gpoy: musings on transformations
The other day I went to the craft store with a friend, because I needed a frame, and she needed glitter. As it turns out, craft stores these days also sell bee traps, and since I have BEES IN MY FUCKING LIGHT FIXTURE, a bee trap seemed like a good idea, too.
We wandered around for ages, because I couldn't find the right frame, the glitter needed multiple inspections, and the bee trap needed a hook. While we were wandering, we saw the sceniest kid that ever scened also wandering sort of aimlessly around the store. Eventually, we realized that he worked there. He worked there.
My friend and I couldn't find a hook to save our lives, so we decided, of course, to ask Scene Guy. Because honestly, we were in JOANN FABRICS. I don't know what your craft store experiences are like, but mine are...not scene, usually. We were curious!
Y'all. Lemme draw you a picture. Like this, but not quite as cute and less makeup. Skinny as rails, purple skintight jeans, tight band t-shirt, flat-ironed hair, diffident expression. Stoned? Lost in his own mind? Combination of the two? WHO KNOWS. Also, glasses duct-taped together. In three places. So boss. Also, the smell. Like, I live in a hot place. People sweat here. A lot. Meeting people and having them drip with sweat as they say hello is a regular occurrence. We are all familiar with a certain level of body odor. It is a Thing. But the odor around this dude was almost palpable. And, wow. Did it make me re-think all those bandom stories.
Scene guy also couldn't find a hook. But as we wandered (aimlessly) around the store together, he told funny quiet little self-mocking jokes and after we'd gone through over half the store without success, he announced he was going to ask someone who would Actually Know (yeah, you could hear the caps).
So we wander back to a service counter, where a girl with enormous hair says, "And how are you liking working at Joann Fabrics, today!?" to the dude with the snarkiest, most fake-smiley expression EVER on her face. And he says something to the effect of it being the apex of his very existence, the wind underneath his wings, etc. And then he wandered us over to the hook area, where we were all confused about the weight limits of various hold-y type things until he wandered gently off again toward the glitter area.
On our way out my friend said, "he was hitting on you!" And I was like, "how could you tell!?" She said the wandering was key. I dunno, I think if there had been less Wall of Smell I would've noticed more? But really, the key question is if I can't tell a dude is hitting on me, how am I ever going to get laid again?
Afterwards we went to a local burger chain, where i found out the dude who was taking my order had been a vegan for 7 years. He ran me through all the non-meat options at the chain and told me what I could order off-menu for the next time I came in.
I...am not used to strangers talking to me that much. I've been told for years that my natural, neutral expression is Epic Bitch Face. I asked S why they were talking to me. She up-downed me in only the way that girls raised in the deep south and polished by NYC can and said, "You look like...you look like you could be one of their people." And I thought about my black and purple hair, the metal in my ears, the huge shoulder tattoo and the dress that looks like a hippie's nightgown I was wearing and went "huh."
I don't think of myself as looking like one of their people. Just a few years ago I was power heels, layers of wool and airplanes. I'm middle-aged. I wonder how long it will take my perception of me to match what other people see, you know? It's a weird dissonance.
This entry was originally posted at http://concinnity.dreamwidth.org/53065.html. Comment wherever you like.
We wandered around for ages, because I couldn't find the right frame, the glitter needed multiple inspections, and the bee trap needed a hook. While we were wandering, we saw the sceniest kid that ever scened also wandering sort of aimlessly around the store. Eventually, we realized that he worked there. He worked there.
My friend and I couldn't find a hook to save our lives, so we decided, of course, to ask Scene Guy. Because honestly, we were in JOANN FABRICS. I don't know what your craft store experiences are like, but mine are...not scene, usually. We were curious!
Y'all. Lemme draw you a picture. Like this, but not quite as cute and less makeup. Skinny as rails, purple skintight jeans, tight band t-shirt, flat-ironed hair, diffident expression. Stoned? Lost in his own mind? Combination of the two? WHO KNOWS. Also, glasses duct-taped together. In three places. So boss. Also, the smell. Like, I live in a hot place. People sweat here. A lot. Meeting people and having them drip with sweat as they say hello is a regular occurrence. We are all familiar with a certain level of body odor. It is a Thing. But the odor around this dude was almost palpable. And, wow. Did it make me re-think all those bandom stories.
Scene guy also couldn't find a hook. But as we wandered (aimlessly) around the store together, he told funny quiet little self-mocking jokes and after we'd gone through over half the store without success, he announced he was going to ask someone who would Actually Know (yeah, you could hear the caps).
So we wander back to a service counter, where a girl with enormous hair says, "And how are you liking working at Joann Fabrics, today!?" to the dude with the snarkiest, most fake-smiley expression EVER on her face. And he says something to the effect of it being the apex of his very existence, the wind underneath his wings, etc. And then he wandered us over to the hook area, where we were all confused about the weight limits of various hold-y type things until he wandered gently off again toward the glitter area.
On our way out my friend said, "he was hitting on you!" And I was like, "how could you tell!?" She said the wandering was key. I dunno, I think if there had been less Wall of Smell I would've noticed more? But really, the key question is if I can't tell a dude is hitting on me, how am I ever going to get laid again?
Afterwards we went to a local burger chain, where i found out the dude who was taking my order had been a vegan for 7 years. He ran me through all the non-meat options at the chain and told me what I could order off-menu for the next time I came in.
I...am not used to strangers talking to me that much. I've been told for years that my natural, neutral expression is Epic Bitch Face. I asked S why they were talking to me. She up-downed me in only the way that girls raised in the deep south and polished by NYC can and said, "You look like...you look like you could be one of their people." And I thought about my black and purple hair, the metal in my ears, the huge shoulder tattoo and the dress that looks like a hippie's nightgown I was wearing and went "huh."
I don't think of myself as looking like one of their people. Just a few years ago I was power heels, layers of wool and airplanes. I'm middle-aged. I wonder how long it will take my perception of me to match what other people see, you know? It's a weird dissonance.
This entry was originally posted at http://concinnity.dreamwidth.org/53065.html. Comment wherever you like.