The Beginning of the End, or Here's Hoping for a Happy Ending

Yesterday, I got to work and the Christmas decorations were up. Inspired by this preemptive garlandery, I wrote the first JCPenney "Christmas" song of the season. (I wrote two or three songs last year to celebrate my grief at working a retail Christmas.) The song is to the tune of "White Christmas":

I'm dreaming of a nice Christmas,
far away from JCPenney.
With treetops that glisten,
mistletoe kissin',
but not 'til after Thanksgiving.

I'm dreaming of a nice Christmas.
The kind where I don't work late nights.
May your workload at Penney's be light
and may you still view Christmas with delight.

There will probably be more songs to come.

Baking Lessons

Last night, I tried to make some cookies. Well, I actually did make cookies but there were some complications involved. The first batch was in the oven when we (my friend Nikki and I) discovered that we had not added in the chocolate chips. Remaining optimistic, we went to the cupboard to get the chips and discovered that I didn't have any! Seeing that I had plenty of raisins, we decided to add those to the batch in the oven and go from there. Since the cookies were mostly done we had to put them on top, arranging them in smiley faces just for fun. We had another batch ready on a cookie sheet and I didn't want to do all raisin (mostly because I don't like raisin), but I remembered how I had some Lindor truffle squares, so I chopped those up and put them in. We had a little bit of batter left, so those became raisin as well. The whole time we were cracking up about everything that happened. I was wearing a scarf, and I kept dropping things like raisins and batter clumps in it. I learned that baking with a scarf isn't such a good idea because you might get your scarf stuck in the oven. Nikki kept knocking the knife out of the dishwasher (we have to keep a knife in the door to keep the washer going), which was hilarious for some reason. Probably because extractions last night weren't as exciting as usual and I had to get all of my laughter out somehow. All in all, a fabulous night.

The Windshield Wiper Saga

This is the tale of the windshield wiper that would not be fixed. A while back, I noticed (as it was raining) that the windshield wiper on the driver's side was not performing at 100%, specifically in the area right in front of my face. Shortly afterwards, I purchased a new wiper, which my dad attempted to install only to find out that the Deathcab is not one to be easily persuaded into repair. It turns out that my windshield wipers are not the same as normal wipers (big surprise). After both of my parents attempted to switch the wipers, my dad finally resorted to switching out the rubber part. We assumed that the rubber was worn down, and therefore the problem.
It turns out that we were wrong, and the next time inclement weather came up I discovered that the wiper was still defunct right in front of my face. After some deliberation, I decided to turn to an outside source: my home teachers. This is how today my friend Jeff came to my house to fix the rebellious wiper. After waging war with said wiper for a good thirty minutes, Jeff was forced to admit defeat, or so we thought.
Shortly afterwards, my dad came home and decided to take another look at the wiper after I told him that I'd have to take it to the shop. After putting the wiper back together (the unruly rubber had given Jeff some trouble in re-assembling it) we decided to try it out just for the heck of it and, lo and behold, it worked! My theory is this: while attempting to detach the wiper, Jeff somehow adjusted the wiper and fixed it!
And there was much rejoicing....

Stake Conference and More

Today we had Regional/Stake conference up at the Spectrum. Visiting general authorities President Eyring and Elder Ballard spoke (including Elder Ballard making a suggestion that the young men and women of the choir marry each other) and the choir was totally awesome. It was a wonderful experience to feel the Spirit and know that I was in the company of true prophets of the Lord.
While waiting for the conference to start, a few young men came and sat behind my family, and what we overheard was both surprising and incredibly amusing. All of my years, I have assumed that guys didn't talk about girls, at least not the way that we girls do. Girls are silly and presumptive. We overanalyze every little thing and we make crazy plans to draw men in. (I hope that none of my fellow ladies are annoyed that I gave away our game plan ;) ) Anyway, my mom and I had to restrain our laughter at the conversation of the guys behind us. They were talking about a girl on the aisle. One guy was saying that the girl was his type, and one of the other guys told him that he should go talk to her. Later we heard them discussing that the guy interested in the aisle-girl left his seat and came back "just in time" to be able to talk to the girl. The guy revealed that it had all been part of his plan. It was almost like I'd been granted a glimpse into the world of men. I guess it just felt good to know that guys are crazy, too.

Waterbottlegate

Many of you are not aware that we recently got a new store manager at JCP. After several years of laid-back-ness, we have a new manager who is determined to stick to the rules and make all sorts of positive changes in our little store. I'm sure that a lot of her ideas are great, and I'm sure that eventually we'll all get along just fine, but for right now I'm a little concerned about some of her "ideas". On Tuesday, I was told that we would no longer be allowed to have water bottles out on the sales floor, as it was "unprofessional". I was/am pretty upset about it because I am a very thirsty person, especially since so much of my shift is spent talking to customers/fellow employees. Since it has become such a big deal, I have named this conflict "Waterbottlegate". I had a whole rant prepared to submit as an anonymous comment when I heard, from Linda, that we were being given a two week trial to see if we could handle the responsibilities of professional thirst quenching. We are now allowed a clear, screw-top water bottle if we keep it hidden and take it away after our shifts. If one person messes up, we're all going down, sentenced to a lifetime of work in the desert that will be JCP. So now I just have to get a new water bottle and hope for the best...

Wrong One, Wrong One!

I like a guy. I'll admit it. The problem is that I'm really shy and get frustrated really easily that nothing ever happens with this certain someone, which is ridiculous because it's not like he is supposed to know that I like him and that he should pay attention to me. Really, my frustration is my own fault because I won't do anything myself. Anyway, I've noticed this sad trend in which I happen to run into this fellow's friends and/or relatives and have lovely conversations with these guys, at which point I feel the need to text someone, crying out "Wrong One, Wrong One!" (This is the part where I wish that guys were just a teeny bit like girls, and would have a discussion that would go along the lines of "I talked to Michelle for a while. She's pretty awesome and I'm pretty sure that you should ask her out". Alas, guys are NOT like girls, or so I have been told ;) ) These sad texts inevitably bring about the dreaded phrase, "you should go for him". This has always puzzled me because I feel that by using this phrase, I am being told to spontaneously create feelings for someone and, as much as I love my dear friends who make this suggestion, it just doesn't seem likely to occur.
Hearing "you should go for him" always brings a chuckle to my throat because I suddenly feel like I'm on the hunt, like going for an elk or a moose. A friend telling you to "go for" someone is like them issuing you a man-tag. Here is your opportunity, go for that man. Luckily, it's man season year-round, so if you don't get one during the month of October, you don't have to throw away your man-tag, unused and wasted.
On the other hand, maybe "going for" a man in like running for an office. Just as I could "go for" class president, I could try to get myself elected as a girlfriend in the primaries, and as a wife in the final election. The electoral college consists of the guy and any surrounding friends and family (with his mother most likely holding a position of "super delegate"). No doubt all of the dirt in my background will be dug up, but I don't think it will matter much if I use my campaign funds on my wardrobe ;)

Grandma Sweaters and Other Ugly Stuff That I Like to Wear

So, today at work I was really cold and I borrowed a sweater from the Women's department. The sweater looked fine when I put it on, so I went about my work, but the next time I saw myself in the mirror I realized that this particular sweater reminded me of something that my grandma might have worn. For some reason, this didn't put me off much and I realized that its because Grandma-wear is apparently en vogue these days. The trick is that only the young can get away with looking like a grandma. Once you reach a certain age, wearing grandma clothing makes you look like an old lady, at which point, the aging men and women of our society try desperately to look younger than they are.
The funny thing about most of this stuff is that it's really kind of ugly, another interesting thing about clothing. We seek individuality by looking distinctive, even if the distinctiveness involves something that others would consider "ugly". I do it myself all the time. I have this habit to head straight for clearance racks, find the ugliest thing possible, and try it on. I have this weird attitude that I can pull off anything, even if it's crazy and/or ugly. This is probably how I ended up with red plaid skinny jeans, shirts with crazy ruffles, and several pairs of brightly colored tights. I also tend to put really weird outfits together, again, telling myself that I can pull it off. I get really creative when I have next to no clean clothes and start pairing things together. I've found that I'm not a naturally outgoing person, but the clothing that I wear forces me to be outgoing. It's times like these when I like to think of a little something that Mark Twain once (allegedly) said: "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society". Amen, Mark Twain, Amen.

The Tale of The Super Tight Spandex Pants

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Today marks my return to the bloggers' world! I haven't done this since the days of livejournal and I'm pretty excited to get going again. Here goes! I hope you all enjoy my rambling, and to start I shall share "The Tale of The Super Tight Spandex Pants".

Monday, I saw a guy on the shuttle bus that was wearing extremely tight spandex pants. Ironically, I had initially thought that the guy was decent looking as he ascending the steps of the bus. This quickly changed into fearful shock as I beheld the extreme tightness of the spandex pants which encased the bottom half of this guy. He looked like he had just been running, but really, that’s no excuse for such apparel. Okay, so you know how usually when guys wear unnecessarily tight pants, you see a sort of bulge in a certain area? Well, these pants were so tight that, unfortunately for everyone on the bus, the man’s…details were on display for all the world to see. I was forced to avert my eyes to avoid the extreme inappropriateness of the display. I’ve decided that maybe tights pants of this extent should be included in the consideration of indecent exposure laws. This was just wrong.

So, today I saw tight-spandex-pants-wearing guy again. I actually saw him yesterday going into the Ray B. West building, but he was wearing jeans, so it was ok. I hope, however, that this doesn’t become a regular occurrence because, frankly, I don’t know if I could take it. This time, our indecent exhibitionist was wearing really, really, short shorts. So short, in fact, that I found myself hoping that the man was wearing some supportive security, lest he accidentally take part in some actual indecent exposure. The shorts, which brought to mind the hot pants of yesteryear, were relatively snug. They weren’t as tight as the spandex pants, but having that image burned into my retinas made it impossible to bear. To make matters worse, the scantily-clad fellow was practically in front of me, and I actually had to turn my head to keep the guy out of my peripheral vision. Quite the adventure...