Grab a Handful

Today was a pretty typical day at work. I don't usually work on Sundays, but I have made a lot of adjustments to my work schedule now that Kylie has started first grade. One of these adjustments is to work every other Sunday when she is with Rat Bastard to keep me from sitting at home, dying of boredom and loneliness. Today was my first Sunday on my new schedule. Nothing new; work is work. But the perk of being a store manager is that I don't have to work on Sundays. I kind of feel like I deserve a prize for showing up.

Business was pretty steady today, and it was just myself and one associate handling the masses. It wasn't anything we couldn't handle, because we are simply awesome like that, but sometimes there are zillions of people crawling around my tiny little store, and it can get a little overwhelming. The dressing room area is always packed, and just having to pass through it is enough to stress me out. There are always piles of clothes thrown on the floor, people hanging out of the curtains half naked, and crazed teenage girls screeching at each other, "Like, omigod! Do I look fat in this!?"

At one point today, I came out of the stockroom and was walking through the dressing room to get back to the salesfloor. At the entrance to the salesfloor, a man was waiting for his wife to try on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I stopped and complimented her on it when she came out to show him. Their five-ish year old son was standing there also. "Standing" is actually kind of an understatement. He was jamming to the music that was blaring through the speakers in the dressing room, doing a little beatbox/breakdance mix that would have been hilarious if I actually halfway liked other people's children. But to humor his mom (who was about to drop some serious cash on her outfit), I pretended to think he was cute and adorable, yada yada yada.

The kid was staring me down as I excused myself to return to the salesfloor. When I passed by him, he was still mid-breakdance. Then I felt a little five-year-old-sized hand make contact with my right ass-cheek. And squeeze.

Yes. That happened.

I know what you're thinking....it must have been his dad. But no, daddy-o was right in front of me, so he probably didn't even see Junior cop a feel or two. I felt downright dirty, as though I had violated this wacky little kid instead of the other way around.

This is probably something he's going to talk about in show-and-tell in kindergarten tomorrow.

Downward-Facing Dog, Please

Today, I went on a manhunt for yoga pants. It seems like these should be pretty easy to find. After all, everyone and their brother does yoga today (except my brother, because that would just be weird). I went to a mall close to my apartment; I was on a mission, and I was not coming home without something to work out in. I have been on this pilates kick for a couple of months now, and I am tired of wearing cut-off sweatpants that have a little sag in the backside. Nothing sexy about that, let me assure you.

After hitting five or six stores in the mall with absolutely zero luck, I wandered into a small sporting goods store. From the storefront, I could see an endless array of Nike basketball shorts, sneakers, and lycra sports bras. Surely I would find something here. I found a salesgirl and asked if she could help me.

Me: "I'm looking for yoga pants."
Her: "Yoga pants?" She was totally clueless.
Me: "Yup, yoga pants. Like sweatpants without the elastic band at the bottom."
Her: "Ummmmm....." She began to look around the store desperately as though the pants were simply going to fling themselves from the rack to help her out.
Me: "And I would prefer crops if you have them."
Her: "Ummmmmm.......crops?"
Me: "Yes, crops. Not pants, and not shorts. Right in between." I even demonstrated for her by touching my knees.
Her: "Ohhhhhhh......you want windbreaker pants. Right?"

Good people in retail are so hard to find.

Have No Shame

I got hit on a few minutes ago in the tampon aisle at Wal-Mart. There I was, in yoga pants and a hoodie, with no makeup on, my hair a curly crazed disaster as though I just rolled out of bed (I did), looking for the box that combines regular, super, and super plus. And I got hit on.

I'm not really sure how I feel about this. There are two ways I could take it.

(1) This guy has no shame. He will pick up women in the checkout line at the grocery store, in the line at McDonald's, or (gasp) in the tampon aisle at Wal-Mart. He will sleep with anything that moves.

or

(2) This guy is completely okay with his masculine side. He realizes that women have a little friend that visits once a month, and it doesn't bother him in the least. A few months into our relationship, he will be volunteering to go on my tampon runs for me. What a great guy. He knows a great catch when he sees one, even if she is makeup-less and looks like she was just released from the insane asylum.

Yeah right.

Who am I kidding?

All in the Family

A couple of weeks ago, my dad, my daughter, and I took a week-long trip to Michigan to visit family. When I am at my grandmother's house, there is a tendency to meet relatives that I never knew existed. People are always dropping in unexpectedly, and before I know it, I am meeting a cousin (usually a second or third cousin) that is just as surprised (thrilled?!) to meet me as I am them.

The first night that we were at Grandma's, she had planned a big family dinner. To my surprise, it was all with family that I had never met. Even now, I can't remember how we were all related. There were three ladies (and their husbands) that were around my grandma's age (possibly Grandma's cousins?), along with one of their daughter's (who was probably in her mid-forties), and then her daughter (who was 24-ish). Even though I was a little bit frustrated at being jet lagged and suddenly having to meet and socialize with total strangers (I hate people, remember?), the night ended up being pretty fun. We had dinner, and then the men went into one room to chat, and the ladies went into another to play cards.

Fast forward two weeks...

Last night, I was on the phone with my dad. We were discussing something or other about our trip, and dad brought up the dinner at Grandma's. Imagine my surprise (shock) when Dad said, "You know those ladies at the dinner? They all thought that you and I were married and that Kylie was our daughter."

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love my dad and everything, but that elicits some images that I would prefer never enter into my brain.

Please God tell me that someone corrected them.

You Can Duct Tape Anything

Even an airplane. This is from my trip to Michigan a couple of weeks ago. I'm really glad that I didn't notice this until we were in the air.

Makes Me Smile

This is why I love living in Kannapolis. Someone planted this, and I think it rocks.