Cheap jewelry and women’s underwear: a meltdown

I had a meltdown in Walmart about a month ago.

I’d grabbed my Suave Sweet Pea and Violet body wash, pack of men’s razors, perused the small appliance aisle, picked up a few vanilla-scented votives and successfully located my mother near the grocery section so I could place my items in her cart. When I realized I’d forgotten to pick up a pair of gloves, I took off and expected my mom to follow me.

Little girl’s. Little boy’s. Handbags. Scarves. Cheap jewelry. Women’s underwear.

Little girl’s. Little boy’s. Handbags. Scarves. Cheap jewelry. Women’s underwear.

Little girl’s. Little boy’s. Handbags. Scarves. Cheap jewelry. Women’s underwear.

Little girl’s. Little boy’s. Handbags. Scarves. Cheap jewelry. Women’s underwear.

Little girl’s. Little boy’s. Handbags. Scarves. Cheap jewelry. Women’s underwear.

I saw the same Walmart associates again and again. They stared at me –– me, in my tie-dye pants, moccasin-style boots, bright green Michelin-man coat and the mess of colors on my hat, complete with ear flaps –– every time.

Little girl’s. Little boy’s. Handbags. Scarves. Cheap jewelry. Women’s underwear.

No gloves. No mom. No answer on her phone. No matches for my candles.

Nobody to come home to every night. Nobody to ask me, “Did you have a good day?” Nobody to eat dinner with. No dogs, thus no tails wagging. No reason to go home. No home.

I found scarves for $4.99 and an array of sports watches for $10, but no gloves.

The good news is, I, breathless, found Mom in the coffee aisle, lightyears away from the little girl’s, little boy’s, handbags, scarves, cheap jewelry and women’s underwear sections.

When I nearly started crying at the sight of her, she calmed me down. She understood that Walmart, though gargantuan, wasn’t entirely to blame.

She slept on the couch in my living room for one night before leaving me be.

Letting me be.

The Blackbyrd comes in contact with VD

After conducting some research, I’ve reached one conclusion: I’ve successfully avoided writing specifically about Valentine’s Day on this blog for nearly six years. I wrote this post, but it doesn’t count; it’s just a 14-year-old Emily gushing over celebrities that she just so happened to publish on Valentine’s Day in 2009. Definitely doesn’t count.

Thus, the world has no idea how I feel about said “holiday.” (Why does it care? You’re probably thinking. I know.)

Uh, Valentine’s Day sucks.

Ever heard of Sweetest Day? Rolls around every year on the third Saturday in October. I’d rather partake in that than VD (haha, venereal disease, geddit? If you do, you probably only began reading this because of my super enticing and witty title. I flatter myself. I know.).

I’m making a pretty sweeping generalization here, but I’m assuming most girls want to be pampered and treated like princesses come February 14. From the perspective of a girl who has been mercilessly pampered and treated like a princess on VD, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Flowers die; chocolates get eaten; I have to sift through the damn mystery box to avoid the nut-filled and cherry-filled ones. Yuck. I’ve even received one of those gaudy, 2-foot by 3-foot cards. It seemed sweet at the time, now I look back and roll my eyes just a tad.

Maybe I’m desensitized because my first-ever boyfriend dumped me two days before VD during my freshman year of high school. I’ve learned to expect less, even when Mr. Wonderful showered me with so many nice gifts for several years.*

Summer's Eve's ad here is about the only thing that makes me thankful for VD.
Summer’s Eve’s ad here is one of two things that make me thankful for VD.

You can hate me for dissing VD, but just know that, like I said in my last post, I can be rather flaky. I’ll probably be crying into a gallon of chocolate ice cream at this time next year. Still.

I don’t need February 14 for a man to tell me he loves me or to confess his true feelings.

I don’t need the giant VD card, the boxes of terrible chocolates, a teddy bear holding a heart or a bouquet of flowers I’ll definitely hang upside-down to dry, only for the dried leaves and petals to fall to the floor, making a mess.

And don’t even get me started on the cheesy, gag-me-please diamond jewelry commercials. A $1500 rock doesn’t tell me you love me; it makes me mad that you didn’t spend it on groceries, the rent or plane tickets to go somewhere warm. I totally just jumped ahead of myself by 10 years, but I think you get my point.

You love me? Show me every day. Don’t buy me a $5 Hallmark card once a year, scrawling your name into it each time without even reading it first.

At least VD-themed Hershey Kisses will be half price at Walmart the day after. I’ll see if I can sucker my guy into stocking up for me. That’s enough to make this Blackbyrd happy.

How I react to those jewelry commercials.
How I react to those jewelry commercials.

Stay tuned: in next year’s post I’ll be mourning the loss of my college career and surely the plenitude of relationships with men that just didn’t work out.

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*Though Mr. Wonderful did once tell me something that made me laugh. He sold more condoms on and around Valentine’s Day than any other time during his, uh, tenure at a local Rite Aid. Haha figures.

As you would have done unto you

I have learned many lessons in my fifteen years. Not as many as other people have, I’m sure, but I am getting there.  I could sit here and try to think of them all, but there is only one that stands out to me everyday to show just how prominent it is. Being polite gets you far. No question about it.

My parents have always taught me to say “please” and “thank you” whenever the chance arises; to be courteous and open a door or two for people, and to help an old lady out by loading her groceries into her car. (Okay, so that hasn’t happened yet, but I am waiting for the chance to do so!) It’s not like we – or I – believe in karma, that what goes around comes around (in this case, it’s a good “what”), it’s more like we go by “do unto others as you would have done unto you.” It’s that sort of thing. So, when I have to pass in front of a person or need a person to move out of the way, I say “excuse me” and get what I needed accomplished complete in a polite and sincere manner. I hold doors open for people, and when I hear a simple “thank you” it makes me happy and brightens my day considerably. I am careful to lower my voice when in public so as to not annoy or aggravate those around me whom I do not know. I am considerate, courteous, and thoughtful. I think about not only what I need, but what others need and wish for as well.

Now, what’s the point of this insightful post? Well, today was one of those days where every person I met was not polite in any way whatsoever. In Walmart, my mother and I were in the produce department looking at the Clementine oranges, and this lady came over and leaned over where we were standing without a single uttering of “excuse me.” Each time someone does this to us, either my mother or myself will say “excuse me” for the person who lacked to do so. It is so rude to just barge in near a person whom you are not acquainted with. The nerve of some people!

Lastly, my mother and I went to Kohls to check out what kind of a selection of flannel shirts they carried. We purchased what we wanted, and headed out the door. Well, almost entering the  door we are heading out of troops three women. Okay, so my mom went on through and opened the outside door for them, and I opened the second door that led to the inside of the store. They walked on by. No acknowledgment. Not a single one of those three women said a tiny little “thank you.” They didn’t even look at us. Well, my mom yelled “you’re welcome!” and then we walked across the parking lot, ranting about how there are no polite people these days.

And it’s the truth. Honestly, some people have no class and are so rude that it kills me. No wonder our country is so messed up. People take the help they receive for granted, and don’t know how to feel thankful for anything. I was raised to be cordial and polite to everyone I ever come in contact with, whether I like the person or not. You’d better believe that my children will have manners and know how to say “thank you” more than every once in awhile. They will appreciate everything I have provided them with, and will hopefully spread it on to this thankless nation. The people in this state, in this country, no, in this world, need a little make-over. Maybe I shall build an arc and rid the world of all of these people with a teensy little flood. Start the world over with a group of people that know and adhere to my policy. “Do unto others as you would have done unto you.”

MILEY CYRUS INVASION

Everywhere I look, she is smiling back at me. How does someone like her gain such power? One answer: her daddy. Yep, she is a perfect example of Daddy’s Little Girl. She is only famous because her dad is.

She does not have any talent. Her Disney Channel TV show is pitiful, for she cannot act. She should not be a famous singer just because her dad is too. One must have talent in order to be a famous singer, and unfortunately this is a trait that she just does not possess. Her voice is nasally and she should be banned from creating anymore CDs.

What is the deal with the whole Hannah Montana thing anyway? All she does is put on a wig, and BAM she’s a “new” person. Definitely not an improvement, that is for sure. I guess where I am going with this is that there are people out there that are definitely more talented than she is, but they will never be noticed because they just do not have the connections that she has. What a shame!!!

My friend (we’ll call her Kathy) and I went to Walmart the other day. Yes, Miss Hilton, the place where they “sell wall stuff.” Everywhere she and I looked, Miley Cyrus was smiling back. The clothing section had racks and racks of Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus merchandise staring us down. I was actually scared for my life. Seeing her mousy smile everywhere I looked was absolutely frightening. Kathy and I looked through the posters and found that almost every single one of them was of either Cyrus or Montana. CHOOSE A FRIGGEN IDENTITY ALREADY!!! The cherry on top was when Kathy and I and her father and sister went into Subway, and just as we were settling into a booth and getting ready to take a bite, Cyrus’s new single erupted through the speakers. I felt like I was about to puke.

The next time Kathy and I go to Walmart together, we are buying a cork board, a Hannah Montana poster and a pack of nice, sharp darts. We will then paste the poster to the cork board and hurl those nice, sharp darts at said poster. We decided that she does not deserve to be famous. Talentless people do not deserve to be the idol of practically every little girl in the world.