Your Girlfriend is Ugly

In these hard times you can't afford to be a bitch. Especially if you work on commission.

A few days ago I was shopping in Boston's Copley Squarewhen I decided to head into Neiman Marcus

I was browsing some of the high end makeup and skincare lines; Chantecaille, Darphin, La Prairie, when I decided to head over to fragrance to see what was new.

I had heard about the new Valentino fragrance and how beautiful the bottle was but I wanted to see for myself. True to all of the hype is really is a beautifully crafted package and the fragrance is divine. I sprayed some on myself and then took in the gorgeous floral scent.

"Can I help yeeeeeeew?" I looked up and a very well coiffed sales lady was peering at me.

"Oh no thank you. I'm just looking."

I took a few more peaks at what was new. I wasn't that taken with the new Gucci fragrance but I was absolutely loving the David Yurman EDP. The sales lady stared me down, which I can't stand. Peering at me over your Chanel glasses is not going to make me want to spend money.

Just then I received a phone call and went outside to take it. As I was hanging up, I happened to catch a waft of myself. It was the Valentino perfume. It had sat on my skin for a while and the dry down was absolutely amazing.

My 'I NEED THAT' instincts kicked in and I raced for the escalator. But before I stepped foot back into the store I stopped and talked myself off of the ledge.

"Lisa, you need to stop. You used to be so impulsive with purchases and it got you into a lot of trouble financially. I know you love this fragrance now and maybe you will love it tomorrow too. But get a sample of it first and try it out. That way you'll know that you really REALLY love and then maybe after you've lived with it for a little while you can come back and get it."

"But, self, I want it now!"

"Lisa..."

"Ok."

I walked back over to the fragrance counter and Chanel Glasses lady had a friend with her, a fellow sales associate. I smiled at Chanel Glasses.

"Hi."

"Hi. How can I help yeeeeeeeeeeeeew?"

"Well, I sprayed the Valentino on me and I love it. It's so amazing."

"Mmmmmm...iiiiiiiisn't it?" That was the other sales associate. She was staring me up and down. Her gaze stopped on my Old Navy jeans and then made their way up my body to my LL Bean rain coat.

I focused my attention on Chanel Glasses. "Do you have any samples of it? I'd like to try it before I commit."

"I don't think we do but let me double check."

"We don't," said the other woman curtly.

What a beast!

Chanel Glasses actually opened a few drawers before confirming what the other associate had already stated.

"Maybe you can put it on your Christmas list and someone can buy it for you."

What is what I hate about big name department stores?! They assume if you're not decked out in Tory Burch that you don't have the cash. Did they not see Pretty Woman?! Don't assume anything.

I turned to the beastly woman and said, "First of all, I'm Jewish so I don't have a Christmas list (I'm not Jewish) and second of all, I can buy it myself I just wanted a sample to make sure I wouldn't hate it."

I left the two woman standing there with their mouths agape and hustled out of the store as fast as my Nine West flats could take me!

My worst nightmare.

This past weekend I spent time at our Cape house with my family relaxing, eating great food and doing some major shopping damage. My sister was home for the weekend so it was a nice opportunity to recharge our batteries.

On Saturday evening we went to our favorite restaurant in Osterville called Wimpy's. It's family owned and we've been going there for years. Plus we've become good friends with two of the waitresses Catherine and Tricia.

That particular evening  we were lucky enough to have Catherine as our server. She's Irish and can take a joke. Plus she always makes sure there's a nice big healthy pour in my wine glass.

Three-quarters of the way through the meal and three rounds of drinks in, a family seated a few tables down started to sing. I spotted four children; three girls and a boy. One of the girls was of toddler looking age. She had a pacifier in her mouth and didn't look like she could pee in the bathroom yet. That's a toddler right? Anyway this supposed toddler was having a hissy fit so the family was serenading "The Wheels On The Bus" to her.

This is my worst nightmare come to life. I don't like children. They make me nervous and they are dirty and they are so chatty. Like Jesus! The sky is just blue OK?!

Right in the middle of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" Catherine came over to see how we were doing.

I gestured my head towards the singing family and said to her, "Think they'll sing us a song?"

"Well let's see about that." And off Catherine went...to the table where the singing family was seated. To ask them if they'd sing to us.

You've got to be kidding me.

I heard her say, "That nice lady right there wants to hear a song from you." Catherine was talking to the little boy who had chocolate caked on his face and her finger was aimed right at me.

Oh God.

After some hemming and hawing the mother wrangled her brood and brought them over to where we were sitting.

I was horrified.

"Ok guys. Ya ready???"

I glanced at my phone. It was 8:15. Shouldn't children be in bed by now? Not out singing to strangers?! 

"The Wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round. The Wheels on the bus go round and round. All through town. The windows on the bus go up and down, up and down, up and down. The windows on the bus go up and down all though towwwwwn."

Ok fine it was cute. I decided to give them a standing O "YAAAAAAAAAY! Oh how wonder-"

"The driver on the bus goes sit right down. Sit right down. Sit right down. The driver on the bus..."

"....ful...UGH!!!!"

"....goes sit right down. Aaaaaal throooooooooough tooooooooooooooooooooown."

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP. "Great job you guys!"

"The mother on the bus shoes shhh shhh shhhh, shhh shhh shhh...."

You've. Got. To. Be. Shitting. Me. Who else is on this Gdamn bus!!!??? If there is a field trip on this bus I'm killing myself with this butter knife.

"....The mother on the bus goes shhh shh shhhh alll through tooooooooown."

I held my breath, pleading to the baby Jesus that there would be no more verses of The Wheels on the Bus. He answered my prayers. But then we had to clap and catch the air kisses given to us by the little toddler child.

If Jack Bauer ever needs to resort to extreme torture to get information out of someone I recommend The Wheels on the Bus.  

Oscar fashion recap! Bettah late than nevah.

I'm over at These Lips Are Made for Glossin' discussin' all of the Oscar hits and misses from this past Sunday.

Burn a calorie and click that link above to read what I had to say about Melissa Leo and Natalie Portman. While you're at it check out blogs by Carmindy, Jason, Ted and Rachel.

Remember, we all love comment love!

Xx

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.

500th Post

I figured I'd dedicate my 500th post (day-um) to how much I hate Halloween since today is in fact the dia de los muertos. Now, I realize hate is a very strong word and my parents told me that I should never use it but "severely dislike" just doesn't begin to explain how stupid I think this "holiday" is.

Honestly, if you're between the ages of 1 and 10 Halloween is cool. You get butt loads of candy and you get to hang out with your friends and walk around after your bedtime (even if you are with an adult). When I was a kid the trick-or-treating was follow-up by a party at my neighbors house. The kids would bob for apples, do candy exchanges and watch scary movies. The adults would hang out and knock back a few. It was awesome.

But now it's an excuse for girls to dress sluttier than they normally would and for guys to try and get laid by them. Why do I have to wear a costume to attend a party? I'm fabulous as my normal self. A costume takes away from the over all look.

I put all of my effort into HWEEN last year. LK, Plus One and I even went as far as to drive to an iParty in the suburbs. (GAH. I'm breaking out into hives at the thought of it). We were butterflies, complete with wings and fake lashes and home made antennae. We were going to meet up with friends and hit up this AMAZING party at The Stadium in Southie.

So after pregaming at my apartment and losing my fake eye lashes to the wind we headed to said party and waited in line for an hour and a half. Apparently whoever was hosting the party invited too many people and the place was already packed because of the Red Sox being in the World Series. -I don't know what I'm more upset about? The fact that I waited in line for 90 minutes or the fact that instead of watching the game I was dressed as a butterfly-. And it was humid as hell last year. Yeah something weird was going on with the weather because it was warm and I remember sweating severely and having my hair frizz up the second I stepped outside.

I was not a happy butterfly.

We said EFF YOU to the party and walked up Dorchester Ave and took over the first dive bar we saw. Half the people we were with were pissed because we weren't at a party and the other half (my half) were just thrilled to be at a bar with real live alcohol.

I kept my wings on for good measure as I flitted around the bar playing darts and doing shots. But it was a waste. For all the running around we did I could've just had everyone over in their costumes to my apartment to drink.

After my botched attempt at Halloween last year I vowed that I wouldn't do anything this year even remotely involved with Halloween. I was invited to carve pumpkins and I made up a story about a yoga class I wanted to go to. I was invited to a Halloween party this weekend which I had to decline due to my non-Halloween plans but even if I had nothing going on, I still wouldn't go. I'd rather catch up on Mad Men. 

My favorite holiday as all of you know is Fourth of July. You just can't beat a holiday where you don't have to be pressured to buy presents for anyone and where the setting is the beach, booze and BBQ. A colleague of mine constantly makes fun of me because of this. He can't believe that Fourth of July is someones favorite holiday. His is *SHOCKER*Halloween. He emailed me and told me that he is dressing up as Anakin and will be wearing his costume to work.

No, he doesn't work at a school, hospital or nursing home. He works in New York in packaging. He's in his 30's and he is WEARING HIS HALLOWEEN COSTUME TO WORK.

Fine you want to celebrate Halloween and go to an after work party whatever. Change into your costume after business hours. Don't tote around your light saber!

It's just weird.

But I am pumped for the 50% off candy that will be overflowing at my local Rite-Aid. At least one good thing comes out of this monstrosity of a holiday.

Throwing it down at the MAC counter.

This evening I met The Donna for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory at South Shore Plaza. Over salads the size of my bedroom we discussed my dating life and my impending move. Neither of which I'm that thrilled about but hey, it was good to see my mom.

After the waitress cleared our plates, The Donna and I decided to head over to Macy's to see what was popping in shoes. Three pairs later it was time to wrap up the foot party up. My mom headed upstairs for a quick second while I cruised cosmetics. During my stroll I spotted a packaging at MAC that I absolutely had to purchase for work.

I looked around and there were three MAC employees in the vicinity and all of them were occupied. Well, I knew what I wanted and I was there to spend money so I would just politely interrupt.

I saw a break in the action with one of the girls and went over to her. "Hi, excuse me. I just wanted to pick up two of the palettes over there." I said pointing to the display.

The sales associate turned and glared at me. I was met with heavily lined eyes caked with lizard green eye shadow topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones. AKA crazy makeup. The staple of all MAC employees. Clearly someone was ready for HWEEN.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I have two women who are waiting for me."

"Ok," pause pause pause, "But see I know what I want already." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry. They've been waiting a really long time. I have to go help them."

I glanced over to where the Iguana was headed; two girls stood there absentmindedly swiping eye shadows on the tops of their hands and holding it out to the light.

"B-but. I know what I want. You don't have to do anything to me. I don't need a makeover or advice -like I'd take it from her anyway!- I'm going to purchase two of those pallets."

"They have been waiting a long time. You'll have to wait."

Uh. For real?

"So what you're telling me is that you can't tell those girls over there to hold on for three minutes so you can ring up a $60 sale? It's a guaranteed sale. You didn't' even have to advise me. You could spend twenty minutes with those girls and they could just walk away with a free makeover."

"You need to wait."

I know I should've walked away and said, "EFF YOU MAC COUNTER!" But I really needed a spare one of these palettes for this project I'm working on

I turned the corner and went up to the males MAC sales associate who was helping a mother who's two children were terrorizing a mannequin.

"Hi I just need to purchase two palettes. I already know which colors."

"Sure." Then he turned to the woman, "Do you mind if I just ring her in?"

"Oh no problem!"

How fucking hard was that?!

Mario, or whatever his name was took my AMEX and rang up my purchases, all under five minutes. When he handed me the bag I told him about the ignorance of his co-worker.

"You should have a serious talk with her. In this economy I don't think it's in her best interest to be turning away guaranteed sales."

God. If I didn't hate retail so much I'd get a part-time job on the weekends.

Cheers to babies in bars!!

Last night I traipsed around the South End with JSutt and The Agent of Fabulousness. JSutt and I started out at Laura Preshong's cocktail party where we tried on $5800 rings with raw diamonds, drank red wine from plastic cups and munched on gourmet cheese doodles. It was a great time and we were surrounded by some cool people. And a child.

There was a woman there who didn't look to be much older than my 27 year old self, who was toting around, what appeared to be an 8 year old girl. The woman was going on and on about the jewelry and how amazing it was and when JSutt complimented her "You Don't Know Jacques" OPI nail color the girl just said, "Yeah I think that's the name. I never remember. It blows my mind how people can even remember the names of nail polishes."

I always remember the name of the color I get my nails done with. But I digress.

We downed our wine and made our way to the second party at Looc Boutique. The A of F met us there and with prosecco in hand we meandered around the space and watched JSutt try on clothes. As we were getting ready to leave the woman and her mini me came strolling through the door. I glanced down at my watch and it was 7:30. Shouldn't that little girl be watching Looney Tunes and getting ready for bed? Not party hoping through the South End.

When we were out on the street we started to talk about what a beast that woman was and then the A of F said, "And shouldn't that little girl be in bed?"

"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII KNOW!" we proclaimed in Unison.

"The last time I was at Beehive a couple had their infant there," proclaimed JSutt. "They brought their infant to a loud jazz club and were just covering its ears!"

"Ugh, get a baby sitter!"

We finally made our way to Pho Reblublique. With all of the kid talk I needed a drink. We sidled up to the bar and ordered our respective cocktails. JSutt and I got vodka sodas with splashes of pineapples and the A of F got a mango margarita. When our drinks arrived I held up my class and said, "Cheers guys!" and as if on cue an ear piercing wail resonated through the restaurant. The three of us looked over to our left and sure enough there was a group of people enjoying dinner in a loud, crowded restaurant with a small baby in a carriage.

"Ugh."

"Totes ugh."

"So annoying."

"SO annoying!"

"To babies in bars!"

"TO BABIES IN BARS!"

*clink*

Like being in a Meg Ryan movie.

I was in New York yesterday for work and I gotta tell you. Schlepping around that city can be a bitch. There's nothing quite like being on the M31 with my suitcase and two bags at 8am. Brutal.

Anyway, I left the office around 3pm to catch my 4pm Acela Express out of Penn Station. Naturally the train was 45  mins late taking off. I sat in the Acela waiting area and started to people watch and day dream. A father and son strolled over and sat a couple of seats away from me. The dad tapped away on his Blackberry while the son, who was maybe 10 chattered on and on about how excited he was for the game tonight and how they had the best seats in Fenway.

Little shit. It's always the little kids who luck out and get tickets to these big games.

I leaned over and said to him, "You going to the game tonight?"

"YEAH! I'm so excited. I can't wait."

"Are you a Red Sox fan?"

"YEAH! I love the Red Sox!"

"Me too!"

At this point the father looked over at me to see who was striking up a conversation with his pre-pubescent son.

"You a fan too?" he asked with his hands clutched firmly around his berry.

"Yes. I'm from Boston."

At the mention of Boston the son started to get animated and squirmed excitedly in his chair.

"Oh wowwowwow! I can't wait. Our seats are so great too!"

"Where are you sitting?" I asked the son. The father was staring at me, probably wondering why I was chatting up his kid, but I noticed a ring on dads finger and I was just innocently trying to make a young kids day by talking about the game since his father was too interested in his Blackberry.

"We have box seats right behind the Sox dug out."

I let out a low whistle, "Niiiiiiiiiiice! Who's your favorite player?"

"Weeeell it was Manny but now it's probably Pedroia, or Ellsbury, or Youk."

"All good choices. I like Varitek."

"SUPERMAN!" He shouted probably in reference to the song that plays when Tek and his thighs get up to bat.

The boy bounded off like a cocker spaniel to go check the status of our train, dad went back to his berry and I went back to my In Touch magazine. Jen had lipo. So?

A few minutes later I looked up and the kid was standing in front of me staring at me.

"Hii...?"

He just smiled and walked back to his seat.

"Dad....Dad?!..."

"Mmmmm?"

"Dad, you should ask her to sit with us on the train."

"Well maybe she has her own seat."

"Yeah but dad, she's pretty AND she likes the Red Sox. She could be my new mom!"

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat.

"You already have a mom."

"Enjoy the game boys!" I grabbed my stuff and headed out of the waiting area before the kid suggested we meet at the Empire State Building on Valentine's Day.

* * *

Sidebar Blog: 

Also, while I was in New York I walked down to the front desk to pick up my sushi and there was Rachel Zoe. She was waiting to get her visitors badge assigned to her and after I signed the bill for my order waited next to her at the elevator. She was too preoccupied with her iPhone to realize the elevator doors had opened so I had to say to her, "Do you want to get on this elevator?" To which she responded, "Oh yes."

She was wearing her huge bug sunglasses (it was raining, and we were inside), a white coat and had her scraggly hair down which covered like her entire upper body. As my mother would say, "Do something with that hair!"

She's totally as tiny as she looks on TV and could use a cake.

Check-ing out

I grew up right at the beginning of the ATM and cell phones. I still remember as a teenager, going to Bay Bank with my bank bookand depositing my check from CVS and doing "less cash" of about $50 to buy my Beanie Babies. And I also remember using a Pay Phone to call my parents collect one night when I needed a ride home from the mall. (Shortly after that they invested in a bag car phone).

My stories aren't quite, "When I was your age I walked up hill both ways IN THE SNOW with no shoes!" caliber, but they are relevant because I think everyone who was a child of the 70's and 80's remembers those good old times.

So when I'm waiting in line to purchase something, whether it be at Macy's or Stop & Shop or Rite Aid and I see someone writing a check, I want to blow their brains out first and then mine.

WHY DO PEOPLE STILL WRITE CHECKS?! We've had ATM cards for, like, EVER! And I'm pretty sure that now all banks offer your ATM card with the VISA logo so you can pay for things with it at the register. I mean do folks know that their ATM card links to their checking or savings account? Do they know that the money that the check comes from is the same place that the money from the ATM card comes from?

What really kills me is when I'm behind someone and I see them whip out their check book. After the initial "UGH!" and various eye rolls, I stare at them to observe their check writing behavior. It's established that people who write checks irk me. They are irksome. But at least there are some people who will speed up the process. They'll be making out the check while their merchandise is getting scanned or there are even some people who come with their check already made out and all they have to do is fill out the amount. Bless their hearts.

But what really chaps my ass? The folks who lean on the counter and stare at the clerk who is scanning and bagging their merchandise. The customers eyes follow the item in the clerks hand, to the scanner then glance up at the screen to make sure that the item rings in properly and for the price that it says in the circular. The clerk will then place the filled bags with the merchandise on the counter and say the total. THEN AND ONLY THEN will the customer be revealed as a check writer. Once they hear the total they reach into their back pocket, purse, messenger bag, what have you, for their check book and start the tedious writing process. Then they rip out the check but instead of handing the offense to the cashier so they can move the transaction along, the writer will cling onto it for dear life as they then register the check and balance the amount left in their account.

GET. SOME. PLASTIC.

I understand writing checks from the comfort of your own home. I admit that I haven't fully transitioned to online banking. And it's not because I don't understand what to do, it's because I sort of like the check writing ritual for my bills. I pay my bills while I'm in bed watching David Letterman and then Craig Ferguson and I do not subject other people to the tedious task.

I was at Macy's yesterday buying a couple of things for my trip to China - did you guys know I was going?- and there was a guy in front of me babbling on and on about needing a pen so he could write a check. He had papers and folders flying everywhere and I think he might have been sweating. I was fiddling on my non-camera phone Blackberry so I didn't really pay that much attention to him. I just knew he was writing a check and that I'd probably be there for a while. I was.

Finally the woman came from behind the counter to hand the guy his bags. He turned around to walk away and I made eye contact with him. He was definitely my age. I couldn't believe it. He said to me, "Sorry for the wait."

I replied that it's good to build credit and that he should look into getting a credit card.

He gave me a confused look and just walked away.