grrgoyl: (jayne calm)
Before going into work last night, I popped into the TJ Maxx across the plaza for winter gloves. I hate this town -- we had three days of warm weather back in February and all the stores instantly got rid of all their winter apparel in favor of bathing suits and halter tops, even though March has been none too balmy and we historically get our biggest snowstorms in April. While I was there I also picked up another pair of slippers, because my boy ferrets are fond of stealing my old pair, but only ONE of them, so at any given time I can only find one slipper. Maddening. I'm hoping between four shoes I'll be able to maintain one full pair.

But that's neither here nor there. I was waiting to check out behind a woman who was bursting with pride over finding a pair of pumps that perfectly matched a skirt, which I suppose is quite amazing considering the likelihood of finding anything sold there that went together. I waited patiently while she and the cashier admired and exclaimed over the ensemble, then they both turned to me, grinning maniacally. Had I been forced to express an opinion, I would have had to say I thought they were both pretty damn fugly (denim-colored with fake denim stitchy seams. I've never worn pumps, but believe strongly that they should not look like blue jeans). It was good luck all around then that no one was forcing me to express an opinion. As it was, I just smiled weakly at them. But I resent the assumption that I care about things like fashion accessories and wardrobe coordination just because I have breasts. Sometimes I have to forcibly remind myself that navy blue and black can't be worn together (though I'm still not entirely sure why). I'm a tomboy. I don't fill my head with such silly nonsense.

I went to the inventory (Old Navy) and started working. I noticed a couple of high school kids ask a store employee if he was a leprechaun. Eh, I shrugged it off. Bored kids celebrating St. Patrick's early, I assumed. But then I gradually became aware that there were other kids asking everyone in the store the question, customers, store personnel and RGIS auditors alike. "Are you a leprechaun? Are you a leprechaun?" I could hear all around me. I started to sweat a little. What would I say if they asked me? True, I AM half-Irish, but wouldn't that make me only half-leprechaun? Why did they want to know? Would they try to kiss me if I admitted it? Would they try to steal me gold?

They became quite disruptive, leaving and then slamming back through the front door, screaming in unison "LEPRECHAUN!!!!!!!!!!!!" and stampeding through the store like it was a playground. Adorable. Finally I heard a girl ask me from below my ladder, "Are you a leprechaun?" I turned to her and our gazes locked. It was a bonus that from my height I was naturally looking down my nose at her. I fixed her with my coldest, most withering "get the fuck away from me" stare. She paled visibly and ran away.

I was not asked if I was a leprechaun again.

It's not my fault. I hated high school kids when I WAS a high school kid, and sad to say my love has not grown one iota since then. Hell, I barely tolerate most adults. I'm sure my homegirl Rebecca will back me up on this one, our childhoods were almost identical in terms of harassment and alienation (I know, poor me. It's not like that. I never wanted to be one of the cool kids, I just wanted to be left alone). I asked my boss what the deal was with the recess action, and he explained it was some kind of competition or game the local school was playing. The kids had to run from store to store in the plaza looking for the "leprechaun," someone who they obviously didn't know, necessitating them asking everyone they saw. I'd like to know what kind of school advocates pestering innocent people, or for that matter talking to complete strangers (when I was growing up, the cardinal rule expressly forbade this). Stupid whippersnappers. Kids these days aren't getting enough homework, that's the problem with our society. Yes, I'm a bitch, but like I said, I didn't mind it too much until they started screaming and stampeding.

Given the nature of this post, I think my new Jayne icon (stolen from [livejournal.com profile] aurora_z (who frankly has more awesome icons than she knows what to do with), touched up and spit-shined a bit) is just perfect. ♥ ♥ ♥
grrgoyl: (buffycorpse)

I am sick, I really really am.   I went to a Halloween party and spent almost the whole time imagining how I would approach this very post you have in your hot little hands.   That's just not normal.   Damn you, LJ.   Damn you to hell.    But anyway, here we go!

Another Halloween, another party at Chris and Lianna's (Tery's coworkers).    I can say this about their parties without fear of contradiction....when they're good, they're very, very good.   And when they're bad, they're disastrous.  

But before I get too far along, the real reason for this post:   ::clicky clicky for piccie piccie:: )



So anyway, the night was largely fun and uneventful.   Tery just kept serving up the food, trying not to get irritated because everyone was forced to congregate in the too-small kitchen due to the 30-degree weather.   She goes all out on these things, she makes steak, stuffed mushrooms, deviled eggs, roasted veggies, shrimp, all out of her own pocket.   In actuality, SHE is throwing the party, she is just using Chris and Lianna's house.   "Two-Date" Tabby was uncustomarily alone so was paying me more attention than she has in a long time (but nice, friendly attention, not angsty, intimate attention).   She said next year she'd have to come up with four dates to even her average out.   One of the partiers not pictured was Brian, which doesn't make him any less important.   He was the annoying guy from a previous party I described.   By the time I arrived, he was pretty drunk and equally as annoying as before, shaking some kind of plastic voodoo stick at people belligerently and cursing up a storm.   Awww, hell, here he is (with a happier Tabby):




We'll get back to him later, don't you worry, but you can see what a winner he is.  

I was having a reasonably good time, even though this is the kind of party where if someone is off by themselves suddenly, chances are good they are either vomiting or getting high, and that just ain't my scene.   Tabby was mixing shots;   I had two (though not at the same time) and they barely touched me, despite Tabby's assurance they were at least 50% vodka.   I must be turning hardcore.   It was cool, we were chillin', laughing, everything a party should be.    Then Parker showed up.

Parker is Carrie Parker, a peculiar, quiet, lonely kind of woman who for some reason or another has taken quite a shine to me, despite Tery's belief that she's straight.  Tery doesn't like her because she shows up to the parties, never brings so much as a bottle of pop as contribution, and feeds her face all night long.   Sometimes she'll sneak upstairs and nap until after midnight, when Tery breaks out the king crab legs and mussels she saves for the after-party party with herself and the hosts...then Parker will reappear suddenly to partake in that too.  I don't like her because she spends the entire party sitting in a corner and STARING at me, and it makes me understandably uncomfortable.    It's not a flattering, mutual attraction kind of stare....it's a creepy, Fatal Attraction kind of stare.   I'd post a picture of her if I could get one without her taking it completely the wrong way.   I thought I was being kind by avoiding her all night, not leading her on, what have you, until at one point she unfortunately intercepted a look I had intended for Tery, and returned it happily.   She almost immediately realized her mistake, and disappeared so quickly she could only be fleeing in embarrassment.   I was mortified for her, but what are you supposed to do in these situations?   "I'm sorry that look wasn't for you, but you really shouldn't be expecting one"?  

The night was winding down and I was thinking about leaving.   That is until Brian went missing.    He was wasted out of his mind on 4 shots of tequila (at the same time) and lord knows how many hits of pot...Chris had left him outside and came in to tell his girlfriend that she really needed to bring him home, and somewhere in the space of time it took her to put on her coat, he had wandered off.   Chris and Lianna live in one of those annoying subdivisions with the endlessly branching streets that all look identical.   I would easily get lost myself stone cold sober if I didn't know their street name and the one unwavering route I take to get there.    So half of us took off on foot in case he was sleeping on someone's lawn, and the other half went by car in case he was mobile to catch up with him.   It was freezing cold, and the general agreement was if it had been summer, we would have gladly just let him sleep wherever he was.   I had no love of the guy, but really didn't wish him dead either.   As we walked up and down the street, Tabby made the hilarious comment, "You know, you come to these things to have a good time, eat a little, drink a little....no one wants all this fucking drama!"   This was hilarious because clearly she had no memory of running down the middle of this very same street, drunk out of her mind, screaming at her ex-girlfriend hysterically at 2 am.   Ahhh, good times......    

An hour later there was still no sign of him, and there was talk of calling the cops, an idea that made Chris (and his sizable pot supply) a little nervous.    Brian's girlfriend was apologetically telling all of us, "He's never run off before, he's never run off before" as if that would somehow change the reality that he had this time.    I sort of wanted to smack her a little, mostly for not trying to cut him off before it got to this point.   I mean, he was absolutely out of control all night and she did nothing.   Eventually I was forced to admit I was being a tad hypocritical hanging around when I really didn't know the guy very well, so I left at about 2 am.   

I got home and barely had time to tend the farm (feed cats, give Alsatia insulin shot, put bird to bed) when Tabby called to tell me Brian had been picked up by other partygoers on their way home.   What a relief.   Whatever.   I curled up on the couch to watch the last 20 minutes of Leprechaun in a pleasantly exhausted stupor.    I'll admit, Leprechaun seemed like good, mindless fun, but I wasn't so zoned out I didn't notice that this had to be the lamest, least frightening, stupidest horror movie I'd ever seen.   Not that it pretends to be anything else, but Jesus.   Granted I missed most of the movie, but I mean....the leprechaun never actually hurts anyone, just runs after them a lot (really hard to buy when his legs are only half as long as his intended victim's...explaining perhaps the even more comical wheelchair chase, with painfully amateurish speeded-up frames) saying, "I want me gold!  I want me gold!"   Then he finally catches the kid that I swore was Carol Anne's brother in Poltergeist and all he does is roll him around a little on the ground, hardly a fate worse than death.   And the whole horrible mess starred none other than Jennifer Aniston, barely recognizable (perhaps that was the point) with dark brown hair and wearing prominently featured LA Gear sneakers no less.            

Happy Hallowee......zzzzzzzzzz

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