Impervious

Today I am impervious.

Impervious to the sounds of the seven-thirty-pm-and-it's-almost-bedtime screaming of the toddlers in the flat two above mine; but not impervious to their hilarious chatter as they made their three-minute walk down the stairs this morning.  

Impervious to a Sydney colleague who (ever since I pushed back on his attempt to offload some of his workload on to our team) sent me a very rude email in which he tried to bait me into fighting with him over a truly trivial matter.

Impervious to the guy in the flat above mine as he washed his balcony (something he does at least three times a week), in which bucket loads of dirty water are sent cascading down onto my balcony, covering my BBQ and Kitty Lucy.  (The fact I've bought covers for them now has helped with being impervious.)

Impervious to the realisation that a get-together I'd scheduled weeks ago with a friend has not been postponed because she's got to work (like she claimed when she cancelled), but because she got a better offer from someone else. (Hey, if I'm not a priority in someone's life, I refuse to get all anxious about it any more.)

Impervious to the scales who informed me that my diet isn't going quite as well as I'd hoped.

Impervious to the lack of communication from a particular organisation on a particular matter which will affect so many things over the coming months... more to come on that topic at a later date.

So...

How are you today?

In MY world, that's what they're for.

Today I went on a mission to find some new work clothes. 

I'm about to go on tour for a few weeks with a couple of bands whose (male) members are quite well known for their love of (amongst the usual things like sex, drugs & rock'n'roll) spandex, platforms and makeup; and my current work wardrobe is getting a little threadbare.  The only work skirts I own are quite tight (I've gained a little weight) and are bordering on the short side.  Given I'm in charge of running the meet and greet for one of the bands (whose reputation for the ladies is, ummmm, a little... shall we say, legendary), I want to present a reasonably professional image.  I'll let their (female) fans take the dressed-to-score-impress route.  I just want to fade demurely into the background on this one.

Anyway. 

A plain black skirt.  Preferably cotton, knee-length, maybe with pockets.  Shouldn't be too difficult to find, right?

Right?

Wrong.

Fifteen stores later and I realise how very wrong I am.  

Not even Gap, my old standby for work clothes back in my US and UK days, yielded any joy.  On a side note, it drives me mental that we only have Gap here in Australia.  I'm gagging for them to open a Banana Republic and an Old Navy.  I'd never shop anywhere else but those three stores if they did.  

But I digress.  Despite Gap being disappointingly lacking in skirts in general, I did manage to stock up on tanks and tees.  I highly recommend Gap for tank tops and t-shirts. They're 100% cotton, excellent quality and come in a range of colours and styles.  I also stocked up on several pairs on men's cotton boxer shorts.  This is where I (apparently) caused a stir.  

I was dithering over sizes (see previous admission that I've gained a little weight) when a sales assistant jumped in and told me that I could "return them if they weren't the right size for my boyfriend".  My reply of "no - they're for me... I wear them to bed" was met with a reaction not dissimilar to this:

Now, let me explain.  I'm not a lacy nightie kinda gal.  Never have been.  Once I graduated from the "grandma-bought-me-new-pyjamas-for-my-birthday" stage, I usually just slept in old oversize t-shirts belonging to my brother or dad (both of whom were considerably taller and bigger than me).  I've always been quite low-maintenance in that regard.  I mean, I was a teenager.  I slept alone.  Who the hell (besides my family and the occasional bestie who came for a sleep-over) was going to see what I wore to bed?

Then I hit my twenties.  The first time I stayed over at my (then) boyfriend's place, I decided I needed something to wear the next morning while he made me breakfast, in case his flatmates wandered into the kitchen.  (I barely knew them, I didn't want them getting that good a look at me and the dress from the night before was going to scream "trashy-walk-of-shame-type-girl".)  A search through the boyfriend's rather meagre wardrobe revealed very few oversized t-shirts (we were of a similar size... that is, he was a short, scrawny kinda guy, so his t-shirts barely covered my ass), but he did happen to have a drawer full of cotton boxer shorts.  I borrowed a pair, grabbed a t-shirt, discovered what a comfy outfit it was and have worn boxers and old, [insert-name-of-favourite-band]-neck-and-sleeves-cut-off t-shirts to bed ever since.  When I'm not sleeping naked of course.

Incidentally, I've found that most of my boyfriends have found this quite the turn-on.  Only one has ever bought me a lacy, skimpy, Victoria's Secret-style nightie to wear and it not only looked terrible on me, but was really uncomfortable to sleep in, so I ditched it. And him.

Now usually, when I'm in need of a new pair of boxers, I nick them from whichever man I'm dating at the time, but since I: (a) haven't dated in a while; and (b) haven't dated a guy who wears cotton boxer shorts for even longer, I've been forced into actually purchasing them myself.  Hence the incident at Gap.  

You see, Gap boxer shorts are of a highly superior quality.  This I have ascertained over the years.  They're my preferred brand.  So, if I'm going to buy them, I'll go to Gap.  This was never an issue in the US and the UK - they're totally across my theory.  However, the Australian Gap sales assistants are seemingly ignorant of the fact that their men's cotton boxer shorts make excellent sleepwear for the ladies.  

Not any more.

At least not for cashier #5771 at Gap Melbourne Central.  No. She adopted my suggestion of men's-boxers-as-female-sleep-attire so enthusiastically that I'm pretty sure she's going to re-style several of the mannequins to illustrate her point.  She pointed out the concept no less than three times to her colleagues and other customers while I was still in the store... I shudder to think how many people she told once I'd walked out.  I'd even hazard a guess that she took a few pairs home for herself to test out my theory that you really cannot get anything more comfortable to sleep in. 

I'm glad I inspired someone today, even if was only on something as trivial as sleepwear. 

Now, if only a designer could inspire me with a decent skirt.

Auspicious... Not

Hmmmm.

Scrolling through my final post for 2012 and my eye caught this:

"Will also set a goal for 52 blog posts in 2013.  That's one a week.  Surely that's manageable."

Christ.

I haven't done terribly well so far, have I?  It's halfway through February and this is my first post.

Ah well.

I am keeping up with my One Line A Day.  Tales From the Ticketing World is on hiatus, due to some rumblings from some anonymous staff members of a certain arts organisation. I feel like I'm back in grade school with their pathetic "we're gonna tell on you to your company because we think your blog is unprofessional" threats.  I'm so glad I only have to deal with them for another few weeks.

I really have very little enthusiasm for writing at the moment. I actually have very little enthusiasm for anything at the moment, period.  I thought I had an exciting new job all lined up, but that's been put on hold.  Bureaucracy at work again.  It may still happen and I need to have patience, but my god, it's difficult. My current job is changing, and not in a way I'm particularly pleased with or that I feel I have any control over.  I feel like a glorified administrator in an organisation which doesn't reflect my morals or ideals.    I want to be doing work that's important and which will benefit people.  What I do right now benefits no one, including myself. 

What I hate most at the moment though, is the way that I feel unable to truly express myself, especially through this blog.  I feel like I'm being spied on by the same people who threatened my other blog.  And hey, if I am right and you are reading this?  Fuck off and get a life.  What did I ever do to you?  If I did do something to piss you off, then grow a pair, man up and tell me to my face.  Let's duke it out and resolve it.

Anyway.  That's not a terribly positive blog post to kick off the year... apologies to my regular (read: lovely) readers.  I'll try and come up with something a little more perky for my second post.

For now, I just wanted to drop by and say hello.

*waves*

*winks*

*hits the save button*

See you soon.

Oh and Happy Valentine's Day... if that's your thing.  Personally, I'm more of a fan of Galentine's Day (Feb 13).  Don't know what that is?  Let me share...

 *hits the publish button*