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My Profile
Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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12:30 a.m. - 2004-07-24
LA and Wolf get a new Look. I needed to do two things today. I had to make a Shoprite run and I wanted to get a skirt at the Hippie Store. Which, by the way, is NOT a head shop. Selling smoking paraphernalia is illegal in NY unless your business also sells tobacco. Farce as Law #3872- The Drug Problem will be eradicated with this clever and visionary legislation. Stoners would NEVER think to look for pipes and papers at the tobacco store! Anyhoodle, I honestly believed my Stevie Nicks phase was long over. Somehow butch hair and witchy-poo clothes just didn’t work for me. You know what though? It wasn’t the hair, it was the ‘tude. I couldn’t remember how to be soft. Perhaps I was trying to balance my infernal roundness with stark angles and severe cuts. What ever the case, I junked my gypsy gear and swore those days were over. Never say never. Ahem. I got three batik skirts. And two peasant blouses with scooped Carmen necklines, button fronts and hand-carved wooden buttons. One is cream and the other is back. And an embroidered top with long pointy sleeves and a peek-a-boo scalloped hem. It’s a deep umber color and I’m gagging for it to be fall already. I’d made my selections and was just sort of poking through the racks to see what else there was. Not really looking, I’d made a haul already. Then I found the dress. Oy. Crimson. Ankle length. Deep square neck. Velvet ribbon trim. The material was lightweight and almost sheer, yet textured like brocade. Gorgeous. And again with the sleeves. Only these were crazy long, like medieval long. Crazy price tag too. I put it back. I did not need a pricey red dress with medieval sleeves. Paid for my stuff. Off to Shoprite. Mike was smiling at me. This weirded me out a little. Mike hates taking me to Shoprite. He doesn’t like Shoprite. I don’t know why, he’s never told me. So to be in the Shoprite and having him grin at me was…odd. It was Block the Aisle and Browse Day, too. Took forever to get around. I was pooped before we hit the check-out. Came home to find Wolf had had a change of heart about letting his hair grow out. Oh. My. God. The child scalped himself. No, not totally scalped, just his bangs. What a mess. I evened it up across the front, but the bangs are stupid looking. Since the rest of his hair is long, with the doinky bangs my kid looks like Prince Valiant. The kid on the Dutch-Boy paint cans. He looks like the earliest versions of Ramona Quimby. He lost an upper front tooth the other day too. My cute kid is disintegrating right before my very eyes. It’s the Second Grade Curse. It happened to me. It happened to Alex. Now it’s Wolf’s turn. Everything goes to pieces in second grade. We don’t teethe gracefully. Baby teeth fall out in job-lots and our adult teeth are HUGE. Bamboo-esque growth spurts. Hair traumas are common. This botch job on his bangs is only the first of anticipated hair disasters. Don’t ask me about my 2nd grade Carol Brady shag with the side part. Just don’t. I’m collapsed in my chair mourning my son’s hair when Mike came in to tell me he was taking the Little Dutch-Boy with him on some errands. Okay, fine. I’ll rest and play with my Sims. They got back a couple hours later. Wolf came in bearing a box. He’d addressed it to me. Put his return address on too. Drew a lovely postage stamp. So Wolf presents me with my ‘package’. Which I opened right away. Inside? Let’s just say I hope we make it to the Plumber’s Ball this year, I’ve got a knock-out of a red dress. Wheeeeeeeeeee! ~LA Tonight’s Pick: “Lady in Red” by Chris DeBurgh
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