Society Columns and Skinny Jeans

So dawns upon us another hump day here in Nashville, TN and while the weather may be changing, I can assure you that I’m just as angry and bitter as ever (isn’t it nice to have a constant in this world of turmoil?)  And so here’s yet another list of things that I hate, things that I sort of like, and at least one subject on which I’m just completely icked out. 

1.  Let’s talk about society columns for a minute.  I realize in an age of dwindling newspaper numbers, these aren’t quite as prevalent, but really.  Who gets a copy of their local paper to go to page 4 of the Living section, only to be met with a grainy photo of some half-drunk socialite at a random ball that’s thrown to raise money for some charity, some politician, or some politician’s charity?  The half-drunk socialite and her other semi-sober friends, that’s who.  You know the philosophy that people only like pictures of themselves, celebrities, or cute animals?  (If not, it’s because I just fabricated that little bit of knowledge.  But come on – you nodded your head.)  It’s true.  And you, Mrs. Annabelle Snubface, are none of those and therefore the only time I will get enjoyment about of the society pages is when a picture is featured showcasing the attendees’ lack of proper undergarments or making out with the kitchen staff. 
An addendum to this:  overly-detailed wedding announcements.  When we got married, we got the flyer from the paper telling us all the different avenues one may take to shout to the greater Metro area, “WE GOT F’ING MARRIED, Y’ALL!”  Announcing you got married?  Totally fine.  Taking out an full-page, color ad in the Sunday paper to detail the crappy bridesmaid dresses you forced your friends into and the “sweetheart neckline on the bride’s custom-made dress” is stupid.  No one cares that you gave your guests purple bells as a wedding favor (Note:  this is NOT fabricated.  This came from a real wedding announcement I read years ago…and have made fun of ever since.)  If you’re gonna go into details, let’s talk about the half-drunk socialite making out with the bartender and the fact that one of the groomsmen lost his shoe in the Cheekwood koi pond.  That I would read.

2.  Now, let’s examine skinny jeans.  For the majority of my life, I’ve always thought skinny jeans referred to that one pair of jeans you could only wear after two weeks of eating nothing but broccoli and vodka sodas.  But now that trend has expanded so to include jeggings, and the very worst?  Skinny jeans for dudes.  I can handle a girl rocking the SJ’s, especially with the advent of boot season upon us, but dudes in skinny jeans look like a set of uncomfortably bundled genitalia balanced precariously upon the legs of an anemic chicken.  And you know what’s sexy about that last sentence?  Absolutely nothing.   

3.  Speaking of hipsters, can y’all just let off the Mason jar craze?  I know they’re awesome – I’ve been using them for the past 30 years because that’s what you do when your kitchen is full of tomatoes and has been set up as a home canning station for the entire summer.  I’m also aware they’re great drink receptacles due to the lovely ribbing along with rim (helps you not drop your beverage when you’re a bit tipsy…or making out with that bartender.)   However, pretty soon everyone’s going to figure out just how freakin’ awesome these things are and this craze, as they tend to do, will inflate the price of the craze’s object du jour and make them scarce in the marketplace.  Now, my Mason jars come from my family’s home canning station and when I receive them they’re filled with a variety of relish, sauerkraut, or pickles that are so good they will make you want to bitch slap the Queen of England.  If the Mason jar supplies dry up, I’m afraid my home-canned food supply will be cut off, and I, for one, would really like to give Queen Elizabeth the what’s up every once in a while. 

So I lied and I’m not writing about anything that makes me happy in this edition of “Stuff You’re Probably Not Reading” because I’ve rambled on long enough and I really want to get to the part of the prose where I talk about something that just gives me the icks:  hugging.
Here’s the deal – I don’t mind hugging people that are supposed to be hugged.  This group includes family members and close friends you haven’t seen in ages.  And that’s about it.  It’s not that I’m anti-social, I just don’t like touching people.  I’ve never been a touchy person and when Patrick Swayze announced in Dirty Dancing, “This is my dance space.  This is your dance space.  I don’t go into yours, you don’t go into mine” I thought I was in love.  Finally, someone with the same personal space issues!!  Now, I’m not saying that people who are “huggers” annoy me.  They only annoy me if they know I’m not a hugger and still persist with trying to get that elusive hug.  That’s just an idiotic mistake, and one that very well may end with you stapled to the Community Events bulletin board at the local Mapco.

Stay tuned for the next edition of rage and hatred to build on the hugging portion of this one – people who stand too close to me in stores.  Casual acquaintances attempting to touch me?  I can handle that.  Total strangers trying to grope their way over me to get to the cereal aisle?  Absolutely not gonna happen, my friend.  Get your Honey Nuts off my Cheerios, eh?