Higher Expectations Of Pants.

I apparently expect too much from pants. I bought a new pair of jeans, and on the butt was a sticker that said “NEW! BACK POCKETS!” And I suddenly wondered, was I expecting too much, to have butt pockets on pants? Should I lower my jeans-standards? And then I realized that pants have had butt pockets for a long time. Was this particular pair so far out of touch that they thought they’d invented back pockets and started a revolution? Screw it. Viva la revolucion! 

I proudly carry things in pockets resting atop my tuchus! Well, not atop, so much as ‘near’ or ‘adjacent to.’ I don’t have much of a butt. Doesn’t bother me, actually. In fact, I can easily carry things in my fancy new incredibly revolutionary back pockets.

This caused me to look back and wonder what else I had ridiculously high standards for. After all, I am a highly confident young chick, and I attempt to keep fairly high standards in place. I expect my books to be interesting stories, my food to be delicious, TV shows to be at least mildly entertaining (and there are a lot that fail even those mediocre hopes and dreams), and the clothes I buy to fit at home the same way they did in the store’s fitting rooms.

And that may be the hardest standard for the Universe to meet. Every girl has been there. You’re at a store, you try something on, and BAM! You look FABULOUS! You get home, still excited and the reaction has now become “I...don’t know. I think I like it?” And of course, we go ahead and cut (rip) the tags off and hang it up properly, because of course it will look great, it’s just different lighting than the store. And I ate lunch. And also, these pants totally give me a muffin top after I eat, which wasn’t there when I was trying it on. I might have even tried it on with totally different pants! And in the closet it stays. Generally, I wear new stuff immediately. “Oh, we’re going to a movie? Hold on, I want to wear my new shoes! No, I don’t care that it will be dark, sticky and possibly not the best forum for silver glitter stilettos. Hello? I just got them an hour ago. I would wear them if we went to a beach barbeque right now.On horseback. In December. On a mountain.”

But if we aren’t as psyched about something as we THOUGHT we would be, ehh, I’ll wear it at some point, I’m sure. I’m not even entirely sure why I buy clothes. I pretty much wear the same 2 pairs of jeans and 5-6 tops all the time, anyway.

But have clothes standards been raised to the point of absurdity? I am expecting back pockets on jeans. There, I said it. I wasn’t amazed when I saw the sticker. I was confused and questioning my choice of jeans brands. Although, I don’t care about brands of anything. I am strictly on the “Oh, it fits and I can afford it” plan. Even so, maybe I should rethink that. I’ve already pretty well accepted that designers apparently think that the ability to carry things in any front pockets on women is unacceptable. Girl-pockets are so small that my whole HAND doesn’t even fit in them, much less a wallet or something.

Hey, designers: I care less about the “line” of my pants and more about the functionality of said pants.

Screw it. Pants off. It’s time to go to my no-pants zone. And by “zone,” I mean my entire apartment. And by “no pants,” I MEAN NO PANTS! Wooo! Listen, I'm not expecting to form a sisterhood over one pair of pants that magically fits several different body types in multiple locations, okay? I just want a reasonably priced, well fitting, pockets-having, fully functional pair of pants! I am so alone.

Pictures That Make Me Laugh and Be Happy

Possibly my very favorite one in the whole bunch. What a face!

Damn right, you look FAB-ulous!

Bitches love well read bros.

Gargoylin': Level 9000.

Oh, hey there. 'Sup? You got a book? Whatcha readin'? Wanna play? Oh, ok, you're flying away now...

I bet this kid LOVED choose your own adventure books as a kid.

JOEY!

LOL NOPE!

Literally, my favorite and most amazing new insult-name. Say it out loud. It is AMAZING.

And I leave you with this adorable polar bear cub who just wants to love you and cuddle and has a heart shaped nose perfect for kissing. And is fuzzy. And warm. And sweet and adorable and I WANT ONE!!!!

Healthy Debates, i.e. Yelling At That Guy At The Bar

I love a good argument. I love to debate, offer my opinion, tell someone that they are unequivocally wrong, and dumb-looking to boot. I adore being right, and you know what they say...if you’re losing an argument, start correcting the other person’s grammar. And my mom is an English and Reading teacher. Grammar is my bitch! Take that, Grammar! Muahahhahahahah! (That was supposed to be an evil laugh. I have it on only sort-of-ok authority that I don't do a very good evil laugh, so maybe it comes across better in text? Sure, we'll go with that.)

There is one exception. I do like actually debating religion, in general, especially with my stepdad. But I don't like to with strangers anymore. It just too often turns into one side yelling "because G-d SAYS SO!" while the other side goes "Yeah, but WHY?!" repeatedly. And I'm not out to offend people, I just wanna have fun. Like all girls.

*Cough. I don’t believe in Jesus. Cough.*

I also like to argue with strangers! If someone at the bar is talking out loud in my vicinity, that’s fair game to join the conversation. I mean, hey, I'm still in the land of free speech, right? THAT’S RIGHT. So, if you are going to sit next to me at a bar, and suddenly launch into an awkward monologue about why women should never have gotten the vote, and how we’re screwing up everything, be prepared to throw DOWN. 

Verbally. I don’t do physical fights. Um....hello? I might break a NAIL. And then where would we be? I’d have to dig my nail file out of my bizarrely-overstuffed purse, even though it really isn’t that big and I don’t feel like I carry THAT much in it, and I will file down the ragged edge of my nail right there in front of your bloody face. And you know that scrittttttch-sraaaatch nail file sound is going to drive you nuts while you’re writhing on the floor in pain from my punch to your face. I mean, most likely, you probably have a piece of my fingernail stabbing you in the eyeball or something. You should really get that out, it might cause irritation. Much like your words cause on my brain, but in a more obvious-to-everyone-else sort of way.

Sometimes, when I’m arguing...or talking...or thinking about stuff...I somehow go off on an amusing yet random tangent that started out sort of having something to do with the original topic, but kind of morphed into a storyline that, in the end, had nothing at all to do with anything that had been discussed previously. It’s like a story within a story. STORYCEPTION! Moral of Storyception: I am either delightfully amusing, or I’m turning into my mother. I mean, technically it could be both, but she’s MY mom and I think I would know if she were delightfully amusing. Sheesh. This is a woman who actually wears white cotton socks with open toed sandals just because she knows it drives me insane. WHY does it drive me crazier than a mime in an actual box, you ask? Because it looks terrible! If you’re feet get so cold that you need socks under the sandals, wear different shoes! Arg!

….what was I talking about?  

Oh, yeah. I like arguing with people about almost anything. I feeling like it’s a good way to learn new things and points about stuff you are passionate about, and a good way to gauge people. If someone is really aggressive, or super passive, or fights dirty, or is just plain MEAN, or if they also enjoy intelligent debates about random topics, arguing with them will tell you that.

I don’t have a dog, so I need a different way to judge people’s character. Though, really, I don’t think that’s the best way anyway, because animals and small children REALLY seem to like me, and I am a terrible, lamentable, kind of deplorable, just really crapperific person. I’m also a big fan of synonyms. And remember when “bad” meant “good”? Yeah, it totally still does. I am awesome, dammit! :)