The Thing About Roller-Skating

One of my best friends from college, KB, is supposedly having a baby tonight, though I wouldn't know because apparently you don't text when you're having contractions and under the influence of an epidural.

Who knew?

Also: please don't Google Image "epidural"- just take my word for it.

She is experiencing her first night as an almost-mother, I found myself needing to make my first trip to American Apparel.

My how things have changed.

So yes: American Apparel. I needed to make a trip to the store because there is an 80's-themed roller-skating birthday party for my friends CC and MK on Friday night (yes- we are 25-year-olds) and American Apparel is nothing if not known for their outlandish leggings/leotards/cropped t-shirts.

I thought I could find something that would work. I thought wrong.

I found myself in the back of the store with a dude wearing a tank top with a sleeveless button-down sweater vest and loose khakis that look like they had been rolled almost to his knees. What for? I don't know. Maybe he had to cross a river on his way to work (on foot) today. Maybe he really likes the Huck Finn look.

Anyway- Huck Finn was telling me about a girl getting ready for an 80's party who had come in and purchased the black lace leggings with a tutu, some random top, a leather jacket and accessories to look like Madonna. From what I could tell, that was an expensive costume.

The shiny leggings that he was showing me were $42 alone. $42 for terrible spandex pants in colors that cannot be named.

I should also mention that I have no plans to actually roller-skate at this party. My last roller-skating experience came and went at another birthday party for a friend (I think we were 6 or 7) and some maniac racing across the rink flew across traffic on the floor, taking me out with him, and resulting in a broken arm for me. The following day was also the first time I ever fainted in my life, so all-in-all it was a great weekend.

The whole point of this story is really the fact that my 80's outfit will not actually see any action on Friday night- I will be content to hang out with my friend AS, who is pregnant, or MG's boyfriend, who wears a size 17 shoe and suspects that the local roller rink does not carry that size.

I eventually gave up on AA after giving it a five-minute window of opportunity, so I headed to my happy place: Nordstrom, where I was pleasantly surprised to find that their Anniversary Sale is still going on.

And maybe I bought this:

While I'm proud to be a child of the 80's, I thankfully don't have to dress like one.

Farmer Ted: You wanna know what happened? Buy the book.

-Sixteen Candles, 1984

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder?

I haven't been taking the time to blog recently. Probably because... oh, I don't know, I was underwhelmed by Eclipse? I've given yoga a second chance? I've been baking birthday cakes? I've been watching soccer and baseball and wondering what in the world LeBron James is thinking?

And of course, it's summer, and since I spend all day working, the last thing I want to do when I get home is sit in front of a computer.

There it is, and here we are.

So: down to business.

Let's start with Eclipse. I started reading the Twilight series in the first place because I missed the thrill of the Harry Potter novels (which I started reading as a teenager). I read all four Twilight novels and liked them well enough, but I knew even two years ago that they paled in comparison to what J.K. Rowling created. Are Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner attractive? Yes. Did I leave the movie theater Sunday night swooning over fictional predators? No.

I've also been on a birthday-cake-making kick recently.

KS and I made Ina Garten's Double-Chocolate Layer Cake for MG's birthday about a month ago (which I would highly recommend if you enjoy the combination of coffee and chocolate) and I also made BF a red velvet cake a few weeks ago using this recipe I found via TasteSpotting. I can't recommend that website enough, by the way.

After being disappointed over the lackluster showing of Eclipse, I asked KS if she would want to try another nearby yoga studio on Monday morning, since we had it as a holiday.

(MG has been gone a lot recently, if you can't tell. Come home soon, dear friend!)

We found a power yoga studio near us and ended up in an 8:30am class which was thankfully about 25 degrees cooler and far less crowded than the Bikram class we took a few months ago. And you know what? I liked it. A lot. All I needed was a little climate control.

As for the world of sports: the World Cup final is this Sunday. Spain will take on The Netherlands and both teams will be battling for their first-ever World Cup Final win. It's compelling and rich.

The Texas Rangers are currently leading the AL West and have been fun to watch the past six weeks or so from the comfort of my couch in my air-conditioned house, because did I mention how much I enjoy climate-controlled rooms? (Even though, as I type this, they are having an 8th inning melt-down against the Baltimore Orioles).

Regarding LeBron James, NBA free-agent extraordinaire who created quite the circus and landed himself an hour-long show tonight on ESPN called "The Decision"- I'd love to know what he is thinking. He just left a solid career with a team built around him (players, coaches, GM) for Miami, where he undoubtedly hopes to win championships by joining forces with Chris Bosh and Dwayne Wade. He essentially broke-up with the city of Cleveland on live television.

Is he deliberately trying to alienate himself from his home state? What does his behavior say about kids my age (we are both 25 year old)? And why does he wear so much Louis Vuitton?

So many rhetorical questions; even fewer answers.

Good night, world.

Ousier: I'm not speakin' to you.

Drum: Oh, what a shame!

Ousier: I mean it, Drum.

Drum: Ouiser, can we call a truce long enough for me to get a piece of cake?

[Ouiser slices him the tail piece of red velvet armadillo cake]

Drum: Aww, thanks Ouiser. Nothin' like a good piece of ass*.

-Steel Magnolias, 1989

*Please pardon the French.