The Day I Thought My Pharmacist Was Asking Me Out

It's 10am and I've already had what I sincerely hope I can say is the most awkward moment of the day today. Seriously.

 

I went to pick up my prescription from the pharmacy where my Pharmacist Crush works. He's lovely. He's a brown dude (I know, right?) and looks all smart in his lab coat and glasses and has excellent teeth and I love him so much. So, anyway, I obviously walked into the pharmacy like this:

 

 

My future husband comes up to me, calls me Mal (MAL! Like we're FRIENDS! Because we are. The best of.) and says, "Are you free tonight?"

The Universe stopped. As did my heart. So I whispered - whispered, Jesus Christ - "I think so..."

"Great, because I didn't get a chance to fill your script. Could you come back tonight?"

"OH YEAH SURE NO PROBLEM!" This is in caps because I'm pretty sure I yelled it in an incredibly high voice.

"Thanks, buddy!"

Did my pharmacist just friend zone me?

Love,

M

Maybe This Time I'll Learn My Lesson

On Sunday, after looking through pictures that SM and I took on our day of activities on Saturday (which involved trying to try on Tiffany's diamonds - everyone knew we didn't belong there and did not speak to us - and doings shots at a bar at 4pm, where we felt much more among our own people), I decided that my forehead was really high.

I did not like that. So I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I'm not so great with money management (read: I suck at it) and I always spend money on things I don't need, and I don't spend money on things that would make sense. For example: I will buy a Lululemon headband for $20, but I will not shell out the same amount to go to the hairdresser to cut my bangs (probably because I bought the God damn headband). Do you know what this means? It means that I used nail scissors to cut off my own hair in a very noticeable way. The bangs are at the front of my head (obviously). They are not inconspicuous. Bangs are not meant to be. They are also not meant to be cut by anyone other than a professional with anything other than actual hair cutting scissors.

I didn't care. I chopped 'em off (this is not the first time - seriously, I do not learn my lessons). They were more noticeable than I intended. Maybe I wasn't expecting short strands of hair that hang on my effing face to be so prominent.

I left them, thinking that I would revisit them after my shower when my hair was wet to make sure they were straight. They weren't. So I cut them again, while wet. Did you know that wet hair appears longer than dry hair? I now have bangs that, to me, look something like this:



She just happened to be black. This was not intentional.



I think this is probably more prominent than my actual bangs look, but I kind of feel like this is what I look like.

I also hate my new bangs. I should have learned from SM, who also cut her own bangs, and who I laughed at for doing so, that bangs are not always the best choice. I now cannot see everytime I put my head down.

Does anyone know how to make hair grow several inches in approximately 1 day?

Love,

M

Boxing with Prince Harry

Did I mention that I wear pink boxing gloves and crystal earrings when I work out. Seriously. Laughing stock of the gym.

Alright, I didn't exactly box with Prince Harry. But the owner - against whom I had to spar because no one else showed up to class - is a more muscular, manlier version of him. With an adorable smile. While that may sound like a great situation, the 15 year old girl inside of me - the one that comes out when I try to speak to an attractive male between 25-35 - wanted to run away.

When I got to the gym, he immediately asked where I had been for the past couple of weeks. (The answer? Drunk). I considered replying with: "I am intimidated by your appearance and overall stature, so I didn't want to come in because it was uncomfortable to me". But I didn't want to make him think I was weirder (or at least realize that I'm weirder) than I seem. So I went with the nonchalant, "Oh, you know, I've been around." Win.

For 45 minutes, I was forced to catch his punches, duck his jabs, and throw my own. I was sweating profusely, breathing hard, and making weird faces while exclaiming "Jesus!" in reaction to each one of his punches. And then I told him that I didn't want to work out in front of the mirror "because, ew...". But he would occasionally smile and give a pity laugh whenever I tried to make a joke. And that was enough to make it an excellent workout for me.

I'm going back tonight.



I mean, come on. Look at him. So cute.

Love,

M

Why Lying Can End Up In Planning Your Own Wedding

I've started to wear my diamond ring on my left ring finger at work because I want to deter the creepy ass mofos that seem to mistake my pleasant demeanour and welcoming smile for attraction to them. And these are not attractive men - they are old, have a few screws loose, or are just generally weird. I sure get some winners.

Now, don't get me wrong - I'm certainly not propositioned by men for my number/dates all the time, nor do I often wear an "engagement" ring to keep all the men at bay (I usually need all the help I can get to just to get one to talk to me at bars, etc, on account of apparently giving off a "get the fuck away from me" kind of vibe. It just comes naturally, what can I say. You know, it's either that or no one is interested. ... Haha, no, that can't be it). However, there have been a couple of times when I wanted a way to get a couple of weirdos off my case without having to blatantly say no (which I'm not that good at to begin with...that doesn't make me sound very good...).

Anyway, the other day I was working on cash, and a very nice lady commented on my ring (which IS very pretty...I should think so, I bought it myself. For myself.):

Very Nice Lady (VNL): Your ring is beautiful.

Me: Oh, thank you! *Big smile*

VNL: You look pleased with it!

Me: Mmhmm! (Hindsight: should have, at this point, shut down the assumption that I was engaged. I did not).

VNL: When is the big day?

(Now, here is the point where you might think to yourself, “Malory, this would be the opportune moment to explain, without getting into detail, that you are not engaged and are simply wearing a nice ring”. And yes, that would have been the logical answer. But I don’t think logically, because I am a woman).

Me: October.

VNL: Oh, lovely!

Me: Yes, we’re excited! (Oh, I kept going. I spoke in “we” form. WE!)

VNL: All the best to you both!

Me: Oh, thank you so much!

And that is how I became engaged to be married in October of next year. It was a special moment.



This is pretty much what the ring in question looks like. Without the wedding band, of course. That will obviously come in October.
 

Love,

M

 

Being An Adult Is For Boring People...

Shamelessly stealing from one of my favourite sites that makes me happy every time I pay it a visit. And today - a rainy, miserable, depressing Monday - is one of those days that I need it the most.

So anyway, this pretty much sums up my weekend - during which I did nothing productive but wouldn't change it because my best friend and I sat and ate and laughed away most of Saturday night and Sunday. I know she would agree with this.

When I reflect back on my actions of this past weekend...