Wilbur circa 2006

On Saturday I drove to my first pig roast at Joe’s (Jason’s bestfriend). It was intended only for family, but as Joe’s mother loves me more than she loves Joe, I was invited months ago.

Having never been to a pig roast before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But there it was, an immense blackened carcass slowly turning over a hot spit. I admired the grandeur of this pathetic creature, post-Wilbur and pre-dinner. It wasn’t until they took it off the spit and started pulling at its meat and innards that I thought perhaps the vegetarians were on to something. I stuck to pasta and dessert for the rest of the night.

As they had a pool and Saturday was quite a hot day, I spent most of the day in and out of the pool, teasing and playing with all of Joe’s little cousins. Like Jason, Joe lives outside of Cincinnati in a blue collar little town, but other than one rude lady and another man asking me if I was American, I was left to my own devices.

After dinner I slipped out to itch my shopping bug bite. I don’t shop frequently nor am I expensive ($25 for jeans is too much), but as a professional Creative, I am as colorful and tasteful in my appearance as I am in my writing. I also inherited my dad’s cheapness and my mom’s flair for bargains. Add on my pension for sticking it to the man, and you get consignment shops.

In one 2-hour dose, I bought 4 skirts, 1 runway-worthy dress, 4 pairs of shoes, and 2 DVD’s…for $100.

Damn, I am good.