...And Then Everything Went Horribly, Horribly Wrong

Who invented the leafblower? I need to have words with this person.

Why is it better to wake a whole neighborhood with a rocket-pack than for one person to carry a lovely, quiet, quiet rake, lean over, move his arms a bit...? I'd pay a bit extra in rent to skip being awakened by a jet engine under the window. At 6:50 a.m.

If I was just a skinch more awake than I seem to be, I'd haiku about how much I hate the leafblower. All the angst from last night is gone, you see, thanks to a long workout and a couple of cathartic telephonic hash-outs with some good friends. Ahhh, expressing yourself. So much easier to deal with in the morning than a hangover or violence.

Do I deserve this rude leafblower awakening? I think not!

So today my friend S from L.A. is in town. We're going to hit our favorite shopping haunt on my lunch hour, and then spend as much time as possible this weekend doing completely ridiculous girl stuff. More shopping, mostly. It soothes the troubled soul. Case in point: There is a skull brooch from Urban Outfitters that I need. I love the whole idea of it. A sweet idea, the brooch, and then the surprise - a skull and crossbones. Covered in rhinestones. Genius. And all the sparkles will fascinate me while S looks for jeans. Understand this: she is Flockhart skinny, and nobody bigger than a size 2 wants to watch a skinny girl try on jeans. Thank god I love her like a sister, because I would not participate in such an activity if she wasn't 100% awesome.

First of all, the way they cut jeans now is pure torture for anyone with flesh between their knees and their crotch. What is that body part called again? Oh, right...the THIGH. Yep, yep. Forgot about that one. Second, most jeans now come with just a tiny sliver of fabric in that general area. Sometimes it's actually difficult to maneuver a pair above the knees. Now that "designers" have conquered the stomach - no longer can women cover their perhaps not-so-flat abdomens with a looooong zipper - they've moved on to another vulnerably fleshy appendage. Yes, the thigh. Who needs one, right? Much more attractive to look like your upper body is balanced on baseball bats than to - gasp! - appear to have an actual leg sticking out from under you.

Maybe the fashion industry wants to keep the fatties in skirts? Some flesh-phobic seamstress gets queasy when thighs rub together? Perhaps it's an evil plot to conserve cotton?

I was in line somewhere the other day, watching the couple at the register doing some "It's not on the receipt, Miss" "But I own it" routine, and the female half was so scrawny, so small...she was really smaller than any child I've ever seen. Like 5'1, maybe, and about 45 pounds. She made Mary Kate Olsen look positively plump. What bothered me is that she had a - proportionately - much bigger boyfriend. I kept thinking, "Please let that be her brother," but it was apparent that he wasn't.

Poor little thing. It's bad enough to starve yourself down to children's clothes... a roll in the hay must be torture. Even if her boyfriend had a normally sized member, it would likely be bigger than - yes - her thigh. ...ohhhh... Wait a minute... Maybe that's why he likes her...