I think "nice flip-flops" is an oxymoron.
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I think "nice flip-flops" is an oxymoron. That's what I said to Amanda, last night, after the show. She'd brought a group of our professor friends to see my play, and afterwards, as is the normal routine and course for our social troupes, we ambled over next door to the Old Venice Pizza Company, the neighborhood bar and grill, and I stood patiently accepting kudos and the like, something I don't always enjoy doing because it seems so impratically rote, but I endure it all the same - I mean, I was brought up right. All the while, though, I was staring at the Pinot Grigio selections. I was reminded...
Every gas station in Georgia is like a mini-casino.
I was ready to go the minute I woke up. For two reasons: I was ready for a road trip, first of all; also, I'm rather moody, and I am completely helpless about it. One second I'm the life of the party, and the next, I want a small closet with no windows and a fur coat to roll around in, and a really filthy martini in an oversized glass without the garnish unless they stuff the olives with blue cheese. I guess I get it from my mother's side. We were coming to Atlanta for a wedding. Well, actually I was coming to...
I prefer to shop alone. But let me tell you why.
Not so very long ago, I went shopping. It's usually a love/hate recreational blood sport, for me; when it happens, under the guise of shopping with others, I like to get in, get done, and get out. No holds barred, no time for stragglers, and definitely no time for Buckle employees. I'm not so keen on "group shopping", or "couples shopping." For whatever reason, truth be told, I prefer to shop alone. I can become rather delusional, in my personal shopping, not knowing when to say when. My previous attempts at shopping with others is probably a more normal cycle for a shopper: ...
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