We're S-H-O-P-P-I-N-G

Terribly sorry, Pet Shop Boys, I realize your song is uber-political & all - but really, when you wrap a critique of Thatcherism around such an eminently chantable chorus, how can you expect me to not use it in reference to the glorious capitalist orgy in which I today indulged?

The first thing I bought was the best thing I bought - yes, the plant which belongs to that gorgeous beast pictured above is now MINE. It makes me want to drop acid & just stare at it for 8 hours until I completely understand its myriad complexities. Fuck it, I don't even need acid to do that. Orchids fucking rule.

So, the thing is that my overall rule with this whole "blog" is to generally not superfluously specificate my day-to-day personal life info. I-did-this-&-then-this-happened-&-I-bought-that-&-after-that-I-talked-to-so-&-so is as boring to me as it is to everyone else. I mean, obviously, these posts are about me, but I guess what it's not meant to be is a means of exploring the deritus of my personal life on the internet (that need is fulfilled by my actual journal). Nothing against people who like to blog about what they ate for lunch with who, but for me I find it most beneficial to explore the things'n'thoughts that occur to me, few & far between as they may be. That said, I'm totally breaking my protocol for this post.

As I'm sure some (okay, probably all) of you know, my boyfriend is in Barcelona. And I am in...Charlottesville. It's one thing when a friend goes away - but it's kind of hard when the person with whom you share your life is suddenly absent from it, even if only for a week, to go partying/journalist-ing in Barcelona. Don't get me wrong - he's having a great time & I am totally ass-happy thrilled for him - but it's been somewhat of a challenge to get excited about going to the grocery store or changing the cat litter given the circumstances. You smell me?

So when I woke up this morning I thought to myself, Self, what don't you ever really do? And being a girl, self replied, Shopping! I'm the sort of person who can talk myself out of buying band-aids when I'm bleeding, so you can imagine how frequently I engage in pleasure-shopping. But on this morning I said, Self, that's a really good idea. And discovered that my capacity for multi-hour extended shopping binges far exceeds what I had previously thought. It isn't even that I bought so much - I actually spent the last hour and a half just looking for a PLAIN SUMMER-RIFIC BROWN SKIRT, which apparently is a difficult thing to acquire. Shorts are far more plentiful, and look an awful lot like skirts on the racks. But shorts are pants gone retarded, & I hate nearly all pants to begin with. I have a couple pairs of pants. I wore one of them like a year and a half ago.

But anyway, you know how people say that shopping is therapeutic? This was a big surprise to me, but it's actually true. A few plants, some shoes, a couple tops, a skirt, droppin' some bucks at Victoria's Secret...I even got a bright, yet tasteful, orange razor to finally replace the one that disappeared in Rome, a purchase prompted mostly by M. taking his razor with him. My body hair stubbornly refusing to cease growing until his return coupled with my desire to wear things without sleeves meant something had to be done.

Anyway, yeah...S-H-O-P-P-I-N-G was a surprisingly effective path to feeling B-E-T-T-E-R. I should get down with my girl self more often.