JEaNS

I've come to a sad realization. My jeans are out of shape. I know the old trick: wash them and they will be restored. But after a while, they are just too worn out. They hang from the hips without attitude. They make my butt look like a sunken pie.

And what makes it worse is that jeans are so difficult to shop for (unless you have that "certain" figure, the one even sweatpants look good on). So when the day rolls around when your jeans give you the "I just don't have the energy" look, and they begin to suck the life out of the rest of your outfit, it's only natural that you put off the search for a new pair. It's just too much work, and the jeans concur, "Nothing is worth making an effort for anymore."

Once you muster up the energy to go shopping, the word has spread. Your jeans have told every other pair of jeans in the entire world that you are coming. Therefore, every pair you try on skips straight to the hanging "I don't wanna make your ass look good" phase. The trick is to be impulsive. Grab a pair on your way to lunch. Don't take your old jeans with you. Better yet, don't even try them on.

I'm still waiting for the full bad-jean coma to sink in. Besides, I don't have time to shop for jeans (is that me or the pants talking?).

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year


I don't know how many times I've heard it in the past few weeks, but it seems to be a hot topic every year: How can those sales clerks stand to listen to Christmas music for hours at a time, day in and day out?

Well, as your resident expert (I spent over five years in the retail world), let me tell you. At first, it's great! Mostly because it's a welcome change from the previous cd the store has been making you listen to for the past six months. I have a theory that this is why Black Friday is such a success year in and year out: the sales people are so happy to have new music on that it puts a bounce in their step and a twinkle in their eye. Who wouldn't want to buy from them?

Fast forward a week: this is when you start memorizing the tunes you hear. This is not the worst stage, as you will see, but it is the point where the Christmas music goes bad. You don't know how many more times you can rock around the Christmas tree, or deck the halls. You rush to your car after work and turn on the radio -- only to hear more Christmas music! Ack! It's an attack. You turn off the radio and sing all the songs from Grease 1 and 2.

Another week goes by, and your brain is working overtime. By now you know all the words to all the Christmas songs, including Jessica Simpson's rendition of Santa Cutie (let's just pretend), AND the order the songs are played in. So when you go to your car for escape, there's something about the end of that Alanis Morissette song (you've exhausted your repertoire by now) that makes you want to segue into Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

Another week goes by. You want to run around the store and scream because you know the next song is sung by Kid Rock (ugh, really, who would want him to spread the Christmas cheer? Bad choice). On top of it all, you are beginning to wish that there really were just 12 days of Christmas.

Another week goes by. By now you would have tuned out the music because it is so ingrained in your brain that you practically sing it in your sleep, but your manager finally pushes the shuffle button. This is particularly torturous because you expect to hear Up on the Rooftop, but instead you get White Christmas. It really messes with you. Many sales people develop ticks.

Alas, it all ends Christmas Eve. You turn off the lights to the store. You go to the cd player and remove Christmas Mix 2006. You leave the store. You start a small fire in the parking lot. You roast chestnuts on the open fire, and the cd (crackling and sizzling in the flames) finally provides just the right background music.

Happy Holidays!