Scarf Trauma

OK I try to avoid politics here. Because I really love to gab about that stuff and other people do not. Also, my husband does nothing but talk about it so I usually do get enough.

However.

The State of the Union Speech last night. Call me a Dixie Chick because I was ashamed of our President last night. Of all the crazy, hypocritical, unethical, self-satisfied loads of crap I have ever even listened to five minutes of . . .

Ya'll. Look around. Know anyone who is out of work? Know some one who has a job but makes a lot less than the used to?

That is the only economic recovery the man is talking about. That is it.

Even if you disagree. Even if you love the man. Go vote in November. Seriously. Vote in November.

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On the other side of the spectrum, I had lunch with my mother Monday. We went to this little Mexican place that is in a trendy little Seattle neighborhood where I used to live. I love this place, the food is excellent, it has a fun atmosphere. I just forgot a few things.

First, Seattle hipsters are the most pretentious goddamn people in the world. Unlike those in New York or LA it is not about having money or the newest fashion or anything like that--it is the opposite actually. Seattlites want you to look like you haven't washed in days, you would never work for THE MAN and god help you if you don't buy your groceries at Whole Foods.

Second, well honestly there isn't any second. That is the whole thing.

So I left my scarf there on Monday. Oooops. Felt like a dumbass. I call and the girl says that she will put my name on it and set it behind the register.

I go in yesterday to pick it up and they sneer at me when I come in. I work in an office. I am wearing office attire. I don't have visible tattoos. My hair is an actual hair color. Damn me honestly I guess.

They can't find my scarf. I tell them that the woman said she put it behind the counter. The guy back there hears "woman" and thinks I said "hairy guy with no front teeth" and yells at the manager. They finally find the thing and the girl had stapled a post-it note to the scarf. A cashmere scarf.

I know I sound like a tool for saying that. But honestly. Take care of people's things. Don't ram snaggy little metal rods through the fibers.

God I am getting old.

Just stick around, I will talk about IRA's in a minute.

Oh God, and I bought life insurance last night. Seriously, I might as well be my father.