Tales of the Ridiculous

January 14, 2007


I have mentioned in the past about how my job sometimes entails going to evening events. These fundraisers / galas / look-how-important-I-am kind of events can either be tame or completely over the top – sometimes you never know which one.

On Thursday, I found out I needed to be at an event this coming Saturday night (for those of you playing the home game, that’s 9 days). It is not an event I had been to before and for some reason I assumed it was “cocktail” attire. It immediately occurred to me that I didn’t have a cocktail dress I could wear as most of my dressy stuff was maternity sized and, well, ain’t no more maternity needs in this here house. The only other dress I had in my closet I had already worn in this crowd, so that was out.

(The ladies will understand that one.)

So! You know what that means…buy a dress. Or two. Because, you know, I’ll need ‘em. I looked at my calendar to see what day I might have a little time to go dress shopping and realized, HOLY SHIT! NO TIME!

Okay. Don’t panic. That’s why the Innernetwebosphere exsits. Just for situations like this. And occasionally porn.

I spent an hour and a half looking for a dress. AN HOUR AND A HALF. Did you know that when you can’t try a dress on, you should really know your measurements? Anyone know their measurements? ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t. But, I took a chance and ordered two dresses from Nordstrom’s – from wherest all good things come.

Then I found out the dress was “evening gown”. And I threw up a little in my mouth. I enlisted Husband to help me pick a dress (he likes that kind of thing – ha ha).

Back to the Innernet I go this morning. Long story short it went something like this:

Husband: “I like that one. You should get it.”

Me: “Uh, no.”

Husband: “Why? It’s hot.”

Me: “Right. This is a business function. And Paris Hilton – Hooker chic ain’t on the invitation.”

Husband: “Oh.”

Me: “Ooh! Look! Here’s one! And, look, it’s not in my size.”

Lather, rinse, repeat AD NAUSEUM.

I finally found three dresses at Saks Fifth Avenue that might work if (a) I measured myself right, (b) I ordered the right size, or (c) I am suddenly Irish and very, very lucky.

I’ll take either of these choices.

I had to order two of each dress (yes, that’s SIX DRESSES) just in case. Let’s just say the charge was so big that American Express didn’t put the charge through thinking, of course, that my card had been stolen and someone was shopping extravagantly and fraudulently – and with excellent taste.

Altogether there are NINE dresses winging their way through the air right now in an attempt to get here in time for me to try them all on, get them altered, if necessary and pressed before Saturday night.

This is why they pay me the big bucks. I’m a problem solver. And, apparently, insane.

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3 Responses to “Tales of the Ridiculous”

  1. Tara Says:

    Ah, clothes shopping… the bane of my life. Actually I have no clothes for the warmer weather… but just having had a baby my body hasn’t decided where it’s going to end up at. I wish it would hurry up and make up its mind.

  2. Chris Says:

    Nine? That’s impressive. Very impressive indeed.

  3. K.J. Says:

    Well, it seem like I only thought I knew high-maintenance; on the flip side, your husband is beginning to look more and more like Job.