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By Misti Date: 2004 Feb 08 Comment on this Work [[2004.02.08.03.01.24232]] |
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Oh. Dear. Gawd. I really and truly suck. SIGH. Kelli, if you think you have a spending problem, maybe this blog will cheer your ass up. Okay. My husband gave me $40 for spending money this week. It's not because he's Ward and I'm June and that's my allowance. It's because since we met, my husband has been in control of the finances/bills/budget. If I were in charge of alla that junk, we'd have no phone service, electricity, heat or food, but I would have clothes from Betsey Johnson (I guess you can buy her stuff online, don't know) and the Victoria's Secret catalog (they have great sweaters and basic tees and KICK ASS boots and heels!!!) and this boutique in Old Town that has this totally impractical but gorgeous dress in the window...very dramatic and Old Hollywood. And I would have approximately five hundred cds (Mahler...the White Album...the blues from A to Z...Buddy Holly...Smashing Pumpkins...jazz, also from A to Z...George Strait...Hank Williams Sr. and Jr. and III...Johnny Cash...Manic Street Preachers...the Stooges...Sex Pistols...Elton John....sounds of the desert/rainforest/beach/Arctic Circle/spheres/universe/bayou/Mars/whales/Stonehenge). I would have Clinique cosmetics for my face, M.A.C. for my lips and eyes, and the entire Sephora catalog. I would have spa crap, including those hot rocks you can put on different parts of your body. I would have more books than I already have. I would have a chapbook with my name on it. I would have a visit to the salon once a month that would include hair color, hair treatment, manicure, pedicure, facial. I pluck my own eyebrows. Don't believe in wax. I would have botox. I would have detox (from what I don't know...McDonald's, maybe?). I would have care packages for everyone from Julie Kate to Kelli to Karen to Whitney to Lisa to my mom/sister/brother/grandma. I would send money to all the charities that keep sending me free address labels with balloons and roses on them. I would buy an island in the South Pacific. I'd buy a boat. I'd buy a tent and a Nacho Doritos sleeping bag like the one I had when I was a kid. I'd buy subscriptions to Time/Newsweek/National Geographic/Playboy/JANE/Maxim/Seventeen/In Touch Weekly/People. I'd buy a cell phone even though I hate them and hearing the "Cheers" theme song again and again at work (the ringer for someone's cell phone) makes me grind my teeth and clench my fists. In short, my husband is the daddy and I'm the manic little girl. Yeah, that is sexist but it's true. I even call him Daddy much more than I should. I use baby talk much, much more than I should. It's crazy. But I guarantee you if our life was a reality show we would have better ratings than "The Osbournes" and that stupid Nick and Jessica show combined. It's like a bad car wreck. You don't want to look. But you must. So. My husband gave me $40 yesterday. My "allowance" for the week. I had been planning for days to use my allowance on Valentine's stuff for my husband. That did not happen. First we went to Macy's to get our new Fossil watches adjusted for our wrists. Had some links taken out. While we were in Macy's, of course I had to look wistfully at the BeneFit counter and look for my newest favorite cologne which is featured in all the magazines I buy...Amor Amor by Cacharel. I saw the formal gowns and held up a lovely lavender gown to my body and looked in the mirror. It reminded me of the gown Uma Thurman wore to the Golden Globes. God, that dress is perfect...I look at it and drool, thinking,"I would look better in that dress than Uma." I think her breasts are bigger than mine but her head ruins the whole thing. I do not like Uma Thurman's head. That includes her face, which I think is ugly. Beauty is subjective, because apparently the rest of America thinks Uma is one hot mama. Off the subject, I was watching "Almost Famous" for about the 20th time with my husband tonight and he kept saying how ugly he thinks Kate Hudson is. He said,"That girl is better than her," pointing to one of the chicks on the bus during the "Tiny Dancer" scene. He said,"They're all better than her. Kate Hudson sucks." I think she's pretty but not a great beauty. In my mind, no one can touch the angelic (not in a Heavenly way, in an Oh Yesss way) Angelina Jolie. I also admire Ava Gardner (Sinatra's muse) and Patti Boyd, Clapton's and Harrison's muse. And Catherine Zeta-Jones? Forget about it. Her beauty is fucking untouchable. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the dress. I wish I had a magical fairy tale dress and heels and a matching purse and exquisite dangly earrings and an event to wear it to. Like a charity ball (I need charity, by the way) or the opening of a new museum or the opera or symphony or some such shit. I would open my mouth and ruin it, though. My husband says I talk like a trucker. I embarrass him in public...like at Wal-Mart last week when I saw the tangelos, which I wanted very badly but they were crap so I could not buy them. I said,"You have got to be fucking joking me." Then I talked to one of those security things on the ceiling in case anyone was watching. In essence, I said,"This is bullshit. You expect people to buy this bruised, moldy fruit?" I was enraged. I told Chris tonight that when we shop there tomorrow night for groceries (tonight, technically, but midnight is my morning) I am taking Post-It notes and I will leave notes on things I disapprove of. My way of screaming profound profanity at The Man. Oh no, I'm rambling. Well, if you are still reading, thank you and bless you. You must be really bored or something. I don't usually write such long blogs. Excuse me. So from Macy's (I didn't spend any money) we went to Hasting's, a video/music chain we frequent. I told Chris I wanted to go in, buy one used cd for my next mix tape, and then we'd go to Walgreen's so he could buy a pack of cigarettes so we could go to a bar. I just wanted "Sweet Home Alabama" or "Waiting For a Girl Like You" or "Wasted Days and Wasted Nights" on a jukebox and a cheap beer in a cheap bar, filled with old men, not college students. But that's not the way the ball bounced. Instead, I found three used cds I had to have...the Prince/symbol cd that has "Seven" and "Three Chains of Gold" on it, the Harvey Danger cd that features "Flagpole Sitta" and a John Lee Hooker blues cd. Well, my husband is slow. He's a Libra. He takes his time shopping. I go in, get what I want, pay and leave. He has a hard time deciding. He was in the book section and then the video section. If he had come to me in the cd section we could have left and a lot could have been avoided. But it is my behavior and I cannot blame my husband for it. I walked past one of the bargain book shelves and found a book covered with candy hearts entitled The Relationship Dictionary. It is funny and ironic and I had to have it. It was only $2.99. Then my husband made the mistake of showing me things that reminded him of me. A book of photographs on the five burroughs of NYC, pre-9/11/01. He knows the burroughs confuse me. I had to have it. Again, it was a bargain book. He showed me my favorite book of poetry, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow Was Enuf by Ntozake Shange. I already own about two copies but I had to have it. It only cost two bucks. Kelli, if you want it I'll be happy to send it to you. I think you would love it. It's truly beautiful. Brings tears to your eyes and a rainbow to your spirit. Truly. And then there was a modern poetry anthology. Had to have it. So after my mad spree in Hasting's I had five bucks left. Came home and put in the John Lee Hooker cd, ready to rock out to the blues. Inside the holder was "Follow the Leader" by Korn, which I already own. Drove back to Hasting's alone to get a blues cd. Found another John Lee Hooker cd for four dollars less. Got that and had four bucks to spend. I was thinking,"Woohoo! Nine bucks! I can put gas in my car and get quarters for laundry!" Didn't happen. Went to the gas station and ordered $6.05 in gas so I could get quarters for change. But the $2.49 big ass bottle of Corona I bought on impulse canceled out the change theory. I think I got one quarter in change. And there are so many baskets filled with dirty laundry in our den that my husband said it smells like a hamster cage. Damn it. On my days off, see, I just sleep. I don't accomplish anything. So my husband went to bed at 10:45, as always. I put a pretzel in the microwave to eat with my pills. My husband called me into the bedroom. I tucked him in and slathered lotion on his hands because he never takes care of his own hands and they are red and chapped and look horrible. I was busy talking to my husband and straddling him as I always do when kissing his face all over and saying Good Night to him. I forgot about the pretzel. Finally got off my husband and left the room. As soon as I entered the hallway I saw clouds of smoke coming from the kitchen. I said,"Oh, Cook! (short for Cookie Bear) There's a fire in our kitchen! We have to evacuate!" It was the pretzel in the microwave. I had placed it in a bowl. Well, the pretzel was black and the bowl melted. It smelled horrible! I was coughing. Chris said,"Get a towel and keep the smoke away from the fire alarm!" I was stupid. I had not even thought of the fire alarm. So I waved a towel around and said,"I need to wet it. Wet kills the smoke." My husband snapped,"That doesn't make any difference." I opened the front door and the cold air whooshed in. I continued snapping a wet towel at the smoke. My husband went back to bed and I brought him the inhaler because he was sick with asthma from the smoke. I wanted to get a motel room but he would not hear of it. He said,"Light some incense and candles. No, never mind. I don't want you lighting anything ever again." Against my husband's wishes (HA), I lighted two sticks of incense and a coconut pie candle. I sprayed anti-bacterial deodorizer all over the hallway and the rest of the apartment. I sprayed Calgon body spray all over, too. You can't smell the smoke anymore but the horror lingers. Oh, and last night Chris watched "The Omen" for the first time and kept telling me all night about how much I remind him of Damien. I also remind him of Samara from "The Ring," the little boy in "The Shining," the little boy in "Sixth Sense," and the kid in "Signs." I tell him,"I guess that makes you a pedophile, then." I need to do something before the pills take effect. I'm thinking Literati at Yahoo. Which proves that I SUCK. |