I TOTALLY Got To Second Base at Dillard's

Two blog posts in a relatively short amount of time? You're welcome.

Here's what happened:

In the last week I have snapped TWO under-wires in my favorite bras, seriously... you know the feeling. Just sitting at your desk minding your own business and SNAP! I have worn the same type of bra from Victoria's Secret for about 6 years now, it really was pretty comfortable and fit me well... but something always happened to them... the under-wire snapped, the elastic came apart, the under-wire popped out of the side... not to mention they are usually about 45 bucks. Don't tell me it wasn't the right size either! I totally didn't have back fat or boob spillage, and I had been measured. Anyway... after this whole fiasco I decided that I was done... so I said goodbye to my beloved bra (and yes... it looked EXACTLY like that on me... Jealous?):

Fast forward to the next day... I decide that Dillard's is going to be my first stop. I buy perfume and purses there, why not a bra? This is when it all began. I started browsing the racks at Dillard's and I find the softest bra ever, so I just grab 2 in my **Victoria's Secret** size and I'm thinking I'm going to be on my way. I'm checking out and the lady is staring at my chest and she says "I need to measure you, this bra is not going to fit." I respond with "oh, I've been fitted before, these should be fine," I'm on my lunch hour... I didn't feel like messing with this. So the lady finally says "Let's go in the dressing room... you don't even have to take your shirt off!"

We get into the dressing room and she measures me and then says "lift up your shirt." My face probably looked like I was petrified "old lady say meh?" She then repeats herself: "lift up your shirt... I need to see the bottom of your bra." At this point all I can think of is that she promised I could stay fully clothed. She then proceeded to poke and prod at my bra and all of the contents therein... she didn't even offer to buy me a drink, which is just rude. I'm not a whore, lady.

Anyway... she stares and measures for awhile and then says something that literally made me gasp:

"Honey... you're an F."

WHAT THE HELL IS AN F?! Is that even a real cup size? She tells me that the particular bra that I'm trying is a DDD, which is close to an F... for the love of heaven... I'm going to get my own freak show on TLC.

Anyway... long story short. I got felt up at Dillard's and I'm waiting for the carnival sideshow people to call me any second and offer me a position.

The World Is Against Me

Hello, Hi, Hola (to both of you who may or may not read this),

The world is against me, and here is why:

Ever since I can remember I have been obsessed with these:

I can remember my elementary school teachers having them on their desks and I would always steal them and color with/smell them. My favorite was grape and cherry. My mom would never buy them for me because they didn't have them at Wal-Mart... you had to go to an office supply place for them and The Janet was not having that.

Skip forward 20+ years (the fact that I can even say 20+ when referencing my life should freak me out more than it does)... when I worked for UB I had these wonderful markers at all times due to having an almost unlimited budget at a local small-town office supply store (handwritten receipts y'all). My obsession only grew when I had them at all times, not only do these things smell like candy, they also color better than any marker I have ever used. Then it came time to leave UB to further my career and I did not take my beloved markers with me.

Skip forward a little less this time (we'll say 1 week). I'm "helping" Kyle (who we will refer to as "Cal" for the remainder of this post) get ready for RA Training in his office (by "helping" I mean whining to go get ice cream and saying things like "that makes no sense" repeatedly) and I spot them... 4 BRAND NEW boxes of Mr. Sketch Scented markers... and on top of this they're the JUMBO BOXES. My heart begins beating rapidly, I can feel my palms getting sweaty wanting to reach for them. I know if I ask to color with them he'll tell me no because they are for something way more lame than me drawing people with real body parts except for hands, because every time I try to draw a human hand it looks like they are flipping someone off by accident. I finally decide it's time so I scoot closer to the markers and stare at him and say "I can has these?" to which he replies "no, they are for training." I decide I'm going to be nice and just smell them while I think of a way to steal them. I try to say things like "you know what's good for people to use... SHARPIES! You could give one center SHARPIES! Doesn't that sound like a good idea??" Cal replies "no." Fine. I give up because our relationship is more important than scented markers right? Not really... but in light of not sounding like a total loon I'll go with it for the sake of this post.

I post my worries on facebook about how Cal no longer loves me because he won't give me these markers and go on about my life... marker-less and depressed.

Skip forward to today... I am talking with my old UB coworker and friend Jaime and she says "I found your markers the other day." WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?! So I reply "GIMME MY MARKERS!" Jaime says no, and that if I want to get my beloved markers back I have to go all the way to Sallisaw to retrieve them. She is holding them hostage, and I'm going to call the police.

So to wrap it up. Cal has Mr. Sketch Scented Markers and I can't have them. Jaime has MY (and by "MY" I mean the State of Oklahoma's)Mr. Sketch Scented Markers and won't give them back, and I am refusing to buy new ones on the basic principle of "there are too many boxes roaming around so I refuse to buy some." Until the next time I'm near an Office Depot.