Props to the Smelly Stuff

That lotion I used yesterday that smelled too flowery and overpowering? May smell bad, but gotta be honest here - it kept my hands pretty soft throughout the day. I only put it on that one time in the morning, and it lasted through half a dozen handwashings and past dinner time.

In case you were considering it.

Wellie ... No

About a year ago I noticed Wellies, and thought they looked like so much fun to have, that I wanted a pair. Or Two. Or Four. I kept looking around at stores that sold them, trying to figure out which ones to buy. Which ones would make me happiest, yet also go with the majority of my clothes.

Every time I was in a shoestore, I'd go look at their Wellies. Every time it rained, and my no-brand black boots that I've had since I was 17 kept my feet dry, I'd look down at them and think, "Who keeps shoes for a dozen years? These aren't even Docs or anything. It's time I upgrade."

Yet I just kept looking. And looking. And out on the street, when I'd see someone walk by in their Wellies, I'd eye them wistfully. I resisted the urge to stop them and ask. Where did you find those? Are you happy with your choice? Did you buy more than one pair to go with all different outfits?

Then I started paying attention to more than just the Wellies themselves. I noticed how rubbery they are. And how they looked with people's outfits. I realized something. They looked kind of awful. Basically, they only look good with either jeans that are rolled up a little bit (and even that is iffy), or with leggings. I suppose they look alright with skinny jeans tucked in, but how many people actually look good in skinny jeans? Right, like six. And two of them live in New York, three live in Europe, and the last is Ashley Olson.

The main reason I want Wellies is for going to and from work. My work clothes will NOT look right with Wellies. Not even with plain black ones. It's not like I muck stalls. Or go camping. Or fishing. Or spend time in commercials for Irish Spring. I don't even spend time tromping through the English countryside with my dogs on the weekends. In fact, I can only wear jeans on Fridays, and I don't own any leggings. I used to, but then I finished sixth grade.

For the last few weeks it's been raining almost every day. Maybe Mother Nature thought I missed living in Florida (I don't). Anyway, the Wellies are all around me (just like signs*). The other day I realized something. I'm not going to buy Wellies. Not just because I'm in debt up to my eyeballs, but because I'm perfectly content admiring them in stores and on other people's feet, without actually owning any myself.

Think of me next time it's raining, and put on your funky Wellies. If I had a car, I'd honk and wave, but I don't, so I'll just smile quietly instead. You know, as opposed to smiling loudly.

*First person to tell me what that's from wins a prize (not Wellies)!

Well That's a New One

My (jewish) boss is obviously very late in sending out his holiday cards and gifts today. But he's been out sick and busy with actual work so today is the day. Plus he's a partner so he can get away with shit like this.

He furiously kept shoving bottles of wine in boxes, and slapping post-its on them with names like "Ann Sullivan" and "Josh Cohen" and "Joe Murphy" as if I'd be able to look up those names in our contacts database and only get one hit.

Finally at the end of the day, having exhausted all my investigative abilities, I went to J-Boss to ask what company Joe Murphy works for, so I could narrow
down the hits and get the correct address. J-Boss didn't know. "Call Greta McGregory; she's dating him and will know."

Ummm ... really? You want me to call the woman he's banging? This felt so weird, so unprofessional. No. Not unprofessional. Just ... not a very business-like thing to do. And yet I called.

GY: Ms. McGregory?

McG: Yes?

GY: Hi, this is G, calling from J-Boss's office. I feel kind of funny doing this...

McG: **giggle** (somebody clearly cracked open a bottle of wine already)

GY: ... but J-Boss told me you would have an address for Joe Murphy?

McG: **giggle** Well, he'll be with me through the end of next week. Can I ask what it's for?

GY: Oh of course; it's just a holiday present.

McG: Sure, you can send it to my house.

And so I am. Sending a present to the house of the woman the guy is banging. Happy Holidays. Enjoy your wine.

Ugh, and wouldn't it have been awkward if we weren't sending Greta wine too?! Thank goodness we are.

Stuff We All Get - Operative Word Being ALL

There are some bloggers who get free shit. I am not one of them. Until now. If you've always wondered how to be one of those people who get swag, you are not alone. As far as I can tell, you don't really have to do anything special, and they'll just come to you. At least, that's how it seems to be working for me.

Back at the end of May, someone from MTV e-mailed me, asking if I was interested in mentioning some stuff in order to get some stuff. (I think she found me because I've written about The Hills, but I'm just guessing.) Does a fat kid like candy? Of course I was interested in free shit, and I wrote her back saying so. And then I never heard from her again.

Until last week, when she e-mailed me a second time to ask if I was still interested. Now I know you guys don't want to read this if I'm just randomly plugging stuff. What do you get out of it? The answer is, you can get free shit too, and that's why I'm happy to plug away. And so, here's me, fulfilling my end of the bargain:

You can now buy The Hills (Season Two) on DVD! The first hundred people to pre-order (that means ordering it before you order it) get a bag of free stuff (different free shit than I'll be getting). It's totally worth buying just to see Whitney fall down the stairs. Remember that? Good times, good times.