peregrinations (and a minor rant)

[dchenes]

Except for a trip to CVS, which needs to happen, I'm not going ANYWHERE tomorrow.

On Thursday night I decided I wanted Blue Ribbon for dinner, which involves a three-hour round trip from work to Harvard Square to Arlington to Harvard Square to home. I got home slightly after 8:00.

Friday night I was going to come straight home from work, but when my boss stuck her head in my office at 5:15 and asked me why I hadn't gone home yet, I realized that my watch had stopped, so I went home by way of Brookline Village to get the battery replaced. Silly me. I got off the bus at Kent St., got my watch fixed, noted a distinct lack of buses, walked up to Coolidge Corner, stuck my head in Trader Joe's, noted a distinct lack of buses, stuck my head in Brookline Booksmith, walked up to Harvard St. and Comm Ave (three buses passed me, between stops, on the way), and went home on the train. I got home at 7:30ish.

Today I left home at 10:00 to go meet whuffle in Quincy. From there we proceeded to Hingham (clothes shopping), Braintree (bra shopping), Brockton (more bra shopping), and Stoughton (Ikea, for disassembled bookshelves, which we had to unpack from the boxes in order to fit in the car. We play a mean game of real-world Tetris). I got on the train from Quincy Center and got home at 8:30.

Tomorrow I'm bloody well not going any farther from home than strictly necessary.

Fashion notes: Apparently it's not enough this season to buy pants. You have to buy pants made of fabrics so loud that you can't help but notice them. They pretty much scream "I'M WEARING PANTS!" to anyone in sight of you. (I didn't buy any pants.)

I loathe bra shopping. It's one of those necessary tasks, but it generally means you get whisked off to a fitting room by an at-least-middle-aged (generally Russian and/or Jewish) lady who measures you, tells you that the bra you walked in wearing is the wrong size in at least one dimension, comes back with a piece of spring-loaded white industrial underwear that "also comes in beige!", leaves you alone to try it on, comes back five minutes later with several similarly spring-loaded and blandly-colored industrial specimens, asks you how it's going after another five minutes, vetoes all your own suggestions, and tells you you're wearing the original spring-loaded specimen wrong. Thereby leaving you to decide among three or four equally bland, equally spring-loaded options, all of which feel peculiar because you've been switching bras every two minutes, and the cheapest of which costs $30. So you buy the best two options and then go somewhere else and buy bras that also feel peculiar, but at least come in colors.

I'm still trying to decide whether I would trade being female and going bra shopping every six months for being male and having to shave my face every morning.

Comments

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[happyfunpaul.livejournal.com]

I'm still trying to decide whether I would trade being female and going bra shopping every six months for being male and having to shave my face every morning.

Really, the shaving thing is not so bad. It takes a little time, and occasionally results in oopsblood, but most of the time it's no big deal. And there's always the option of just Letting It Grow. From what I hear from multiple women regarding the horrors of bra shopping, shaving every day or two is preferable.

[whuffle.livejournal.com]

For future reference, there is another Blue Ribbon in Newton that is closer to you. I can show you where it is and we can figure out how to get there via pub trans.