Monday Fun-day is my Local Option. . .

because it was memorial day weekend this week, sunday fun-day wasn't quite enough for us. instead, (or, additionally, if you prefer) karen, matt and i 'opted' for an additional "fun-day." because we can.

here, for your reading pleasure, some of my favorite comments heard and said at monday fun-day at The Local Option.

(sidenote: matt was in rare form. . . and will probably get me back for actually making good on my promise to put these statements on my blog via the commentary section. stay tuned).

karen: "hey! look at those burnt out hippies!"
me: "oh, i still would really like to have a pet hippy. . . for my very own."

"hey, remember your dirty text messages? my fav. was, 'i made an appointment at a sushi restaurant. want to be my date? do me?'" - matt (to karen).

"negative. i've been stirring like a camel." - matt (regarding his bladder capacity)

"hey, don't you think PG-13 should be PG-10 now? kids are growing up so much faster these days." - matt

"i can't believe i just took a shot of jager on a monday. " - me . . . but, why not?

"i thought you said 'blow my nuts to new jersey.'" oh, the things that get lost in translation. . .

also, a shout out to dave. . . he really might be the best bartender ever.
or, as karen would say, "aww. i really like him."

who knows what the next "fun-day" will bring. . .

xoxox,

kellieannie

She's just not that in to you. . .

12:11 am. Sunday Fun-Day/Monday (morning?) Bacchus.

during the fall of '04, we all witnessed the run-away success of Greg Bernhardt's self-help book He's Just Not That Into You. for those of you who aren't avid Sex and the City watchers, the book was preconceived when Greg was a guest writer for one of the Berger episodes when Berger so adeptly gives Miranda the advice, whilst the girls are pining over her first date with some guy, that this guy is just not into her, and she should move on: "if a guy's into ya, he's coming upstairs, he's booking the next date. there are no mixed messages."

in his book, Greg suggests a few simple rules to live by, words of wisdom. . . guidelines, if you will.

for example, he's just not that into you if. . .

he's not contacting you.
he's not asking you out.
you've been dating him for years and he insists he just doesn't want to get married to anyone.
he's married. (okay, well this is obvious, but some women still can't quite wrap their minds around the idea).

you get the idea. common sense.

so, instead, we decided to shift gears and play the game ourselves, while decoding body language to try and figure out which one of two girls a guy in a bar was going to hook up with, dependent solely upon which one was the most into him.

the girl who wasn't into him: was in the middle of a three person conversation. literally. she was scrunching, folding herself in half almost (seemingly trying to escape into the couch cushion) instead of showing any sort of interest.

the girl who was into him: after he went to the bathroom, he went to the bar. she joined him, put her arm around him (and possibly other flirtatious behavior i care not to remember).

i guess it works both ways.
no mixed messages from either camp. . .

sorry, carrie.


xoxox,

kellieannie

I'll bet you two dollars your middle name is Elizabeth

last night, karen joined bill and i for a few drinks at the Fieldhouse.

immediately after she walked in the door, three 30-something gentlemen sitting at the table opposite us made it their "game" for the rest of the night to guess (and bet -- 2 bucks per question) on various aspects of karen's life/abilities/lifestyle choices.

after awhile, we began making a list of their questions. among my favorites:

- the color of karen's underwear. . . to which she responded "well, you all lose, because i'm not wearing any"
- her ability or inability to do a cartwheel. . . which she later proved (twice) by flawlessly performing a cartwheel in the middle of the bar (sober).

between questions, she turned back to our table, and said, "it's like getting to know you with odds. . . "

xoxox,

kellieannie

Manufacturing an American Girl's History

yesterday, while cleaning out my closet (feel free not to cue the eminem tune), i stumbled upon some artifacts from my childhood:

i retrieved all of the American Girl Doll clothes i had insisted on having as gifts for about 4 Christmases, Birthdays, and Easters.

the funny thing about American Girl Dolls, is, i think, that they aren't too incredibly special anymore. everyone has one (some special girls even have two). there are so many different varieties, and you can custom design one with whichever hair color and eye color you choose. i know the point is that we are all, of course, American Girls (and therefore can create a doll-like clone). . . but i thought the original point of the dolls was to give young women a little better of an idea what girlhood was like "in other times." a way for us to delve into American history and heritage, if you will. i also thought the point was to con little girls into reading if they didn't enjoy it very much. unless, of course, every non-original American Doll (and by original i mean: Kirsten, Molly, and Samantha) maker is given blank books to fill -- then, i suppose, this creative writing major would be amenable to this create your own doll phenomenon (because, if i was still seven, you better believe i would have sat down and filled every single page). perhaps i was then, or am now, missing the point. . . or perhaps it's just another shameless marketing scheme by corporate america. or, perhaps, i have always been into gender studies and literature. who knows. though i do still refuse to go into the American Girl store right off Michigan Ave. . . . it's vibe is now eerily similar to build-a-bear(multiplicitiously manufactured).

also, notably, a grass skirt (from all those Benet Academy sock hops and KKG bar bashes). . .

[well, there had to be something sans emotional attachment, eh?]



xoxox,

kellieannie

Would You Rather. . .

backstory: karen is going to guatemala (soonish) and had to get various immunizations today in order to prepare for this venture.

while taking a fifteen minute break in the mall, i received a voice mail from karen after she had been "immunized:"

"hey kel, it's karen. so, i just left the place where i had to go to get all of those shots for guatemala. they gave me two options to make sure i don't get typhoid. i could either get a shot that lasts for two years. or i could take these pills for 8 days, and that lasts for 5 years. . . but i can't drink. i literally pulled out my calender to see what i had goin on this weekend to make sure not drinking for 8 days would fit into my schedule."

of course, since she is going into the peace corp soonish, the 5 year plan sounded like the most obvious option.

would you rather have typhoid or a few nights out?

karen's not sure; though she feels unopened bottles of bud light peering at her in disgust. . .

xoxox,

kellieannie

Anyone Want Seconds on that Polyester?

Today at work. . .

I was minding my own business and board-folding a pile of shirts. My attention was torn from the pile, as someone asked me to go grab something from the back room.

Upon returning to the salesfloor, I walked past a (35 + year old) gentleman (with dreadlocks) on the men's side of the store.

He looked over at me strutting/traipsing/etc to my predetermined destination, and said,
"wow, you just look delicious in that skirt."

"excuse me?" i reply (half not having heard him, half hoping that i've heard him wrong).

"i said, 'you look delicious in that skirt'"

"thanks. . . ?" (thinking: WHAT?! can I ask him to leave?)

beautiful, hot, sexy. sure. these are all acceptable adjectives. but delicious? come on! I wonder if "no means no" applies to our customers as well. . .

of course, i told my manager about this indiscretion as i was about to leave for a fifteen minute break (whereupon i sashayed across the mall to the pretzel stand). . .

to add insult to injury, when i returned, he (almost unable to hold back the laughter), said "wow, kel, that pretzel looks delicious."

bright red, i faux-sulked my way to the back room to enjoy my "delicious" pretzel.

*sigh* i'm wearing pants tomorrow.

xo,

kellieannie

Patent Pending

preface: karen and i regularly have brilliant ideas.

setting: you're in a (crowded) bar. there's (loud) music. all of a sudden, you get the urge to hold your beer bottle up to the mouth of the friend standing next to you, because everyone else in the bar is singing to this song, and a beer bottle, quite honestly, doubles nicely as a microphone.

question: what song is playing?

because we are both very observant, and as a result of our extensive bar time, karen and i have compiled a list of these "beer bottle microphone bar favorites."

karen carries around our list on two business cards in her wallet. last night, at Maeve, i decided i would borrow them. enjoy.

I Will Survive
Livin' on a Prayer
Piano Man
Jack and Diane
Cecilia
Sweet Home Alabama
American Pie
Pour Some Sugar on Me
Shout
Summer of '69
Paradise City
Sweet Child of Mine
Free Fallin'
Mary Janes Last Dance
Jessie's Girl
Brown Eyed Girl
Come Together
Margaritaville
Take Me Home Tonight
Don't Stop Believing
99 Luft Balloons
Breakfast at Tiffany's
Tainted Love
Like a Prayer
Wayward Son
Glory Days
Come on Eileen
You Shook Me All Night Long
The Joker
Jenny (The 867-5309 song)
Shake Baby Shake
With or Without You
something by Michael Jackson, though we haven't decided what yet.

Feel free to send me suggestions/additions. . .

. . . also feel free not to steal our brilliant idea. we'll have an intellectual property lawyer on you faster than you would believe :)

xo,
kellieannie

Retail Therapy

sidenote: i work at Banana Republic.

today at work, i had a pair of customers come in, a man and a woman, looking for an outfit for her to wear to attend a "first communion."

the man was waiting outside the fitting room area as she was trying on a variety of different outfit pairings. . .

. . . eventually, his 25 minute wait brought him to the end of his patience

"i just don't understand women and their shopping habits," he said. "whenever i need to go buy new clothes, i buy the same size pants, the same size shirts, and the same size shoes. there's no need to waste time trying things on and dancing around in front of a three way mirror to see if it fits and how it looks."

while i didn't respond outwardly, my internal response was: yeah, but the problem with not trying things on before you buy them is this: we live in america, and the majority of our clothes are mass-manufactured, which means that very rarely will pieces of clothing (even the same item in the same size) fit how we expect them to. and, different skirts, whether they be a-line or pencil, will fit differently, especially if you're hippy (and i don't mean the smoking weed variety). also, sizes aren't calibrated from store to store. while you may wear a 6 at Banana, at the Gap it might be an 8, etc.

this is why we try things on, and you should too.

something to hang your hat on, boys, the next time you take a girl shopping. . .

xo,

kellieannie

A Different Star Wars Trilogy

well friends, this is it. the last star wars movie ever.
this "end of an era," of course, (like most things) gives me some variety of nostalgic pause in trilogy fashion:

Part the First:

when i was a sophomore in high school, i dated a guy who, for our purposes, is the star wars equivalent of a "trekkie." At 16, i had never seen any of the movies, and did not express much regret over this apparent "void" in my life.

before he would agree to term me his girlfriend, however, he sat me down, and forced me to watch the "old" star wars movies. i have to admit i did enjoy them. . .

. . . then i subsequently attended opening day (the first show we could get in to after school got out) of The phantom Menace. . .

three years later, my star wars trekkie and i were no longer together, though still good friends. And, because we were in college and feeling like time was no object, we attended the midnight showing of Attack of the Clones. . .

I am marginally disappointed I won't be there at midnight tonight for the Revenge of the Sith. . . though we are going ring shopping for my star wars trekkie's future fiance on tuesday. :)

i guess we all do take little pieces of each other everywhere.

Part the Second:

A couple weeks ago, while I was completing the final weeks of my undergraduate life at Butler University in Indianapolis, a Star Wars convention took place. . . in, ironically, the convention center. . . . which is very very near the Circle Center Mall . . . . which happened to be my place of (part-time) employment.

Since indianapolis is not large, when a crowd of 30,000 is expected, the city pretty much shuts down, and parking becomes unavailably impossible.

Not only was I late for work on both Saturday and Sunday as a result of this "convention," but i was also nearly run-over by faux storm troopers and darth vaders traipsing about the mall. (and, if i may, i will also send a shout out to the radical group of three dressed in ghostbusters uniforms. . . u know who you are).

i'm still not sure how i feel about the ability of people to dress in costume, whilst carrying costume guns through a mall crowded with people . . . and receive no questioning. This is still the Sept. 11th aftermath, is it not?

Part the Third:

Joe (regarding the midnight opening of Revenge of the Sith): there have been people waiting in line for a month, maybe more. imagine what you could accomplish in that time.
me: sad, but true
Joe: i suppose a 24 hours gal can appreciate the value of time
me: very true, very true. . .
Joe: i guess i could if i watched less tv

what are you wasting your time on? and, more importantly, is it worth it?

xo,

kellieannie