not quite the osbournes
Jan. 27th, 2003 04:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lauralhWhy the hell do boys have such problems with wearing pants that fit? I know for a fact they make pants that look good on boys, I've helped them shop for such. It's not that fucking hard, you try on pants, look in the mirror, and if they look like you're wearing a tent, don't buy them.
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I started reading Flow My Tears the Policeman Said during my workout today. As soon as I post this, I'm gonna go read some more, it's so totally great and makes me wish I could brainfuck PKD.
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The other day Steve and I went shopping to replace some of the stuff we miss from our ex-housemate. We thought about getting a couple of futons, but they're sort of expensive. Granted not as expensive as couches or actual beds (separately or together), but still. We walked around the futon store, just trying to get our bearings, and we had almost settled on a futon when we made the mistake of sitting on the Memory Foam Mattress. "Oh my God, it molds to the shape of your ass!" We took one look at each other and said "We shan't settle for less." Or, you know, something less British. Of course it's twice as expensive as any other mattress, and we knew we'd have to get two, so we just sighed and left.
At Fred Meyer we thought about getting some dirt-ass futons, but they were still a bit pricey for being dirt-ass. And they were right next to the beanbags, so we went ahead in that direction. "This one takes four bags, this one takes two. We need a cart, I think." Thus ensued the hilarious attempts of putting six enormous styrofoam-filled bags in a dinky shopping cart. Could only fit five in, so Steve carried the other one. "Can't we just leave it here and shop?" I asked, but Steve pointed out that we'd be up shit creek if some enterprising young stocker decided to put them all back. But these things were HUGE. I mean four feet tall easy, I was aching for mirrors on the cart in order to see around them. Finally we got another cart and put a few in there, but that just made it all the more ridiculous. I mean: Wagon Train. Really. We kept knocking into stuff - ok that was just me.
And it took us a couple of tries before we figured out how to get everything in the car. Including the new ironing board; we ended up putting it in the back seat lengthwise, creating an artificial partition between me and Steve in the front seat. "Don't cross the partition!" he kept yelling. Despite the fact that it didn't get funnier the more he said it.
--
I started reading Flow My Tears the Policeman Said during my workout today. As soon as I post this, I'm gonna go read some more, it's so totally great and makes me wish I could brainfuck PKD.
--
The other day Steve and I went shopping to replace some of the stuff we miss from our ex-housemate. We thought about getting a couple of futons, but they're sort of expensive. Granted not as expensive as couches or actual beds (separately or together), but still. We walked around the futon store, just trying to get our bearings, and we had almost settled on a futon when we made the mistake of sitting on the Memory Foam Mattress. "Oh my God, it molds to the shape of your ass!" We took one look at each other and said "We shan't settle for less." Or, you know, something less British. Of course it's twice as expensive as any other mattress, and we knew we'd have to get two, so we just sighed and left.
At Fred Meyer we thought about getting some dirt-ass futons, but they were still a bit pricey for being dirt-ass. And they were right next to the beanbags, so we went ahead in that direction. "This one takes four bags, this one takes two. We need a cart, I think." Thus ensued the hilarious attempts of putting six enormous styrofoam-filled bags in a dinky shopping cart. Could only fit five in, so Steve carried the other one. "Can't we just leave it here and shop?" I asked, but Steve pointed out that we'd be up shit creek if some enterprising young stocker decided to put them all back. But these things were HUGE. I mean four feet tall easy, I was aching for mirrors on the cart in order to see around them. Finally we got another cart and put a few in there, but that just made it all the more ridiculous. I mean: Wagon Train. Really. We kept knocking into stuff - ok that was just me.
And it took us a couple of tries before we figured out how to get everything in the car. Including the new ironing board; we ended up putting it in the back seat lengthwise, creating an artificial partition between me and Steve in the front seat. "Don't cross the partition!" he kept yelling. Despite the fact that it didn't get funnier the more he said it.
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no subject
Date: 2003-01-27 10:01 pm (UTC)the beauty of public transportion comes when you sit next to boys who like to wear tents for pants.
no subject
Date: 2003-01-27 11:32 pm (UTC)