Oh Avenue..why?

So, because I said I would, here is the e-mail I just sent to Avenue clothing store.

Dear Avenue: How in the world as a new customer am I supposed to know that the items you are selling are for plus-sized women when NONE of your models are actually plus-sized? And I don’t mean “model” plus-sized (which is what, a 10??) but real-world fat chicks. I wear a size 24. None of your models look ANYTHING like me. Why is that? You’re selling to people like ME – so hire models that look like ME, not the skinny chick next door. I cannot, in good conscience, buy from a store that obviously doesn’t LIKE how I look or think that someone my size would look good in your clothes. And I know that this is probably not something your store cares about (obviously, or you would have already fixed this) but I’ll be posting this e-mail on my facebook, blog, Pinterest and anything else I can think of to convince others to say the same things and shop elsewhere.

I am saddened by the fact that they expect us to spend our money there, but they don’t think people who wear their clothes are pretty enough to model them.  What an insult!!

Please, if you feel the same way, write them too.  Maybe they’ll wake up and change how they market their clothes if we all start saying something.


Oh, and I’d like to point out two other things about this:
1. This is not some store/site that sells to both “regular” and “plus-sized” women. They ONLY do size 14 & up. So its not like they need to worry about a skinny person not buying their clothes because they have fat people on their site. and
2. Even though I knew they did plus sizes, I was not aware they were solely plus size and kept looking for the tab for plus sizes, assuming that because they were smaller models, I must not be in the plus size “department” – so how is that even good advertising?

Why I hate Fridays

No one ever thinks I’m serious when I say that I hate Fridays but its true.

If something is going to go wrong it’ll happen on a Friday.

If people are going to be pissy, snotty, in a hurry, missing a sense of humor, or rude I’ll have to talk to them on a Friday.

Every task that I wasn’t able to do all week (or put off all week) will HAVE to be done on Friday.

Every task that I need to do next week will now need to be done on Friday.

Fridays are days when people don’t want to work and are pissed at me when I make them.

Fridays are days when people call the office with an EMERGENCY and don’t understand why I can’t fix it before the weekend. Nevermind that they’ve known about this emergency since Tuesday.

You still don’t believe me? Well, let me give you an example of a Friday. This is all true, exactly how it happened and if you don’t believe me, ask the people I work with.

Woke up late (nothing new here) I usually don’t worry about what time I get to work as long as I beat my boss. Not that she says anything, its just a goal. Anyway, ran to get my only clean pair of jeans out of the dryer and realize my cat has peed IN THE DRYER. She only ended up peeing on two things, but of course one of them is my jeans. So much for clean jeans.

Pull into the parking lot at work right behind my boss. End up walking into the office with her. Lovely. Well…at least I don’t smell like cat pee.

As I’m getting my cup of coffee I get a call from an opposing counsel’s secretary. I spend the next 10 minutes getting my head ripped off by a snotty, pushy woman who insists that I am a moron. Now I’m too pissed off to even drink the damned coffee.

Spend the rest of the morning scrambling to get an ex parte order written and arguing with my boss about the best strategy on the case. I won that argument, but that means more work for me. Its Friday, so I have 3 other projects that HAVE to get done today but now I have to do all this first.

Have to unplug my printer 3 times and restart WordPerfect twice to get documents to print because my computer has decided NOT to communicate with the printer unless I jump through hoops. Because its Friday and it doesn’t want to be there any more than I do.

Meanwhile my boss has taken up residence across from me at my desk. She has moved my things out of her way and brought her work in there instead of going into her office with her desk. Apparently she wants company.

I didn’t get a real lunch hour (too much to do) but that’s okay, I’ll just run to the Sunmart, get a pop and a red bull (remember, I didn’t drink my coffee so now my ass is dragging). Get the pop and the red bull, go to the car and open the red bull which was dumb because the pop doesn’t fit in the cupholder very well and I should really hold the pop on the drive. Oh well, I’ll just be careful. Pull out of the parking lot – no problem. Drive the mile back to the office – no problem. Pull into our parking lot – no problem. Turn the corner in the parking lot to park the car – pop flies across the car. In my reaction to grab the pop before it spills, I take my hand off the steering wheel mid-turn which means I’m now heading directly for a tree. Slam on the breaks to keep from hitting said tree and the momentum causes my purse to go flying off the passenger seat and into the 32 ounce puddle on the floor. Upside down.

Good news? I didn’t hit the tree.

Throughout the day, every time my cell phone rang or I got a personal call or text, you can bet the boss was RIGHT THERE. Not that she cares a lot when we take care of stuff like that, but she does frown on it when its in her face and when we’re busy. Both of which were true today. Because its Friday, of course.

One of our newer clients comes in, I’ve only met him once and I have no idea if he even has a sense of humor. He is accused of domestic violence assault. He tells me that the last time he was in the office he saw the “victim’s” mother in the parking lot. I explain that the next time something like that happens, he should have one of us walk outside with him so we can protect him from an accusation of inappropriate behavior.  I say “you need a witness, its not like I’m going to beat her up or something…”  Ha. Yes, very funny dumbass.

Fast forward a couple hours, my foot has been surgically removed from my throat. The boss needs to leave. She has made that very clear. I tell her I can do this one thing before she leaves and then we won’t have to scramble on Monday morning. She says she’ll wait if its only going to take a minute. Then she says she also needs three other things done on that file before Monday.

I say “Well obviously that’s going to be more than a minute, so why don’t you go ahead and go? We’ll just have to scramble on Monday.”

I move on to other projects, planning on getting back to the boss’ list of things to do after finishing a few things.  Five minutes later the boss comes in my office and snippily says “I HAVE to leave now.” I say, confused, “Are you waiting for me?” She says “Yes! You said you wanted me to wait for you!” We then figure out that she wasn’t listening to me at all when I told her she should go.  She’d been sitting in her office doing whatever and waiting for me to bring her things to sign.  When we get that cleared up she’s still pissed off at me and marches out.  Good Lord.

The rest of the day is basically more of the same. Nothing major happens, just lots of scrambling to get things done before the end of the day. Don’t actually leave the office until 6:00.

So yeah, that’s a “normal” Friday for me. Do you get it now?


Melancholy sucks

And why is it when you’re exhausted is when it’s at it’s worst?

So much is going on all the time around here and this month just about killed me and it’s not even over yet! First, my Aunt Margaret died. She’s had Alzheimers for years but she choked on food, contracted pneumonia and passed away 3 days later. All unbeknownst to me because that side of the family seems to enjoy not calling this side of the family for DAYS after the death. When my dad died, it took 3 days for my grandparents to call. By then he’d been cremated, all his possessions given away – you get the picture. I was11. When my grandma died, it was 2 days, when my grandpa died it was 2 weeks. When my Aunt Margaret died, it was 5 days later, the day before her burial (not her funeral, that’s in January – also a weird thing in my family – waiting weeks for funerals).

Anyway, the whole thing sucked and started the month off on a crappy note.

Second was the stress of Ally’s 12th birthday and party which of course included a group of pre-teens girls at a rollerrena. Immediately after that party, like a moron, I took 4 of the girls with us to the local shelter and let Ally pick out a kitten. What the hell was I thinking?

It actually went really well, all things considered. We picked out a really cute 2 month old black and white kitty that Ally promptly named Oreo.

On Tuesday, three days after getting her we took her to the vet for a free checkup and her first shots. To make a long story short cuz who really cares about all those danged details, Oreo had an allergic reaction to the shots, spent $500 on vet bills, cried myself to sleep last night and now we’re nursing her back to health VERY slowly. There’s no guarantee that she’ll pull through, but we’re doing our best.

When I say “we” I mean me. That’s where the melancholy kicks in. I have been doing all this alone. I am exhausted with worry and sadness and effort and stress. And if this damned cat dies on Christmas I will kill someone. Not sure who, since it’s no one’s fault, but I’ll find someone.

Now I’m all alone because Ally’s at her dad’s for the weekend. I’m force-feeding a baby kitty, I’m exhausted and hungry and don’t want to go anywhere for fear the cat will die while I’m gone.

So yeah, Merry Christmas to me.

I hope to hell that everyone else is having a MUCH better time this past few weeks – we can’t all ruin other people’s Christmasses like you Carrie. :)

Question #3

Why does the good guy always wait for the bad demon/ghost/monster/machine to fully regenerate to start shooting again? Doesn’t that kind of go against the whole “trying to destroy it” theme? And why do the girlfriends/wives always stand there and not say anything while they do it??

If that was me I’d be screaming, “what are you waiting for you moron?! Shoot the damn thing BEFORE it comes back!”

Maybe that’s just me

Question #2

Why does the fashion industry tout women over 5’9″ as the epitome of beauty – but all the shoe stores only sell a wide selection of shoes up to size 9 and then you’re on your own? Do they really think that tall women have small feet? Are they not aware that if a 6′ woman had size 7 feet, she’d fall over?