Not So Blonde

Latte Lotion

There are some times when I can be quite cheap. For instance, as much as I love that R got us a semi-swanky hotel for my stay in San Diego this weekend (see counter below in case you forgot), I would be just as happy at Motel 6.

Well, probably not JUST as happy but I wouldn’t have minded. Three nights in a hotel equaling what I nearly pay in rent for a month makes me cringe. The thought of all the things that money could be better spent on… oy. OY, I say!

I would be more apologetic over my frugal side but, the fact is, I’m a single mother and I try to make my (and in turn, R’s, which in another turn could be mine *wink*) dollars stretch.

That’s not to say that I won’t blow money on stupid things at any given time but best believe I’ll be thinking of those same stupid things when it comes time to pay bills. The Latte Factor is live and in full effect up in this piece.

Only, I think the Latte Factor is based on thinking of that money before you spend, not after. Hey, I’m working on it.

Old Navy is right by my apartment and this is, at both times, a gift and a curse. A gift since when I’m feeling “blah”, I can stop by after work and pick up something cheap to wear the next day. A curse since when I’m feeling “blah”, I can stop by after work and pick up something cheap to wear the next day.

I don’t usually try things on unless it’s really questionable whether I like it or not. It’s too hot in Phoenix for all that bs! By the time I peel off whatever it is I happen to be wearing at the time, I don’t even want the try-ons anymore.

Mostly I find myself grabbing, buying and trying things on in the comfort of my own air-conditioned home. ON by the crib has fans, industrial FANS. What the hell does a FAN do? Besides blow hot air around so you can walk full-on into the gust and say, “Damn. It’s hot.”

I do take things back when they don’t fit and/or I don’t like them. I’m not frivolous. Latte factor, people! We be learnin’ it!

Yes, I know. I should take the time to try things on in-store seeing how lately we all have to weigh how much an item costs against how much gas we’re going to waste getting there to return it. I obviously don’t have that problem with ON, it being practically my next door neighbor and all. “Hey, ON? Can I borrow a cup of sugar? I’m baking brownies.”

About a week ago, I bought these lotions:

I took a whiff of the Ruby Guava while standing in line and it smelled delicious. So delicious that the very first day it took up residence on my desk at work, (one of) my pregnant co-worker(s) tried it on no less than 3 times and fell in love with it.

I ended up letting Allie have the lotion. I figured any scent that doesn’t make a pregnant woman want to hurl is meant to be hers. And, she helped me with my billing. Anyone that knows how much I truly stress out during billing knows it’s but a small price to pay.

The purchase of the “Sparkling Green Tea” un-whiffed can be attributed to the fact that I thought the bottle was pretty and the cashier let on the purchase of two was only .50 cents more. Fifty cents can’t buy a latte, can it? I hurriedly grabbed it thinking, “I like Green Tea!”

Sniffing later I discovered as much as I like drinking green tea, I don’t necessarily want to smell like it.

I meant to take the Green Tea back on a later trip to ON picking up school clothes for the teen but I stupidly forgot it. Instead, I picked up two more bottles of Ruby Guava. One for me, and another for Allie. It’s not like the girl can get out and shop, being she’s about to drop the baby at any moment (does it seem like full term pregnant women are going to be pregnant forever, or is it just me? The poor dear).

The more I kept the Green Tea around, the more it irritated me because I knew I wasn’t going to ever wear it. And, I couldn’t find anyone to pawn it off on. I did bring the bottle to work to see if Allie would like it, too, but she took one whiff and handed it back noting, “Yuck. It smells like trees.”

That shit was going back. Granted, it was worth a mere $4.00 at that point but I did have a sweater-type tank I also tried to love, but couldn’t.

No matter what tank I wore underneath, or how much I tried to smooth it down - the tank gave me underarm cleavage and underarm cleavage is not the sexy, 8.99 or no.

Upon the return of these items, I caught much attitude from the male cashier. He picked up the bottle of Green Tea lotion with two fingers like I just got done using the lubricant on a one-way trip on the Happy Town Express. He disdainfully looks the bottle up and down and snottily asked, “What’s wrong with this?”

I was irritated that he’d even ask considering how much money I drop in the joint, while not even bothering to inquire what the issue was with the underarm cleavage baring tank.

I thought for a moment I could be embarrassed, or apologize, or say I was allergic, or sheepishly reply that it made my hoo-hoo sting at the first application. But then I thought, why am I supposed to make it easier for this cashier to give me my own money back? And attempt to humiliate me in the process?

My bitch streak kicked in and I snottily replied, “It stinks and that… (motioning to the forgotten about tank) doesn’t fit.” *sweet smile*

Cashier doesn’t say another word while processing my return other than to say, “Please swipe your card.” I go to grab my receipt when I happen to notice the name tag. “Having fun since 2004.” Indeed.