Leave The Yoga Pants Out Of This

Why is it that women continually insist on wearing clothing that is not at all flattering to their body type? I just don’t get it. I’m aware of my body type, and I’m sure every once in a while I mess up and wear something unflattering. However, every time I venture out in public it seems as if Wal-Mart is contagious… How else do you explain people in normal situations wearing clothing you normally see Mart-necks wearing to take advantage of this week’s exciting rollback prices?

I don’t understand why a woman should need to be told that she’s got a body that could be likened to Danny DeVito’s Penguin fatsuit. If you one day find yourself watching Batman Returns and envying the Penguin for his adorable tuxedo shirt onesie, STEP AWAY FROM THE YOGA PANTS. And when the fuck did yoga pants become interchangeable with sweatpants? To me, yoga pants are great for working out and wearing to bed as pajama pants. However, I don’t look like the Penguin. My ass doesn’t look like a frog put on a pair of pants and stood up.

If you have back titties, don’t wear tiny tops. Smearing a cute shirt over your muffin top doesn’t make you a cupcake. It makes you incapable of dressing yourself properly.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a (platitude for chubby) girl. There is nothing wrong with bigger women, nothing at all. If you wanna flaunt what you have, I’m all for it. But please, for the sake of everyone’s sight, don’t flaunt it in jeans that are three sizes too small! Wear pants and shirts that fit properly. If your shirt is so small it hikes up while you’re WALKING – it’s time to rethink your wardrobe choices. There’s no call for wearing shirts that let your belly sag out.

I’m honestly baffled sometimes. Do these people not own mirrors? I know its June and it’s getting warm out, finally. But they do make tank tops and shorts in plus sizes. I know, I own some. Stop deluding yourself into thinking you can still shop in the junior’s section. You’re not an 11 if it looks like your torso is melted ice cream dripping out over the too-small cone you stuffed it in. And for fuck’s sake, leave the yoga pants at home unless you’re going to the gym! They didn’t do anything to you.

Unless, of course, you think this look is sexy:

"Bring me the first-borns!"

GM Update and Heels.

Because I am a total and complete loser, I thought it would be worth a shot to actually contact General Motors about my car (which, by the way, is actually at almost 361,700 miles – I underestimated, apparently) and tell them about how appreciative I was that their vehicle not only has lasted so long, but has been extremely reliable. Within 24 hours, I got a phone call from a nice guy at GM named Rob who wanted to, ‘reach out and acknowledge me over the phone’. Not expecting much, I figured I’d call them back when I finished up with work on Friday. I ducked out early because I work right near where a marathon was a’brewing, and I didn’t want to get caught up in all the craziness.

He called twice that morning, and then again in the afternoon. There wasn’t much going on, so I answered the third call. Turns out they think it’s wonderful that my car has an ‘unbelievable’ amount of mileage and I must keep it in excellent condition (HA! *snicker*) for it to have lasted so long., no. Not really…

Either way, they are going to send me a $100 service certificate as a thank you for maintaining my vehicle to such a high amount of miles, which is really pretty damn awesome of them. I wasn’t expecting anything except perhaps a form letter thanking me for my feedback. This was certainly beyond my expectations. So once it arrives, I’ll probably take my poor Beast in for an oil change or transmission flush… It deserves it.

On another note, it is finally gorgeous out today, and I am sporting an awesome pair of nude suede heels with AB crystals on the heels. This is awesome in every way. I also ended up being teased quite a bit this weekend for wearing heels when I’m already tall enough…

Words to Live By: Heels do wonderful things to a woman’s ass, regardless of how tall she is.

My Love/Hate Relationship with My Car

I have a confession…

I’m contemplating thievery. Honestly. Now, hear me out before you start calling the cops to report me. I live in a horrid apartment building. There is a parking lot that is a long line of cars against a fence. Because so many of the people in my building are losers (yes, I’m aware of what this says about me – the rent is cheap, and I moved there when I was a newly single mom, so bugger off), there are 5 vehicles that NEVER. MOVE. Honestly. A few of them have been stationary in the lot for at least a year.

What does this have to do with thievery? I have terrible tires on my car. Really terrible. I have a love/hate relationship with my car in the sense that I love that it’s got 361,000 miles on it and still runs pretty well… and hate in the sense that it’s got 361,000 miles on it and I’ve beat up the exterior and interior so much that my boyfriend refers to it as, ‘The Abortion’. It will go once I can save up enough money to buy a different car, and I’ll be sad when that day comes. Because of the high mileage and the fact that I’m going to replace it as soon as possible with a (hopefully) newer car, I don’t want to spend a ridiculous amount of money for new tires.

So a part of me has started hatching a plan to check the tire sizes on the stationary vehicles and if any of them are the same size – and in better condition than mine – I’m thinking about stealing them. They’re not using them, and the vehicles show no signs of being moved.

I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t do it. But a part of me keeps saying, ‘Why not?’ I’m struggling with my sense of frugality. Unused tires are sitting right there. And on the other side of this argument, these stationary vehicles are parked in such a matter as to cause one to question the owner’s mental facilities. Because they are parked in the most nonsensical way, and it really tends to fuck up the parking space left for the rest of us with running vehicles. So maybe I should do it, as karmic justice. Some days when there’s no parking left when I get home (because some of the local businesses’ employees use it as their parking lot), I want to smash in their windows and key their paint. Surely this is a much less extreme alternative. I could call and have them all towed, but what fun is that?

On a related note, my dad told me I should write to Chevrolet and tell them that one of their vehicles has made it past 361k… I think it’s slightly over 361,400 miles now. And it still runs pretty well. I do love that I can start that beast up in the winter without any issues (in Wisconsin, that’s a huge deal when we start hitting -30). Maybe they’ll give me a new car and all of my plans to steal tires from my crackwhore neighbors will be rendered unnecessary! I’ll still want to key their cars, though.