
It's a family trait, though, so it's not completely my fault. My aunt went on vacation with my family once and was blown away by how much we talk without hearing each other. We're all very good at tuning the world out, to the point that it takes three to five minutes to get any conversation started (I don't think I've ever had a conversation with my father that did not involve calling his name seven times).
Anyway. I felt so bad! He ran out in the rain! And I totally missed it! It was so embarrassing. Not embarrassing enough to keep me from going back, though. I enjoy the yummy salad far too much.
In other news: Tonight I go out with the Nana, who wants to go see Bringing Down the House because she's a big fan of Queen Latifah. My Nana's the best.
( and an interesting lotr/virtue quiz behind the cut tag )
Now I'm segueing into springier clothes and have discovered that I'm buying tons of brown. And own tons of brown. Could I be more boring? The problem is (and I know this is riveting, really), I'm not sure all my browns match. Today I mixed and matched this brown sleeveless shirt with a tan button down over it which I usually wear with this long brown skirt I got with it, but today I'm wearing it with these newly-purchased brown pants. And I'm not sure the browns match perfectly. My mother says it's no big deal but I'm obsessing. Anytime anyone looks at me I'm tempted to screech, "I know! I don't match! STOP STARING AT ME!!!!"
Now, I just don't get why my mother thinks I'm neurotic and obsess over stupid things. Silly mothers.
Anyhoo. Obligatory Embarrassing Lunch Episode of the Week: Today I went to my regular lunch place, where I have become a regular and thusly have a "usual" which is really kind of thrilling. I feel like a recurring character in some show about a deli. Oh God, how lame am I. Must get out more and stop equating everything to TV shows. Anyhoo! I go there every day and today it was raining and, naturally, I had left my umbrella in the most convenient place possible (in the backseat of my car on the fourth level of the parking garage located in the opposite direction from my office of the lunch place), and so I'd resigned myself to being Drowned Rat Temp for the rest of the day when I was saved! By the office accountant, who lent me her umbrella for the lunch hour. Some gentle ribbing ensued from other office staff, all "don't lose it!" I hadn't realized that the office is already so completely aware of my flakiness.
After assuring everyone I would not lose the umbrella, I dashed off to lunch with this massive umbrella that could shield the Jets' offensive line from the elements, happy and dry, if feeling a smidge of muscle strain from keeping the wind from whipping the umbrella off to the heavens. And then I got to lunch, ordered, and when I had to pay, placed the umbrella down on the counter next to the cash register and thought to myself, "Now Jess. Don't forget you put that there! You can't lose someone else's umbrella!"
Lalala, fast forward through delicious lunch (seriously, this place has the BEST SALAD EVER -- lettuce, dried cranberries, almonds, shredded carrots, tomato, pear slices, and almonds with orange-cranberry vinagrette) spent reading Dostoevsky (ok, ok, a young adult novel). I got up to leave at the end and -- horror of horrors -- THE UMBRELLA WAS NOT WITH ME! Proceeded to have traumatic wavy-lined flashback to placing the umbrella next to the cash register, and whipped my head around to look at the counter and saw how totally not there it was. !!! Did someone steal it? I was dying.
Before I made it to the register, I spotted it out of the corner of my eye leaned up against the wall and raced over to grab it, all "Oh my goodness! Is this anyone's? I think this is mine!" The kindly deli staff were all, "It's YOURS?!" with an amount of surprise in their voice that kind of threw me off because, hello, yes, I'm a customer, is it really that unlikely that it would be mine?
And THEN the deli owner says, "I sent my son running out of here after people when we noticed it lying here! We thought someone had left it behind and when no one here said it was theirs, he ran around the block trying to find these two men who had just left! It was yours?"
And then I died. Seriously. Died of embarrassment. I'm posting from beyond the grave here (little did you know there was an LJ kiosk by the pearly gates).
How did I not hear this? Or notice this was going on? I mean, okay, I wasn't sitting right next to the door. I was sitting a FULL THREE FEET AWAY. There was one (1) small table for two between me and the door and I didn't SEE the guy race out there with MY BORROWED UMBRELLA?! I should be placed in a special school, with courses like "Common Sense 101: From Clothes Coordination to Simple Social Graces" and "Paying Attention for Dummies".
It's a family trait, though, so it's not completely my fault. My aunt went on vacation with my family once and was blown away by how much we talk without hearing each other. We're all very good at tuning the world out, to the point that it takes three to five minutes to get any conversation started (I don't think I've ever had a conversation with my father that did not involve calling his name seven times).
Anyway. I felt so bad! He ran out in the rain! And I totally missed it! It was so embarrassing. Not embarrassing enough to keep me from going back, though. I enjoy the yummy salad far too much.
In other news: Tonight I go out with the Nana, who wants to go see Bringing Down the House because she's a big fan of Queen Latifah. My Nana's the best.
( and an interesting lotr/virtue quiz behind the cut tag )
