Your Girlfriend is Ugly

Donde estan mis pantelones?

In case you hadn't heard I moved to the tri-state area. My company relocated me so I'm living in Hoboken which is awesome (and also where they hide all of the hot men) and working out of our office in the Jersey suburbs as well as the office in Manhattan. Here's the thing; when I was working in the office in Boston it was super casual. I'm talking like wife beaters and lululemon yoga pants to work. Now it's all business casual. This includes no jeans.

Even on Fridays. I have two dresser drawers filled with jeans so you can imagine how annoying this is.

My dilemma is that I don't own any dress pants. Iiiiiiiiiiiiiii know! Like dress pants to me are a foreign concept. Plenty of dresses sure? cute little baby doll tops to wear with leggins? You got it. But no dress pants. And with the weather being so craptastic and rainy lately getting dressed in the morning causes me to have severe agida.

Thus far I've spent about $500 shopping online for pants. I could save myself the returning headache and just go to a mall to shop but 1.) I'm new to the area and have no idea where anything is and 2.) I'm so paranoid about driving when I don't have to because finding parking in my neighborhood blows (see this blogto read all about it.) At present time I loathe all of the pants I've received from J.Crew.com, Anntaylorloft.com and Gap.com.

So what am I doing? Wearing a pair of former fat pants from the Gap. These were purchased long before I joined Weight Watchers and lost 35 pounds. Right now they are falling off me. Plus it makes me look like I have an extra stomach because the waist has stretched out and causing the illusion of a paunch.

I am a mess. And I need pants.

Cracking heads at Target

In preparation for my move to NYC this coming Monday I decided to lose my mind at Home Goods and Target this past Sunday. I was on the hunt for an area rug and a TV stand, both of which I found at Tarjay.

I had been shopping for a new TV stand for a while. It's not that I wasn't finding anything that I liked, oh I was finding plenty that I liked. But I wanted a floor model that was already put together. I loathe assembling things. However on Sunday I caved and bought a TV stand at the Target in Plainville. My carriage was already full with the aforementioned area rug and various kitchen knives so I had to be careful when placing the stand in the carriage not to break anything.

I grabbed a hold of the box and went to lift it up, not realizing how top heavy the goddamn thing was. Three seconds after lifting up the box it toppled over and cracked me over the head.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!" That was me screaming from the TV stand aisle. No, no one came to help me. Miraculously I was able to steady the box and get it into the carriage without further incident.

I stood in place for a few seconds, making sure I was OK and not seeing stars and that I wasn't dizzy. I decided to see what was on sale for tank tops and made my way to clothing. That's when I got nervous.

Wait. Didn't the same thing happen to poor Natasha Richardson? She hit her head, felt fine but then died shortly after because no one bothered to take her to the ER?

I called my mother.

"Hello?"

"Mum. It's me."

"What's wrong."

"Weeeeeeeeell, a dropped a TV stand on my head and-"

"YOU WHAT????"

"Wait just listen. I dropped a TV stand on my head and how long after Natasha Richardson hit her head did she die?"

"Who?"

"Hello???" My dad decided to pick up the other phone and see what all the commotion was about.

"Lee-SAH hit her head."

"How??"

"I dropped a TV stand on my head dad. Now how soon after Natasha Richardson hit her head did she die?"

"Who???" My dad isn't up on his pop culture.

"Natasha Richardson Dad."

"You dropped a TV stand on her head too?"

"No Steve. She's the actress who was skiing and she hit her head and ended up dying from it."

"Oh....Well how the hell did you drop a TV stand on your head Lisa?!"

"I WAS TRYING TO GET IT OFF THE SHELF!"

"Well why didn't you call somebody???!!!"

At this point I was hiding behind a rack of Mossimo Maxi Dresses hissing into my phone.

"Because dad, no one was around to help!"

"LEE-SAH. This is your mother. Do you feel dizzy?"

(pause, pause) "No. But what if I have like a massive internal bleed?"

"Come home and we'll take you to the ER."

"Ugh. But I need to get this shopping done. I mean the only reason I'm nervous is because of Natasha Richardson."

"Well Natasha Richardson was on skis going like 100 down a mountain when she hit her head."

"Ok..."

"So I think ya fine."

"Are you sure."

"I mean I don't know Lee-SAH! It's your head."

"True...Ok. I'll see you in a bit for dinner."

"Ok. Call if you feel dizzy."

"Love you."

"Love ya."

This is how we solve things in my family.

Shape up

Yesterday I decided to wear my new full body shaper for the first time. I got it at Wal-Mart for $13 and bought it for the sole purpose of keeping my hips in check. I could carry septuplets and not have a problem with the child bearing hips I'm sporting.

My outfit consisted of a dress, tights, my new shaper and my fierce Mark Fisher heels (alternated with flats throughout the day). The shaper did the job. It sucked in all the right places and created curves where necessary however, going to the bathroom became somewhat of a challenge.

See with a full body shaper, if you have to go to the bathroom they make it so you unhook the crotch area. It's the same idea as unhooking your bra. Ladies if you went to middle school in the 90's then you probably know what I'm talking about because didn't we all used to rock those patterned bodysuits?? 

Remember that. *shudder*

Anyway with my shaper I was having sort of a hard time unhooking my crotch so I could do my duties. The first time I tried I got so stressed out and sweaty I just ended up taking off my dress.

As I was putting my clothes back on I said to myself, "Ok Lisa. Next time you have to work on getting the hooks undone. You can't be getting naked in the bathroom."

I went to the bathroom about 5 times in the office and I couldn't for the life of me get the damn shaper unhooked. Each time I had to disrobe so I could pee.

It wouldn't have been a big deal, the bathroom in the office is just a one person type of deal so it's not like anyone can spy on you, it's just that we all had plans to go out later on that night so what was I going to do if I had to pee at the bar?

Well I soon found out because roughly 30 minutes into my first vodka soda I had to use the ladies room. I walked in, smiled at the attendant and then pimped all the way down to the handicapped stall so I'd have ample arm room to maneuver my dress on and off. I stealthily took my dress off, making sure to crouch down so no one would see my flailing arm movements and then hung it nicely on the hook of the door.

All was going well until I glanced over and could actually see the girl in the stall next to me through the two inch crack between the wall and the stall door.

If I could see her chilling on the toilet then she could probably see me chilling on the toilet. Naked.

"Oh Christ...." I mumbled to myself.

I finished going to the bathroom, pulled up my shaper and tights and then stood very still behind the door. I made sure that I was out of anyones sight line and waited until the girl next to me exited the premises. Then I grabbed my dress and carefully put it back on. I smiled at the attendant as she handed me a towel. Did she just wink at me?

I made my way back to my table of friends and vowed to practice unhooking my shaper so as to not risk getting caught, literally with my pants down. Or with no pants at all.

Pajama bottom etiquette.

Last night I was driving to Brookline and I rolled up to a stop sign to let some pedestrians cross. Darting across the street was a girl looking to be in her mid-20's wearing UGG slippers, a cropped hoodie and pajama bottoms with rainbows on them.

Why? Why do people think it is OK to wear their pajamas out in public? I posted this as my Facebook status last night and it got quite the response. One person just kept saying "Life is too short to care what people think about you."

Well if you don't mind being thought of as White Trash then OK. You're a better person than I am.

If you have to go outside to pick up a few odds and ends then throw on a pair of jeans, maybe some leggings. Hell even a pair of yoga pants will do the trick. There is no need to be seen traipsing around the supermarket in your Bruins pajama bottoms.

How to have fun while waiting in a line for 90 minutes.

Last Wednesday I went to NYC for work and stayed the weekend to visit with my sister. On Saturday night we decided to see a 7:45pm showing of He's Just Not That Into Youwith LK at the theater on 19th street.

At 6pm the 7:45 show was already sold out so we decided to get tickets for the 10pm show and go have some Italian. The three of us decided that in order to secure good seats we'd have to get in line around 8:45. After sourcing snacks at the Rite-Aid across the street we took our place in line. There was actually someone lined up already.

"Are you here for the 10pm showing of He's Just Not That Into You?"

The girl scowled at me, "Yes." Then huffed and turned around.

"Friendly..."

The minutes passed and the line grew. Shana, LK and I made idle chatter with each other and talked about how hot the guy at the Italian place was and wondered if he was the owner and if he was in fact from Italy. He was one of those guys who was so cute that he made you awkward. I actually bumped into him on the way back from the bathroom and I yelped. He grabbed me by the shoulders and purred into my ear, "Why you so nervous? Every time I see you here tonight you look so nervous."

If he had kept talking I would've melted into butter. He could've used me to cook dinner.

"Uuhh..heheheh...merrrrrrr......!" This is why I'm single.

Back to standing in line (or standing on line as everyone in New York says). I stepped out of line and peered down the block. The line of people waiting for the movie was becoming substantial!

"This is crazy guys." Just then a couple walked up to us, "What line is this for?"

"He's Just Not That Into You."

"Ooooh really?? Wow!"

A few seconds later two girls came up to us, "Is this for He's Just Not That Into You?"

"Yeah. The 10pm show."

"Oh my God. This is crazy!" Off the girls ran to secure a place in line.

"Vhat movie eez deez for??"

"He's Just Not That Into You."

*muttering something in Russian that I couldn't understand*

A pattern was emerging. Apparently now we were working for AMC theaters. Every thirty seconds someone would come up to us and ask us what movie we were waiting to see. And every time we replied with He's Just Not That Into You, the 10pm show, their eyes would bug out, they'd let out a low whistle and then stare down the block at the long line. For a second I considered selling my place in line.

After about the 10th person asking what movie we were waiting to see I broke.

A guy walked up to us who looked clueless, "What movie is this for?"

"Pink Panther," I replied straight faced.

"Oh ok." The guy took off like it was totally normal that 5 million people were waiting in line to see Steve Martin.

"If someone told me that this line was for Pink Panther I'd be like, REALLY?????!!!" exclaimed LK.

"Seriously!"

During all of this hub-bub there were a group of guys in yarmulkes who kept trying to get into the movie earlier. They refused to wait in line and were huddled by the door.

"You know what. I don't care if they are the chosen ones. They need to get in line like everyone else!" This actually got a giggle out of the scowly girl

A few minutes later apair of modely looking girls approached us.

"Waaaaait for it..." I said under my breath.

"What movie are you guys seeing?"

"Taken."

"Oh, ok. PHEW!!!" The girls started to walk away.

"Lisa, don't let them walk away! Tell them the truth!" That was my morally conscious sister.

"Ugh! Wait. We're actually waiting for He's Just Not That Into You. I was, uhm, kidding."

"Oh. Ok. AHAHAHAHA."

"They could've been so bitchy to you."

"Yeah well at least they have a sense of humor."

I did my Pink Panther line one more time, but it was on an old woman huffing on a cigarette who was just being nosy. After that I decided to quite while I was ahead.

The most annoying 60 minutes of my life.

I always say that I can't stand when people complain about the vicissitudes of New England weather. I just want to shake them and say, "You live in New England! If you don't want to see snow go to Arizona!"

Can't stand it! Makes me crazy! Hurts my head!

However, I am here to blog about how much I hate the snow right now.

I woke up yesterday morning to a blizzard taking place outside of my window.

"Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh....." I groaned as I reached for my Blackberry to call my therapist.

"This is Barbara."

"Barbara," I croaked, "Lisa Gradie. So is there any sort of rule for weather? Like if it's really bad do you cancel appointments?"

"Not unless we're talking the Blizzard of '78."

"Oookay. See you at 7:30."

The reason why I called is because if I don't cancel my appointment within one week I get charged $130 for the appointment. So I was hauling my ass to Brookline tonight; Nor'easter or not.

So all day I was anxious about driving in the snow. It wasn't so much driving to Brookline which is only 15 minutes from my office it was more anxious about driving the hour back to my house from Brookline. Finally at 6:15 I started to pack up. I wanted to leave enough time to actually get there. 

I made my way downstairs to the garage where I park and this is where the first annoyance happens. 

Need a push?

The ramp to get in and out of the garage is very steep. I drive a 2008 Jetta. I've plowed through snowbanks in my car so I really didn't think I'd have a problem going up a ramp. 

As I inched my way up I honked my horn like I usually do just to make sure that any unsuspecting pedestrians can hear that I'm barreling out of the garage. As I honked my horn two things happened: 1.) my car wouldn't move and 2.) a guy about my age walked over to my car.

"Oh hi. Sorry I wasn't honking at you. I just usually honk when I come out of the driveway to make sure that people know that I'm coming out, you know because I don't want to hit anyone and mer mer mer..."

"Ok." He glanced down to my tires that clearly weren't going anywhere. "Are you stuck?"

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm not really sure...."

"Do you want me to get behind you and push?"

"Uhhhh ok."

He tried pushing twice and I made it up a few more inches but Jesus Christ was that ramp icy!

After two minutes the garage door started to close, with the nose of my car still under it.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" That was me. Shrieking.

"WATCH OUT!!!" And I threw the car into reverse and gunned it backwards. I looked up to see my stranger, shellacked to the wall presumably just having dashed out of the way in the knick of time, staring at me.

"Ooooook. Why don't you try going forward. I bet you can make it out."

I did a mental signing of the cross in my head and threw my car into drive. Suzi lurched forward and out into the snow covered street.

"YEAH BABY!!!" That was me again. High-fiving myself. "Soooooooo thanks for your help." I didn't know what to do next. Do I offer him a ride? Ask for his number so I can sent him a thank you edible arrangement? What if he was crazy? I mean I know he just helped me out of the goodness of his heart but I just wasted ten minutes trying to get my car out of the garage and I have to make it to Brookline and the weather is just so beastly-

"No problem. Drive safe." And with that my stranger took off down the street probably to take public transportation home.

After I was on the road I was so disturbed by my car getting stuck that I missed my right turn onto Dartmouth street. Now, in normal weather situations I would've've just pulled a U-ey in the middle of the road. But with the blizzard swirling around me I had to wait until a safe place to turn. This safe place wasn't for another 5 minutes. I had to circle pretty much all of the South End, go under 93S and come back to my work just to get back on track. This was annoyance #2 of the evening.

Thankfully the roads were clear and somewhat plowed so I was able to make my way to my therapist with only minimal swearing and pounding on my sheering wheel. I looked at the clock and I had an half-hour to spare. Nice. I was absolutely famished (my new diet consists basically of apples, almonds and water) so I decided to cross the T tracks and grab a small black bean burrito at Ana's Taqueria across the street.

Annoyance #3: No food for you!

"Hola mami."

"Hi can I please have a small black bean burrito with cheese."

"Chu wan' any rice?

"No thanks just a little bit of guac."

"No salsa?"

"No."

"Chee-kon?"

"Um. No."

"Lettuce? "

"I. Would. Just. Like. Cheese. Black Beans. And. A. Little. Bit. Of. Guacamole."

"Fo hea 'o to go?"

"To go please." I held out my card for them to take.

"Cash only."

"What?"

"We no take no cards."

"Since when?"

"Since forever."

I swear this is bullshit. I feel like I remember paying with my card when I used to go to JSutt's to work on the YGIU flash intro and watch So You Think You Can Dance.

"Das ok tho'. Ders an ATM down da street."

"Ok..." I walked away from the counter and straight into the big yellow CAUTION! WET! sign.

I made my way outside and onto the corner. I pondered trudging down the street to get some cash so I could eat my measly burrito which by this time was probably cold. I glanced at my phone to see the time. I only had fifteen minutes until my appointment.

"I'm not fucking walking down the street!" I said to myself.

"Excuuuuuuuse me??" But a little old Jewish lady heard my rant.

"Oh. HAHA. Nothing. Do you need, um, help crossing the street?"

"No."

Starving, I made my way across the street. Unlike some people who use the cross walk I decided to wade through the snow banks and cross the T tracks. It was closer than walking 15 feet to the crosswalk. I get lazy when there is snow in the picture.

I had crossed the tracks safely and was almost home free when my foot slipped on ice that I couldn't see. Next thing I know I was belly-flopping onto someone's Celica.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh....." I laid there for about thirty seconds before I actually moved. First I made sure that I hadn't cracked my teeth on the hood of the car. Then I made sure that no one saw. (If anyone did they weren't seeing if I was OK). Then I cried. (Not because I fell but because I got my new purse wet.)

In case you hadn't guessed yet, my acrobatics onto the car is annoyance #4. And that's all I've got. I mean once you belly-flop onto someone's car and leave an imprint in the snow of yourself there's really nothing else to say.

Thankfully I was going to therapy.

No tweets for me.

I've sort of become obsessed with Twitter. I find myself tweeting every half hour. One of my friends told me yesterday that she has me on her mobile Twitter updates and that I had apparently tweeted so much over the Christmas holiday that I filled her SIM card.

Someone needs a hobby.

So today I'm not going to be tweeting or even updating a Facebook status for that matter. My last FB status update was this morning at 12:48am when I couldn't sleep because I had a suspicious pain at the base of my skull. Honestly. Who wants to wake up to a neurotic update like that?! (Even though I'm petrified it's a tumor.) 

In unrelated Twitter or Facebook news, this morning I made my way to the Dunkin' Donuts drive through and ordered myself a medium iced coffee with cream and no sugar. Pretty harmless I'd say.

What was handed to me through the window was a medium cup of ice and cream. And no, for the record I do not order my coffee to be "EXTRAH EXTRAH LIGHT!" like some people.

I'm thinking of taking a weekend job at my local DD just so I can prove that it really shouldn't be that difficult to get someone's coffee order right.

Toe-tal Karma

Well, I know all of you were wondering when my karma was going to come around and bite me in the ass for -ACCIDENTALLY- ripping off Dunkin' Donuts. Well the wait is over. I'm pretty sure I got my fill of what-goes-around-comes-around yesterday.

After meeting with a friendly vendor downtown last night I hopped in a cab with my sister and headed back to our office on 57th and Madison. I arrived in NYC yesterday morning so I had all of my luggage with me. I decided to just leave the luggage at the office instead of trucking downtown with a suitcase and I'd just pick it up on the way back to Shana's apartment. We hopped in the cab and told the cabbie of our plan and how it would take just three minutes for me to grab my stuff so would he mind just circling the block.

"Why would I circle the block? That's stupid. I'll just park outside and wait."

"Oh...well ok then!" Perfect!

Our cab sidled up to the left near corner of 57th and Madison, right across from the IBM building. It was spitting rain all day yesterday. I hopped out of the cab and stepped right into a puddle.

"AH FUCK!" I didn't realize that my nice black pashmina was on my lap so when I looked down at my shoe to assess the water damage I saw that I was also submerging my pash in the puddle.

"UGH!" I picked up my soggy scarf and chucked it into the backseat on top of my sister.

Finally on the sidewalk I started to walk quickly to the office. I only had three minutes! It was still spitting rain and I was wearing heels. All of a sudden my right heel got caught in the sidewalk, but my foot kept walking forward. My foot landed on the slippery cement and I couldn't catch my footing so I did a split right there on Madison Avenue in front of the IBM building and God.

After I peeled myself and my dignity up off the ground I hobbled back to where my shoe was stuck in the sidewalk. This was when I noticed that the top of my right big toe was gushing blood. Apparently when my foot came flying out of my heel so did the top portion of my big toe. The flap of skin was still attached to the edge of the shoe.

"Awesome," I muttered to myself. "This sucks!"

I made it to the office and back to the taxi in one piece. And I think bodily damage more than makes up for the $1.57 that I owe my neighborhood Dunkin' Donuts.

Crying in a corner with a mouth full of cavities.

I had a dentist appointment yesterday. In preparation for all dentist appointments I usually brush twice, floss, use anti-cavity mouthwash and don't eat or drink for 3 hours prior to the appointment. Actually this is my daily routine anyway. I realize it sounds slightly over the top but in the past 5 years I have developed a crippling fear of having any cavities filled. 

It's actually kind of embarrassing. 

I've been going to this dentist since I was able to go to the dentist. When I was a kid and had to have my teeth drilled, I'm not saying I welcomed it but I was comforted by the laughy fun gas and just concentrated on being high instead of the drill digging into my molar. Then, a few years ago I had a routine appointment and Doc informed me that I had some decay in between two teeth and they'd need to drill. 

Suddenly I started to have a panic attack. I couldn't breathe and tears poured out of my eyes like a broken faucet. Doc and the dental assistant stared at my mascara stained face in shock. 

"Uh...er....open please." 

I cried through the entire procedure. Which in retrospect probably made the process even worse. 

Ever since then I buy floss in bulk. I've been virtually cavity free since that incident with a few missteps here and there which have been dually accompanied by rivers of tears. And whenever Doc comes to examine my X-rays and tells me that I have some spots to watch I start to well up. Oh, and I did get weepy when he told me I had to get a night guard because I clench my jaw at night resulting in cracked teeth. 

So yesterday I went into the dentist's office all prepared to be in and out in 30 minutes. The woman who cleaned my teeth looked like Magda and apparently hadn't cleaned my teeth personally since 1993. She told me I take good care of my choppers and asked me if I was a regular flosser.

"Uh huh."

Then the X-ray portion of the day came. I was relatively calm. Fifteen minutes went by and after Magda had finished slicing my gums up with her razor floss she came back with the X-rays.

Then she let out a low whistle. "Oh.....oooooofffffff......"

 

I twisted my head around, "What?! What is it?????"

"Lisa. Did you ever have braces?"

"No. My teeth are naturally this straight." It's true. I have amazingly straight teeth and never had a brace on this face. "Why?"

"Well you're developing some decay in between and..."

That was all I needed to hear. I started to breath heavy and sweat. I was like this when Doc came in. It has to be said that Doc looks like the man from the Curious George books

"Hi Lisa. How ah you?"

"Fine."

Then Doc and Magda observed my X-rays and in between low mummers I could here, "T6, 40, 38, 5, no no...4....and 5 I suppose."

Doc came over and sat down next to me. "So you have some cavities. And they are at the point now that we have to fill them. We could wait until your next appointment in 6 months but I'd rather not."

Doc  paused and I took this opportunity to burst into tears.

"Ok. Can you get her a tissue?"

Magda handed me the box and I covered my face with a Kleenex.

"Why does this happen to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?" I wailed.

"I know. It's not the type of news you wanted to hear..."

Sob. Sob. Sob. Wah. Wah. Wah.

Still covering my face with the tissue I continued to cry. "I don't  know how this happens! I brush my teeth. I floss. Do you think I need to buy new floss? I use the anti-cavity mouth wash..."

Blank stares.

"I mean I'm not a big milk drinker. I only really have it when I eat cereal because personally I think milk is gross and do you think I should be eating more apples?

"Uuuh...Ya know. S-sometimes it's just genetic."

Groundbreaking. Really sometimes doctors just have all the answers.

I peaked out from behind my tissue. "So...gulp...are we doing this today?

"Oh no. Nooooooooo no no no. We'll set up two appointments. One for the left side. One for the right side."

I sniffled a thank you to Doc and he slipped out of the door, probably pumped that he avoided any future emotional outbursts.

Magda asked me what I was afraid of. "Is it the needle? You afraid of the Novocain?"

"What?  No. I don't mind needles. I watch my blood get drawn. I actually guide the phlebotomist to the correct vein. No. It's the drilling. The sound. The thought of that little drill pecking away at my teeth."

"Oh I see. Well for your appointments definitely bring an iPod and some headphones to drown out the drill sound."

I left the dentist crestfallen but what am I going to do? Not get them filled? Dentures at 27 aren't exactly a selling point ya know?

PS. Magda did ask me if I wanted to get screened for mouth cancer as it's apparently on the rise 27% (I think it was 27%) from last year. She explained that more and more teenagers are getting the mouth cancer. I found this an odd fact and asked her at what age you should start testing. You know like for a mammogram it's around your 40's.

She looked at me through her dentist glasses and said, "Well you know, it's not longer the smoking that's causing the mouth cancer. Now it's the oral sex."

I wanted to melt into a puddle and slide off of the chair.  

Not letting go.

The weather in Boston is a brisk 50+ degrees today. This makes Lisa unhappy. Forget about the fact that my tan faded at Mach speed this summer but I'm not prepared for the fall shoes at all. I can't even imagine putting my tootsies into boots, heels or anything with closed toes.  

Sure I like fall clothes. Who doesn't love a nice wrap sweater or a vest over a long sleeve thermal in the hottest colors? But I like summer more. Plus I have no idea where any of my fall clothes are. They are somewhere between the three closets in my apartment, my parents Norton house and my parents Cape house. I have some hardcore rummaging to do.

And since the brrrrtastic weather came out of no where, totally sideswiping me like an avalanche on K2, I'm forced to wear jeans with tank tops and random Granpa-style sweaters to keep warm. I'm still wearing my flip flops though. When I eventually do have to part with them it will be a teary separation reminiscent of a Nicholas Sparks novel.

But I'll be wearing flips until the first snow fall. Yes I intend to be that girl.