Man Scents...

If you can believe it, I actually went past a week without posting a single blog entry. Oh, the horrors! And the subsequent withdrawal... Well, not that bad, actually. Really, I had a lot of good thoughts and ideas I wanted to share with you, but unfortunately, time was simply not on my side. Throughout last week, I slept only about four hours each night. I was kept busy with rebuilding my home computer, “researching” on a Mac with my new Mac Mini, playing lots of basketball games till the cows came home, and working late. It all added up to coming home near midnight, and hitting the sack around 02:00 after the dinner and shower were said and done.

Last week was definitely not a way to lead a life. But I’m looking forward to this week. Kind of. I don’t foresee much in the way of working late every night, or playing basketball every time I have the chance, or a game of pick up football here or there. In fact, because it is Memorial Day weekend, the basketball league I’m in does not have any scheduled games this coming Saturday. Yay!

So anyway, my hectic life zoomed by pretty quickly with lack of sleep every night for ten straight days, all ending with yesterday’s 10K run. I don’t know what overcame me in signing up for this 10K race, but one can venture to say that I did it because of the implied promise of food at the end, considering it was staged by the National Restaurant Association’s convention in Chicago. Funny though, as there was no food to be had at the end. Effers! And funnier still, was my friend who just started running this year. Rosa claims to be a slow runner, enjoying a leisurely eleven minute mile whenever she runs, yet she was leading me the entire race. I could barely keep up with her, much like a fat dog on a leash being dragged by his swift master. [That mental picture was not meant to show I’m subservient to my friend; on the contrary, I was just... Never mind.] How pathetic, considering my average pace for most races is ten minute mile or faster.

My excuse, of course, was the near thirty pounds I added on since the end of running season last year. Well, more like fifteen pounds from Thanksgiving and winter, and another fifteen pounds for eating out like a starved kid whenever I traveled. Anyway, at the end of the race, I made the comment that despite my friends telling me I look fine and “still skinny,” I actually could feel the weight dragging me down during the race. Funnier yet, was the fact that we all decided to go to Duffy’s for a brunch buffet. That’s as pathetic as a girl proclaiming in despair, “I’ve had enough of hooking up with random guys at the bars every weekend!” followed by saying a sweet hello to the hot guy [like me, for example] walking by so she could hook up that very moment.

After a made-to-order omelet, strawberry-filled crepe, eggs Florentine, scalloped potatoes, cheese and broccoli, a couple slices of roast beef, a bagel with lox and capers, scrambled eggs, a dozen giant cocktail shrimps, skirt steak with spicy sauce, snow crab legs, and five mimosas, we decided to skate. On the way to the corner to hail a taxi cab, I saw a scraggy looking guy holding up a sign facing away from me. I thought it was some bum warning us of an impending doom, until he swiveled it around. Holy mackerel! Tweeter® on Clark St is closing down! 20 to 60% off; everything must go! I thought to myself, I gotta go there! Once I got home and showered and all.

Realizing my other friend who has been needing a combination DVD and VCR player for months since last year when her individual entertainment machineries died, I gave Erin a call to see if she’d be interested in tagging along. Besides, I have not seen her in ages after she got her new job and began training in earnest months ago.

After getting lost in trying to find this “shopping centre,” it turned out to be a tiny and intimate neighborhood shopping bazaar. We went up to the third floor where Tweeter was located, and was promptly disappointed by the remaining stock that was for sale. It was an utter waste of time, it seemed. So what’s a boy and a girl to do in situations like this? Okay, we didn’t go into the little theatre on the fourth floor to escape the downpour and make out. After all, we’re friends, and it would be weird. Instead, we walked into Bath and Body Works® on the first floor. Erin needed hand soaps, and so did I. What a pleasant idea, it seemed!

Of course, it quickly became apparent that as the only male in the store, my presence was making a few other female patrons uncomfortable. And I lavished at the situation I have created for the other shoppers, much like a little boy enjoying the first time ever he took a goldfish out of the water just to see what would happen. When we finally found the hand soap section, I was overjoyed to see they were on sale, three for $10! That’s a good deal, my friend, as each was regularly $4.50. We proceeded to open each bottle for every scent: Erin at the foaming types, and I at the regular moisturizing types. Hey, I have delicate skin, okay? Some I liked, some I didn’t. The conversation went something like this, as we poured over every scent for nearly fifteen minutes:

John: Well, this smells good.
Erin: What was that?
John: Tropical Passionfruit™.
Erin: You know what my friend really likes?
John: What does she like?
Erin: [She mentioned something that didn’t register in my mind as I went on to take in the aroma, I mean stench, of Cotton Blossom™.]
John: Yuck!
Erin: Okay...

I turned around, and I could see that she already had two bottles in her hand. And I was still searching. Damn, I’m slow! Shortly afterwards, she came over with three bottles in her arms, while I searched through the three hundred scented soaps they had on display.

Erin: Check this out! They even have scented Purell®!
John: What? They have scented hand sanitizers? I gotta get some of that!
Erin: [As she rubbed some in her palms...] Dang! That smelled strong!
John: Uh-huh... [I was still busy with finding my own damn soaps!] You know what? It’d be great if I remembered which scented soap the girl I used to date before I moved here always had at her house. I loved her smell so much!
Erin: ...
John: [As I unscrewed the Coconut Lime Verbena™…] Dang! This is such a girly girl smell! No way for me!
Erin: They are so good, you’d think that they would have scents for men!
John: What could possibly be considered man scents? Can you imagine: armpit scent, athlete’s foot scent, and jock strap scent?
Erin: Eww!

Then we busted out laughing in our own little corner of the store, tears in my eyes, trying hard as can be to prevent drawing attention to ourselves. Even though they didn’t have any man scents, I finally decided to get Country Apple™, Cucumber Melon™ and Warm Vanilla Sugar™ scented hand soaps. Of course, being the germaphobe that I am, I couldn’t resist grabbing a Mango Mandarin™ scented hand sanitizer before heading towards the checkout counter.

Wait! That Was Counterintuitive!

I guess for those of you who are serious shoppers here in Chicago, I can only venture to say that you probably hit Lord & Taylor's on the Magnificent Mile within days of the store closing sale inauguration weeks ago. I, on the other hand, unlike you, dilly dallied till yesterday. I knew it was closing and that good deals could be had, yet I didn't act on it.

Until yesterday, when I felt a sudden itch to go shop. Considering that it was Sunday yesterday, and it was already 13:45 when I was finally ready to leave the house, I decided to take my car and park downtown for several reasons: 1) The store might close early on a Sunday, so I better maximize time allowing me to try on clothes without being rushed; and 2) I didn't want to have to carry so many bags home on the bus or the subway. So off I went.

Like a kid who just had his lollipop snatched away from his hand by a bully in second grade, I was jaw-dropped and shocked with disappointment to see barely anything to shop for. Of the two and half floors of merchandise left, only a tiny island on the second floor was dedicated for men. It carried all of a thousand XL or XXL sized leather jackets that happened to be the same style and color, a gazillion ties, and a handful of Norbit-sized slacks some employees must've found lost in the corner of the store since the late 80's. Either that, or at one point in time Lord and Taylor must have thought that these repulsive pants were going to make a huge comeback onto the 21st century fashion trend for men.

I said to myself in great disappointment, "I parked my car here at Water Tower garage underneath Lord & Taylor's for this?!?" So to make full use of the $25 I was already paying for parking, I decided to go shop come heaven or hell. I promptly went to the store formerly known as Marshall Field's on a mission. In all reality, I had no idea what I was going to buy. All I wanted was to score some good deals. You can say that that was the cheap ass character in me coming out, as I'm happy as all can be whenever I buy something that would normally cost $100 for a mere fraction of that, despite the fact to this day I have absolute no use for the 60% discounted automatic kitty litter box. The pure joy of getting a huge discount like 60% far outweighed the slightly important facts such as A) I'm allergic to cats, and B) I don't even own a damn cat!

So at the store formerly known as Marshall Field's, I finally found something worthwhile: Some kick ass Calvin Kein jeans with $20 off. Score! Next? I bought a nice black belt for 50% off. In that instance, I felt like I had finally scratched the itch that had been neglected for hours! Never mind the fact that my closet already held perhaps three other belts of similar style! But sensing that wasn't simply enough, I dropped the things off at my car and ventured out in the cold onto Michigan Avenue. To my relief, H&M was right across Water Tower, so there I went.

As usual, H&M had every fitting room accompanied by a velvet rope lined with hundreds of people as if Justin Timberlake was waiting in one of the rooms to sign your autograph. I didn't find any piece of fashion article noteworthy, so I decided to go to the Men's Accessories section. Seeing how oversized sunglasses are in style now, I contemplated on purchasing one of those ugly giant shades to bring me into the 21st century. For some reason, I have always thought that people, especially girls who don't smile, only wear these giant sunglasses popularized by Chanel as a means to hide their totally drunk and coke'd out face after a night of orgy at some fraternity/sorority annual function.

Nevertheless, I tried one on. It looked like I was the ugly Asian version of Tom Cruise in that Air Force pilot movie from the 90's. I quickly returned it to the rack, where I found another interesting pair. I slipped it on slowly in front of a mirror, and my goodness! I looked good in this pair! So long as I gently pouted and suppressed a smile. I imagined myself with a somewhat tossed or spiked up hair and collars turned up; yes, I could become totally cool like Fonz! Except I would look like I just partied too hardy the night before and just realized that I had slept with a repulsive girl that even hopeless boys keep away with a 10 foot pole. I like this look. So off to the registers I went. You know I must've really loved it when I still decided to buy that exact pair in my hand after feeling all that facial bacon grease left behind by hundreds of previous potential Fonzies who had tried it on. I reasoned with myself that I did have a medicine cabinet filled to the brim with alcohol wipes and hand sanitizers.

Feeling extraordinarily happy with my seven dollar pair of designer look-alike shades, I walked down to a past favorite store where I used to get everything fashion from: Express. Somehow, I managed to deceive myself that it was merely a couple blocks away from Victoria's Secret. I was starting to get cold and irritated when just as I was about to turn around, there it was, underneath the Omni Hotel right in front of me. So in I went, with the intention of just browsing around to preview what the new Spring fashion has in store for those gorgeous college frat boys I often despise with envy.

Somehow, I ended up trying on countless pairs of jeans and shirts. I may have frustrated the people who worked by the fitting rooms with my constant barrage of relentless requests like, "Do you mind getting me this exact same thing in a size smaller and a size larger than this, because I can't tell if this exact size is making my butt look droopy like I just shat in my undies." After testing the fine Express folks' patience, I emerged from the store with a pair of jeans and a track jacket, sans the cheap sunglasses I had bought from H&M. I was simply unhappy while walking back to Express in the cold just so I could retrieve what amounts to a disposable pair of sunglasses. Good thing nobody had stolen it from the fitting room I had monopolized for almost an hour.

When I finally returned to my car, I learned that I somehow managed to kill over five hours of my afternoon on shopping. I was pleased with my purchases, all of which were not in any of my shopping lists in the first place. As I circled up from the underground parking garage and neared the pay station, something of revelation proportions dawned on me:

Did I just spend hundreds of dollars just to justify this $25 parking fee?!? Idiot!!!

He's Just Not That Into...

I came back to the hotel after work and rested for a little. I lied in bed and watched the news. I wasn't necessarily hungry, but I was a bit lazy. I had the case of the indecisiveness. Then I dozed off. Until the news reported of the Garuda Indonesia Airlines crash came on. Funny how certain words will rouse you from a semi-asleep state when mentioned. Much like the word "boobies." =)

Anyway, I woke up and watched the rest of the news. I made a couple phone calls, and finally decided to put my shoes on and go out. I will have dinner tonight, I thought. My coworker had told me about how the main Beverly Hills area is a walking distance from the hotel, so I decided to go up there. "You look like the kind of person who will like that area," he said to me.

Since I didn't look up the distance on the map, I thought "walking distance" was a mere five minute walk at most. But five minutes later, and judging from the cross streets in my mind, I knew that it was not mere walking distance. At that point, I saw a Subway sandwich shop, and thought about getting dinner there and turning around. But I didn't.

I thought back to my younger days when I first started traveling. I remembered how I couldn't wait to get off work so I could walk long distances to explore the city. I walked almost two miles in the bitter cold when I was in Montreal just so I could see areas of interest that were not close to the hotel. And while in Seattle, I preferred the Homewood Suites hotel by the water edge over the ones in the heart of downtown, thus my frequent two mile walk to downtown to meet with Laura for dinner. Weather none withstanding, I've never lost the will to explore a city.

Except for today. Instead of being excited after work and walking over to Beverly Hills immediately, I dilly dallied for a few hours. And I lost motivation pretty quickly when I saw the Subway a few blocks into the walk. And when I finally got to the heart of Beverly Hills, I was so disappointed. I could only handle walking by expensive boutique stores carrying purses that cost more than my Land Rover so much, you know? But my own disappointment aside, I realized that I'm just not that into exploration like I used to.