Donut SMACKDOWN!!!

NOTE: The views expressed herein, just as in every post on this blog, reflect the personal observations and opinions of the writer, (not her employer, for example) and constitute protected speech under the First Amendment. So don't sue me!

As previously noted in this space, To* *ot Donuts is putting in a new store on my way to work, at 35th NE and NE 70th. So, I returned from my brief sojourn in the Southwest, wondering if I would see any visible progress at their storefront. I didn't. I did stop at Gratefu* Brea* Bakery, home of extraordinary bagels, cookies, sandwiches, breads, and other yum yums (but steer clear of the quiches) directly across the street, noticing that their marquee now confrontationally declares "We have real donuts." (This is possibly a jab at the fact that To* *ot installed a giant cast-iron donut on top of their building a few months ago, but continues to futz around with internal improvements and landscaping instead of the manufacture of actual donuts.) I had previously learned that Gratefu* Brea* was very concerned about how To* Po* would impact the coffee portion of their business, and had thrown up some sort of legal barrier at some point, since overcome.

Inside, as I ordered my everythingbageltoastedlightcreamcheese, I heard a loyal patron at the next register declaring that she would never buy anything "over there!" I said to my cashier, "It doesn't matter because they're never going to open, anyway!"
CASHIER: Do you know how long they've been working on it?
ME: Since last October or November?
CASHIER: They've been working on it for a year and a half.
ME: Really?
CASHIER: They're going on a half-million dollars.

Another cashier went on to say that a large Seattle-based coffee chain has bought them out and that's part of the delay. I don't know how the employees of Gratefu* Brea* could reliably possess either piece of information, and hence, am skeptical. (The Marmot is skeptical!)

I personally think To* *ot has their priorities messed up. I understand the benefits of opening an utterly aesthetically pleasing store, but maybe start selling the donuts before installing the giant palm tree and the giant cast-iron donut? The people want the donuts (and the coffee,) they don't want your em-effin' palm tree.

I know, I shouldn't care so much, but this perpetual preparation for opening is almost more annoying to me real-estate wise than fallow real estate (ie, empty lot or boarded-up building--in an urban area--whilst developers in the suburbs merrily pave over meadow and forest.) Now, the To* *ot corporation does not exist to please me. But this blog does. So I'm gonna say it when I think it. And I like To* *ot, but the incident infused me with a loyalty to Gratefu* Brea* which previously wasn't so strong. So I hereby vow not to darken the door of To* *ot Wedgwood, should they ever see fit to open it. But then again: I'm trying to get into better shape, so I don't need a donut, and I hate coffee, so I'm not sure what my troth is worth.

Speaking of donuts, I'm really looking forward to visiting this establishment during my upcoming ten-year high school reunion. If you're thinking to yourself, "hmm, high school reunion, that should be good for a few laughs," you're right. At least I hope you're right! And if you're wanting to quibble about the way I spell donut, bring it!

Friday!

Here are some things that are making me happy:

This post on the Stranger's blog. ("Indubitably.")

My new T-shirt, even though I wore it yesterday.

These stamps.

Closing our refinance loan to ensure the beginning of the basement remodel!

Things that are not making me happy:

My pants. I think this is only the second time I've worn them. They have a waistband that's elastic in back--in some pants this would be good, I guess, but it's just not doing anything for me. And oh yeah, THEY COME UP TO TWO INCHES ABOVE MY BELLY-BUTTON. It's driving me batshit. If I roll them down, they just roll back up. They'll be going in the used clothing bin at Safeway in short order, and I wish a woman with a super-long torso good wearing. Not everything that's $5 at a Going Out of Business clearance sale is worth taking home, kids.

thursday

Today I’m celebrating my fourth day on a diet by eating a freshly prepared lunch of macaroni and cheese from the Metropolitan Market. It’s quite tasty, and loaded with saturated fats and carbs. Nothing washes that down like a sugary carbonated beverage. Mmm. Well, I’ll go running tomorrow. Rationalizations’R’Us.

In case you were stewing about my hyperbolic claims about my gigantic boobs, put this in yer pipensmokit: I just sat down at my desk and knocked over the receptacle containing the macaroni and cheese. With my boob. I scored a grand slam, getting ‘n’cheese on: my shirt, my pants (in my special place, OF COURSE!,) and the floor.

coming back around

So, MSH and I live in a Really Nice Neighborhood. Not a Very Nice Neighborhood--we couldn't afford that--but it's quiet, some families, people walking their dogs, park three blocks away, people (except us) take good care of their yards, and most of the houses, especially one block up, are much nicer than ours.

Twice since we've lived there, someone has rifled my car. Now, you can't blame them because in both cases I left the doors unlocked and in one case, the windows rolled all the way down. The first time, nothing was taken. The second time, they took my meditation cushion (about $50, and it obviously wasn't seeing much use in my car) and my prescription sunglasses ($150.) So, that's a PITA.

So this morning I get in my car and feel something under my bum. I pull it out, and it's a pair of sunglasses which I've never seen before. I look at them carefully. No, they are foreign to me. Very strange, think I. Then I look around my car and see that someone has been through it--the center console has everything pulled out, the ashtray and the glovebox are open--but as I look, I realize nothing has been taken. I don't leave anything valuable in the car, ever, so I guess that partially makes up for my lassitude in car security (I had left the windows rolled down on this occasion.) But the cell phone car charger and the iPod car charger and holder must have some market value, I suppose--or the thief could have taken them just to be a PITA.

So I head down the road to the coffee shop, my friend and current houseguest K close behind, and when we get there, I tell her the tale. Then getting back IN my car after bagel and (black!) tea, I find YET ANOTHER pair of sunglasses on my seat. So one pair--he could have dropped them, but two pairs--I think the thief is trying to make up for or apologize for the previous theft of my sunglasses. With two admittedly crappy pairs. As H pointed out, he or she went through my car. Still.

My boss is on a conference call that could determine the future path of our company. I'm on pins and needles! I picked quite a day to start caffeine again.

At lunch, I get to go with one of my coworkers and her kids to a friend's house on Lake Washington to watch the Blue Angels. I am so excited!! And I'm wearing an all-green outfit! And it's Friday!

midsummer night's rant

Here's what I am over. As in, 'I am SO over it:'

Summer. I do love Seattle in the summer, but all this heat--I'm over it. More specifically I'm over: displaying any portion of my thighs or other body part that is pure white with the white sheen of the whitest abalone shell, last year's capris not buttoning, shaving my legs, having sweaty lip 12 hours out of the day, not being able to fall asleep because it's so hot, my peeling sunburn, and having sweat run down between my tits. (More about them later.) I was looking at some long sleeved T-shirts online today, and thought, a white long-sleeved T--wouldn't that look nice with some jeans. Next thought: oooooh! long sleeved T and jeans--what bliss! And just like that, I was over summer.

Shopping. It's a major PITA. I don't have a lot of spare time, and I don't want to spend it going through sizing-laden racks of clothes, then dragging them into a dressing room, some of which fit, some of which make me look like a weird multi-tiered cake (those ruffle tops?!) and some of which are really scratchy. And they almost never have what I want anyway. I want to imagine exactly what I want--a long-sleeved white T-shirt that is really, really soft, but not so thin as to show every contour of my nude-colored titsling at the bargain price of $9.99-- and have it pop into being. The thought of shopping just makes me really tired. I used to LOVE shopping, it was my major recreational activity. I went into the GAP with $100 today and could only bring myself to spend $20. So: when I win the lottery I will either: get a personal shopper, a tailor, OR purchase a large estate and go nude and have my maids change the upholstery every three days. Til then, I'm staying away unless it's absolutely necessary. I've turned a corner, kids. I am OVER shopping.

Bras and their contents. Oh, how I dream of the days back in high school where I could just slip on some little JC Penney cotton number and keep the girls in line. Now they're gigantic boulders on my chest requiring a $40-$50 titsling in a size not carried by most retail outlets. (Not to toot my own hoots, but let's just say most Playmates have the same problem.) They hurt when I run down stairs, and they require a sports bra plus a supportive sport top to corral them during exercise. Strapless bras are painful to wear--so the prospect of strapless or spaghetti-strap tops or dresses is absurd or unpleasant. (And there are a lot of clothes like that out there!) I gave up looking for a dress for my brother-in-law's wedding, and I blame it all on my tits. I sort of pine for a reduction, actually. Screw 'em. Sure, they're called "funbags" for a reason, but trust me, they're not worth the constant upkeep. If you're getting an augmentation, HEED ME! Be happy with what you've got.

And while I'm being negative and catty, here are two things I find mystifying:

Layering. As in layering T's and layering cami's made out of very very sheer material--two or more are required to mask a bra, or ni**les or whatever. People? It's SUMMER! It's HOT! (OK, it's 80 degrees Fahrenheit, but that's hot for me, and I would think, for you, too.) "Layering" is something for the fall--when it's **cold**. When it is hot, you want to DECREASE the numbers of layers. Now, I know what you're saying, "Hey you crabby marmot, those shirts are so sheer, that two have them only equal the insulatory power of one shirt. So no worries." OK? Then what about the fact that in terms of wear and tear on clothing, and doing laundry to some extent, that's double your displeasure? Cause that body odor is going to permeate both layers.

Dressing like it's fall when it's 80 degrees in August. I have a hard time not staring at these people dressed in full-length jeans and long-sleeved shirts. I've decided they're all from Southern California or Texas.

Maybe I should just not be around people for a while.