Birthday Party Time Part 2 of who knows

Ok, so when we last left my wonderful adventures, I had scored some Sephora “product”, a latte, and was driving to the Thrift store for some unbridled shopping... when my phone rang. It was loving hubby, who suggested that I delay my thrift store whoring to come eat lunch with him and a coworker. Food? Sure thing, so I modified my route and met them at the ever wonderful, always friendly, tasty good lots of food for a reasonable price Red Parrot Asian Bistro in beautiful thrown up in a weekend Arundel Preserves (which use to be a forest but now its a forest of condominiums).


I had the VERY tasty stir fried beef and a green tea, very tasty and filling... almost too filling as after I ate I felt as though I could simply curl up on the floor and nap, but I had things to do.... so I got one of these to help boost my spirits.

Nodding in and out of sleep on 295 south, I ventured back to the thrift store.

Now, I just want to say that I am sensitive to the fact that some people actually rely on thrift stores to put clothes on their backs or else they’d walk around nude, so I didn’t go in carting a latte with a Sephora bag swinging from my wrist while I twittered my activities on my iPhone. I mean come on, I could have been mistaken for an AIG executive and beaten to death, so I left all of that in the car.


It must have been the tasty food, but once I got there I really wasn’t in the mood to dig through aisle upon aisle of clothes, so I did a quick once through and grabbed a few things: some shirts a nice light jacket thing, and a dress, all for less than $20 and decided that perhaps running home for a nap would be in order. Of course as I drove out of the parking lot I realized that I barely had any gas left, which meant stopped at a gas station... big sigh.

I don’t like any of the gas stations on “that side of town”, but it was either that or push the RAV home, so I stopped at a BP station... where apparently the pump didn’t speak the same language as my Amex and kept telling me to see the attendant. FINE, so glad we have all of this technology. I mean REALLY I’m so use to NOT having to speak to anyone when I get gas I barely know what to say to the guy once I get in there. “The pump told me to see you”, which on hindsight makes it sound like I held a conversation with it (well, I did curse at it so I guess that counts.) Guy behind bullet proof glass apologizes and tells me to try it again. I do, says “See Attendant” SONOFA... I just want GAS how hard is this?

Go in again with the WTF look, and he apologizes again and says he’ll just do it from the register. Fine, whatever, I mean I’m all out of breath from walking the 10 feet from pump to building and all, I don’t think I can take another round trip. “How much do you want to put in it?” Um... I want it filled up. “Yes, but how much does that cost?” Well, how the frick am I suppose to know that? This is a credit society, we don’t look at totals, we just charge and charge until someone rips our cards up or bails us out, so I don’t fricken know how much my gas tank takes or what the cost of gas is even!!!! “SEVEN DOLLARS!!!” I shrieked. He looked at me like that wasn’t going to be enough, and I refrained from screeching “well its gonna be enough to get me to a station where their shit works”, but he was being nice and I didn’t want to make him feel bad that his station sucked.

Got my 7 bucks worth of gas (FYI: half of a tank), and toodled over to Target for some face soap... because all I have is moisturizing soap and if I’m going to use a moisturizer, I can’t be throwing all sorts of moisture on my face or else I’d be able to grow mushrooms on my forehead.

After that, I did toodle home, but didn’t get a chance to nap because it was then time for the ritualistic friday mall crawl with hubby. We went, we latte’d, we walked, and I found this book.

I’m pretty sure its a children’s book about poop.

We came home, Loki helped with laundry, and then I pretty much went to bed.

And thus ends my exciting birthday.

BTW: I did try the Sephora stuff, and I really like it, and my face hasn’t sprouted mushrooms yet.