HI

for the longest time, jocelyn has been trying to pick a new giants player to be her favorite. it has been difficult since some of her past favorites don't stay for very long.

she finally decided on hunter pence. three reasons. one he looks like a crazy hobo with his piercing eyes and scruffy face. two he wears his socks up to his knees. three he travels by scooter to and from games (not sure if he does this anymore since everyone knows about it).

we left a game at the top of the 9th and were lingering in the arcade area. they had a tv there and some of my friends wanted to watch the (bitter) end of the warrior’s game.

while the guys did that, the girls wandered over to watch the rest of the baseball game. the area was mostly deserted since the giants were losing. we were standing in the second archway when jocelyn remarked at how close hunter pence was. if it wasn’t for the barracade, gate, chain link fence, and security we could probably run out onto the field and grab him. we could say hi to him she said. when i said she should she looked down and said, “i can’t. i’m shy”.

before i realized what i was doing i stood on the barricade and started to yell hi at him. didn’t even say his name, was just yelling hi at him. he turned around and looked at us. we waved at him and he waved back. then he turned back around to focus on the game. my friend and i proceeded to squeal like fan girls.

it was probably nothing for him and he probably won't remember doing that but it was such an epic moment. so thanks for waving back hunter pence. warm fuzzies.

no substitutions please

i was at the store and wanted to stop by the toy section. mom looks at me and asks if i’m too old for that. out of habit i say no but then i thought about it and realized i’m nearly a three decade year old wandering a toy aisle looking for toys to buy for myself.


most people my age would be there to buy toys for a kid not themselves. well, what’s wrong with wanting to buy toys? as a kid i couldn't get the toys i wanted right away. i had to wait until it was a gift receiving occasion (if only we practiced being jewish then i would've gottten more stuff) or if i saved enough to buy the toy i wanted. by then the toy would be sold out. if gift givers managed to remember what i wanted they would buy the wrong one. michelangelo is not the same as leonardo. a pink wand can’t replace the sword of omens. i wanted the mickey mouse plush not the pencil sharpener with his face on it, (stupid santa).

i make my own money now so i can buy what i want. but you know what? it’s too late now. i am decades too late to buy the toys i wanted (at a reasonable price).

if you want to save your kid from wandering the toy aisle when he/she is almost three decades old buy them the toys they want. jot it down in a day planner, tie some string on your finger, keep a printout in your wallet.

if you don’t your kid is going to be writing santa a very strongly worded letter the day after christmas year after year until the old man gets it right.

from the editor

i know. it's been months since i've updated. i'm surprised anyone is still reading this. well, it's not like i haven't had anything to write about. it's more like i haven't made the time to edit the stuff i've written. i made some time now. so new posts will be coming but they'll be out of order. so if you use these posts to keep track of the seasons, don't. not unless you like living randomly and confused.

ok.

Roll With It, Not On It

i’m not a shoe collecting girl. i have difficulty finding shoes due to my shoe size. the world is a cruel place to be a large footed gal. even if i manage to find something that fits, they don’t look right. sling backs aren’t so sexy when they’re the size of eskimo snow shoes.

my sister had picked out a pair of shoes she wanted me to wear for her wedding. i slipped half my foot in and realized it was not going to work. my toes pulsed. the glittery bow was stretched out to a strip. the sides chaffed my feet. the back-up pair was 4 inch pump dipped in layers of gold glitter. thank goodness they didn’t fit either because i didn’t want to wear shoes that trigger an image of a slutty Judy garland way past her prime who’s sold Toto for a hit of elmer’s.

we moved on to the clearance section of the store. my sister had me try a few pairs on. i didn't sprain my ankles despite rolling on them so many times. think sexy my sister suggested. instead of looking like a victoria secret model strutting down the runway, i looked like a partially blind three-legged baby giraffe learning how to walk on ball bearings. sexy right?

i eventually did leave with a pair of suitable wedding shoes. my sister has tasked me with practicing in them every day because i have to look natural when i walk down the aisle. no wobbling. no tipping over. there should be no outward sign of any discomfort or pain. the only tears allowed will be tears of joy.

do you think it’s too late to back out of the bridesmaid thing?

“how did you walk down the aisle at laurie’s wedding? did you fall and roll down?!” – sister.

When Life Imitates Reality TV

my sister recently got engaged and chose me to be one of her bridesmaids. this will be the second time i’ll be a bridesmaid. i don’t think i’ll end up with 27 dresses... at least i hope not.

due to some schedule conflicts certain things have to be done right now, like dress shopping. my sister and i looked over styles, colors, and materials. she decided on one but then her fiancé said he liked another. it’s easy to like something when you don’t have to wear it.

the next day my sisters, our mom and i were at the bridal shop. the sections were organized by style number but the dresses didn’t know that. despite having an appointment there were no sales representatives available. so we fumbled around until one came to check on us. 

since the place had no mirrors in the changing rooms, we had to walk out into a mirrored hall separated from the brides' area. a guy was wandering around the mirrored hall. he was giving my sister a look when we hear this women yell, “get over here!”. the guy spun around and his future bride was standing there. she was certainly a vision of a blushing bride, with her long white gown and bright red face.

one sister wanted a particular dress but the other sister said she was going to a classy wedding not a night club. the color combined with our fair skin reminded one of tropical creamsicles. we suggested another color. my sister went bat-poop crazy. we calmed her down but then my mom piped in with, “i liked that other color more”. so the discussion went on.

she wanted to get it right then and there. i suggested we check a few other places before we placed the order. she didn’t like that so she stormed out of the store. my other sister calls her to come back. eventually we agreed it was my sister’s wedding so we’d go with it.

when we got home my dad asked how it went. my mom said to him, “don’t ask. you’re going to make her mad by reminding her she picked the color no one wanted”.

me: this one?
sis: no, that’s guava.
other sis: this?
sis: no, that’s watermelon.
me: ta da!
sis: no, that’s orange.
other sis: eh?
sis: no! that’s persimmon. pay attention! i want coral, you know like pinkish orange. nothing else! ok?!
mom: this one!
sis: mom! that’s blue.