You Can't Always Get What You Want

I was standing barefoot in the grass last night watching this crazy storm blow in – the likes of which I haven’t seen since I left Texas – and I got to thinking about wanting what we don’t have. Yeah, there was a long procession of thoughts that lead me there, starting with the storm, but this is where I landed.

Why are we disappointed when we finally get something we think we really want?

Mr. Man #1 spent all the years I knew him and more looking for a particular out of print book. I can’t believe that I don’t recall the title now since we never passed a used bookstore without popping in to check. It was about Thomas Jefferson…

Maybe we were in Boston, maybe New Orleans, maybe it was NYC or Victoria, B.C. I honestly don’t remember. What I do remember is the awe of finding a copy on a dusty bookshelf in some unexpected city. The only thing more unexpected was the half-sad expression on his face as he said, “Guess I need a new book to look for.” It broke my heart. Oh sure, it was his “thing,” but it felt a little bit like I’d been robbed of my joy by the bookstore owner.

This whole book remembrance, and the storm, and maybe the wine – all got me thinking about why we sometimes think we want something until we get it…As I see it, it ends up one of two ways:

We either get it, then no longer want anything to do with it; or we get it and we’re disappointed because, oh who knows why - we just are.

Expectations are at the bottom of all this, I just know it. We anticipate, fantasize, and project. We toy with the idea of what we want; dancing around it and building excitement – because that’s the fun part.

And then… the almost inevitable.

The moment of truth when you wonder why you ever thought you wanted it in the first place. I have this particular relationship with my house. The only real difference is that the house didn’t have a choice. Ever feel like the house?

I really don’t know where I was going with all of this. I have no words of wisdom, no snarky remarks about the weak-willed; not even a strong desire to mock those who can’t rein in their emotions. I have no intention of tossing out platitudes such as, “you need to learn to want and be happy with what you have,” and I will wholly ridicule anyone who tries. I find that sort of thinking short-sighted. Like mommy-haircuts.

At the end of the day, I suppose we all want something we can’t/shouldn’t/won’t ever have, so my new answer is not to become too invested. I do that – become overly invested in people, places, and things – your basic noun group. I think going forward my only investment will be in your basic liquid group. Yeah... you know what I'm sayin'.

*nods knowingly*

Summertime, and the Livin' is... Over-exposed!

Yeah, I know some of y’all have been waiting for me to get inspired enough to tell you, once again, how to steer away from the unsavory side of crazy town, or appropriately mock the embarrassingly clad.  Well, as luck would have it, I was flipping through my latest issue of Lucky magazine, and BAM! There it was. Sweet, sweet inspiration.

I don’t talk a lot about fashion outside of the topic of shoes. Mostly it's because if you're more interested in what's "in" than you are actually developing your own style, I feel that should be left to the magazine editors trying to sell advertising space. Nonetheless, I feel it my duty to "fashion direct"  a larger-than-acceptable portion of the general population based on some recent sightings that nearly separated me from my vodka.

For the Boys:

Let’s just work on what's happening from the waist down, shall we? 

Flip-flops, Adidas slip-ons, or any other “footwear” that exposes your feet should be avoided at all costs. There is no situation whereby any woman wants to see your ugly toes and calloused heels.  Consider the boat shoe instead! It’s a timeless classic, you know. If, for whatever grossly misguided reason, you cannot possibly be separated from your $0.99 flaps of rubber, consider a pedicure first. There are a surprising number of men in the salons this time of year; it’s no longer strictly female domain. Just a word of warning: stay the hell outta my salon. I have enough trouble getting serviced since they continue to refuse implementing my suggestion of only allowing clientele old enough to buy their own martini.

Next. The Speedo.

One would think it’s commonly understood that the men’s bikini is designed solely for the Channing Tatum’s and professional underwear models of the world. Aside from the size factor, there’s the hair factor. *shudder* No one needs to have insult added to the gut-over-the-elastic injury by being exposed to your hairy ass, inner thighs, or *shudder* pubic area. If you’re not 3% body fat but still need some support for say, beach volleyball, consider the “hamster shorts.” Same grooming rules apply, but the look is a little gentler on the roving female eye. Do remember, if you’re sporting more than a ten-speed tire around your middle, it would be best to let your sister choose your swimwear.

Good grief. The Capri pant.

Guys, I do not care that men all over Europe wear them as a matter of course. Capris are not a good look on women, and it is not a style improved by your hairy legs over flip-flops. Unilaterally, they make your legs look short and your ass look… less than masculine. Not even Channing Tatum can wear these. I promise. If you persist, I’m going to feel compelled to provide you with lipgloss.

And now, just one for the ladies!

There are so many “fashion rules” available at the supermarket checkout that I’m not about to bore you with a rehash. However! As I said, I was flipping through my new Lucky magazine… and there it was. The string bikini. 

Oh no. 

No. No. No.

It’s not back.

It can’t be back…

I shall surely die if it’s back!

Whoever the female equivalent of Channing Tatum is – Kate Upton, I hear – you need to be her to wear one of these. I was there the last time this bikini was “in” and frankly, we didn’t eat after Thanksgiving Day in order to sport it. If you're not willing to dedicate yourself to that sacrifice, bear in mind no one wants or needs to see those tiny little strings disappear into your hip fat. Additionally, one should consider the very real fact that this style does not “support” anything larger than an “A-cup.” So if you’re not 14 years old or you haven’t reduced your BMI to less than four percent, ignore what’s “in” in bikinis this year.

Life is all about style, people! Get some. If you don't have any sense of self whatsoever, know that the rest of us are made hideously aware of this by the flip-flops you purchased specifically to wear with that cocktail dress. 

Prepare to be mocked.