Thursday, December 31, 2009

Turtle Legs and Saag

"Okay. So the plan is: finish work one hour after everyone else. Purchase jeans. Purchase toilet paper."

"Oh, I hate jean shopping."

"I fucking agree."

"It's like you're wearing someone else's pants-"

"Super lame."

"-and you have to take your shoes off, but it's cold outside even though you're inside and you feel like you should be cold, so you just buy them without trying them on and bring them home and they never fit right."

"I have to try things on. At the store. I can't buy clothes online or anything. Never works. One time I got the same sweater, same size, two different colors. One was substantially bigger than the other."

"It's like--"

"It's like I was being punished for my audacity in expecting two mass produced articles of clothing to be remotely identical."

"Yeah." Co-worker Natalie laughs uncomfortably. She always laughs uncomfortably. Sometimes I think she laughs out of obligation rather than enjoyment. I appreciate the effort, but it makes me sad. Sometimes I would just rather have people not laugh. I am annoying.

"I should learn. Never assume. You assume, and then everyone's an ass. You, me. Making into asses. Being made into. Asses. All of us. Never assume, because...oh, shut up, me."

"You should just go to Old Navy," Natalie says after a few minutes of work. "It's the easiest. It's like dead there, everything is on sale. I got a pair of jeans for like nineteen dollars. It was awesome."

I glance over at her desk, nodding at her slim, long legs. "You don't have turtle legs."

Real laugh this time. "Whe-wha-psssh. Neither do you."

"Don't humor me. Seriously. It's impossible for me to find jeans. Other pants are fine, I can alter them myself, but denim is harder."

"What? You're like the same height as me."

"I will bet you nine hundred dollars my legs are like four inches shorter than yours."

"Okay, well, why don't you just get the petite ones?"

"They never have them. Fucking Old Navy."

"Well, they might have the shorter ones. Can't hurt to try."

"yeah, but then I've got to worry about the waist. Am I a Flirt? Or a Diva? Neither, assholes, fuck you, give me a pair of jeans."

"I like the Dreamer."

"I am super dreamy."

"With your dreamy turtle legs."

"But I know they won't be there, and then I'll be mad. And you know what? I'm not gonna just wear khakis and other bullshit pants instead. Nuh uh. If I can't wear jeans, I'm going all out. I WILL BUST OUT THE SKIRTS. I ain't a'feared."

"Won't you need to buy skirts first?"

"Fucking whatever."

"You'll probably spend the same amount of time looking for skirts as you would jeans."

"Definitely."

"And then you'll have to buy shoes other than hiking boots and Chuck Taylors."

"I need new boots anyway." I really do. I've had these bastards since 2001, back when I worked at the zoo, and they keep my feet warm and dry and they're a goddamn eyesore. Everyone hates them, especially all those stupid bitches soaking in their Uggs, the ones who suffer for fashion and viciously judge my rational winter footwear. Of course, most likely no one notices my boots, and I'm the one irrationally judging. "You know what," I add after a pause, "I've had enough of your bojangled logic business. Let me have my fury."

"You could just ask for jeans for your birthday."

"Yeah fucking right. Like my family could ever get it right."

"Well you never know until you try."

"But they don't know what I like, and I don't like what they like. We can't even agree on restaurants. They're always all, 'you pick a restaurant, it's your birthday!' and then I get pulled aside by my dad, and he's all 'try to pick some place where your mother and sisters can find food, will ya?' So in the end, I'm not picking my own dinner, I'm trying to make everyone happy, and we just eat Italian again. Horseshit."

"And Italian family goes out for Italian food? Why don't you just make it yourselves?"

"Because the mom cooks, and she's Irish. At least my dad is willing to try to pretend he'll eat new things, but he goes in there with expectations. Like I took him to Indian Harvest, and he was convinced he would hate it because he doesn't like curry. Didn't matter how much I told him that not all Indian food had curry, he was fucking resilient. And then he didn't understand the menu and got all huffy, and I said I'd order for him because I know what he likes, but that just made him more upset and he ordered fucking chicken curry and then was mad when he didn't like it. So I made him eat my saag, and he was all, 'oh, that's not bad.' Fucking duh, Daddio."

"So will he now go out for Indian food?"

"After serious coaxing, he can be convinced. Still. It drives me fucking nuts. It's like, I know what I'm talking about, dad. Trust me."

The day goes on. Work ends. I leave. I buy jeans and toilet paper as planned. I return to work this morning.

"Look at you! You found jeans!"

"You know it." I model them. Do a little jig, because modeling things is embarrassing. "I completely dig them."

"And where did you find them?"

I look down, scrunch my nose. "Old Navy."

"So they had the petite ones?"

I scrunch again. "No. These are regular."

"And they fit your turtle legs just fine."

I sigh. "Yep."

I am becoming my father.

...

20 comments:

Jacob said...

I had a boss with my first job out of college who laughed like she was terrified and trying to feign confidence. It was grating. I hated her. I may have hated her for more than just the laugh, but I can never quite tell.

Jessica said...

I think Old Navy jeans are better for short legs. I have pretty long legs and even their supposed tall jeans look like flood pants on me.

I hate Old Navy. In high school it was my ultimate favorite. whatever

Rassles said...

I am addicted to Old Navy. It's either there, or Good Will. Because I make the big bucks.

daisyfae said...

if you go to goodwill, you can buy a bunch of jeans for $5/pair, then take them home. i re-donate the ones that don't fit.

Mia Watts said...

So long as you don't wear those pants that cover your feet so you look like your some kind of jean tree with bitrunkery growing out of the office carpet. Those ALWAYS are lowcut and I feel like I need to drag my cursor over the wearer in order to get their pants to fit right.

Thanatos said...

I am cheap, I like clothes.

therefore I love old navy. Heck American Eagle is too rich for my blood.

Chamuca said...

OMG, my dad's the same way. He's so meat and potatoes, and everything he WILL eat is so bland. I talk so much shit to him about it.

I don't even know why I do that though. I'm the person who always orders the same thing at restaurants, because I'm afraid to get something different. I'm fucking hungry and I will be pissed if I get something and I don't like it.

(One of the nicknames my family has given me is "Chicken Strips".)

DiaryofWhy said...

I think our dads were separated at birth. My dad says the exact same thing re: the Indian food and the curry. He's still never had Indian food. Meanwhile I'll make a soup or something with curry and he'll eat it without a word.

And I just spent more money than I normally ever would on not one but two pairs of jeans from J Crew (because I couldn't decide. It's a sickness.) Tried them on and everything. I was pretty proud of myself until I got in the car today and realized that, sitting down, I was sporting a good two inches of hot pink sock. Sigh.

Nikki B. said...

1. i, too, hate buying jeans

2. in no way is "just wearing a skirt" EVER an alternative...EVER!

3. chuck taylors go with EV-REE-THING, at least, they go with everything i own!

4. Happy New Year Bitch!!

A Free Man said...

I am so much like my Dad that I basically am my own father. Which is fucked up and kind of oedipal and extremely distressing. Happy New Year and all that.

Mongoliangirl said...

The worst thing I do that's just like my dad is being willing to try absolutely anything and then complaining for three weeks if I don't like something.
Why not just say, "Huh, guess I won't try that again," shrug my shoulders and move on??
Oy!
Glad you found jeans, Mizz Rass.

renalfailure said...

Aren't all pants someone else's until you buy them?

And it's a good thing you don't have a complex about your toilet paper too. You'd still be out shopping.

renalfailure said...

Also... didn't you go to Mexico recently? Where are those tequila-soaked stories? Or does Cancun have the same rules as Vegas?

Le Meems said...

Laughing uncomfortably happens alot. I lose people in my verbal stream of conciousness.

I had an idea for a book. With you. Lets chat soon. It's Sweet Valley High Slam Book meets Girls who Wanna be Millionaires and Awesome Famous Vixenette Authors.

Ginny said...

I do so love it when you write.

Oh Turtle Legs, I feel your pain. As I scream at my husband for putting my jeans in the dryer because god dammit, I cannot afford to lose one millimetre in length, please know, I feel the pain of a world where jeans are made to fit exactly 3 people.

PS: My verification word is blessed. What the crap?

Sid said...

Bwahaha. Man I completely and utterly digged this post. Thanks for making me laugh on my very first day back at work. FYI I'm wearing the world's super tightest jeans EVER. I'm not quite sure how I managed to squeeze my ass into it.

nursemyra said...

I'm with RF - are you gonna spill the beans on your recent holiday?

I'm still wearing a pair of jeans I bought in NYC in 2001. They might be 9 years out of fashion but they fit just fine. Saves me ever having to weigh myself

nursemyra said...

hey rassles - happy birthday babe!

Blues said...

I just spent two weeks with my mom and I fucking scare myself with my ability to be like her.

Glad your back in bidness.

kate said...

If you already know what I'm going to say, then I probably don't have to say that we're all totally in love with you. Whoops, there it goes!!

I like Old Navy, but they don't fit quite right on me either. Levis do alright, but really any piece of clothing is going to try to fight me one way or another.