tobermory's Diaryland Diary



Whew. I am just a lazy olí bum. I go from posting every freakiní weekday at the beginning of this year to what I must admit is a rather lah-de-dah attitude about regularity. It would seem that my journal needs to eat some fiber.

Steve and I made the yearly jaunt down to Effingham, Illinois (Crossroads of Opportunity!) to soak up some smalltown midwestern fun at the St. Anthony church picnic. Four relaxing days of laying by a pool, shopping at Rural King (a lesser version of Farm & Fleet albeit a version with a much better name), playing bingo, and eating BBQ pork sandwiches. The only unfortunate part about the weekend is that I wasnít feeling too pool-friendly. Because Iíve put on a few pounds and because everyone in Steveís family is an absolute twig, I felt compelled to try to cover myself up to hide as much of my blindingly white skin as possible. I already sport a mommie-style skirted suit from Landís End (thank god for Landís End) so I also wore a long-sleeved workout top and claimed that I was concerned about the burning rays of the sun. People seemed to buy it and not think I was some kind of freak Ė say in the manner they might have if Iíd been able to find the burkha-style suit that I really wanted to be wearing. In some ways I actually came out ahead. The top did keep me from burning, and since I usually get my burn on the first day of vacation I spend the remaining days in great pain, screeching, ďdonít touch me there!Ē whenever Steve would absently put his arm over my shoulders. In addition to the aforementioned fun, we watched a variety of movies: Talledega Nights in the theater (not as horrible as I was expecting it to be), The Aristocrats on the hotel HBO (hysterically funny), and Fever Pitch on DVD at Steveís auntís house (very Ďehí). Whilst lounging poolside I also put away three books: Hypocrite in a Poufy White Dress by Susan Gilman (both feminist and funny), The Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson (also very funny and had the added cache of being a review copy because the book really doesnít get published until October), and Marley and Me by John Grogan (while both funny and touching, animal books NEVER have a happy ending Ė do not read the last couple of chapters in public unless you want people asking you whatís wrong).

On the way down to Effingham we stopped at the outlet mall in Tuscola. As far as outlets go itís pretty lame, but I did manage to stock up on soft, nicely fitted t-shirts at the Bass store, buy some basic ĺ sleeve tís and some thermal shirts at The Gap, and score a pair of red pajama pants with little black skull & crossbones at the Polo outlet. Steve and I are going to a party this weekend at my dadís country club and itís one of those parties like you see in 80ís movies where they poke fun at the rich, very unhip whities. Itís called the Mai Tai - No Tie (because all of these parties have to have a theme) which means that they guys can cut loose without ties in their rockiní madras shorts and pants with little whales embroidered on them (I do not jest Ė I will see at least one or two pairs of those fugly pants with something repeatedly embroidered all over them) and the women will be decked out in the latest Lily Pulitzer pink and green concoctions while stiffly dancing to a lame 60ís cover band. Itís sad being part of a stereotype. I tried to get Steve to buy a pair of preppy/fugly pants from the sale rack at the Polo outlet, but the madras patch pants were too small so I brought him a pair of bright red pants with an all-over foulard pattern in navy, yellow and green. These pants fit but had a really strange cut Ė they made Steve look like he had on some sort of formal pajamas or perhaps a preppy pair of Zubas pants. Naturally I started laughing so hard that tears were coming out of my eyes. Steve retreated to the dressing room in shame and then realized he was locked out and would have to walk across the whole store to get the keymistress to unlock the door Ė thatís when I almost wet my pants and started to talk in gasping sentences while clutching racks of clothing, ďhaha Ė you look funny! Hahaha pantsÖbad haha! PAJAMAS! Haha Ė no ZUBAZ! Hahaha!Ē At least I was amused Ė Steve just looked kind of pained. Iím fairly certain the keymistress was amused as well Ė she mentioned that they donít sell too many pairs of those pants.

Iím not sure what Iím going to wear to the party. Iím a bit old to pull off the anti-preppy thing and go goth (ish Ė I was never a real goth Ė more like a new wavey goth), and Iím not sure if any of my own ironically Ďpreppyí clothes will fit right now. Somewhere I have a nice skirt that looks like itís made from a vintage 50ís tablecloth and that might be nice with a black t-shirt Ė I suppose Iíd better start looking for it tonight because I imagine it needs to be ironed if I can even find it in the black hole my closet has become. Otherwise I suppose Iíll wear one of my Libby Dibby wrap skirts Ė they always manage to look nice.

Thatís all for today Ė lunchtime is over.

4:27 p.m. - 2006-08-16


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