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17 January 2005 @ 05:01 pm
I hope you're waiting for me, across your carpet of stars  
I have decided that growing up is buying your own q-tips.

Now, I'm sure most of you out there are probably snickering at that, but here me out. I don't, like, literally mean q-tips (though, in my case, I do) but I mean -- there are things that everyone needs, not in a dire way or anything, but you need them. And they're small and ubiquitous and the kind of thing you don't think about until you realize that you'd really like a q-tip. And then you look all around for them, and naturally, if you're me, you don't have them.

Because you don't think about the fact that you may need them when you go to the grocery store. Sure, you buy hummus and crackers and a neat looking organic sunflower seed butter which may end up being gross, but who knows? And you get your make up, and your shampoo, and everything -- but not q-tips.

Q-tips are provided for you, usually. You're used to being able to walk into the bathroom and find a magic replenishment of the empty q-tip jar. Because that's one of those things that parents do for you: they buy the little mundane things you don't even realize you need.

Today, when I went shopping? I found myself in the health and beauty isle, staring lustfully at some lipstick that I knew I wasn't going to buy because, honestly, neat as that red looked on the model, it would just make me look like the brazen hussy I like to pretend I'm not, and reaching out for a box of bandaids, and a box of q-tips and then tossing them into my cart without any prompting other than the fact that I knew that someday, they would be useful to me.

This may not seem like much to anyone who lives outside of my brain. To me, however, it's a massive step forward.
 
 
Current Mood: excitedexcited
Current Music: The Night-Morphine-The Night
 
 
 
Adoable Frunklyra_sena on January 17th, 2005 11:25 pm (UTC)
Gimme a call, Q-tip.
BUT HARRY STYLES: CIGARETTEestrella30 on January 18th, 2005 12:26 am (UTC)
Dude - yes! This happened to me only it was with pantyhose.

My mother would always order from the Llegs catalog, and just keep a shitload of boxes and packages of panythose in her drawer. So when I lived at home I'd go to get dressed, wander on in there, grab a pair, and get dressed.

Until I got married. And went to get dressed one day. And there were no fricking pantyhose! You have to like, purchase them apparently. Which I *knew*, but never really *knew*.

neat as that red looked on the model, it would just make me look like the brazen hussy I like to pretend I'm not

And dude - I love that you're a brazen hussy! I fricking MISS YOU. When the fuck are you coming back??
suzycatsuzycat on January 18th, 2005 01:11 am (UTC)
For me, it was paying my bills.

Nononoo, actually it wasn't! It was *changing the lightbulb by myself*! And I think both - the bills and the lightbulb - happened about the same time. I felt so grownup.

pure FORESHADOWING: big pimpin'nifra_idril on January 19th, 2005 04:59 pm (UTC)
Lightbulbs drive me crazy. You think you can rely on them, and then they GO OUT ON YOU!

It's like a little betrayal, every time.
pure FORESHADOWING: Bobcatitude!nifra_idril on January 19th, 2005 04:58 pm (UTC)
I MISS YOU TOO OMG! I am back now, though! So yay back!

Also - I still don't really get pantyhose. I have an irrational hatred for them, and more than a little confusion with them, also. They're just so weird! It's like stuffing my legs into sausage casing, and -- well. *shudders delicately* No thank you. Gwar.

BUT HARRY STYLESestrella30 on January 19th, 2005 05:01 pm (UTC)
Ok. WHY are you answering this, yet your little horey name is not lit up on my messenger list? Hmm?

In other words - WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU???