Call me lazy copy and paste girl.

This is from a post I made yesterday (1.20) on BuddySlim. I guess it was quite a hit, so I figured I'd share the wealth with all of you. (To my knowledge, there is only one person that reads my blogs. I'll pretend I've got a real audience out there. Someday, perhaps. Anyhoo, without further ado. Is that how you spell that?)


Alright all of you non-believers, I dragged my ass out shopping Friday night (Lane Bryant and Target all in one night Kelly? You wild woman you. )…and I bought some Kool-Aid. (And not the cheap stuff, mind you. I bought the real thing.) I brought it home, and in anxious anticipation, made up a batch before I even put the rest of my groceries away.

Kool-Aid + Stevia = heavenly goodness.

Yup, it really does taste good…try it, you won’t be disappointed. As for the measurements, I just kept dumping it in until it tasted good…roughly 1/3c or so. Who knows…it always tastes different when you’re tasting it off of the wooden mixing spoon, ya know?
Now, back to my other visit from Friday….Lane Bryant.

Ok, I had a $50.00 gift card from Christmas…and had received a flyer advertising some great clearance sales, so I decided to make a visit after work.

Sigh.

Where do I begin with what’s wrong with this store?

Let me start with describing mine. The one I visit is in Oak Brook, IL. Oak Brook is a VERY rich town…full of old money…oh yeah, and home to one of America’s favorites: McDonalds Corporation is headquartered in Oak Brook, IL. (Right down the block from Lane Bryant. Coincidence? Hmmm…) So, my LB is filled with rich, fat women. (And me…I come from the other side of the tracks…sometimes they let my kind in there. Kidding.)

Alright folks, what the fuck is wrong with this store? I walked around that place for a good 25 minutes before I found something even REMOTELY attractive. I mean, seriously. Some of these hideous patterns and designs…it looks like somebod paid Omar the Tentmaker to design for the store. Ugh. I just don’t know where they get off thinking plus sized women would want to be seen in public in some of this crap. Now, I’m no fashionista, believe me. I’m currently sitting in a green t-shirt that says “Take me for a Ride,” and a red pair of sweatpants that have my old college logo on the butt. (It’s Sunday…I’m in my PJ’s…you all understand.) But I know better than to walk around with giant freaking Cargo pants, wedge shoes..and a paisley, houdstooth tie-dyed halter top that in all reality looks like somebody vomited on it. Please. Give me a t-shirt and jeans any day.

But the worst…

The worst of the worst…

THE UNDERWEAR BINS!!

Oh don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Those ever familiar tall, clear plastic octagon shaped bins filled with the leftover excrement of underwear that nobody in their right mind would ever dare pay full price for.

Those.

Being the cheap ass that I am, I dug through them…in hopes of finding something halfway decent and comfortable.

Ha, what in the name of Pete was I thinking?

I found this one black lacy number that had strings…hooks…buttons. I wasn’t sure if it was underwear, or some kind of medieval torture device.

And then…my favorite…

The red panties (lace…semi-cute) had a string and two giant ping-pong sized cotton balls hanging off the back. Now let me ask you this; where do you put said cotton balls if you actually decide to wear these under a pair of jeans, or something? Do you let them hang out the back, as if you had a tail? Or do you tuck them..you know…down yonder, and pray that the cotton doesn’t get in the way of anything important?

Maybe I come from a more simple time (I’m 26, I don’t.)…maybe I’m old fashioned or something…but I guess I’ll just never understand some of the things you’ll find in the underwear bins at LB. Or half of their inventory, to boot.

So what did I walk out of their with, you ask?

A plain black bra…a blue long sleeved t-shirt….a black tank top..

And 5 pairs of NORMAL underwear from the bin.

Nothing with a tail for me, thanks.