Pants @ MindSay

I feel special. Lately I've noticed that I am lsoing weight. So has my mom and some other people! =O. What pisses me of though, is when i'm at school or some other public place, I constantly have to pull my pants up, or hold them as I walk. Haha. I need a new belt.... I los tmy other one... And another broke. I just find it funny how I have to hold my pants as I walk, or else they will most likely fall all the way down, or down far enough for people to see stuff I know they WILL NOT want to see. Ick. Ew. Gross. Nasty. I hat emy body, so I'm 100% sure other people wouldn't want to see. Haha. <3. I don't know how I'm losing weight though. Maybe it's because I stopped taking my meds, which had one that caused weight gain, and hunger. My friend Jaime took that, and she gained a lot of weight. She stopped, and los tons. Orrrr it could be the way i'm eating, and what I drink. I don't know. Who cares. Maybe I will finally lose enough, and I can excersise and not look like a big fat piece of shit like msot people think now a days. Mahahaha.

Since some of us have been blogging about our dingbat moments, I figured I'd blog about one of mine.

 

Either my sophomore or junior year of college, a very hot French guy moved into our dorm. U of H has co-ed dorms so you can imagine the hijinks that ensued, especially during rush week. (But I digress...)

Anyway, Eric was about 6 feet 2 inches of lean, golden brown muscle. He was built like a soccer...er football player and he was the type of blond who could get a nice golden tan because, as he said, "Ma mere est Hollandais". (My mother is Dutch). Another very distinguishing feature about Eric was he wore his very blond hair in microbraids.  His girlfriend back in France was actually Senegalese and she would do his hair.  It was his ferverent wish that his braids would eventually lock up and turn into dreadlocks. 

 

My good friend Karina and I would literally swoon everytime we saw Eric walk by in the dining hall.  We actually scheduled our meals around his normal eating times. This guy had a walk on him that any runway model would die for! One day the man had the nerve to show up in the dining hall wearing jeans and a white denim vest. No shirt. Just a vest and inches of delicious golden sinew! Karina squeezed my wrist so hard that she dug her nails into my skin. Right then and I there I decided I HAD to make his acquaintence!

 

Luckily, I knew a girl who couldn't help but brag about the fact that she kinda knew him.  She lived on the same floor that Karina and I lived on and she said she knew him through her boyfriend.  I guess he was in some international students' club because her boyfriend was from Ireland. After begging her for days to introduce us, she finally did.  I hardly remember the exchange because I concentrating very hard on NOT tripping or falling.  As some of you know, I tend to get a wee bit clumsy around guys who I think are hot. I have no idea why meeting a hot guy affects my equillibrium but it does.  I do remember, however mentioning that I was taking conversational French and I was having a hard time. It was the truth. I swear! I really was having a hard time in the class.   Eric actually offered to help me which surprised the hell outta me! It was like fate smiled on me!

 

After that, my pathetic ass was, too shy to ask him for help.  Karina ragged on me for having an "in" and being too much of a candy ass to take it.  I would always say "hi" to Eric when I saw him on campus, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him for help, until I got a C on the first test. That day I saw him in the elevator I told him I didn't do, too well on the test.

 

"What grade did you get?"

"A 'C'," I sighed.

"Ah, non, Myclette. You did not ask me to help you study. Why?"

Ohmygod! He says my name so damn sexy. JesusMaryandJoseph!! "I don't know. I guess I should have huh?"

"Do you have the test with you or did he just show you your grade?"

"I have the test in my bag."

"Okay, give me the test. I will correct it for you.  Come by my room around 4:00 and pick it up."

Yes!!! Ohmygod, Ohmygod!!!!

 

I gave him the test and he gave me his room number (I already knew it) and he got off the elevator.  I almost melted into the floor! I ran to Karina's room and told her. We both shrieked and jumped up and down like 12 year old girls at a slumber party.  I was nervous the whole rest of the day.  When the time came to pick up my test, I made sure I wore something that looked cute on me, but was casual. I didn't want to give Eric the impression that I was trying to look cute. I had to be subtle right?

 

When I got to the door, I took a few steadying breaths before I knocked.  I had to calm myself down before I went in there and tripped over my feet or knocked over a lamp or something.  When I finally decided I was calm enough, I knocked and he yelled "come in".  I opened the door and there was Eric, lying in the top bunk in all of his golden glory!  Homeboy wasn't wearing anything but a navy blue, extra long, twin-sized bed sheet! I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights. I know I stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity. I just couldn't move.

 

"Oh, Myclette, I am sorry. I fell asleep."

"Uh..okay...I can come back later...I..."

"No, no, no. I finished your corrections. They're right here."  He smiled and pulled the test out of the small compartment in the headboard.

He then asked me to hand him something and pointed in the general direction of his desk on the other side of the room.  I stammered "okay" and for some reason handed him a pair of pants.

 

"Non, not ze pants -- cigarettes.  Hand me my cigarettes please." Oh damn it! Why did I hand him a pair of pants. How do the words cigarettes and pants sound anything alike? Smooth move Myclette! Not exactly your finest hour!

"Oh, yeah...s-sorry..heh..."   I handed him his cigarettes, but for some reason I stood as far away from him as possible.  It was like I didn't trust myself to not do something stupid like drool on his arm or something. He signaled for me to come closer.

"Let me show you how I corrected your test."

As he took the time to explain his corrections I can honestly say I heard maybe half of what he said. I was too busy trying to recover from my moment of dorkdom while simultaneously willing the bedsheet to slide further down his hips.

Planned Obsolescence is the theory that electronics companies have sabotaged their own merchandise to fail after a certain length of time. That's why your cell phone will be great for several months and then suddenly suck. I'm pretty sure that this totally unfair marketing tactic also applies to my pajama pants.
I love comfort. I'm seriously its biggest fan. And that's why I love pajama pants because aside from being A.)Naked or B). Only wearing a towel, pajama pants are the most comfortable things on the planet. They're soft and warm and I like feeling them against my body. They keep me warm, and I happen to love that too. But after about six months most of my pajama pants decide "Hey, I think I'll ruin this relationship we have." And I'm like, "Gee pajama pants, what ever do you mean." Then suddenly BOOM, they rip a hole in the crotch. And this hole is never a small hole, this is a gaping hole. And I'm like "Dick Move Pajamas". It's as if the pajama pants industry is run by the biggest douches in the world. I mean there are terrorists and then there are people who manufacture faulty pajama pants. If we got rid of those two the world would be a much better place.
So then I end up having to throw them away, which is kind of sad. It's not like they died. Because if they died I could just bury them. My pajama pants turn into that friend you don't want to be friends with anymore because they got hooked on drugs. I mean, they'll still be okay and borderline enjoyable. But in the end you always end up dissapointed with them. And that's really upsetting. It feels like you have to find another reason why your relationship with your pajamas is coming to an end. You have to point out there other flaws like "Gee pajamas what's up with your pockets? If you didn't have them, do you think I'd just sleep holding onto things? What do you think I find things so important that I have to sleep with them? What's in there a schedule? Cell phone? Screw you pajamas I hate you."
And that's why I hate the pajama pants industry.

.Last Friday, I bought a ridiculous amount of clothing for myself for my birthday (this Saturday). I had never bought a pair of pants online, so I did... I bought pants technically an inch larger than my actual size thinking I would be safe. They don't fit. Or... they do... but not comfortably. AT ALL. You would think they would maybe be a little too big, right? No. They're too small. In fact, they bear a strange resemblance to girl jeans. I'd like to see your average girl fit into them, though.

 

.This made me think: Should I return them? Get bigger jeans? Or have my love-handles gotten the best of me for the last time? So I decided to go to sleep at 9 pm last night and get up this morning at 5 am to go running.

 

.This never happened. What actually happened is I never fell asleep and turned off my alarm when it went off at 5.

 

.Then I decided to go jogging tonight and then again in the morning. Twice a day. Every day. From now on.

 

.That's never going to happen but it's a nice thought. A thought that could hopefully get me into my new pair of jeans. 

This afternoon as Shiny, Av, and I were driving across town to meet Shiny Dad and Shiny Dad Girlfriend for lunch, I noticed that Shiny seemed a little uncomfortable.  I asked what was up, and he said his pants.  He was wearing his infamous black jeans, and said that they felt stiff (why thank you!) because he hadn't worn them in a long time.  "I've been wearing cargo pants instead.  More pockets."  Of course.

And it occurred to me that he was right - he did need more pockets. 

In the morning as he left, I'd always ask "Wallet, watch, keys?"  Then I added "Got your phone?"  Then we added "and your pager?"  However, that has since been replaced with a Blackberry.   Sometimes there is an MP3 player in the mix.  Oh and his gum.  Gotta have the gum.  The boy's got lots of "flair."  And he needs a place to put all of that in order to carry it all around.

I suppose that I could get him a man-bag.  Some trendy cool messenger bag for Chanukah.  But then he'd have to remember to carry it around.  Every now and again he'll take a backpack into work, it's all beat up and paint splattered.  I think the zipper might be broken.  Not sure what to do about that - or if he even wants something.

I think what surprises me the most is that he has to carry around all this stuff.  The Blackberry is work issued.  You can't leave the house without your wallet and keys.  Cell phone to stay in touch with the outside world and me.  And his gum.  Got have the gum.  It just seems that as the world has gotten more technologically advanced, our clothes have had to adapt.  More pockets needed.  We just bought Av a new winter jacket, and it's loaded up with interior pockets - one of which even has an extra hole in it to accommodate headphones.  That's just crazy to me.

So when we got home from lunch Shiny changed back into his cargo pants, to more comfortably carry around all his stuff.