baa baa black sheep

3.15.2007

Resigned

3:21 p.m.

This week is spring break week, and since business has been slow my boss had me take Wednesday-Sunday off. Five days in a row. Five whole days. I decided to use the time to start my frantic preparation to sell the house, and to do some wedding kegger nonsense.

Yesterday I spent the majority of the day 1) cleaning out three closets, 2) cleaning out the spare room (which mostly just held a lot of unpacked holiday decorations, an unused dog crate, and lots of random crap), 3) spending copious amounts of time reading Jonniker's and Swistle's blogs and commenting repeatedly about menstrual cups 4) cleaning out/packing up my studio. This was a huge job, and I didn't finish it until today. It looks barren and clean. I sort of like it. This morning I drove around town for a few hours, trying to get some wedding-related things done. I got supplies to make our invitations, talked to some creepy tanning salons (please don't judge me), talked to the post office about the stamp increase (the nice employee there suggested we send out invites in April, so we miss the increase and really stick it to the man), and then decided to find a place to make the wedding cupcake tower. Because I think I'll have enough going on without worrying about making and decorating a tower of cupcakes. (See how I am PRIORITIZING? I'm so proud of myself.)

This town doesn't have many bakery options. We have two grocery stores, a bakery downtown, and then the giant annoying super store, that I'm ashamed to admit I even use. The bakery downtown, which would be the seemingly logical choice, is not an option. Mostly because I don't care much for their cake. I sort of think it's gross. Especially the icing, and icing? Icing should be wonderful. It should not taste like metal. I should never be tempted to scrape icing off cake. That's just wrong.

WRONG.

First I went to my favorite of the two grocery stores. The baker there informed me she doesn't have clearance to buy a cupcake tower, but she might secretly buy one and then we could work something out. You know. Secretly. So she didn't get in trouble. And she told me to check back next week, maybe she could dance around some rules. I was all...What? Clearance? Secrets? Does this mean she'd be sticking it to the grocery store man? Would I have to lie? Would I have to hide cupcakes under my dress? Are cupcake towers that contraband? It sounded troublesome.

So I said thank you for your time, and then went to the other grocery store. The one I hate.

At the bakery there, I stood at the bakery counter for ten to fifteen minutes before I was waited on. During this time, I could hear people working, so I'd call out lamely, "Um, hello? Hello?" Then I'd feel anxious and would practically dance around in agony before calling out again, "Hello? Excuse me?" Finally a woman came out and asked what I needed. I asked about cupcake cakes. She showed me a brochure that had cupcake shapes in the following shapes: soccer ball, football, baseball. I asked if they could do a tower and she looked horrified and said, "No! No no! Only these shapes!"

So, I sighed. And walked to my car. And then realized, panic-stricken, that my only option left in town is that other store. The big evil corporation store. Where you can get your tires changed and buy eggs and also see an eye doctor. Just as any sane person would, I completely FREAKED OUT and started maniacally dialing a few people. To ask how ghetto that would be. My lovely friend Michele laughed and said it wouldn't be ghetto, and she had seen examples of their work and it was adorable. And that she almost got a baby shower cake there, and they do a good job. And that she thought it would be fine, and not to worry. My lovely sister said, "Kara, you're having a wedding kegger. Why do you care about ghetto?"

I am surrounded by lovely people.

So, I sucked it up and drove out to the store. I went to the bakery section and waited for five minutes while various bakery employees walked by me and ignored me. Finally a woman came out of the back, and I asked her about cupcake towers. She said they did those, yes, but the designers were both off today. And I would need to talk to them tomorrow, or basically, any other time than RIGHT THEN.

Oh well.

At least they can do it.

At least I am resigned to them doing it.

I had equally ridiculous results talking to people about tanning options, and ended up signing up for a package for more money than seemed reasonable. Mostly because of required lotions. Sigh.

BIG HUGE SIGH.

Also, the girl who worked there was shocked, literally shocked that I hadn't tanned in something like eight years. Since prom. She was shocked and horrified and gestured wildly to express how I will love my new golden color and would I like to take a tour and can you sign these forms and how about trying out this new thing here right now? It was overwhelming and this place also does nails and rents out tuxedos, apparently. I just kept stuttering, "I don't want to get really dark. I don't want to get really dark. Is there a cheaper lotion than this? I don't remember lotions like this. I don't want to get super dark, you know?" I think she thought there was something wrong with me, because 1) I was the only one there who was wearing baggy pants (paired with one of my baggy plaid men's art shirts) as opposed to super tight hip hugger jeans and belly revealing tank tops, which is just STUPID in March in Wyoming. We still have snow in our yard. SNOW. 2) I was obviously cranky 3) I was obviously overwhelmed and 4) I couldn't speak without stumbling over my own words about not getting very dark, okay?

I'm resigned to the tanning cost, though. I figure--free trip to Hawaii, I can suck it up and buy a base tan. For my HOT NEW BIKINI.

Tomorrow we are leaving at five in the morning to take a day trip to another town in Wyoming.

Justin got an interview there, at the end of the month.

We're gonna check it out.

Oh, Wyoming. I suspect you don't want to let me go.

I suspect you are also super excited about my new! golden! color! Aren't you, Wyoming? Aren't you?

You totally are.

Kisses,
black sheeped

6 Comments:

Blogger Swistle said...

So, so funny. I too have had to resort to certain giant and probably intrinsically evil superstores, and sometimes it just comes down to that: They may be evil, but they have what you need. You bite the bullet, you get what you need, you do not swear allegiance to any dark lords while you are there, and everyone is happy.

7:33 PM, March 15, 2007  
Blogger kris said...

This is funny. And funny that I'm bitter that A number 1) you are going to Hawaii! and B number 2) that prom was only 8 years ago for you. ;)

Welcome to Indie Bloggers! :)

7:44 PM, March 15, 2007  
Blogger desperate housewife said...

Don't feel bad about the evil superstore or the evil, cancer-giving tanning center. We all have our occasional detours along the path of economic responsibility and good health.

8:59 PM, March 15, 2007  
Anonymous coffee stained said...

ditto to desperate housewife. evil supercenters be damned, except when they are the only people who can make the cupcake tower of your dreams.

I lurve your writing :-)

10:32 PM, March 15, 2007  
Blogger Rambler said...

hey congrats for your marriage,
BTW you are so lucky to be in Wyoming. Such a nice place

11:47 PM, March 15, 2007  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'll tell you straight up.

Love,
Sister.

11:26 AM, March 16, 2007  

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