Shopping, etc

[doyle]

I hate shopping for clothes. Especially bras. Especially when I have to get measured up by one of my mother's friends, who has roughly the same qualms as my mother when it comes to hinting that I need to lose weight.

I liked the mad pointy bra that made my boobs look like huge pointy cones, but the risk of putting someone's eye out was too high. Tigger and Pouncer (TM connorbeast) will have to be content in being restrained by a plainer bra.

In funner shopping news, I got a new poetry book, making it three this week (this one's an anthology, the others were collections by e.e.cummings and Allan Ginsberg). Why did nobody warn me poetry is like crack?

My dad just made the bewildering request of "can you get the rail times on the internet?"
Me: Yes, but I'll have to look for the site.
Him: Oh, never mind, I thought they were just on the screen somewhere.
The hell? He thinks any piece of information I might need happens to be on my screen?

Off for a search for Kennedy pictures. I've seen so many anti-Kennedy/anti-W/K icons these last few days, I'm feeling the need to assert my love for my girl... (well, my 5th girl behind Darla, Lilah, Faith and Gwen)

Comments

[bandgeek.livejournal.com]

Ugh, bra shopping.

I refuse to get measured anymore, I just guess and try things on and see what works. But it's very rare that I'll find anything that I like in every way.

My mom has this thing where she automatically assumes that I wear the same cup size as she does. (In fact, mine's two sizes bigger.) Which makes no sense, because our body types are complete opposites and any moron can look at us and know that my bra size will be nothing like hers. But whenever we go shopping together, she makes me try on the ones that she thinks will fit me before she'll let me try any of the ones that I know will fit me.

And yes, poetry is like crack. Have you ever read Linda Gregerson?