Did She Just Call Me Fat.

The coolest pants to wear in spin class are the ones with a little daisy on the butt. Everyone has them. If they don't have them, they probably want them. Why? Because when the lights go out and the black lights come on, that little daisy on the butt glows like a symbol of magical powers. Like Superman's "S" or Spiderman's webs.

I had five pair until recently. Until I saw a woman with a pair that I HAD. to. HAVE. Not only did it have a daisy on the butt, but the threading was silver. Silver!

Awesome.

I asked the woman how she liked them. She raved. She said I should probably buy them. That's all I needed.

I told my friend Amanda. She wanted them too. We ordered them together (free shipping with two pair -- though, don't get me wrong, I would have bought two pair on my own just to avoid paying shipping. I hate shipping). We waited with that feeling you get when you know something amazing is going to be delivered to you by mail.

The next day at spin I told the woman that I bought a pair. She raved. She said I would love them. I knew I would.

Then I told her Amanda bought the same pair.

"Oh. Well. Tell Amanda to call me when she wears hers because I don't want the competition."

Um. Hmm.

Did she just call me fat?

Who Dies First

One afternoon Michael and I were talking about life insurance stuff. Should one of us die, how will we make sure the other one is taken care of.

This of course led to the conversation entitled: Who would you rather have die first.

I said, "I would rather die first so that you can live a long, healthy life and so that our children may continue to have the most wonderful parent on the planet -- their father."

He said, "I would want you to die first too."

...

...

Not what I expected...

Upon seeing the look on my face he continued,

"I just know how sad you would be if I died."

It's true. He's right. I'm going to go jump off a bridge right now.

Did He Just Call Me Fat.

I was at dinner with Tiffany. We were catching up on the two weeks we had been apart. It seems that a lot can happen in two weeks.

I had just eaten a plate of garlic/mushroom/garlic/noodles/with garlic (I still regret that decision), she had just eaten a hamburger, and now we were both eating the remainder of her fries.

The fries were really good.

Which yes, probably meant we shouldn't be eating them.

Tiffany had enough sense to pull away. She leaned back in the booth as I continued picking up the fries, two-by-two, dipping them in the special fry sauce, and eating them. There were quite a few left and, with Tiffany out of the fry-eating picture, I was excited to be eating fries, two-by-two for at least the next ten minutes.

I had just picked up two more of the potato delicacies and was just about to dip them in the sauce when a uniformed man (uniformed as in restaurant garb, not the more exciting kind of uniform) grabbed the plate of fries and, without a word -- without a SINGLE WORD, removed the plate from the table and walked away.

Without a word.

I still had two fries. in my fingers. hovering above the spot where the dipping sauce used to be.

I looked at Tiffany.
Her face all different shades of shocked.

"Did he just call me fat?"

"I think so."

We ordered dessert.