pennywise...

Wasn't that the clown from It? Or have I had an aneurysm combined with a near-fatal case of Too Lazy to Google It Syndrome? No matter. I am hear to talk neither about clowns, which are horrifying on their own, nor the collected works of Mr Steven King. What I am here to discuss was going to be a mere blog comment, but I decided it merited a whole post. (Yeah, yeah, I know. Now you're yelling "aneurysm!" at your computers. Too bad, I can't hear you.) Aneurysm *is* a Nirvana song, and I didn't even have to look that up. It's the one containing the immortal lyric "love you so much it makes me sick...", which, we've all been there, right? No? Just me? Okay, then.

Anyway, for mocking me, y'all are getting a video.

I wouldn't watch that if you have primary generalized epilepsy with photosensitivity. There's a lot of strobing going on. No falling to the ground and twitching on my watch.

Now, onto the point of this post. (I'm sure going off on ridiculous tangents is a sign of neurological damage, too. I mean, it can't be healthy.) Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yeah. In comments yesterday, Ms Crispix totally was playing devil-on-the-shoulder and encouraging me to buy shoes if it will perk me up. Specifically those espadrilles or the floral boots WHICH ARE ON SALE. Sorry, got all capslocky there. Anyway, I am here to tell you that yesterday I found something that possibly would have gotten me out of my funk even more efficiently.

Here's the deal. I was going to meet up with Mr Indemnity to go eat barbecue and see Paul (big Simon Pegg fans, we are) but when I texted him to see what time he could blow off work, he said not till 5:30 at the earliest. So I had some time to kill before hopping on the Red Line. I used this time very productively by going to Macys. Shut up. Wherein I tried on this dress and I am not lying to you when I tell you it looked better on me than it does on that model. Of course, I wasn't standing in front of the dressing room mirror making that douchey pose either, but trust. It fit me perfectly and it looked so cute. It also--which you will know if you actually clicked my link, slackers--cost $79.

Since I did not feel as if I had $79 to waste on an awesomely cute maxi dress suitable for sitting at a sidewalk table sipping drinks some evening in July, I reluctantly returned it to its little hanger, left Macys, liberated Mr Indemnity from his "work", and went on to spend $40 on barbecue and margaritas, $8 on the movie, $4 on coffee, plus, y'know, commuter rail and Red Line fare. My little evening out cost approximately 3/4ths of that awesomely cute dress. What is wrong with this picture?

Obviously the answer is that if I were any kind of a real woman, I would find me a man who wanted to take me on dates, and thus I would be able to both drink margaritas and afford to wear cute clothes whilst doing so! God, I suck. The aneurysm must be obscuring my sex appeal. Either that, or it's the bitch face I have on at the gym. (You people don't need an irony alert, do you? We good? Excellent.)

xoxo