A short list of things that sort of suck:

- When Subway switches out the unsweetened iced tea product for super-sweetened raspberry iced tea product but doesn't switch the label on the soda fountain. I told them about the mistake but they didn't seem to understand why fake unsweetened iced tea-like beverage is good while fake super-sweetened raspberry iced tea-like beverage is utterly disgusting. Their loss, man.

- Being crazied on by the shoe lady at Dillard's, twice. (Story to follow below.)

- Walking all the way down the hall from the bathroom to my office before realizing that the back of my dress was neatly tucked into my underwear. Nice!

- Gum graft surgery, like, tomorrow.

A short list of things that don't suck:

- The insane amount of anti-anxiety drugs my periodontist prescribed to me. Seriously, would you say that three Xanax and four Ativan is somewhat...excessive? I'm not actually going to take all of it because I just want to be relaxed, not comatose, but yay for drugs! I'm looking forward to not caring about the horrible things being done to my gums.

- Milkshakes as a main food source.

- Our trip to California which needs a separate entry peppered with some of the twelve billion photos Kenny took but hasn't yet uploaded. Seriously, I think we could give a minute-to-minute account of the trip using photos alone. See also: a cool mini-video of sea lions.

The Dillard's Crazy Story:

There's a woman who works in the shoe department at Dillard's who is either an idiot or hates my guts.

A few weeks ago I was shopping for Pumas and I politely asked her for my size (after tracking her down - the store was empty.) She said, "Hold on, I have to make this call first." My jaw dropped and I stood there stupidly as she made a phone call to a customer for who she was holding shoes. After berating the customer for not being able to pick the shoes up that day, she finally hung up and deigned to check for my size. I should have walked out. Like, maybe help the customer who's physically in front of you first? Nice. Anyway, she didn't have a size 8 in stock but offered me a 6 1/2 instead. Uh, only if you have a bonesaw I can use? Damn, lady.

Anyway, I went back today on my lunch break to check out the 75% off sale. I'm quietly browsing the size 7.5 - 8 rack and she comes up to me, eyes my feet, and yells, "YOU WEAR SIZE 10 1/2 OR 11, RIGHT? BECAUSE I HAVE SOME GREAT STUFF IN THAT SIZE YOU SHOULD LOOK AT. 10 1/2? YES? OR 11?"

I told her she needed to stop or she was going to make me cry. She kept going and seemed annoyed at my sad protests. Finally I was able to interrupt and make it clear I don't wear size ELEVEN (not that there's anything wrong with big feet but it was weird to be mis-sized so...loudly) and she said, "okay, okay, I'll stop!" and walked away.

What. the. fuck? It's like she somehow missed the whole concept of "sizes." Dillard's has the worst employees, I swear. Remember the lingerie department lady who tried to charge me a different price than what was on the tag and then got all attitude-y when I wouldn't give in? Lord above.

Okay, sorry, that's all I have time for today. I'll be out tomorrow in a haze of pharmaceutical-added periodontist fun, but I'll be back soon with a California trip update.

6 chatty monkeys