"He'll sit there and go, Dipsy... Po... Dipsy... Po. I honestly don't think he knows colors. Just Teletubbies."


Great. You're Dead.

Oh, today. I love Sundays now. I woke up at eleven and ate two bagels with the whipped cream cheese from a new container. One was purple, thanks to Sueann's Bagels and their food-coloring fetish. Yes, in their world, purple equals Palm Sunday or something. Then sat around for a good three hours until La Mere decided to take me to shop as we always do on Sundays.

First, to Target, pronounced my way, Tar-zjhay. I picked up the Moulin Rouge DVD on sale for a grand low price of seven-fifty so I can now watch it the whole twenty-seven hours to Florida and drive my family insane with the can-can music. Then I found Funeral by Arcade Fire on sale for ten dollars and bought that, also. It is very good and exactly what I was in the mood to listen to today.

Anyway, La Mere bought shampoo and toothpaste and other random "necessary" crap while I played with the blood pressure machine. Yes, I decided to take my blood pressure because La Mere had just told me approximately nine times in the four minutes beforehand that I had low blood pressure. As the blood pressure machine was pressurizing me, I read the tiny print at the bottom, which said that the machine is designed for people with arms nine to thirteen inches in circumference, meaning the old people who have flabby arm fat wings. Then my blood pressure came back to be 46 over 34 and La Mere pronounced me dead. She really did; she said, "Great. You're dead." Then I explained to her that the machine is designed for the flabby-winged and she decided that it's just because I'm wingless. That was the big escapade at Target.

Then it was off to Younker's for the thingamajobber something or other sale. First we looked at shoes, and I love having size six feet because it means I can just try on the sample shoes. However, sometimes the size sixes are too large which makes me feel miniature and sad. Anyway, La Mere got Franco Sarto something or others that are very cute and while she tried on boring pants and sweaters, I went to try on a very cute Rampage dress and got sequins all over me. Then I realized that, albeit fun, trying on dresses was pointless because I no longer have an event to wear them to until next year's Fall Fest.

On the way home, La Mere talked on her cell phone with Cindy and we all freaked out because the Weinermobile was coming up the street. La Mere was amazed that they were driving it on a Sunday, as if Sundays are devoid of weiners. Haha... dirty bad jokes... Anyway.

Then I made kick-ass flashcards for the ICP test that I plan to appropriately kick the ass of, because it's a must. I did this while I listened to the Arcade Fire and ate three bowls of Cheerios, yay indie bands from Canada and carbohydrates. Not only are these flashcards informative, they are also aesthetically pleasing. But all the studying and carbing up gave me a headache so I had to take some ibuprofen. La Mere probably blamed the headache on my deadness while I wasn't listening, which is all the time. In fact, you can blame the ibuprofen for the general insanity of this entry.


Post a Comment

<< Home