Stalker Shopper

The weekends this month have been pretty tame after being completely packed in September with mini vacations and visitors from out of town. I've mostly been shopping to prepare for the cold weather which has already hit. It's freezing out here now!

Earlier in the month I was shopping with a friend at Zara. As I still haven't learned to dress myself beyond solids and neutrals, my fashion savvy friend picked out most of the items, piling piece after piece over my overloaded arm. At one point, she pulled a cute, checkered dress off of a rack, the last in its size, as another lady was thumbing through the batch. Over my arm the dress went, as my friend disappeared off to pick out a few work pieces for herself.

With that, I ambled over to the solids and neutrals, suddenly feeling that I was being followed. Why was the same lady around me everywhere I turned? As I thumbed through the navys, she was behind me thumbing through the purples. If I was near the whites, she was right across from me at the beiges.

And then....tap tap tap. Someone was tapping my shoulder.

Me: Yes?

Lady: What size is that dress?

Me: Huh?

Lady: What size is that dress?

Me: I don't know. Here, look at the tag.

A complete look of scorn covered her face. She was pissed. It was the last in its size, and apparently hers. I left to tell my friend that I was going to the dressing room.

A small line formed outside of the dressing room. The lady was there, causing a ruckus among the staff. She needed that dress. They would get her the dress from another store in a week. She would take no chances. She needed it now. Frustrated, the staff went to search the racks and stock room one more time.

And then...tap tap tap. Hmm...I wonder who that could be? I turned around.

Lady: Can you let me know if you aren't going to buy that dress? I need it.

Me: Alright.

She really needed the dress. She waited outside my dressing room the whole time as the staff searched and searced for another in that size. Feeling the pressure, I decided to try the dress on first.

Too big. I looked like a checkered cream puff. I took the dress off, put on something else and then pushed back the curtain.

Me: It doesn't fit. Here, it's yours.

A sigh of relief, and the shopping devil exited her body. She flashed a warm, happy smile and thanked me. The staff was happy too now, despite the looks they gave behind her back.

After shopping with my friend, I met up with the Boy. He wanted to get a few shirts from the GAP, so I went with him. As we first entered the store, he spotted two coats that he thought I might like. One was white, the other beige. There was only one coat left in each color in my size, and he pulled them both.

The white one looked a little bit too big. The beige one fit, but it was missing many buttons. I asked the staff to check the stock room for another in my size, complaining that the one I had was missing buttons everywhere. They had it! One more left in my size in perfect condition. I was so excited! I'd been looking for a coat that fit that wasn't going to cost me a good portion of my monthly salary for a while now. But I was still not sure which one I wanted. I really wanted a white coat.

They brought the coat over to me from stock, and then I felt it. Paranoia set in, and the shopping devil entered. Everyone was sifting through the beige coat rack looking for one in my size. I watched lady after lady move to another rack with dissapointment, as I was holding the last coat in its size. I refused to put it down. I knew if I let it go for a second to try on other coats, it would be snatched away. I needed that coat. As I picked up a couple of other coats to try on in front of a mirror, I lodged the beige on in between my knees, vigilant of those that wanted to take it. Not until the ping! of the cash register after I purchased my new beige coat did I finally breathe a sigh of relief. The shopping devil was now exiting.

A Picture of Your Brain on Crack...

Tips on how to handle people with poor social skills:

5:30PM at work

Ring, ring!

Me: Hello, LANYTransplant speaking.

Verbal silence with some background noise for longer than a telemarketer's pause <=Tip #1: When calling others, answer promptly. It helps to pay attention.

Me: Hello?

Caller (harshly): Who is this?! <=Tip #2: This question is usually reserved for the receiver of the call to pose, not the caller. Refrain from calling when you don't know who you're calling.

Caller: Who are you?!! This is my boyfriend's phone. Why are you on it?! How did you get it? Did you just find a phone somewhere?! <=Tip #3: It's generally good practice to gather sufficient, definitive evidence before accusing the unsuspecting of cheating and then stealing.

Me: No, [you crazy bitch] this isn't your boyfriend's phone. This is LANYTransplant at [insert firm name]. You’ve dialed the wrong number, [you moron]! <=Tip #4: It’s best to imagine the bracketed, italicized words in your head rather than voice them aloud, as you are your firm’s representative when receiving calls on your work phone during work hours, even if you are talking to a crackhead. On a similar note, refrain from using the firm’s caller ID feature.

Caller: Hump! Click. <=Tip #5: When making a complete ass of yourself, you are unlikely to successfully transfer blame onto others. Apologies are a more appropriate response.

Tip #6=> Vent silently at work.

OMG! WTF! WTF! Seriously, wtf was that?!

The Sound of My Lovely Voice

I spent half of a day last weekend writing my self review for work. I hate doing those things, which is why I started it the day before it was due. What a way to ruin a weekend! Anyway, I got tired of writing it and left the last half of a paragraph to finish at work the next day. I was planning to e-mail it to my work account, but got paranoid that if the e-mail were to somehow get blocked, I'd be screwed. So, I dug out my mini removable drive to carry to work instead.

This external drive contained all of the data which I had completely forgotten about from my old computer. It had all of my old college and grad school papers, pictures and even old video messages that the Boy and I used to send to each other occasionally. I had competely forgotten about those.

Curiously, I clicked on the video folder and played a couple of the Boy. Ahahahaha! What I once had thought so sweet were now so hilarious that I nearly died laughing. The Boy stepped over and started laughing himself and then threatened to steal my drive and erase it completely. In the meantime, though, he decided to click on one of my videos as a quick comeback.

OMG! Were my lips always crooked when I talked? Did my voice always sound that retarded?

I looked like a complete dork! And the sound of my voice reminded me of all the times an old boss used to call me into his office right as he was playing my voice messages to amuse himself. I can't stand how I sound on voicemail. It's not how my voice really sounds. Or at least it's not how I hear it in my head.

After listening to myself on enough videos, I didn't want to hear my voice again for a while. This made me so self conscious of speaking that at work the next day, I left very few messages and decided to only speak when prompted.

I never thought that the sound of my own voice would irk me.

Radio Frequency

When I lived in LA, I used to listen to the radio while sitting in traffic (all the time). This was how I stayed on top of who new artists were and what new song was hot. In New York, I only listen to what's on my IPOD and never have much of a chance to listen to the radio, as I ride the subway to work and everywhere else. The upside to this is that during the few times each year I'm back in LA for a visit, I sit through enough traffic to catch up on what's been playing on the radio without being bored to death of the same songs played over and over again.

Last night, after a coworker passed me a CD and asked if I knew of various other artists (I didn't), I had a hankering to know what was on the radio again and lamented that I had no radio to find out. Then it dawned on me that my cell phone has a built in radio. For the rest of the evening, I listened to and looked up stations equivalent to those that I had listened to in LA, labeling them on my phone so that I would remember which station was what at work the next day.

I listened to the radio on my phone at work for about half of the next day, long enough to realize that I'd mislabeled the Power knockoff as a KIIS knockoff, and the KIIS knockoff as a Star knockoff. After listening to the KIIS equivalent for most of the day, I remembered why I got fed up with listening to the radio each day in LA. Of the 10 songs they played in about a 5 hour span, probably 8 of them were Justin Timberlake's "Lean Back". They chatted about stupid things in between the frequent commercials, and the one interview they were giving was with Justin Timberlake on his hot new song, "Lean Back."

I'm done with the radio now.