It's kind of exciting when days turn out absolutely nothing like I thought they would. I went for a physical exam a few days ago which was apparently the first time I'd been to the doctor in nearly 4 years. They did the usual -- listened to my heart, checked my blood pressure, pushed on my liver, and followed it up by handing me a slip to go get some blood drawn. Shit. Don't get me wrong, I know it's a necessary evil, but I still don't have to like it. I have no reservations about being jabbed with a tattoo needle, but when they want to inject things in or worse yet pull stuff OUT it just gives me the heeby jeebies. Before my friend Nikki was running as an EMT she worked in phlebotomy and one day when she was telling me about one of her victims, I nearly hurled in the back of her car. From that point on she told me to plug my ears ahead of time.

My plan for Saturday morning was to sleep, go bite the bullet at the lab, and then come home and sleep more. When I pulled up I realized they'd closed at 11, not 12 like I thought, and I was too late. It was for the best because in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have been drinking all evening prior to the 12-hour fast. The main road back home was jammed so I took the scenic route back past all the windy back roads and old farms. I don't usually go around that way so I popped in at Echo Hill, which is this health food store of sorts a couple miles from my house. Instead of being run by dirty hippies, it's run by Mennonites. I know they're Mennonites and not Amish because I saw a computer in the back room. I feel much safer buying organic veggies from Jebediah than I do from people named after seasons and types of weather. I'm no health food nut -- I'm mainly in it for the chocolate covered sunflower seeds. They're like crack to me. I'd have no idea what to do with a bag of ground fennel other than maybe use it for witchcraft, though I do love a hot cup of seaweed and tofu miso soup.

As I'm perusing the aisles pondering what anyone would need a giant jar of bee pollen for, I came across a pile of honeycombs. I'd heard tales of people eating honeycombs, but it's not generally something you come across in the supermarket. There they were, practically in display cases and sealed in like precious antiques. I had no idea what to do with one, or how to eat one, but somehow, it wound up going through the checkout, into a bag, and on the seat of my car.

That was the beginning of my shopping bender.

I stopped at home only to check my make-up and see what ingredients I would need to pick up to make pasta salad. Then it was out to the Vanity Fair outlets for the rest of the daylight hours. There's something a little more magical about shopping centers with multiple buildings than there is when everything is enclosed under one roof. Maybe it's because the space between building A and B provides ample room for hot dog vendors and tent sales. I suppose there's something magical about the Vanity Fair outlets as a whole if people are spending $50 on gas to drive there from Jersey to save $5 on jeans.

The VF Outlets are a pretty big place and have outlets for everything from Coach handbags to Goldfish crackers. The Pepperidge Farm store is not to be missed, because it carries more types of Milano cookies than you knew to exist. My first hit of the day was to head over to Designer's Place because that's where the Lane Bryant outlet is. I don't front about being a plus-size gal, because I can work my shit better than those Abercrombie bitches can ever hope to. But let me say this -- everything Lisa Lamponelli says about the types of men fuller women tend to attract is absolutely 100% true.

I don't have much of a summer wardrobe left because after the weight loss pretty much all of it was donated to the women's shelter. Clothing shopping for spring/summer is always rough for me because I hate bright colors and I hate any shirt where the sleeve does not at least touch my elbow. Plus prints seem to be popular right now as well, and I can't stand wearing them because I feel like a walking representation of tacky wallpaper. But I love that store in particular so much, because the changing rooms have a wall in front of them and they're all just closed in with curtains instead of locked doors. They're huge rooms, too, the last time I was there I was shopping with my buddy Alison and we just shared one.



I'm someone who in general is pretty comfortable with the world, almost to a fault. I suppose you could say I'm one of those "The world is my stage," types. I have no reservations about skidding around the store in my socks to grab other pants to try on or to blatantly check out my own ass in the big mirror. When you have fine ghetto booty, you gotta make sure that your pants caress it just perfectly. Despite my previous rules that I would never wear pinstripes, I somehow found myself attracted to a very cute pinstripe suit. So after adding it to the pile along with a pair of coordinating gaucho pants and a black top, it was time to move on to SHOES.

I'm in a love/hate with shoe shopping. I want to love it, but it's a huge task for me because I have high insteps. That means any sort of shoe with a strap that goes over the top of the foot is pretty much out. I did manage to find a really cute pair of 3" chunk heels, even though I'm 5'10" and by all means shouldn't be wearing heels in the first place. Also -- sandals. Yes!

I like to go in to Coach to look around because I'm curious as to the type of people that consider $250 an acceptable price for a purse, especially one that's fairly plain. I have in the past very seriously considered dropping a load of cash on a purse, but instead I just have to give the green eyes to any girl I see toting around a tokidoki print. I shook my head and left, and headed down to Reading China and Glass. That place has every kitchen item you would ever need and many that you would never need. I had to grab hold of myself not to drop $100 on the Margarator. Ugh, I could make so many adult beverages...



After stopping to buy another pair of shoes I jolted over to the complete opposite side of the complex to visit the bookstore. Discounted books for Myyystttieee! One of the great things about this bookstore is they always get the stockpile of leftover pocket-books and tiny things in a box. You know -- the miniature Zen gardens and pocket Buddahs they have in the gift section of bookstores. They're piled up in bins and are a steal at 3 for $5. The Mini Desk Construction Site amused me so much that I bought two of them. The best was a reference book I nabbed for $3 and I have a feeling I'm going to get a lot of use out of. The whole thing just details what's "normal" for the male species. It lists everything from if they take the first milk in the dairy case to whether or not they've paid for sex and tells you what the stats are. Did you know 36% of men have nicknames for their johnson?



Next to the bookstore is a Totes store, and I'm pretty good on umbrellas and slippers, so I didn't really need to go in, but I did anyway. Holy shit, am I glad I did! I managed to snag a motherfucking fedora for $5. A FEDORA. I JUST BOUGHT A PINSTRIPE SUIT! My mobster outfit it now complete! I stopped to lounge on the patio with my cell and check-in with one of my friends then headed over to grab some food. The guy at Subway was waaayyyy waayyyy too excited about the $5 footlongs and was trying to push cookies on me like a drug peddler. It was a good deal, so I did get a footlong, but I only ate half and saved the rest for later. It was time to hit up KayBee, afterall. The KB outlet feels very basement-ish but it's packed with all kinds of crazy junk, but even I can't reason spending $3 on a figure of Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite. The aisles are narrow and crammed with everything all the other KB stores couldn't sell and it has a lot of unusual items. As much as I would have loved to buy half the store, I sadly do not have the space to hold it all. I just bought a Galactic Heroes Yoda keychain.

I visited a few more shops, buying more shoes and stockings to go with said shoes. I was completely spent by the end of it, but I still had to swing by Wal-Mart for goodies and a Mother's Day card. I'm great at picking out cards, I managed to find the perfect one on my second try. It has a picture of a little girl dressed as a flower and on the front reads, "Because of you mom I blossomed," and the inside says, "Into what, I'm not sure, but THANKS!"

When I got home I dumped my good and decided to flop down on the bed for a possible nap. No sooner did I start reclining into sleeping position than my cell phone rang.... and it was an ex-boyfriend. This was doubly weird because even when we were together he never called, he always just texted. He proudly proclaimed to me that he was drinking rum, watching hockey, and just got offered a job as a federal officer. I hold no animosity towards the guy, but it just seems to be a waste for us to play games when the whole reason we stopped seeing each other was because he rarely wanted to drive the 80 minutes from Philly to see me. Seems to be the story of my life -- many men love Mystie and yet there are none IN love with Mystie.

So the night was filled with a barrage of text messages and phonecalls in which I listened to many odd drunken proclamations such as how my vag tastes almost as good as lemon poppyseed muffins. Sadly, my man book offered no such guidance on that one.

And to think, I was going to sleep most of the day away....