Friday, February 18, 2005

On Bitches of All Sizes

I apologize in advance for any lateness of or incoherence in this post. I'm blaming it on this being Friday and my being distracted by the agonizingly slow passage of time, as well as the dangling carrot of the dinner I'm having tomorrow night at the Cheesecake Factory for my dad's birthday.

Speaking of, I have no idea what to get him. Dads are the worst people to shop for. I have a feeling my Friday evening is going to be spent excavating the tool section of Sears for any item whose purpose I recognize. I'm quite sure, though, that I'll end up at the register with an equally inscrutable piece of metal in each hand, wondering which would better mark my father's passage into his fifty-fourth year, and, more pressingly, which would be at all possible to wrap.

Yesterday Kai and I went to the "good" Starbucks which, after last night's events, I am renaming the "if-only-there-weren't-so-many-LAWS..." Starbucks. Recognizing the fact that it is a Starbucks, I expect to encounter a certain number of giggly high-school kids, their morose social rejects, some old crazies, and at least one group of gabby moms. I can also count on either a schizophrenic or a flamenco guitar player depending on the franchise I choose to patronize.

Last night, though, Kai and I found ourselves at the only remaining table in the place. It was conveniently situated next to a group of four older women who, until their missing fifth arrived, talked in a basically normal fashion. They did appear to be there for some kind of Tupperware-party-like reason, which was slightly strange, because instead of Tupperware they were buying vitamins. The missing woman was their vitamin pusher.

She arrived in a huff with several catalogs, some paperwork, and a huge dufflebag. She handled the bag very gingerly. This being a vitaminy get-together, I assumed that there were glass bottles in the bag and hoped with all my might that they'd be washing down handfulls of pills with their macchiatos. I would've taken pictures.

However, there were no vials of downers in her bag. There was a dog, though. A tiny, white, poofy, stupid, upset, barking dog. I mean, I'm not saying I wouldn't be upset if I was carried around in a dufflebag. A dufflebag is not a pet carrier. [Shout out to O.C. C.S. '02: A vest isn't a shirt, either.]

Victim of animal cruelty or not, little fucker emitted ear-splitting yip after ear-splitting yip, which the owner remedied by shaking the bag and laughing, as if to say, "Ha, weird, isn't it funny when the dog in your purse won't shut up? Don't you just hate that? Oh, what a faux pas! They'll be hearing about this in the Letters section of the Ladies Home Journal next month, ha ha ha!"

Now, I know that right now a tiny dog is the hottest accessory one can have. I understand that when K-Fed and Bit Bit are on the cover of Details it's easy to succumb to the hypnotic appeal of a dog that could comfortably fit between halves of a hamburger bun. However, to all the mini-bitch toting mega-bitches: Jesus, Mary and Joseph, your dog does not need to go everywhere with you. Would you wear your Chanel square-button, six-pocket navy peacoat everywhere? No. Moderation, ladies. Fashion is about moderation.

This morning while wearing my parka with a fur-trimmed hood, I passed a tiny dog--I'm not even talking tiny, here, I'm talking microscopic--wearing a parka with a fur-trimmed hood.

You know there's something wrong with your life when you spend a couple of minutes each day looking for the hidden camera.

Anyway, it's lunch time. Happy President's Day--which I have off, praise the Founding Fathers. Don't forget to decorate your cherry trees and stuff your children's stovepipe hats with wooden teeth.

8 Comments:

Blogger ErntsBloggo said...

When I was little on President's Day instead of getting wooden teeth I got wooley fleas because my parents don't hear very well but the wooley fleas and I got along fabulously and we once shared an ice cream cone together but I NEVER would have taken them into Starbucks and I don't even read Cosmopolitan, I mean, that's like instinct right along with breathing.

I would hate you for having Ps. Day off, but you write well.

Lucky you.

4:23 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I've heard that the buckeye state is calling you one with the vaguely recognizible visage.Very often the last frontier calls me.I have yet been able to return the calls but i hope to do so one day. When this occurs I believe that the last frontier will welcome me with open arms but i fear it may not. I hope you and the heart of the former northwest territories can get along well if you do decide to reinact your union. You should consider emailing various psuedo associate like friend of friends so that they can forget to email you back. Is munchausen by proxy syndrom contagious and if so how will that effect the over under on nba all-star game

5:46 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

10:01 AM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

10:03 AM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

Munchausen by proxy is in fact contagious, in my experience, when one takes into account the degree to which my co-workers exaggerate their illnesses so as not to come to work, and thereby I want to exaggerate my illnesses so as not to come to work. As for the rest, I leave you to extrapolate.

P.S., who are you? And how are you privy to my buckeye aspirations?

10:04 AM  
Blogger Buckley said...

I asked my doctor once if I might have Munchausen and he said that i was only pretending I had so that I wouldn't get medical attention. He eventually found a punch-line for the joke and is now a stand-up comedian.

I don't really understand the keywords, but it sounds like your being tested by the CIA for suitibiltiy as an agent, Kathy. Good luck with that.

2:52 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

whats with all the removed by author what are you hiding female with familiar but unplacable visage

11:05 PM  
Blogger What'sHerFace said...

I accidentally posted my own message three times because I didn't think it was working. Hence the deletions. Well, that, and I accidentally spilled my plan to assassinate the pres...I've said too much.

11:29 PM  

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