weekends speak louder than words.

Welcome to the roaring 20's, and by 20's I mean the ages between 20 and 29, and by roaring I mean yawning.

Ode

Ode to the life I'm living. Right now I am sitting on the couch with my two room mates; Billy and Brandon, watching The Matrix. I should probably mention that it (the couch) is a black leather wrap around couch, circa 1980's, one you might find the prop room of the movie American Psycho. The dog is here too, his name is Cody. He is a Belgium Shepherd, who in human form would probably be an 8th grade boy with acne who is 6 feet tall and just got pulled up to the varsity basketball team at the local high school. It is after midnight on a work night, and the only reason I don't want to go to bed is because I don't wanna have to deal with getting dressed in the morning. Its a process of smelling the same clothes over and over, realizing the outfit I visualized does not actualize as well as I had hoped, and then putting on the same pair of jeans that has a hole in the crotch. Nobody can see the hole, but the fear that they will follows me all day at work, therefore causing me to walk slower than usual and perspire sporadically throughout the day. I should probably get rid of the jeans. I am 24 year old budding professional....but I have the feeling that while my income is low I will keep the crotch-holed jeans, and wear them often. I have been trying to get into skirts lately, I really like that high-waisted skirt look, with a tucked in blouse and one of those big belts. The problem is that my torso is extraordinarily short, and I'm high waisted. The combination of those to physical elements creates a body structure that is easily comparable to one of the ant characters from the Pixar movie A Bug's Life. Where is this all going? I don't know, but I DO know I need to go to bed. I have to get up early and smell clothes.....

A mall in Tacoma, WA.

"Dad can we go to The GAP?"

"The what?"

"The GAP."

"What are you talking about? Go to a what?"

"The GAP, its a store. "

"Oh...a store for what?"

"For clothes. Can we go?"

"You need clothes?"

"Sort of. Yea."

"Why don't you want to go to Nordstrom's?"

"It's not like I don't wanna go to Nordstrom's...I'd just rather go to the GAP."

"Hm. Okay. We can go, where is it?"

"This way -past the food court."

"Oh here's one of those big mall maps, what was the name of the store?"

"Dad I know where it is."

"What was the name of the store?"

"Dad, stop. It's this way."

"Michaela."

"GAP. It's called The GAP"

"Okay, let's see....'G'...'G...ah the GAP! Should be just past the food court."

"Yes...it is."

5 minutes later (Dad is slow)

"Here it is dad."

"Where?"

"Right there, the blue sign."

"That says GAP Men"

"I know, the women's store is in there too."

"Excuse me?"

"The men's store, and women's store are the same store."

"Excuse me?"

"Dad, can we please go in."

"You're buying your clothes from a men's store?"

"Dad...no...they are just in the same store."

"Does that sign say baby? GAP Baby?"

"Oh no."

"We're going to Nordstrom's"

"Dad why? Please, come on."

"Nordstroms Michaela."

"Ok fine.....Dad, where are you going? Nordstroms is right there..."

"That's the perfume and cosmetic entrance, it agitates my sinuses."

"Oh geez, we're walking all the way around the mall?"

"It's not my fault I have an affliction Michaela."

"I didn't say it was...whatever works. Let's just go."

5 minutes later (Dad is distracted)

"Food court again Mouse, you want anything?"

"No thanks Dad."

"You sure?"

"Yea. No thanks Dad"

"Look! Ice cream, you want some ice cream?"

"Dad, I'm lactose intolerant"

"Come on, just one scoop?"

"Dad, I'll get sick."

"But you love ice cream."

"No thanks."

"They've got cookies 'n' cream, you're favorite?"

"Ok. Sure. Fine dad...thanks"

Freedom!!!!!

Tonight I did Power Yoga. I thought it would be nice to get my muscles warmed up beforehand, so I went for a long power walk/jog along the beach. Unfortunately.....I did not know my body was going to be subject to Medieval torture. While I sit here with aching muscles that I didn't know I had, my mind begins to drift and I lucidly recall the last scene from the movie 'Braveheart'. I have more in common with William Wallace right now than my own mother. I have used what's left of my mental and physical power to fall face first on my bed and debate the choice of taking some pain killers, or having a glass of wine. According to the generic bottle of aspirin it is not good to mix both, so I think I'll go with the wine. That way I'll at least be able to laugh about the whole situation.

Maybe Wallace was laughing in that last scene. Laughter is often confused with crying. Hm.