I've lost my favorite sweatpants, the ones that have the strange logo from the 1998 Platform Tennis National Championships on the right thigh. That was the year the nationals were held in Chicago and I loaded up on hats, jackets, vests, and sweats. I was also hanging out with a tennis pro who mainlined caffeine all day, apparently to counteract all the alcohol he consumed at night. Anyhoo, I liked those sweats because they were really loose fitting and plenty long enough for sleeping. Nothing worse than sweats which aren't long enough. The elastic band on the bottom rides high and cuts off the circulation above your ankles, leaving a purplish mark that can only be described as not flattering. Too short also means the legs of the sweats are pulled so tight you can't bend your knees without a buttcrack sighting on your backside. Time for a new pair I guess. Of course as soon as I get the new pair out of the bag the old pair will appear, as if by magic
I saw the movie Juno. Not an action flick. Unless watching up close and very personal crotch shots of high school boys in their running shorts qualifies. By comparison, the "action" between the teens is carefully edited to expose bare skin only below the knees and above the neck. Ellen Page, who plays the teen who gets pregnant, deserves any nominations she gets. The script does too, because it was written by a former stripper who can write hip and lively, youthful and cynical dialog. The story, however, is muy ho-hum. Bored teen girl gets preggers having sex with supremely unattractive boy she knows. Abortion or adoption? Based on the father's looks alone I would have picked abortion. But the movie would have been much shorter. Girl finds adoptive family for baby to be. Add a couple of twisty, somewhat lame, plot elements. Baby gets adopted. Teen mother and father still friends in the end. *YAWN*.
Starbuck's has a couple of drive up window stores around these parts. I thought I would find them convenient on the way downtown. I can get fresh oj and a real English muffin with an egg and melted cheese for only twice as much as McDonald's and I don't have to leave my car. But I may go back to Mickey D's and settle for one sausage burrito and a Fruitopia soon. Even though I've been told it's harder to get a job at Starbuck's than other food chains, every time I use the drive-thru my order has been screwed up by one of their college educated, upper middleclass, white people. Every single time. Not at McDonald's, however, even though there is always that language barrier moment or two. Over the weekend I stopped at the Starbuck's college prep drive thru to get a hot caramel apple cider WITHOUT whipped cream. Plus a milk chocolate covered graham cracker or two. But, instead, I got a caramel apple cider WITH whipped cream and DARK chocolate grahams. [By the way, putting whipped cream on cider is like having a scoop of ice cream on your orange juice, so no thanks.] Another time I ordered hot tea sweetened with honey. And I got plain. Or the tea comes sweetened with Equal or sugar or Splenda. Or I ask for camomile and I get wild orange. Not to mention that the customers at Starbuck's have a sense of entitlement you don't see at other places. One diva in an Escalade ahead of me took her drink, then handed it back to the barista with a wave of her hand, then took it back, then handed it back to the barista again, then she paid for it and took it back another time, then took the change and handed the drink back to the barista one final time. When she drove away the barista just rolled her eyes as I pulled up. The good news is that I got a discount for having to wait so long. Which was nice, since my order was screwed up. Again.
I got an email from one of my brothers who is in Mexico. He was concerned because he was drinking the water. I guess he never got the memo. I said not to worry because he was probably at a place that had its own filtration system. But I warned him that even if the water was okay, he better not eat any lettuce. I haven't heard back.