Today at work...an old woman came in...wearing nothing but an open vest...and a SPORTS BRA.

Dear lord, my eyes!!!

Bon Voyage!!

Linda is leaving for Italy and will be gone for over a month. Brooke is moving away in a couple of weeks. Add these together and you get one mopey Robin.

But I want Linda to have a wonderful time in Italy and for Brooke to be happy in Connecticut. And Linda will be back in August and Brooke* will visit a bunch (because I will MAKE HER). Must remember that.

So since Linda is leaving soonest I will write this:

Have an amazing time in Italy, Linda, and take pictures and have yummy food and good memories and if possible bring me back a cute Italian boy. Or a tee shirt. Or a cute Italian boy in a tee shirt. Either/or.

I love you, sweetie!

Muah!


*Brookie gets a special message when it's closer to her leaving. I'm writing Linda's now 'cause I'm going away for the weekend and don't know when I'll have time at a computer before she goes.

An Ode to the Best Jeans Ever

I ripped my favorite jeans and it nearly made me cry. They ripped right under the back pocket so it's not something easily fixed or ignored. They are the only jeans I've been able to find in years that aren't super-freaking-look-at-my-uterus-low-rise. I'm sorry, I know people like low rise jeans, and on many people they look great, but I am just so uncomfortable in them and I don't think I even look that good in them. I like jeans I can pull on and run and jump and bend over and work and play and be me in and not have to think about till the end of the day when I take 'em off. I don't want to show off my cute thongs (which I don't wear) or my bad ass lower back tattoo (which I don't have). I'm a well proportioned girl, I believe, but I don't have sexy curvy Jennifer Lopez hips. I'm fine with that, I like my body, but I can't find a damn pair of low rise jeans that actually want to stay put. They slip even lower than they're actually supposed to go 'cause I'm just not built to wear them. Even with a belt I still end up having to pull the damn things up all day. That or I have to make my belt so tight that it leaves a mark when I take it off. Ow. I don't want super high mom jeans. Just not super low ones. The problem is that the people making and selling these jeans seem to think that all women are built like J.Lo or Beyonce. I'm a skinny white girl. I barely have hips. I have practically no ass. It just ain't happening. But last year (or was it two years ago?) I found jeans that were perfect! They sat on the perfect place on my hips. I could sit down comfortably and not worry that anyone could see my underwear, but still be somewhat fashionable. I didn't have to pull them up all the time. They were perfect and wonderful and I could just slip them on and feel comfortable and confident and like me. What more could a girl want from her jeans? Now they are ripped and sad. Woe is me and my ripped jeans.

R.I.P. Fantastic jeans. You made me oh so happy. I'm sorry I didn't do something to prevent you from ripping.

(I'm thinking of trying to sew them up or patch them. I couldn't really wear them to a party or to work, but at least I could wear them when I'm just hanging around. I dunno. A pair of jeans with a patch on the ass just don't seem to build as much confidence in me as my perfect jeans pre-rip.)




*Yes, I did just write an entire entry about my jeans. If you read the whole thing, thanks, that was nice of you and I appreciate it. If you think I'm silly...well...clearly you have not been paying attention to my blog previously or you would have realized that by now. G'night. :-)

Dear Citizens of New Jersey,

I would like to introduce you to this nifty little thing called a crosswalk. When a person is standing directly in front of a crosswalk, it usually means that they'd like to cross the street. This is your cue to stop your fucking car and let them cross. This does not depend on how much of a rush you're in or how big or fancy your car is. Stop. Your fucking. Car. Do not drive past while glaring at the person as if to say "This is MY street and I'll run over your toes if I damn well please".

I'd also like to remind people walking in the crosswalk that it is impolite to take your sweet time dialing your cell phone/checking the time/readjusting your headphones/showing off your pimp walk or any other such slow ass obnoxious behaviour as you cross the street. You may have the right of way, but the person in that car in front of you could easily run your ass down in a second flat so watch your back.

Thank you for your time, and remember, don't be an asshole, you could wind up in a suit case in the reservation. This is Jersey, after all.

All my love,
Robin

P.S. Littering sucks, too. I saw this kid drop his Dunkin Donuts cup on someone's lawn this morning on his way to school and I had to struggle not to yell "I hope you get herpes" at him. That's probably a little extreme for tossing a coffee cup...but only a little...