Goodies in the Rain

Although it's a gloomy, rainy day today, I've been significantly cheered by an international parcel that was delivered to me this morning.

Remember the French girls who subletted my apartment during the summer? One of them sent me a big package with a box of European treats:

Daskalidés Chocolatier chocolate in a pretty yellow box, tied with brown satin ribbon imprinted with the maker's logo.

Barnier Caramel Pomme au Beurre Normandie (apple caramels), in a round wooden box (like the kind cheese comes in).

Trésors de Fruits Confiture Peches vanillées (peach vanilla jam), in a glass bottle, with fruity paper wrapping.

Tanguy Galettes et Palets de Fouesnant (cookies) in a hinged, yellow biscuit tin, with a picture of the French seaside

Mère Poulard Les Galettes au Chocolate due Mont Saint Michel (chocolate-covered cookies), in a red paperboard box with pictures of castles and cocoa pods.

Lanvin Paris Rumeur Vaporisateur, Thierry Mugler Alien Eau de Parfum and Clarins Paris Gelee Auto-Bronzant Express all in a black and white Sephora shopping bag.

Please excuse me. I have some packages to tear apart.

Faux Proposal

I'm starting to think that my co-worker Molly needs to hang out with people displaying better common sense.

Molly wears her grandmother's antique diamond ring everyday. (It's a family heirloom that was passed to her).

The other night, while sharing a meal with a male dinner companion, he asked to see her ring.

She took it off and handed it to him. The Joker got down on one knee, and asked her to marry him.

Beyond mortified, because the entire restaurant was staring at them, she whimpered, "Yes," hoping to shut him up.

Her agreement had the opposite intended effect. Being an attention whore, and possibly tipsy as well, the Joker stood up and told everyone who would listen, "She said yes! We're getting married!"

All throughout dinner, restaurant staff and customers came over to congratulate the "happy couple." Basking in the attention, the Joker made up stories about how they met, the length of their "courtship," where the ring was from, etc. He was completely oblivious to Molly's discomfort.

I don't know why, but after dinner, instead of telling him to get lost, she agreed to go with the Joker to have drinks at a nearby bar.

Unfortunately, some other people at the restaurant had the exact same idea. When Molly and the Joker reached the bar, they were recognized by some of the patrons as "those kids that just got engaged!"

The congratulations, interrogations and the squeals of "what a pretty ring!" started all over again.

Molly wanted to die.

This is why Molly's a nicer person that me. Instead of suicidal feelings, I would have felt homicidal.

It's Not a Workplace Affair, I Promise!

One of my co-workers told me her husband is having lunch with an old boss, for networking purposes.

He scheduled the lunch for February 14.

When his wife found out she said, "You're having lunch with another woman on Valentine's Day?"

Oops.

In Denial

My friend told me her boyfriend cuts her toenails for her.

After my initial reaction of "Ew" I asked why.

"He likes them a certain way."

I said, "I think he's a foot fetishist."

She was indignant. "He is not!"

"Um, he cuts your toenails. And he's not a salon employee."

"He just likes to take good care of me."

"He likes feet."

"Shut up."

It Doesn't Help

There are two types of people: Those who love Crocs, and those who think that the plastic clogs are ugly.

I admit, I'm in the second camp and therefore subject to bias, but for the love of mac and cheese, how does one explain the travesty of black clogs with rhinestones? (Yes, I did see someone wearing a pair like that today).

Sparkly bits. On clogs.

Sorry, they're still hideous rubber shoes with giant ventilation holes, whether you attack them with a Bedazzler or not.

If you're wearing them solely for comfort reasons, why draw attention to them by blinding me with tawdry little stones?

Mass Shunning

My co-worker Molly came into work Monday and told me she had the most awful weekend. At the formal party she attended Saturday night, her date expressed surprise that she had romantic feelings for him.

Her reaction: "Are you retarded? We've been dating for 2 months."

His response: "I thought we were just friends. I had no idea you liked me."

She was absolutely stunned. "WTF? You thought we were friends with benefits? You asshole!"

He was very affectionate with her in public, and all her friends thought they were dating. This revelation was a complete surprise to everyone.

While Molly was in the bathroom crying, Mr. Asshole tried to smooth things over by telling Molly's friend, "Yeah, she's a beautiful girl, and really nice, but I just don't feel that way about her. "

His PR attempt backfired. The news spread through the whole party, but somehow got twisted into "Molly's an ugly bitch and I don't want to be with her."

Everyone gave him the cold shoulder, and disinvited him to their Superbowl parties the next day.

After Molly went home, she got phone calls all weekend asking how she was feeling. Mr. Asshole got messages from people chastising him. Even his frat brothers, stereotypically known for their "bros before hos" philosophy, called him and said, "That's not cool, man."

A large section of the Greek population at school hates him now. Molly sniffed to me, "Karma got him back quick. I don't feel bad for him at all."

Neither do I.

Security Tag Panic

My sister bought a suit several days ago because she has a school admissions interview tomorrow morning.

This afternoon, she realized the store clerk forgot to take the giant, 4-inch-long, off-white security tag off the back of the black blazer. Fear set in because as tacky as it is to wear formal clothing with the price tag still on it (for easy returns later), it's much, much worse to go to an interview looking like you stole your outfit, or you're wearing an ankle monitoring device. ("Hire me, I'm a felon.")

My sister asked me to Google "how to remove security tags" as she started pulling at the plastic plugs.

I expected to pull up a lot of "Shoplifting 101" sites, but instead found a number of posts by people that started with "Um, I didn't steal anything, really, but I need to know how to . . ."

When my sister saw there was a second giant tag on the pants a crazy look came into her eyes. She got a screwdriver and a pair of scissors, and asked for pliers.

I talked her out of potentially ruining the suit.

She made it back to the store before it closed and they removed the tags.

After she came home she asked, "Um, there were only 2 tags right?"

Tacky Tattoo

I had to stare for a moment to make sure what I was seeing was real, but indeed, I saw a woman with "SEX" tattooed onto her right shoulder blade. Underneath it was some type of symbol that looked like a glass patio table.

I have no idea what her motivation was, but it brings new meaning to the phrase "tramp stamp" doesn't it?