Ghetto Version of Wal-Mart

We’re going to totally gloss over the Fourth of July, mostly because it was same-old, same-old. And because it happened five days ago, so who really cares? Relaxed on the beach, went for a run in my holiday-appropriate bathing suit, ate red, white, and blue colored food, played with sparklers, nearly caught on fire, watched fireworks, listened to a band play “Brick House” (I’m not sure either…). Just the usual.

The three full days of nonstop drinking fun caught up to everyone, including myself. I was happy to see my friend Melissa briefly (she met up with us at the park then came back to my condo), but I had to apologize for my lack of enthusiasm. After yawning for about the fiftieth time before 11pm and realizing that I wore my Ironman watch with a dress (the fashion horror!), I was thankful that we neglected to take pictures. Here are a few throwbacks from previous years instead!

Tuesday was spent doing eight loads of laundry–I’m not exaggerating. Jen, Ali, and I were the only ones who were able to stay through the day as everyone else left bright and early to make it in time for work. Once our place was spotless–fresh sheets on the bed, dishwasher ran and unloaded, floors mopped and vacuumed, bathrooms sanitized–we hit the road. Leaving the beach is always a bittersweet feeling; I look forward to getting back to a regular routine, but love the spontaneity at the same time.

(I must give credit where credit is due–Ali took these pictures. I just love them! We all know that I failed photography class.)

I scheduled a last minute babysitting job for that evening, so I was in a bit of a rush to get home. Jen assured me that there was no need to panic, but I began to have my doubts once we started making all kinds of “necessary” stops. First up was Roses–in all of the run-down, trashy places in Ocean City, Roses tops my list. I hate that place. If you’re not familiar with Roses, it’s a ghetto version of Wal-Mart. I wish I was kidding.

Jen sent me in to do a quick return on an item that my mom had purchased a few weeks before. My sisters and I made an executive decision and decided that we didn’t like it, so back it went. (Now that I’m thinking about it, remind me to ban my mother from shopping there in the future.) Of course nothing can ever go smoothly; time was ticking and something just so happened to catch on fire while I was at the customer service desk. The cashier and I couldn’t uncover the source of the burning smell, but let’s be honest, I wanted to get my money and get the hell out of there.

As we were happily driving along, Jen spotted a cheap gas station and just couldn’t resist filling up her tank, despite having more than enough gas to get us home. I bitched and moaned, but was sure that we would arrive in Baltimore well before 6pm (when I needed to babysit).

Then Ali complained about needing to use the bathroom. I simply told her that we were a mere two hours away–surely she could wait, but Jen was more than willing to make a stop at Wawa. As if I was even surprised, I got aggravated when we missed the entryway, had to loop around the back, and then couldn’t figure out how to enter.

I tried and tried to drag the two of them out of there without snacks, but they both insisted on picking up a few things for the rest of the drive. By this point, it was pedal to the metal! I needed to get home and I needed to get home fast. But what does 5pm on a Tuesday mean? Traffic. Lots and lots of traffic.

Know what happened next? I morphed into total Psycleen mode. Somewhere in between yelling at Jen for buying a soft pretzel and yelling at Ali for having a small bladder, I called the woman that I was supposed to be babysitting for. At 5:50pm, I was still 30 miles away and the woman hadn’t responded to my calls or texts. I frantically called Natalie and told her that she needed to show up at their house and cover for me until I arrived (she was not pleased as she had just hopped out of the shower and was trying to pack last-minute items for Italy). Just as I hung up with Natalie, the woman finally returned my call and I explained to her what was going on.

Whaddayaknow, a few seconds later, all traffic cleared and we were driving at a normal speed. I called Natalie again and told her that she could turn around. She was irate. Jen dropped me off and I was relieved to be only 12 minutes late. The family was surprised to see me after all, but it worked out in the end (though I gave Jen a big “I told you so!”).

We need some more fashion posts around here–I’m thinking I need to cover a topic regarding an item that is essential to a woman’s wardrobe…stay tuned! Any guesses?


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