14 January 2008

I'll take a look at a Sealy, as long as we can cuddle afterward.

I'm taking leaps into the realm of adulthood, instead of tiny steps. I make my coffee at night and set it to brew right before I wake up. I don't vomit from a flouride treatment when visiting my dental hygienist. I'm satsfied after a single beer or glass of wine ... ok, maybe two. And I now spend money on things like a car, kitchen utensils and cloth napkins instead of sorority clothing, makeup and booze.

My latest Wilt Chamberlain-esque step into my newfound adultness was made at the mecca of anything home related in the Kansas City area ... Nebraska Furniture Mart. I walked in, made my way past the in-store coffee shop and Quizno's, climbed the winding stairs to the second level of mass bargain-hunting chaos and entered the world of pillow tops and coil springs. That's right, friends. I bought a mattress set.

So my new purchase was broken up into a two-trip decision. The first time I tested mattresses out, I soon realized the sale I had thought was going on had just ended. Color me disappointed. But since The Mart runs their "Biggest Sale Ever ... never going to happen again" every two weeks, I was in luck. So I returned the following weekend and found the salesman who helped me before. I felt like that was only fair. I'm not sure if they run on commission or just warm fuzzies from a sale, but either way I wanted to help the man out.

Now this was a whole new experience for me. And by "whole new", I mean "pretty damn awkward." Let's think about it. A bed is a pretty personal thing. It's where you sleep and have intimate relations ... with books, people! (You know I don't work the other way. Sickos.) But seriously. Any sort of proper "we've just met and we'll never see each other again after this sale" relationship has jumped over the comfort line the moment you lay your toosh on that first bed. Nay, that bubble is popped the second your salesman asks you what kind of bed you prefer. "Firm or soft?" ... "Excuse me?! Isn't that a little personal?!"

Anyway, so I'm testing out all these mattresses. Laying with my hands awkwardly folded over my pudgy tummy (Taco Bueno is across the shopping center. Shutup.) I have some stranger asking me how a bed feels and I'm thinking "Look buddy, you seem nice but I prefer 6'2" Jason's, not 5'4" bald dudes." (Insert vomits here if you like.) Aren't you even going to take me to dinner first?

But luckily my two-session shopping paid off, and awkwardness was kept to a minimum because it only took me about 15 minutes to drop $700 on something that's going to be covered up with chocolate brown sheets and a crushed velvet duvet.

Well whatever. It was a rewarding experience as a new member of the adult world. Now if I could only wake up at a normal time without an alarm clock and not sleep in until 11 ... oops.

09 January 2008

Talent: you win some, you lose some.

There are many different types of talents. Ones you're naturally gifted with, like my ability to shoot water through the gap in my teeth to distances at least 10 feet away. Ones you've got a little natural ability in, but have to work on developing or getting back ... like my speedy baby-small fingers gracing the keys of my mama's baby grand. Then there are ones that just slowly fade away, and they're difficult to find again. As I grow older, I find these types of talents are also growing more frequent. That sucks.

One of these talents I've watched slip through my fingers is the ability to shop. For clothing, to be exact. I know what you're thinking ... it's a tragic loss. I used to torture my mother with trips to Westridge Mall. (She never acquired the talent of shopping. She's spent after approximately 23 minutes.) My shopping stamina was damn hard to beat. Now I'm not saying I had the best style because let's be honest, some of the clothes I wore in high school were entirely hideous. I had my moments of potential or glory, but they weren't frequent.

Point being, though, I could shop for hours. And find a lot of stuff. So let's talk about the decline in these abilities. In college, I was able to keep a steady shopping streak alive, relatively speaking. I didn't go shopping every weekend, which isn't a far exaggeration for my high school shopping career. But I was able to keep a steady flow of new clothing appearances in my closet. Sure, money deterred me from keeping the same shopping lifestyle, which why I threw in the "relatively speaking."

As I graduated college, moved to Kansas City and found a job, the shopping was consistent enough. New paycheck, more clothes. Sweet. But the luster of the paycheck wore off after a couple months when I started the whole car payment thing. Then I moved out of my parents' house, so rent/utilities hindered things considerably. Sure, these occurences are common. But my back seat was just begging for shiny new Banana Republic bags! Once I got on my feet from the monthly payment shock, I budgeted out some money for clothes. Now this is where things get sad.

I'd go shopping every once in a while with this newly set budget, but I found it more difficult to find anything worthy of my hard-earned money. A pit of distress began formation in the belly. I was losing confidence ... fast.

So I began a period of shopping celibacy. I decided I was a new type of shopping gal. Purchases would be kept to a minimum in order to save money ... believe me, this was a foreign concept, so it wasn't an easy decision or execution. I didn't make any major clothing purchases for almost a year.

Well, winter finally made it's way around again, and after a few morning temper tantrums following the trying on of multiple outfits, I realized I was going to have to break my shopping vow in order to keep warm and keep my boyfriend sane. So I ventured out to buy some sweaters. The process wasn't pretty. I had lost all ability to scout out a deal. No longer could I buy a shirt without trying it on first ... annoying. Initially I thought it was the fast-paced holiday season that was turning me off from shopping. But sure enough, after attempts to spend gift cards received for Christmas, I stumbled upon a startling realization: I am no longer a talented shopper.

But worry not, I'm slowly learning the skill of online shopping. I went on an internet shopping binge for a while, returning a few things out of pure guilt, but it's slowed down a bit. I'm just going to have to get used to the fact that I now type "www" to shop instead of getting in the car to visit my clothing destination.