lunch is my favourite part of the work day; not the physical object of lunch, which is still gross, but the temporal noun that signifies "i am no longer sitting at my desk pretending to be working (mid-day meals are the ultimate middle school moment), but scratching and sniffing sheets of stickers with friends". each 'spaghetti with tater tots and lima beans' gathering provides an opportunity for a "do over"; for all the molly ringwald teen movie lunches i did not participate in the first time around. the irony is not lost that our entire 'lunch group' comprises of the now 30 (and 50) somethings who were also avid sticker collectors and bookworms, and whose only bodily metal ehancements involved orthodontia. residual elementary school issues are rife; conversation tends to be fairly focused on bodily functions.
one of the "lunchers" and his wife are having a baby girl; a last minute shower was thrown together for him (they already have a son, but you can never have too much pink; thus spake ru-paul). my x chromosome was sanctioned a legal hit of "cute, ruffly, pink, and floral" in the baby section at target. unfortunately i did not get the fix i wanted.
"born to shop" onesies (no, they cant read it, but a newborn cant bloody hold it's head up to scan the clearance rack either), where everything from socks, t-shirts, hats, and knickers were emblazoned with "princess". the bastardization of this word no longer evokes images of little girls swooshing around in their mother's skirts playing "happily ever after". now the defining characteristics are of overindulged, spoiled, precocious, whining nymphets demanding pink lexuses with versace interiors at age 11.
trawling through the all encompassing 'teenybopper trash collection for newborns' finally yielded a purchase of comparatively, modest onesies and a cute beach hat (more butterflies), that is totally impractical, and will be ripped off in 2 seconds. but aren't babies clothes more about the adults anyway?
(born to shop).