Notes & Asides

Singing along to: Iron & Wine, Freedom Hangs Like Heaven

It is 20 degrees outside, and the same girl has just gone out sans shoes for the third time tonight. I am half-tempted to offer her my shoes, just because I'm cold just looking at her, but I'm assuming this is a deliberate choice on her part, and who am I to judge?

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Also, a boy just took his shirt off outside. Now he is standing on a bench, smoking a cigarette in nothing but jeans and a beater. Underclassmen are so dumb on so many levels.

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Over the break, I wandered aimlessly into J. Crew and walked out with an utterly perfect, classic black wool sleeveless dress, the kind that you can wear to any event at any age and always be dressed just right. You know the dress. The Little Black Dress. It was originally $149 and probably worth every penny for the amount of wear it will get. But people, this Holy Grail of Ladyhood cost me $17.91. From J. Crew. For a perfect dress that fits like it was made for me. I might as well give up on shopping, because I will never find another deal that good.

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For the first time in my life I am sleeping on a top bunk. I'm not afraid of falling off in my sleep, but I've always hated top bunks because there's no place to put my glasses. Worse than that, this particular top bunk is near-impossible to get into. The combination of low ceiling + high footboard makes every bedtime an acrobatic event with a high risk of injury and damage to the furniture. (At least Bed, Bath, and Beyond sells these. That should at least solve the glasses problem.)

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I'm not very hungry but I still want chicken wings. Blame the carryout menus that are always sitting on the desk at work. That and the fact that in the tastebud Olympics, the gold medal will always go to something deep-fried, and not the Wheat Thins I packed for a snack. It doesn't matter how hard I try to develop healthy habits. I will never convince myself that deep fried is not delicious.