Big Fat Cow Day!

Y'ever have those days when you feel like you're just a big fat cow?

I went clothes shopping tonight.  I had McDonald's for lunch.  You do the math.

I'm going someplace extremely warm and toasty over Labor Day weekend (Arizona) so I thought I'd go pick up a sundress or something.  Nothing really nice -- just a casual little dress.  Something that's just a step up from a beach cover-up. 

I used to have a dress like that -- the fabric was light, the dress had a nice short flowing skirt -- you could easily wear it in the desert and then slap a thin sweater over it when you went inside and experienced the arctic air conditioning.  So I knew exactly what I wanted.

I figured this would be a really good time to get something like that on sale, seeing as it's the end of summer now, so all the stores are starting to stock their fall lines, so they're moving the summer stuff.  I decided to go to Loehmann's -- big discount clothing store.  They just opened a branch near me and I had a coupon and everything.

First disappointing discovery -- they had lots of dresses, but the only flirty summery frolicky ones were labelled "Junior."  Apparently, someone believes that "women" only need velvet party dresses or conservative items for work -- as nothing in "Women's Dresses" was even close to what I was looking for.  So, I resigned myself to the rack of Junior dresses.  There were a few that seemed like what I was looking for.  I had a moment of confusion when trying to figure out what my size is in "Junior," but I went with "Medium" and grabbed about a half dozen dresses.

OK, now, despite what you may have heard, Loehmann's does have private fitting rooms.  Second disappointing discovery -- they were all full.  I could use the "public" fitting room.  Mirrors all around the walls, several other women trying on clothes and trying really hard not to catch a glimpse of each other getting undressed.  (I imagine this is much easier for men, as they have "urinal experience" in the art of Not Looking.  I had to think back to Junior High School gym class.) 

How fun is this?  Cramming my not-so-Junior butt into Junior-sized clothing, in freakin' public!  Bad enough I had to endure the humiliation of seeing myself in this attire, but I knew total strangers were looking over at me doing acrobatics to get into this stuff, wondering, "What is she thinking?"

Third disappointing discovery -- I'm not even a "medium" in Junior clothing.

Fourth disappointing discovery -- An astonishing percentage of Loehmann's clothing has rips.  I found one dress that very nearly fit, but there was a huge hole in it where they'd pinned the price tag.  I later tried on a suit (just to make myself feel better) and the zipper was pretty much ripped out of the pants.

I left Loehmann's and tried a couple other stores -- stores that cater to grown-ups, thanks very much.  They had some summery dresses on their sale racks, but each time I tried one on, I looked ucky in it.  I don't know if it was because my hair was flying all over the place (hazard of pulling all those dresses on and off), my ankles look absolutely ridiculous (I have an unfortunate tan stripe across each ankle from a misadventure in applying sunscreen a couple weeks ago), or the result of the Super Value Meal at lunch, but nothing I tried on looked like I had any business wearing it.

On the way out of the last store, I told the saleslady that I had no luck, but asked if she could spare a parking validation for trying.  She gave me the validation, and a sympathetic look -- "We all have those days," she said.  Big fat cow days!

Wave 'em if you've got 'em

Ah, the Olympics are coming to an end.  Well, actually, they're already over, but with tape delay, we've still got a few hours to go as far as television is concerned.

I watched the men's marathon today.  Don't think I've ever watched a marathon from start to finish before -- I'm generally used to the summary coverage that they do after the race, where you just see the highlights and the whole thing is over in about 10 or 15 minutes.

I think my favorite part of the marathon coverage was watching the crowd cheer on the runners from the side of the road.  Because they cheered on all the runners -- not just the ones they were there to cheer on.  When the only runner in sight was from Brazil, or America, or Italy -- you'd see flags waving that were not, in fact, Brazilian, American, or Italian.  Or even Greek (which you sort of expected, what with it being in Greece and all).  But people were cheering and excitedly waving whatever flag happened to be at hand (I distinctly remember seeing an Israeli flag bouncing up and down -- although the nearest Israeli runner was several minutes back).  But, y'know, dude, you run 26 miles and change, I don't care who you are, I'll applaud you.

And in line behind the South Koreans

Brazil is apparently protesting the marathon result, seeking a second gold medal for its runner, Vanderlei Lima, -- who managed to finish third after some, er, "spectator interference" totally messed with him when he was in the lead.  (A guy jumped on the course and pushed him off the road into the crowd.)  Lima, for his part, says, "Never mind the result of the appeal. I was very happy to win a medal. The moment I'm experiencing now is the result of very hard work. I was well trained and I was expecting to win a medal. I have achieved my goal. No matter what happened, I am happy to be on the medal podium with these athletes."  He's tops in my book.

And who was this idiot?

The guy who interfered with Lima was making some sort of statement -- he was wearing a placard on his shirt, but the freeze-frame on my DVR player wasn't good enough to tell me what this bonehead thought was important enough to interfere with an Olympic marathon.  I was so pleased when the rest of the crowd took him off Lima, but was somewhat disappointed we did not then get a shot of Greek police hauling this jerk off in handcuffs.

Found this breaking news story (an hour ago) identifying the fellow.  The key points here are:  1.  Nutball.  2.  Who has previously interfered with another sporting event.  3.  Who was (according to what he told police), "preparing for the Second Coming."  Er, right.  Here's another article discussing the guy -- comes from after his disruption of the British Grand Prix.  He sees himself as a messenger of Peace -- hey, I'm all for peace -- but his methods of calling attention to himself leave something to be desired. 

Seriously.  I tend to think that the Olympics -- proceeding along in their intended fashion, unimpeded by political or religious statements -- are one of the best things we've got going in favor of the whole peace thing.  To see someone interfere with the Olympics -- in a way that is now getting one country all upset over the results -- is not exactly helping the cause of peace, in the long run.

Book Learnin'

For this week's homework, Scalzi asks:

>>Weekend Assignment #21: Everyone had a subject in school they like better than all the rest. What was yours? And what's the most memorable thing you learned?

Extra Credit: Class pictures!<<

I loved school.  I loved every subject -- well, almost.  I majored in math (in college) for the simple reason that I was good at it.  And why should I major in something that would be, y'know, hard?  Math came easy for me, so it was a no-brainer to major in it.  And, to tell you the truth, I also continued in math because it impressed people that I was good at it.  What with being a girl and all. 

That is, in fact, the most memorable thing that I didn't learn -- that girls aren't supposed to be good at math.  My mother was a math teacher, so I always assumed that math was just fine for girls.  Nobody ever told me otherwise.  It wasn't till sometime in High School that a teacher mentioned that girls were traditionally better in English and that I was something of an anomaly being so good in Math.  By this time, though, I was solidly established as a math overachiever, and it seemed too late to turn around and go be a good little English student instead.  Besides, the fact that I was doing something that some people thought I shouldn't be doing seemed to just harden my resolve to be even better at it. 

In that sense, then, the most memorable thing I learned is that everyone has their own abilities, stereotypes don't mean squat, and (bonus) you can really blow some people's minds by playing against their preconceived notions of your limitations.

(And boy did that ever come in handy once I got out of law school and started litigating.  What?  Me?  Sweet, innocent, short, soft-spoken young lady in the pink suit?  Naah, she's nothing to worry about at all.)

Extra Credit Kindergarten Photo:

Fascinating Olympic-Related Fact About Me

I have a diving bathing suit.  Well, come to think of it, I guess it would just be called a "diving suit," although that sounds rather like that whole tuxedo-under-the-scuba-gear thing James Bond wears.

But, last year, I found myself in need of a bathing suit, and I needed it around, say October.  You try finding a bathing suit in the department stores around October.  Especially if you're kinda particular about the suit you want what 'cause you don't have one of them bodies that's made for every swimsuit, if you know what I mean.

And then I discovered ... the internet!  The internet has bathing suits for sale all year 'round!  And the selection was extremely spiffy.  You can actually decide exactly how high you want your suit cut up your thigh!  I ended up with a Speedo model diving suit, which looks exactly like the one the American springboard diver was wearing in competition today.

So, when watching the diving, I've been trying to figure out what exactly makes a diving suit a diving suit.  I mean, I know runners are aiming for aerodynamic and swimmers are aiming for hydrodynamic -- but what do divers look for in their suits?  I'd like to know the full set of advantages of my own personal diving Speedo.  So, from watching the diving semi-finals, I've concluded the advantages of a diving suit are:  (a) nothing is particularly binding so you have full range of motion--particularly in the arms and back; (b) it doesn't ride up all that much; and (c) it is quite high in front, apparently designed to keep one's Northern regions from bouncing around during a reverse two-and-half with one-and-half twists.

I'm good with that.

My Dinner Will Be Bland

Haven't shopped in ... way too long.  I've got some meat in the freezer, but since I didn't bother defrosting it, it isn't really an option.  Which means that -- given my lack of recent grocery shopping -- I'm stuck with some sort of food in a box.  Whatever happens to be in my pantry.  And I had the Easy Mac (with tuna added) last night, so it was going to be a challenge to stay away from the Cup O' Lunch ramen noodles.

The winner was one of them Betty Crocker Chicken With Biscuit meals.  The "Better If Eaten By" date was sometime in June, but it didn't say, "You'll drop dead if you eat it in August," so I figure I'm ok.  I hope.

The instructions are horribly simple:  Mix the biscuit mix with water.  Pour the cans o' chicken & veggie stew mix (well, that's what they look like) in a pan.  Stir in the seasoning mix.  Plop the biscuits on top.  Cook.

I mix the biscuit mix.  I pour the stew cans.  I plop the biscuits.

I look at the unopened packed of seasoning mix.

I look at my pan with nine biscuit puddles delicately floating in the stew.

Oops.

I ultimately poured in a small fraction of the seasoning mix in the corners of the pan, the mixed it with a spoon around the biscuits.  Like it's one of them Olympic kayak races and I lose points for touching a gate.  I might've used a quarter of the seasoning mix packet and I drowned about three biscuits, which I'm sure is a major deduction.

And, of course, if it tastes bad, I'll never know if it's because it has expired, or because I didn't stir in an adequate amount of seasoning.

More on Track & Field

-- Who is "Flag Guy"?  Anytime an athlete wins a gold medal, someone is there to hand them a nice, fresh, clean, folded-up flag of their country -- for the athlete to drape over their shoulders or wave during a victory lap.  I have some vague recollection in the olden days that such victory laps used to be spontaneous, with the athlete grabbing the flag from someone in the stands.  Man, those Greeks are organized. 

-- Ok, here's the thing I don't like about Track:  when NBC runs the race again in slow motion and you see the athlete's face moving around on his or her skull.  It isn't pretty.  A runner at top speed is pretty.  A swimmer in slow-mo -- with their body smoothly cutting through the surface as the water cascades down their head -- is pretty.  A runner in slow-mo, however, looks like they're doing something extremely unpleasant to their body, what with moving so fast their facial features don't stay in the usual positions.

-- Unrelated to that, Marion Jones is pretty.  I don't know whether she's guilty in this whole doping scandal -- and I truly hope she isn't -- but you just want to give her the benefit of the doubt because nobody with the grin of hers can be bad, right?

-- As we are now firmly into the second week of Olympic coverage on NBC, I have a couple memos for our corporate sponsors: 

           1.  I am sick of the Sprint ads with Mary Lou Retton telling small children they've used up their half-Nelson minutes.  Please, make it stop.

           2.  At first I thought "Father of the Pride" might be cute.  I have now watched so much of it in 30-second increments, it no longer seems fresh and new.  Can't imagine watching the damn thing now.

Moderation, people!  I'm being a good little consumer and watching 4 hours of Olympic coverage every night.  D'you think I might get sick of the same ad by the fortieth or fiftieth viewing?

 

"But with two of them going down so close together, it's awfully ominous."

I have nothing to add to that.

Taken from this article here about the near simultaneous crashes of two planes in Russia.  When you hear of a single plane crashing, it's horribly tragic -- you pray there are survivors and your heart goes out to the families of the victims.  But when two crash at the same time, you get that horrible sinking feeling that some jerk is back in the business of hijacking planes and killing people for some sort of political ends.

That a hijacking alarm went off on one of the planes before crashing (so says the current news), that both planes left from the same airport within minutes of each other, AND that witnesses say one of the planes exploded before it crashed ...

Damn.