Americanuck

Tom, Sean and I are off for a day of fun down in the States tomorrow (Chris is working, not that he hangs with us that often [brat!!] ) which means an early night for a Friday (well OUR Friday, we’re off work tomorrow [neener] and an early rise to join the possible throng of other smart people who booked the Friday before a long weekend off in order to head down to the good old U.S. of A.

Most people don’t tend to go down for just the day as much so maybe coming back we won’t have as big a line to deal with. Regardless leaving earlier will mean more time down there once we get there so it’s all good.

The plan is to hit Ross (well DUH!) and other clothing stores to see if they have a better selection of jeans to fit skinny boys down there. Sean is growing like a weed now, but it’s all UP not out so we’re challenged to find jeans to fit his weedy self. I’m hoping. Of course unless we find jeans that drag on the ground they are no doubt going to be too short in a few months but whatever, that just means we have to go back, darn!

The weather is supposed to be awesome, in the mid-80’s so we can also do some walking around to work up an appetite for Anthony’s. Come on, you seriously expect us to go to B’ham without going there? Impossible I tells ya.

I’ve reminded Tom to ensure his camera batteries have been charged, Sean too, so I’m not the only dweeb taking pictures all day. Sean is as bad as me for clicking away, so between us we can goad Tom into taking more than just a handful of pictures. Maybe.

I’m a late in life Grey’s Anatomy fan, late in life in that I started watching it close to the end of the second season. Tom hadn’t been exposed to it other than background noise while at work. After I was converted I espoused my love of this show and I got him to watch the finale with me. He was soon hooked and even watched the DVR’d last hour (as it ran late) without me the next day before I got home from work. I watched it on the computer while he made dinner bawling my head off the whole time. I love a show that can make me cry.

Now we are playing catch-up watching DVR’d reruns. I’m thinking we are going to have to bite the bullet and go buy the dvds as we are watching them somewhat out of order depending on what station we are recording, season one or season two.We kind of get what’s happened over the two seasons, at least from the 1000 foot level in some cases but I would love to understand all the nuances that are like aha moments when we finally catch on.

It’s so cool when we both like the same show.

I stopped by the local grocery store on my way home tonight to pick up a few odds and ends and something to hold us over dinner-wise for the next couple of days.

The cashier while bagging my purchases noticed she had run out of bags and went to another check stand to pick up some more. As she was putting the bags on the dispensing rack she sighed and while motioning at the bags commented on how lousy and tissue paper thin they are. I agreed and we both reminisced about the days of paper bags, or in my case the question of paper or plastic from the cashier. She remembers when it was all paper all the time.

She said how “All this plastic is so bad for the environment, and I said “yeah, but they DO make great kitty litter disposal bags” and she said “sure if there aren’t any holes in them..” Good point. Been there cleaned up that.

I went on to joke how maybe it’s a conspiracy by those hidden camera shows to set you up for the bags to burst the minute you leave the store. The more poky or awkward shaped the item the better TV. She said I watched too much TV. Touche.

It’s true though, I mean the handles are convenient and all, but when you are chasing a large plastic pop bottle doing mach3 rolling down a sloped parking lot embankment the convenience loses some of its luster.

Since maturing (and I use that phrase very loosely) I’ve developed a love for pink. I have lots of pink T-shirts and sweaters in various hues. I bought a pink suitcase (bagzilla) which in hindsight wasn’t really the smartest thing because duh pink shows dirt. Bagzilla was fully pink all of one day, alas.

I think maybe it has something to do with the fact that I spent a number of my adolescent years hanging out with boys and wearing black everything, down to my underwear (”my life is a dark room, one big dark room”). So when I started embracing the feminine my mother had a picture burning party and celebrated having a girl once again

You would think after living in an apartment for years with pepto-bismol pukey pink walls..

(not of my doing by the way it was a rental), that I would abhor the colour but I don’t. I do know that pink does not belong on walls, at least in my world (and yes I know your’s too Hon).

I also love love love stainless steel so when Tom and I were cozied up on the couch this weekend going through the weekend local rag’s flyers I came across pink kitchen utensils, no wait, not just pink, but pink AND stainless steel! It’s like they friggin made them for me. I sat bolt upright and squealed.

So I stopped and bought them today.

Yeah ok they are REALLY tacky but most of it is hidden in the drawers…

The best part is even if most of the set of 30 pieces of kitchen crap is exactly that (crap) there is still some really useful stuff in there (measuring spoons and cups, ladles etc) that the rest can break and I won’t care. Some of my kitchen stuff is over 20 years old it was time..

Seriously though, all three pieces cost me just about $30.00 in total so pshhh..whatever, if I hate them in a few months (or more likely they start breaking) it’s not like I spent a bunch of money.

And they are pink!

It’s funny how you can trace some of your more irrational fears back to incidents from your past, often that took place somewhere waaay back in your childhood.

For instance my fear of clowns goes back to a trip to the circus with my Grandfather back in Aberdeen (Scotland) when I was six. This was some little one ring traveling deal and it was my very first circus experience. If I close my eyes I can still remember the smells, the wood chips on the floor and holding a balloon while watching all of the antics with excitement while holding my Grandfather’s hand.

We were sitting in or near the front row, because I remember being very near the action. The clowns made me laugh when I saw them from a distance but then one walked over to where we were sitting and pulled me to my feet. I remember looking up at his face and seeing to my horror how cracks had formed in his makeup to me he seemed like some kind of monster.

As he pulled me away from my Grandfather towards the ring I remember looking back and forth between him and the clown, hearing the laughter and the cheers from the crowd and just opening up and screaming NO!!!!I leaned further over reaching out my free arm, crying outright by now so my Grandfather came and got me. I remember burying my face in his sweater as he picked me up and asking to just go. We left.

To this day I hate clowns. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel stupid about hating them.

I got to thinking about irrational fears this morning because I was watching a really cheesy episode of the more recent Twilight Zone series, starring of all people; Jessica Simpson. It was about a babysitter watching a kid who’s dolls escaped from their display case and were moving around the house. It was REALLY bad and yet I there I was watching the show between my fingers, my heart thumping because these were dolls people! Dolls that came to life! Dolls (in case you hadn’t already figured it out) = another irrational fear of mine.

*Edit* Tom sent me this picture of the movie that started my “dolls come to life” fear ‘Trilogy of Terror’

To round out the top ten of Belinda’s irrational fears:

-Driving over open pits (which makes oil changes a challenge, thank you honey for doing them for me!)

-Elevators (see: claustrophobia)

-Car washes (see above)

-Heights (not eek I’m scared fear but FUCK NO I’M NOT GOING ON THAT BRIDGE kind of fear) I get vertigo on step number three of a step ladder.

-Public speaking where a podium is involved (strangely I can talk in front of groups where I’m free to walk around or I’m sitting)

-BEES!

-Getting lost (I have zero sense of direction, so unfortunately this is very much a reality for me not just a fear)

-Flying

-Bumper cars (ok that’s 11 so sue me)

Each one of those fears brings out irrational Belinda when provoked, the one that gets snappish and panicked unlike the more laid back Belinda I usually am.

I will ride an elevator but if it gets stuck, don’t expect me to just shrug my shoulders and wait it out, I will pace and froth at the mouth until we get out. If I’m lost, unless you are there to help me get me unlost shut the hell up, no jokes. If I’ve been suckered into going onto something high up, don’t rock, sway or tip it and if you insist on sitting on a patio for dinner in spring/summer expect me to do the hundred yard dash screaming with my hands flailing about if a bee comes anywhere near us. Lastly for the love of god don’t buy me a clown doll for Christmas.