Archive for November, 2011
Un-shopping
I love getting gifts for other people. I enjoy shopping. I adore the Christmas season. But, from now until sometime in 2012, I won’t go anywhere near a mall.
Not to shop. Not to get my hair cut. Not to pick up a free TV. Here are a few reasons why.
People suck at parking in parking lots. And no one seems to be paying any attention to my suggestion that SUVs, Hummers, and mini-vans be given separate parking areas where they can take as many spots as they want within that area and park as close to each other as they want.
Note: It has been calculated that, on average, it will take approximately three shopping days to find a space, requiring a lot of gas, a lot of time, the patience of a saint, and the bladder of a camel.
There are many criminals in the mall parking lot this time of year. (I always wonder where they park.) It’s not a good idea to leave packages in the car. It’s not a good idea to be walking through a parking lot over-laden with packages. It’s also not a good idea to put packages in the trunk and then go back into the mall. (The trunk is easier to pop open than the car door.) Better to put stuff in the trunk and then move your car to a different parking space so the criminal will think you are leaving.
Of course, by the time you find another parking space, Christmas will be over.
Let’s say you actually do find a spot. The people inside the mall are only a little better than those lurking in the parking lot waiting for a chance to rob or injure you. Mall shoppers on the best of days are rude, obnoxious, self-centered, and on a cell phone. This time of year they’re twice as bad and there are more of them. It’s Walking Dead with a little less biting but less respect for personal space.
Let’s say you’re brave and tough enough to handle the hordes. Department store prices are ridiculous. Sales are virtually meaningless relative to value. And they won’t have the size or brand or color you want.
Gift boxes aren’t free anymore.
Christmas music is some of the most beautiful, sentimental, wonderful music ever written. Christmas music filtered through mall speakers is sadistic and may cause vomiting.
And then there are the extras:
- Spritzers.
- People who want you to eat small bits of mystery food out of little plastic cups.
- Creepy Santas.
- Sticky, frightened, sugar-high children and the mothers who scream at them.
- Carts run by carny folk capable of casting a spell to make really stupid sh*t look interesting.
I avoid it all. I shop online. Choices are endless. Hard-to-find gifts aren’t. Free shipping offers are everywhere. It requires no gas. It can be done while baking cookies, decorating, watching Rudolph, or drinking a martini in a tutu while playing a harmonica. It can be completed early in the morning or late at night, no camping gear required. Items will be delivered to your front door or to someone else’s front door.
And, best of all, you’ll make it through the next few weeks without losing your temper, getting frustrated, or being plagued by visions of stomping all the Who’s in Whoville. You can make it through the Christmas season without growing to hate all of humanity, which is sort of the best part given the real reason for the season.
Peace and fa la la la la folks.
Buying Jeans
Ask any group of 10 women (who like to go shopping) what their least favorite clothing item to shop for is, and I bet at least 5 of them say jeans. At least.
Jeans are supposed to be the American casual uniform, the thing we get to wear as a treat in the office, everybody’s favorite. I call Shenanigans! I propose that jeans are not and will never be as comfortable as slacks, shorts, skorts, skirts, or dresses.
I’m not saying I don’t like jeans. But let’s stop pretending that they’re the ultimate in comfort-wear. And let’s agree that classic-fit-straight-leg-boot-cut-flare-bell-bottom-slim-skinny-boyfriend-carpenter-indigo-dark-stonewash-mediumwash-cleanwash-beachwash-mysterywash-distressed-518-524-535-low-rise-mid-rise-at-waist-high-rise sizing, styling, and fit defy explanation.
The word “Shopping!” for me is usually said with some level of glee comparable to “I just found a twenty in my old coat pocket!” or “It’s my Birthday!” On the other hand, “Shopping for jeans” sounds more like “The dentist says I need three fillings” or “The funeral is at 10:00.”
Shopping for jeans means trying things on beneath bad fluorescent lighting in front of what might as well be a fun-house mirror for all the reality, good or bad, it will reflect; wasting hours and big wads of cash; grinding self-esteem; wandering among teetering stacks of badly folded denim in which scientists calculate that 1 in 1,000 will fit correctly but may or may not turn out to have a great big, ridiculously goofy anchor embroidered on the butt, which you will only discover at home about 5 seconds before your date rings the doorbell.
Aside from a brief period of time in the 90s when I found a brand and style that fit me perfectly, in a material that was comfy, in a shade of blue that was just right, in a line that was soon discontinued, I’ve been in search of the right jeans for about 30 years. Thin and fat, unable or able-but-unwilling to spend a lot of money on jeans, name any department store, it has never gone well.
This week, I had an idea.
Parking was a breeze and I found a spot right near the door. I strolled to a long rack of jeans. Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick and I was walking to the register–where there was no line–with an armful of jeans. I spent a total of $24. The clerk was quick and genuinely friendly. I tried the jeans on in the comfort of my own home. And I ended up with two pairs that fit great.
And, really, except for me noting it here, you’d never know they came from Goodwill.
We Hate Potholes More Than You
So Terrell Suggs thinks he’s the Most Hated Man in Pittsburgh. Terrell, honey. You don’t even make the top 10.
We hate Barry Bonds.
We hate Francisco Cabrera.
We hate the guy who decided to trade Sid Bream to the Braves when he wanted to stay in Pittsburgh, when he even offered to take a pay cut to stay and they traded him anyway.
We hate Ray Lewis.
We hate Bill Belichick.
We hate Tom Brady.
We hate Neil O’Donnell. Not because he lost us Super Bowl XXX (which he totally did) but because of his post-game interview in which he said, “It was everybody’s else’s fault and I don’t care I’m outta here.” (I may be paraphrasing.)
We hate George Atkinson. (The Raider who cheap-shotted Lynn Swann, putting him in the hospital and, ultimately, shortening his brilliant career as a Pittsburgh Steeler.)
We hate Turkey Jones. (The evil bastard who nearly killed Terry Bradshaw and then stomped on his throwing hand, too.)
We hate Art Modell, who totally screwed up our hate for Cleveland, which then kind of shifted to Baltimore, which will only ever be a step-child to the One True Rivalry.
You want to be the most hated man in this town? Get used to disappointment.
Go Steelers.
Life Preservers 
93.7, The (so-called) Fan
Even if (and I still say it’s a big if) Hines is no longer a starter when fully healthy, he deserves more respect than he got this morning from 93.7 FM, The (so-called) Fan.
They seemed inexplicably smug (bordering on happy?!) to note Hines’ minimal play yesterday, talking about him as if he’s some new-kid-nobody who got outplayed and didn’t earn a starting position. First and foremost, I’m not convinced he’s lost his starting position. The man’s dealing with two injuries that would have put a lesser man (a radio talk show host for instance) out for at least 4-5 weeks, if not the season.
It’s a small miracle and a tribute to Hines’ toughness (and perhaps a sign of the Steelers caginess) that he was even dressed and on the field yesterday. The team is in a great position right now with a phenomenal group of receivers, so why not give Hines a bit of a rest when he’s banged up?
They talked as if Hines isn’t as good as Jerricho Cotchery. Seriously? Nothing against Jerricho. Glad to have him. But he’s no Hines Ward. He hasn’t been here since 1998, a catching, running, blocking, fighting, bouncing-backing, smiling from ear to ear symbol of what football means in this town. Jericho’s a nice addition to be sure, but if he had that beyond-height-beyond-speed-beyond-training-beyond-coaching-beyond-explanation spark that somehow makes things happen — like, oh I don’t know, some 6-foot tall guy being the team’s all-time leading receiver or, um, maybe, catching five passes and a touchdown to be MVP in a Super Bowl that brought the Lombardi back to Pittsburgh — I think he’d have played in more than three games this year.
Yeah. I know. There are other talented receivers on the field with younger legs than Hines or Jerricho. That’s icing on the cake. That’s smart succession planning. We’ve breathed a collective sigh of relief in the past few months. Not because we like Brown and Wallace better than Hines Ward but because we’ve known, deep in our blackest-goldest gut, that the day would come when we’d be without Hines. And we’ve worried about it. And we’ve dreaded it. And the whispers in our heads say, This could be it; this could be the last year. I don’t know about you, but that breaks my heart a little. And I, for one among what I suspect are many in Steeler Nation, am in no hurry to see such an iconic, talented, intelligent, and spunky Steeler retire.
In a time when very few players stay with a team, in any sport, throughout a career, we have had the privilege to call Hines Ward “ours” since 1998. He was drafted a Steeler. He’ll retire a Steeler. And, in-between, for one play or one hundred, he plays his heart out.
That’s what loyalty looks like, 93.7.
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November 14, 2011 at 9:52 am 4 comments