Mistakes aren't always regrets.

1. What's in your medicine cabinet?
The usual sinus meds to ward off impending sinus infections, cramp medication, and birth control pills.

2. What's in your wallet?
Library card, one active credit card, one expired (because it's got Van Gogh's "Starry Night" on it and I like it), license, student ID, my mom's old student ID from Livingston, Sally Beauty discount card, Books-a-Million discount card, CVS discount card, Flickr Photographer cards, Target Team Member card, old Starbucks card, several "Great Team Member!" cards from work.  Approximately four thousand receipts.

3. What's in your bag/briefcase/backpack/purse?
*deep breath*
Keys, phone, journal, school notes, book (currently A Million Little Pieces by James Fray), ten writing utensils, Nintendo DS, Hello Kitty pouch (gadget pouch -- iPod, charger, USB drive, couple of DS games, plus FF4 that Devin let me borrow), Nintendo DS, lip gloss,  and some earrings.

4. What's in your glove box?
Manual, insurance stuffs, and receipts for car service things. Necessary stuff.

5. What's in your imagination?
You don't want to go there.  Haha.
Bits and pieces of words, poetry, stories.
And camera settings/framing for every photographic moment.
Ideas.

You're waiting for someone
To put you together
You're waiting for someone to push you away
There's always another wound to discover
There's always something more you wish he'd say

But you'll just sit tight
And watch it unwind
It's only what you're asking for
And you'll be just fine
With all of your time
It's only what you're waiting for

I am everything you want
I am everything you need
I am everything inside of you
That you wish you could be
I say all the right things
At exactly the right time
But I mean nothing to you and I don't know why
And I don't know why...

To me, you are perfect.

This is fun. I found a blog that I kept when I was eighteen...
And this entry cracked me up.  I had completely forgotten about writing it.
Oh, Purity Man. How I Loved Thee.

Just a little fun melodramatic recount of what happened at work a couple of weeks ago. Because it's been a while since I wrote anything silly. :-)

----

So, the Purity Man.

You guys know how I feel about the Purity Man. I live for the mornings he comes to my place o' employment and bends down to stock all of our bootylic -- um.. I mean yummylicious Purity ice cream.

Ami and I fawn over this delicious (and friendly!) delivery man about three times a week. He has been the reason that she and I have regressed to the days of yore (seventh grade), when we'd giggle and swoon as Star Hunk Football Player passed by us in the hall. It's utterly pathetic, really, and although we both realize it, it never stops us from grinning and staring like idiots when he does the little head-nod thing, smiles, and says "Hi, how're ya doin'?" to us in the mornings.

So, the major detail that has been a mystery to us all along is ... is he married? Is he attached? What's the deal with Mister I'd-Like-to-Rock-His-Road? And if he isn't attached, I'd like to know just what the hell is going on. Is he an axe murderer? Is he so into S&M he'd scare Marilyn Manson away? What? There must be a reason.

Ami told me once that she thought he was married, that she may or may not have seen a ring on his hand before. Ever since, I've watched his hands (teehee, his hands) closely whenever I got within a six-foot range of him, and I've yet to see a ring. It's been like a mini celebration in my head every single time, too. I get this small sense of accomplishment (I don't know why, I just do) to look on his hand and not see a ring. Because this means that maybe, just maybe, either myself or Ami has a chance. Not that we'd really go after it, seeing as how Ami's married and I'm Not Exactly Single, but hey -- we'd have the tiniest inkling of a chance, and that makes us feel great (and if you're reading this and you're not a girl, that makes no sense to you whatsoever).

So anyway, every time we see him and he is Without Ring, we get all giddy and school-girl-y. 'Not married! He's not married!' We silently rejoice, stocking Pall Malls and Snickers and glancing at each other with twitchy smiles.

Until Friday.

Friday was a sad, sad day for Ami and I at The Large Celestial Body. There we were, in the middle of the four-o'clock rush, minding our own business as we checked our customers out and made the obligatory small-talk, when HE walked in... black Superman shirt and jeans and all (Damn. Now I KNOW it's not just the Purity uniform).

I noticed him first and turned around to see if Ami had noticed as well. I could tell that she had indeed by the look on her face, and then when I glanced back to him...

..*sniff*..

...there was a girl at his side. A cute, very platinum blonde, petite little thing in a white polo shirt and khakis. Holding. His. Hand.

My heart sank. I thought I was going to cry. I think I actually got the red, crinkly-nosed pre-crying face.

Another look back at Ami told me she too had seen The Girl, for she too was pouting.

Customer traffic stopped briefly enough for me to bounce over to Ami's register and whine.

"What the hell is THAT about?" I demanded.
"I don't know! Were there rings?" She asked.
"I don't know! I didn't look!" I cried.

Then I got back into my register and sulked. And sulked. And when I turned around to face the customer who had just sat her basket down, it was The Girl. And I was filled with envy and jealousy and hate and ... then I saw her company shirt.

Sally. Little Debbie Cakes Delivery.

'...cake and ice cream,' I thought sadly as I checked out their hamburger meat and their buns and their fries and their ketchup and I took their money and said have a nice day and he gave me that beautiful smile but then walked off and didn't even say anything about my new hair cut like he did the last time, 'They're cake and ice cream.'

You can't hate that.

Seriously. You can't. As much as I try to hate it, I can't.

If it was like, the Lay's Potato Chip girl it would be different, because ice cream and potato chips? Yuck! Or the Sara Lee bread girl. Ice cream and bread? Eww! I could hate them and be filled with justifiable envy. But not Sally. She's a Fudge Round(tm) and he's a big bowl o' French Vanilla(tm) yum.

...That's so damned cute. And even though it broke my heart and I sniffled and sulked and whimpered for sympathy and talked with Ami about how she wasn't really that cute (even though she was) and even though I have a little pang of sadness every time I see the Purity Man now, I'm getting a little better about thinking, "Aw. They were cute. Ice cream and cake."

I'm getting just a tiny bit closer to acceptance (y'know, not close enough to avoid staring when he bends to stock the lower shelves, but hey, I'm working on it, okay?), and that's all that matters.

I believe that if you have a gaggle of annoying friends who obviously don't read, you should not be allowed into the library.

Thanks.

...it's that I can't think of an entry, either.

Lots and lots and lots and lots of pen-and-paper scrawlings, lately.

None of that I'm emotionally ready to share.

Conundrum.

(1:31:10 AM) Toddness: it continues to amaze me the situations you get into
(1:31:43 AM) Bex: i don't seek out fucked up situations
(1:31:45 AM) Bex: they fall into my lap
(1:31:50 AM) Bex: and i NURTURE THE SHIT OUT OF THEM
(1:31:51 AM) Toddness: well you know
(1:31:54 AM) Toddness: stand up
(1:31:58 AM) Toddness: then you dont' have a lap
(1:31:59 AM) Bex: hahahahahaha
(1:32:00 AM) Toddness: I'm just saying
(1:32:04 AM) Bex: i love you todd