perfect-fit jeans

Yesterday, I went jeans shopping for the first time in years. And I mean years. I bought two pairs of jeans when I was in Singapore a few years ago. Other than that, I have a vague memory of buying jeans in high school. Now, I remember why.

Women, you know the options.

combine
sits at waist
sits below waist
low rise
ultra low rise

with
boot cut
tapered
flare
straight

with
tall
medium
short

with
your size

and you get a pair of jeans that is baggy in the butt or gappy in the back at the waist or some variation of not attractive.

There are more possible options, but my mind hurts thinking about them. I didn’t even get into the whole relaxed and skinny fit issue. The combinations are mind boggling, though I’m sure Big-Bold-D could whip them up for us in a few seconds.

I think I tried most of the combinations yesterday. And I came to this conclusion: I hate jeans. I mean, the idea of them is nice, but finding a pair that fits that idea is gosh darn impossible.

Here’s why: the jeans manufacturers’ combination of fits isn’t right they are taking into consideration two important elements (waist and ass). Here's how I think we ladies should be able to pick jeans:

combine
pudgy pooch
standard waist
mini middle

with
huge hips
standard hips
hipless

with
big ass
standard butt
flat, little bum

with
weekend relaxing/I feel fat today
crisp, can wear with a button down shirt to work/looks great in boots
date/make an ex jealous/I feel sexy today
I can see your underwear line/whore

with
tall
medium
short

with
your size

Let’s see, I’d want a pudgy pooch, standard hips, flat, little bum, crisp, can wear with at button down shirt to work/looks great in boots fit in a short. And even if they did carry a pair that fits all those details, I'd still have to try to find a pair in my size. You know, skirts are very nice.

family stuff

My maternal grandmother just moved into a retirement community. I spent the weekend helping my grandma, aunt and mom pack up Grandma's things. (I spent five minutes arguing with her about why she needn't keep What Color is My Parachute 1986.) I wasn't able to help out on Monday--the day the moving trucks came. But I went over to the new place after work yesterday. Grandma was beaming. I don't remember the last time I so her so happy. It may have been at her and Grandpa's 50th wedding anniversary, but even then she had the stress and worry of Grandpa being sick.

Now, in this new place, she can be nearly stress free for a time. Dealing with all the stuff left behind at the old house can come later. She showed me every drawer and cabinet in the kitchen. She explained the placement of every piece of furniture. She talked about plans for arrange pictures. And she said she wished Grandpa could see it. He does, my aunt told her. And he's happy to see her happy.

Anyway, I'll probably head over there after work today to help with more unpacking. I want to give Grandma as much support as I can. This process has been so terribly hard for her. It's also motivated me to start going though and purging my belongings. Use it or lose it.

I told Mom that I was not going through this process with her. She'll either need to be very receptive to getting rid of stuff, or I'll send her away for a day and she'll come home to a near-empty house. I see so much of Grandma's hoarding tendency in Mom and me. This could be me, my stuff, my life. It really sank in this weekend.

as far from god

I'm editing an article on a humongous church that seats 16,000 in its sanctuary/arena and broadcasts to more than 200 million people around the world. You've probably seen the pastor on TV. Now, many of you know that theCallowQueen has issues with many televangelists. I find them often to use religion and the promise of God's gifts to believers to manipulate viewers for their own gain.

So, I'm editing this article and listening to Yahoo! Launchcast. And the song that I'm listening to is Garbage's "As Heaven Is Wide." And I hear the line, "As far from God," and it just fit. It fit with my feelings about this gargantuan church that calls an arena filled with 16,000 people a sanctuary. It fit with my feelings about the manipulations and lies that pervert Christianity. It fit with my feelings about how people feel after they realize they've been taken in and are left questioning their faith.

Nothing said could change the fact
My trust was blind
You broke the pact
If God's my witness, God must be blind

If flesh could crawl
My skin would fall
From off my bones
And run away from here

As far from God
As heaven is wide
As far from God
As angels can fly

a saved by the bell education

OK, I'm editing this article on FFC rules and children's programming. The United Church of Christ is challenging the licenses of several stations, claiming they aren't providing educational and informational children's programming. And while the FCC and the Children's Television Act mandates station serve the educational and informational needs of children, the FCC includes such shows as "Saved by the Bell" as meeting these needs. And while I'm not in favor of the FCC becoming a children's television watchdog, common sense would tell most of us that Zack et. al. will not provide much in the way of beneficial knowledge to kids, except maybe that:

If the teacher pops a test,
I know I'm in a mess,
And my dog ate all my homework last night.
Riding low in my chair,
She won't know that I'm there,
If I can hand it in tomorrow it'll be all right.
It's all right,
'cos I'm Saved by the Bell.

flirt

I am a shameless flirt. Shameless.

time wash

Morning. I wake, rub my eyes, stumble into the bathroom to take a shower. There's something about the rushing water, the enclosed space behind the shower curtain that seems to cut one off from the rest of the world. It's as if time, life is suspended. Then one finally turns off the shower, opens the shower curtain, and realizes that time hasn't stopped. In fact, it's sped forward. Stupid time.

stuffed

I ate out way too much this weekend. Uno's, Panera, Zio's, BoLings and Wheat State with Sylas and Maddy's all filled my tummy from Friday evening to Sunday's end. I'm so full. But it was all so good.

flower points

Here's another dating tip for the guys: Showing up with three, long-stemmed, peach roses on your second date with a girl will earn you major points. The point spread varies but is higher for guys who the girl wouldn't expect to be the flower-bearing type. So, for you non-metrosexuals, this is a great boost for you (especially if you plan to wear your jeans and that old, faded polo shirt).

And why peach? Well, red is way too serious; that's reserved for loves. Pink is on its way to being too serious; this is only the second date. White is too pure and friendly; we know that doesn't match your thoughts of her. The peach is a subtler pink; perfect for new possibilities.

please note

theCallowQueen is having a rather good hair day. This pleases her.

my friends, their moms, and me

I had a dream a few nights ago. After the dream I woke and thought to myself, "Now that's a dream I should remember." I then promptly forgot the dream until now.

I started to write out the long version, but I won't bore you with it.

The short version: I was competing in a reality show (mix "The Amazing Race" and "The Apprentice"). I stopped off to take advantage of a Clinique sale at the mall. Where the Clinique woman--who happened to be l42's mom--said that they didn't sell toner at this mall and I'd have to go across town. (Note for the guys: Toner is the second part in most women’s three-step skin care regimes. It comes after the cleanser and before the moisturizer. So the idea that this one item would not be stocked is ridiculous.)

I bought something and hurried away to continue on with my mission. I ended up in this Halloween-like town, where I was told to put on my costume for the final judging. I didn't remember to bring my costume. Big-Bold-D was talking to his mom on the phone. I knew she was going to be coming to see the final judging, so I begged him to ask her to bring toilet paper and tape. I used these items to make a wedding dress in the few short minutes I had. I looked a bit like the corpse bride.

I don't remember who won. Not that it mattered; the competition was obviously rigged.

And, yeah, this was the short version.

sluggish

I've been in a bit of a funk the past few days--probably due to this acid reflux ick and being home and not as social. My sleeping schedule is all out of kilter, and I had all these thoughts running through my head. So, when I woke up at 3 a.m. I tried to go back to sleep, failed, and then went to the gym.

The gym is such an odd place at 4 a.m. The staff outnumbers the members. They had one guy at the desk watching a movie and two people cleaning. There was only one other person working out when I arrived. All those machines sitting silent feels so unnatural. The place is usually so busy, bustling, and sweaty. I started with the StairMaster of Doom, which was beautifully clean and sweat-and-spilt-sport-drink-free. Even a clean StairMaster of Doom sucks, though.

But my body is beginning to right itself. I just have to keep eating bland, boring food and taking that little purple pill. Ugh.

Now for the side note that got me started thinking about all of this: It looks like a fat, green slug is sleeping under my skin. It's really just the bruise from the IV they put in my hand. But I feel sluggish, so I see sluggish.

thecallowqueen goes to south park

Yeah, that's Nanette, my iPod Nano and constant friend, at my waist.

See l42's on her blog. (And the boys are so cute!)

Visit South Park Studio 2 to make your own.

absent

I'm here but not.
I haven't left but will return.

word of the day: reggaeton

reggaeton, noun. A form of dance music of Latin American origin, incorporating elements of reggae, hip-hop, and other genres. Also reggeatón.

And example from the Village Voice: Sometimes I think I'm the only person around who likes the idea of reggaetion better than the actual music.

I, of course, chose this word because it's cousin, hick-hop, was a past word of the day.

celebrities and chocolate

My roomie and I went to the Chocolate Festival this weekend at Union Station. Saturday morning I was at the gym about to begin my walking lunges (forward singles, doubles, triples and backward singles--yeah, it hurts) when one of the guys at a nearby machine asked another what the Chocolate Festival was.

My ears did that little perky thing. I looked up and mentioned that I was going to the Chocolate Festival. The other guy said he'd be there from 1:30 to 3 p.m. He said it in this formal kind of way. Then it registered: Oh my, that's Gary Lezak! Ha! The NBC weatherman works out at my gym. Anyway, we chatted for a bit and then I continued on with my lunges.

Mary and I did end up seeing him at the Chocolate Festival with his dog Stormy. We each got a free rain poncho, too. (Yeah, we're so cool.) Most of the booths were chocolate related. I had no idea that Better Cheddar had so many chocolate products!

We each had a ticket to enter in the raffle of our choosing. And we actually won one of them! My roomie should be picking up our Mary Kay gift basket today after work.

Now I have a weatherman problem. Ever since Bryan Busby came to my grade school, he has been my weatherman. When I need to know the weather, I turn to him first. (OK, I often turn to the Weather Channel first, but if I've missed my local on the 8s, then I look to Busby.) But now that I've met Lezak, I'm reconsidering this whole thing. I mean he goes to my gym; he must be a superior weatherman. ;)

sold

It's official. My company traded hands today. Had a company phone call with excited heads talking about what a wonderful opportunity this is and how great we are. Received e-mails from excited heads on what a wonderful opportunity this is and how great we are. Don't they know that we minions only want to know who's going to be let go and what our benefits will be?

This is the second time the company I've worked at has been bought. The first acquisition had some real rough patches. I don't expect the same with this one. Other than my insurance, I'm really not that worried. Yes, G-man, I realize I may be eating those words in a few months. Whatever. If it begins to suck here like it did at my last job, I'll just find another freakin' job. But, again, I don't expect that to happen.

second base

OK, guys, now pay attention. I know this is going to be hard to understand. So I'll type really slowly. A second date does not mean you should try to steal second base. I may have let you walk to first, but that doesn't give you permission to try to run the bases.

a late start

I woke up at 5 a.m. with heartburn. Yes, I should go to the doctor; I know. I took a Pepcid, hoping it would go away. It didn't. I got up at 6 to bug my roomie just before she left for work. Then I sat in front of the TV watching crappy local news and music videos on VH1. VH1, by the way, is SO FREAKIN' ANNOYING. They list the new music that they're going to play. One of the artists was Fiona Apple. Hey, cool, I'll watch for that. The time passes. It's 7, and they're playing Mariah Carey's Shake it Off AGAIN. And still no Fiona. They play the Black Eyed Peas AGAIN. And that Kanye West guy, too. (I ain't sayin' she's a gold digger my ass.) So I'm getting annoyed. And my stomach isn't calming down for me either. Somewhere in here I've taken a shower and dressed and found my shoes. And still no Fiona. Sigh. But I got to see the Sheryl Crow video twice. The art in it is pretty cool. Too bad I don't care for the song.

So I leave for work. Realize that I forgot my book to read over lunch. Go back and grab my book. Go out to the car. Realize that I left my lunch on the table. Go back and grab my lunch.

I finally get to work and it looks a bit like a tailgating party. People are milling around the parking lot. Some are sitting in folding chairs. The office is closed. Power outage. Finally someone posts a note that we're to go home and check in at 11:30 to see if the power has been returned and we can return to work.

I go home. Hey, maybe they haven't shown that Fiona video. Turn on VH1. Crap. Mariah. Flip to other randomness. Flip back to VH1. Kanye again? You've got to be shittin' me. They have all morning to actually play music videos. It's a precious, rare time on the station, and they choose to play the same five videos over and over again? So annoying. Oh, and the new Ricky Martin song sucks. No surprise.

Then I switched channels to watch "Starting Over." This season has a twist. Instead of it being a house full of women looking to get their lives back on track. They have four or five couples. It's a little strange. We don't often show men being made so venerable and crying and talking about the deep issues in such a fashion.

After watching the couple trying to work through their crap, I felt a little better about my petty life. And my tummy had calmed down a bit. I ate some toast and came into work. Yay. (Um, that really wasn't an enthusiastic yay. I'd really rather be at home taking a nap.)