I was headed up to Salt Lake yesterday for a friends party, but I wanted to stop by a couple places on the way, since I'm not often north of Point of the Mountain. Upon hearing about a new H&M opening in Murray, and how it's full of all sorts of "fashionable" and "cool" stuff, I decided to take a look.

Big. Mistake.

First off, I'm neither "fashionable" nor "cool," so why I thought I would enjoy this place is beyond me. In fact, after finding it, I drove past the front windows and thought, "Oh my gosh, I'm gonna get shanked if I walk in there." Not literally shanked, but shanked with the shoppers' and employees' glares of judgment at my JCPenney jeans and self-done hair cut. (Actually, I'm pretty sure most of them cut their own hair too, so, no worries on that one.)

I found a parking spot and hesitantly began my journey to H&M's store front. I was at the doors when I rethought it and kept walking. Into Crate & Barrel. Now, I love Crate & Barrel. Kinda like a higher-end IKEA, in my mind. I was wearing a cardigan, so no looks of disgust from the employees. Whew.

As I left, I decided it was worth just one walk-through of H&M. How bad could it be, really?


The first thing I say was a pair of those half-boot-type heels from the 90s. The ones with thick heels, that flatter no one, not even the 95-pound runway model and her knobby knees. I then passed racks of brightly-colored, poorly constructed T-shirts. Then a leather/plastic pleated mini-skirt. Then a dress. Or sack. I'm not sure what it was. I moved along to the accessories — I had no idea gold and leopard-print hair claws were back in style. Better pull mine out from 1995 and give it a whirl! I checked out the purses. Unfortunately, they appeared to have been purchased from the Goodwill in Idaho Falls. "Hello, 1993? Yeah, I found your mom's purse. The one with the matching checkbook style wallet and year-old saltines in the hidden inner pocket. Stop by any time and pick it up for a mere 5x the amount you paid for it originally."

I was literally, yes literally, laughing out loud. It was pretty crowded (I know, right?) so the haters didn't notice me when I walked in with my Target shirt and lack of gaudy jewelry, but when I started chuckling, the half-mullet guy and Miss-I-Just-Ate-Three-Pounds-of-Cheese-and-Hate-the-World shot me some dirty looks. That's when I glanced them up and down, cocked my head forward slightly, curled my lip up a bit and silently told them, "Really?"

Before I forget, there was a pair of pants in there I did like. Liked them for a patriotic homeless man. (I'm not sure how American flag, faded, ripped and bleach-spotted jeans ever got through a pitch meeting at any clothing manufacturer. Oooh, how the Chinese children must laugh at us during the 18-hour work days in windowless manufacturing plants. ... Sorry, insensitive?)

So, in conclusion, to all you people who think you're too good for Mervyn's (may it rest in peace), Target and JCPenney clothing, I say to you ... No, you know what, I think I've said enough.

Long live Hobo Chic fashion.



You know the guys that work at Disneyland? I'm talking about the actual guys, the men, the ones in lederhosen, or space suits, or cowboy outfits (yeehaw!), or the very flattering pirate tights. The ones that, when they smile and ask you "how many?", you suddenly only want to date a man in a jacket that rivals Michael Jackson's. When he asks you to pull up on the lap bar, you can't imagine yourself with any one not wearing a khaki vest and striped shirt tucked into ill-fitted slacks, complete with orthopedic shoes.

I suppose they are so attractive because every time I go to Disneyland, I'm either with my parents or sister — no boyfriend, no husband, yet surrounded by couples (and too many of them wearing those horrible bride and groom Mickey ears hats. Dah, no) so these male peers in Indiana Jones hats provide the opportunity to gawk. And a daily dose of gawking is quite healthy.

(Funny. Just about anywhere outside the one-square mile that is the Happiest Place on Earth, they would blend in with the rest of mediocrity. Whaaaaa?)

Another thought: they are untouchable. You can't stop and talk to them, and even if you could, they live in California and I, well, don't, so what's the point?

So, men of Disneyland, keep on wearing those straw hats and overalls, because you look good to me. Mighty good.

P.S. Me and Cath went to Disneyland last week. It was grand.

Big Thunder Mountain

Beignets in New Orleans Square

Catherine and her chocolate mousse courtesy of the Blue Bayou restaurant (in Pirates of the Caribbean) for her "23 Birthday." (It wasn't, technically, her birthday, but they asked what we were celebrating, so I told them we were celebrating her birthday [true] so she felt the need to say it was her 23rd, since she had already celebrated her 22nd two weeks earlier.)

Mater and me in California Adventure.

Catherine and Bert (Mary Poppins).

(Oh, P.P.S. This Bert guy was legitimately good looking. Even without the jacket, bow tie, hat and cane. Oh, and white shoes. Daaaang, his outfit is fly.)