womanhood
| | There comes a time in every girl's life when she makes that journey and crosses over into womanhood. It has nothing to do with getting her period, or losing her virginity.
It's when she finds herself in a bed baths and beyond (or similar such store) ogling contour rugs for her bathroom.
Yes, apparently all women are given the nesting instinct, and this comes out in frilly soap dishes and hand towels which are never to be used. I decorated my bathroom in my new apartment, and I'm really happy with it, but I also really really really feel like my mother. When did this happen? I didn't decorate shit in my last two apartments, never had the urge, never thought I need a throw pillow that compliments my carpet. I am a victim of my femininity. I also bought silverware and a wall hanging so I can have a little privacy in my bedroom (yay!). Now I just need a bed.
ALSO: why the hell can't I buy just one pot? They will only sell me 15 pot sets... I don't need fifteen pots, I need one, and a saucepan. Bastids.
I went out to EJ's tonight and saw Frank's bass teacher Hans play, and had really really good key lime pie. I met his teacher, he's nice... he stared at my tits, but my shirt was asking for it. It put my breasts on a lacy purple shelf and said "admire me, but don't touch because the safety pins will get you".
And I made it home before midnight, because Frank needs to play bass... grumble. At least I got out.
And with that, I am going to read my companion to steven king, a scholarly tome on selected works of SK (the author uses "we" and I hate that, because I often don't agree with him).
Night
posted by Amber at 11:57 PM
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