I've spent the last two years working at the White House Black Market, a boutique in a ritzy little shopping haven for southern country clubbers with too much money who need something to do when they aren't taking tennis lessons or sipping on mint juleps. I sold cropped jackets with matching skirts and jersey jungle print tunics to women who didn't need them in the worst economic slump since the great depression and I did it all with a smile and a magnetic nametag. However, on account of this class burying me in a pile of crepe up to my eyeballs, I was forced (oh so painfully) to put in my two weeks early making today my first official black and whiteless day.
This weekend was supposed to be a celebratory one filled with all the colors of the rainbow and freedom-induced frolicking but instead I got sick...really sick. All those early mornings and late nights in the dungeon finally caught up with me on Thursday when I woke up with a raging headache and booger-encrusted nose. Dreams of spending time with the friends I haven't seen in weeks were replaced by quarantine and Bridget Jones on Repeat. Six Advil, two Sudafed, one box of tissues and an entire roll of Airborne later, I accomplished zero sewing.
Fortunately today, I was feeling optimistic thanks to our very first 65 degree Spring-esque kind of day and wandered out of my apartment for a leisurely stroll in the village with a girlfriend. We were approached by a daisy who asked "Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?" My friend's response (jokes aside) was "No I don't want any of your million calorie cookies that are going to spread trans fats all over my thighs. What do you need money for anyway? All you do is build Popsicle stick houses...are you going to build those houses in Haiti? When I was a Girl Scout all we did was sing Christmas carols to people in nursing homes. Besides, Sam's Club gives you samples...you don't have any samples. All you have are empty boxes and empty hearts. I'm just glad I'm wearing sunglasses so I didn't have to say no straight into the Devil's eyes."
Side note: We each bought four boxes of cookies and they will be my fuel for dress #4 that I begin tomorrow.
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So basically I went back to the girl and shock her up a little I explained to her that instead of making popsicle stick canes for Timothy in the Christmas Carol ..they should stop helping the high obesity rate america has because there now dabbling in the ice cream business aka!"Eddy's Special Edition Girl Scout Samaos ice cream" aisle 5 in Harris Teeter,aisle 2 in Krogers)So I explained to lucifers adovocates( the green bera empty cookie box loving children)that you my friend need to raise money for a fashion show where I will sit front row and pay for 1hr and 29minutes of flamable fabrics and cheap silk with rhinestone walk the runway like in Boy George's hay day..And at some point when i loss interest in the hope and future of textiles or remeber I forgot to wear matching underwear ...a light at the end of the runway will appear and your underpaid slave work will tramp and frolick( kinda like Barbra Walters autobioraphy and her escaped with a senator)the runway and then and only then will I be the happiest avant garde wearing $10 ticket holder..So I came to a conclusion green badaged up polyester wearing fudgiscle and insteding of me paying for her cookies I ended up rattling a good $5 out her to help you for the show
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