Hangovers and shopping

*I wrote this post on Sunday, but I couldn't post it until now.

Brucie,

Last week was sort of a bad one at work. Therefore, it was fortunate..."lucky" if you will, that yesterday was St. Patrick's day. I'm somewhat amazed that even though I'm little older and a tiny bit wiser, even though I work at a professional job and don't really know anyone in this city, I managed to get hammered last night. It wasn't my finest moment...I basically invited myself out with a girl I'm friends with and all her friends who were at a bar. As all bars in Toledo seem to be, it was located about 20 minutes away from my apartment and was situated in a strip mall.

Abby, my friend, is totally awesome and really fun. But I am so out of my element every time I hang out with her. She is friends with like two girls, and the rest of her friends are straight guys. This is totally foreign to me! Also, I have a really huge problem remembering average, white straight guys. I have no memory for their faces...they all blend into one another, as do their Abercrombie and Fitch shirts. And don't even get me started on their names! There is a reason I have slept with 4 Daves in my life. 99% of men seem to share about 8 names!!

I don't say all of this to be mean or anything. I've grown up a lot in the past few years, and I have absolutely no problem with guys like this (provided they don't say anything overtly homophobic or sexist)...I can totally carry on a conversation. But I have no interest in sleeping with them, making out with them, flirting at all with them, etc., and I think this aspect of my personality really shines through when I'm introduced. Because of it, I am totally forgettable to them and they are totally forgettable to me. Therefore, every time I go out with Abby, I end up mostly talking to her in a really crowded sports bar in a strip mall, standing against the wall equidistant from the bathroom and the bar, surrounded by these "dude" guys who are trying to hit on her. And I introduce myself to them over and over, each time I run into them (whoops!). This whole social situation has made me feel like I'm: a. completely asexual, and b. a very socially awkward person.

So, I woke up this afternoon and decided to go buy a pretty dress...because I don't know if you've heard or not, but I'm taking a business trip to D.C. this weekend, and I haven't shopped for clothes in awhile. I decided to go to Target, because they are pretty much the cheapest option. However, as I learned today (for perhaps the millionth time), cheap clothes come at a heavy price.

2:30pm: Enter local Target store, grab a shopping cart (first mistake). Head directly for women's clothing. Choose several different dresses to try on.
2:36pm: Make my way towards dressing rooms, passing through the "professional" clothing section. Decide to choose several pairs of pants to also try on, seeing as how I only own one pair I can wear to work. Also choose several Businesswoman tops so I can fully appreciate the pants I will be trying on.
2:38-2:45pm: Because the Target dressing rooms have a six-item limit, two dressing room trips are necessary. I try on several unflattering cuts of size 14 pants and dresses, amidst screaming teenage girls and their mothers trying on bathing suits. One young teenaged girl laments that she needs her bikini bottoms to me a size Medium instead of a Small this year. A nine year old in the dressing room next to me actually begins rolling around on the floor and screaming because her mother won't let her get a two-piece.
2:50pm: Deciding finally on a dress and a pair of pants, I decide to head over to the "sporting goods" section to see if they have any hand weights I can use during stepaerobics.
2:52pm: Oooh! Housewares! I just love these soy candles... really? There's a fragrence called "cut grass?"
2:58pm: Wow, I can't afford NOT to buy these picture frames!
3:05pm: I wonder if they have "When Harry Met Sally" on DVD? My tape is completely worn down.

...and so on. Suffice it to say, my $25 dress paled in comparison to the $50 I spent on a whole bunch of worthless crap. I blame it all on the hangover.