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May 10, 2001 - All That Glitters
Welcome to 2TheHeart's Funny Friday!
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I apologize for having to miss last week's Funny Friday. My younger sister passed away and Friday was her funeral, so I needed the time to prepare her eulogy.
A warm welcome to our new members and I hope your Funny Friday stories start your weekend off with a chuckle! Have a great weekend and remember to laugh all you can!
~Susan Fahncke, Editor
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"Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on or by imbeciles who really mean it."
- Mark Twain
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"All That Glitters"
by Deborah Dee Simmons
I should learn to watch where I'm going. After a harrowing session in the dressing room at J.C. Penney's last week, I was in no condition to defend myself. But I wasn't paying attention and got exactly what I deserved. That'll teach me.
It all started with the wedding of our youngest child, Dennae. She lives in Tennessee and with their busy schedules and conflicting vacation days, she and her fiancé, Richie, didn't have much of a choice in wedding dates. In fact, they decided only three weeks ago that July 1st was the big day. Fortunately, the bride and groom have taken care of virtually all of the wedding details (and have done a fine job, by the way), but that still left me with the most important job of all--buying a mother-of-the-bride dress.
For some reason, this didn't bother me--at first. I even mulled it over for a week. I had just one crack at this and I wanted to make the most of it. Anybody who's been in this position knows what I'm talking about. (Anyone who hasn't isn't going to care, but please read on anyway.) This wasn't just some ordinary dress I was looking for. No, this dress had to be stunning, yet understated. Elegant, but reasonably priced. Age-appropriate without being dowdy. It had to be comfortable enough to walk, sit, dance, and cry in, cool enough for a summer day in Tennessee and, of course, make me look almost as gorgeous as the bride. I'll admit that was a tall order for just one dress--but hey, I still had two weeks to find it. No sweat.
Thirteen days passed and still, no dress. I had exhausted all the stores I normally haunt and had returned to Penney's in the Woodland Mall for the third time in as many days. It was hot. I was sticky. I'd worked all day and was ready to drop. And after tearing off my clothes and pulling dresses over my head for a couple of hours, I looked a little worse for wear. But eventually my efforts paid off. Triumphantly, I started back toward the car with my new dress draped across my arm in Penney's version of the Hefty bag.
On a whim and feeling lucky, I decided to take a look at accessories on my way out of the store. That was my first mistake. I veered off course and wandered into the expensive jewelry department. By "expensive," I'm talking about any piece that doesn't come clipped to a little plastic card with an orange sticker on it. This jewelry was displayed under glass in a locked cabinet. The price tags were flipped upside down. This was the real thing and I was clearly in unfamiliar territory. Suddenly, an immaculately-groomed sales clerk jumped into my path.
"May I help you with something?" she asked politely, circling me like a well-dressed WWF wrestler.
"Uh," I stammered, looking around for an escape route. They were all sealed off. "I was looking for something to go with this dress," I stalled, thinking she might lose interest once she got a good look at me. That was my second mistake.
"Really," she said. "What kind of dress is it?" eying the five-dollar tee-shirt and scruffy jeans I was wearing. I started to squirm.
"Well," I said, "it's nicer than what I'm wearing now. Heh...heh...much nicer. And dressier. " Not sweaty, stretched out, faded or made of the fabric of our lives. She looked at me as if to say, "I should hope so."
The questions continued. "White or yellow gold? Sixteen or eighteen inches long? What color is your dress? Tell me about the occasion." And to what band of sweaty terrorists do you belong? Given my unkempt appearance, I don't know what gave her the idea I had two nickels to rub together that day, but I have to give her credit. She plowed ahead anyway, even though I looked like someone the security officers should be escorting off the premises. I knew then she was on a "commission mission."
"Here's a lovely little piece," she warbled, unlocking the cabinet and dragging out a half pound of gold. "Only $800!" She leaned toward me. "But I can let you have it for fifty percent off today."
In that case, I'll take two. "Oh really," I murmured. "Well, that's not really what I had in mind." Knock it down ninety-nine percent and we'll talk.
She appeared unperturbed. "Oh, here's a lovely choker," she chirped. She flipped the price tag over. "$1400." She was right about that choker part. "My, that might even be more than what the dress cost!" she added.
Lady, I thought, this is J.C. Penney's. There isn't a dress in the place that costs even a fraction of that. Besides, if I could afford to spend $1400 on one necklace to go with one dress for one occasion, I'd be ruling England--and I'd just borrow the crown jewels.
That's when I did the unforgivable. In my defense, I was desperate and had no choice. I knew I wasn't leaving that store without taking something home with me from that department, so I asked her for the only thing I could afford at the moment.
"I need to take a closer look at my jewelry at home," I lied.
I might just have another $1400 necklace laying around my jewelry vault that I've forgotten about.
"Perhaps you have a business card? I'll get back with you."
And just maybe I'll have a number one bestseller published next week, too. I'll be sure to let you know.
If you ask me... I should send that business card right back to her--anonymously, of course. I owe her that much.
Deb Simmons Copyright 2000
dsimmons@remc8.k12.mi.us
Deborah Simmons lives in Michigan with her husband, John, and misses their three children who have scattered to the ends of the earth. (Well, maybe not exactly the ends of the earth--more like Williamsburg, Virginia (soon to be Fairbanks, Alaska) and Clarksville,Tennessee. When she's not writing her newspaper column, she spends her time plotting ways to lure her kids back. Deb was Writer of the Month for 2TheHeart is a regular contributor to both Funny Friday and 2TheHeart dailies, as well as being a very gifted poet!
http://www.2theheart.com/writers_hall_of_fame/
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"Why do women care about how big their feet are? I never saw a guy at the beach going, 'Wow, look at that woman, she is really... oh, darn! The feet are too big.'" - Richard Jeni
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The Letter Box:
Re: "Walking Cool"
Oh, my goodness, Susan - you CRACK ME UP!!! Take heart (no pun intended) - in 13 years - when you catch up with me (grin) - your walk will be even MORE glamorous - don't ask me how - it just will...I promise! You'll even tumble more graciously...Hang in.
Cheers!
love, Vicki Wizard
bickus@hotmail.com
Susan,
What a hoot! Thanks for the giggles. I needed that! I can just see you sashaying around that store. So cool! Isn't it nice that our husbands love us just the way we are? Keep these funny stories coming.
Love,
Pat
Oh Susan, that was so hysterical. I was looking in the same kind of reflection of myself a few days ago and thinking to myself what a sad sack I looked like these days! I hate it! Damn.
Love, Shirley Platt
Dear Susan,
I had a good laugh at your reaction to your reflection. The same thing happened to me last year...although I am much older than I think you are. I don't know where the years have flown...6 children, 17 grandies and 3 greats later ......I just had to write a poem about it !
MY REFLECTION
While walking thru' the shopping mall -
No particular direction -
I notice someone keeping step
Blimey ! that is my reflection !
I don't believe I look like that !!
That window must be flawed !!
Gray hair and wrinkles... winter coat -
I stood and I Hee-Hawed !
I've surely never aged so fast -
Where have the years all flown ?
Where have my 18 inch wee waist ...
All my dark curls gone ?
My winkle-pickers are replaced
With "sensible" low heels ...
No pram to push...no hand to hold ...
Is this how old-age feels ?
No...not at all...for the REAL me
Is just as young as ever
In fact with life's experience...
I am now twice as clever !
Oops! ... that young shop assistant
Is glaring at me now ...
She thinks that I am laughing
At her ...and yet somehow...
I feel a pang of sadness
When I realise she'll see -
A weird old lady looking in
And that lady... is me !
Ella Render 17/6/00
render@ihug.co.nz
Dear Susan,
Your story is really cute! Yes, when is it precisely that we begin to change? I think you are a beautiful women, both inside and out! Keep up the wonderful work. God Bless You.
RoseMary Salzman
prsalz@vbe.com
Susan,
Like your husband, I think you're sexy too - just the way you are - without the new walk. But I have to admit that I'm working on mine too. I should tell you about tripping over myself as I exited a building last summer and a young man coming to my aid. Maybe later.
Thanks for Funny Friday by the way.
Bob Johnston Starfish@ripplemaker.com
(My "Site Brother") Bob - sorry if you didn't want this published! I loved it too much not to share it! :0)
Oh Susan, this is just tooo funny!
I can just picture you doing this... Never fear however, we've all (or at least most of us), have "been there..done that".
"Ah" , doth beauty walk in charm and grace...to only fall upon her face. To look from whence she once had come , to sorely learned' lesson upon her bum!
just for you,Sue....by: Linda Carlson
(You're still a ravishing beauty...unless all your pictures are of someone else, ha!)
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"I like to pick up hitchhikers. When they get in the car I say, 'Put on your seat belt. I want to try something. I saw it once in a cartoon, but I think I can do it.'" - Steven Wright
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"We have to leave now. You can sing to your jacket on the way." - Barney
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Submit your funny stories to: Editor@2theheart.com
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Feel free to pass this on to your friends!
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