Observations on stuff

I know I haven’t blogged in a while, things have been a little crazy, but I have some things to say.

In my recent day to day dealing I have noted some situations in the world around me that need fixing. The first is woman’s fashion. In Jurassic Park, Jeff Goldblum gives a great speech about how being ABLE to do something doesn’t mean that we SHOULD do it. I know he was referring to the genetic engineering of dinosaurs in the 20th century, but this is more important. I would like to relate this to women’s fashion and suggest that just because we CAN make spandex leggings in a size 28 doesn’t mean that we SHOULD make spandex leggings in a size 28. There are actually a lot of sizes that they shouldn’t make leggings in, as well as a lot of other clothing. This was brought home to me with nauseating clarity while shopping for clothes a few weeks ago, when a woman came into the store wearing bright yellow leggings (in at least a size 28, maybe more) with what looked to be a size 6 CROP TOP. There should be laws! Not only could you see every seam of her underwear, you could determine the exact weave and thread count. You could also determine the depth of the divots in her cellulite. This is wrong. It’s a travesty against God and the Universe. To add insult to injury, her crop top was ludicrously tight with a plunging neckline that threatened to suck you into a dark and scary abyss too terrifying to contemplate. Her massive breasts teetered precariously over the top of her shirt and though I hesitate to traumatize readers by admitting it, also seemed in danger of oozing out the bottom of her shirt. I looked at her and wondered does she not have a mirror? Should someone buy her one? I would like to suggest that there be laws of fashion governing this. Maybe a law that states leggings can only be worn by 18 year old women who are a size four or less, because frankly leggings are something that very few women should wear. I’m sorry. I know this is harsh and I will freely and honestly confess my own hypocrisy and admit that I do indeed own a pair of leggings, but rest assured that they are worn only for exercise and even then only in the privacy of my own home, under a baggy t-shirt that goes to my knees and only in the dark. I take these precautions so that no one is in danger of the psychological scarring that I endured upon seeing that woman in the clothing store. Ladies! Have a little dignity! And to the fashion industry I would add the plea to refrain from allowing us to indulge in these fashion faux paux by ceasing to manufacture psychologically damaging clothing. We will be a better and happier society for it.

Now on to my next issue. Cell phones. My friend, Jess, and I recently attended a conference with a company that we buy our skin care products from. We had both signed up to be “consultants” for the company and were promised $150 worth of products if we attended their all day seminar. Okay, the truth is we have no intention of being consultants, but if you sign up, in addition to the ‘gift’ for attending, you get to buy all of your own products at 50% off. Guaranteed, I will be my own best customer. We did discover that “spa” is now apparently a verb. Women there said things like “I spa’d my husband the other night”. Kinky. And somehow infinitely more disturbing when she would add that she has also spa’d her mother-in-law the next day. Truth be told though, I love to “spa”. It’s decadent. You can just lose yourself in the creams and scrubs and soaps. It’s very addictive, but I digress…again…You may be wondering what all of this has to do with cell phones. I’ll tell you. There was a young woman there who was obviously never told that there are rules of etiquette that come with a cell phone. Can you say vibrate? Or better yet, here’s a thought. Maybe there isn’t really anything so urgent that we can’t just turn our cell phones off for half an hour. I know…shocking.

So not only is this woman’s phone NOT on vibrate, she has it turned up full blast. Every twenty minutes or so it would start ringing and the woman, in an obvious attempt to incite a riot, would wait until the third or fourth ring to respond. It wasn’t even a voice call, just a notification that she had received yet another text. To add insult to injury her texting was set to sound. Every letter of every text heralded another annoying little beep. There she would sit, ignoring the glares of 30 ticked off women…beep beep beep beep beep beep…beep beep…beep beep beep. Like morse code. I’m A.D.D. Ignoring the incessant beeping was impossible. I started fantasizing about diabolical and horrific ways to retaliate for the psychological torment she was inflicting. I don’t want to offend anyone, but unless you are a doctor (on call) or possibly a nuclear physicist who unbeknownst to the rest of the world has inside knowledge that there is a meteor headed straight for earth and will incinerate the planet in 30 minutes unless you can come up with a solution immediately, you are probably not important enough to need to be in constant contact twenty four hours a day. If it is not possible to be away from your children, boyfriend, husband or office for an hour without texting them, then you probably shouldn’t have left in the first place. Another little revelation for you cell phone addicts? Yes, everyone in the theater CAN see your glaring little three inch screen in the dark. And it’s annoying! Sigh…thank you. I needed to get that off my chest. Oh wait…BRB…my BFF just texted.