Before I say anything else, I would like to thank Melissa from Part of Everything for awarding me my first blog award ever. She was kind enough to think of me back when I wasn't writing much, so this is a delayed expression of gratitude. You make my day too, Melissa. I'm not sure what the protocol is for passing this along, but I don't think I can do it right now. I just came back from seeing, "I'm Not There", and I feel way too tired and confused to get organized enough to things properly. I'm not sure if I'm just stupid, or if the movie was stupid, but I do know that I know less about Bob Dylan now than I did before I saw the film. It was pretty whack. Hubbby was equally confused by the end of it, so the only thing left to do was head over to Dairy Queen for a Scor Bar Blizzard. It helped to ease the pain.
I had a pretty interesting trip to the mall yesterday. A guy selling make-up at one of those temporary booths located in the middle of the mall hallway jumped out at me and said, "You Italian?"
"What are you then?"
I should have just darted, but I stood there, listing off my eastern European countries of origin, which clearly weren't satisfying this guy. Then I added, "...and I'm Jewish", which gave him the "exotic" background that he was looking for. I always wondered why people listed Jewish as their background, as I generally regarded it as a religion, but I now realize that it is in fact a culture, with a sometimes-stereotypical look that I may or may not have. Either way, he was pleased with that and dragged me over to a chair to sell me on some make-up. I found him to be slimy, but I generally try to be polite, so I heard him out. After he finished his demo, he hit me with the pricing, which didn't interest me as I wasn't buying anything. Then he tried to sweeten the deal, but I still wasn't buying. Then he said, "You're a Jew, right? I'll give you my best deal then." Did he really say that? How can a guy say something like that when he's trying to sell something??? I really don't consider myself to be overly sensitive to such matters, and I really don't think that I have a chip on my shoulder, but that was out of line, right? Not being one for confrontation, I politely dismissed his offer and walked off, shaking my head.
So then I went to get my watch repaired, and the guy doing the repair said to me, "Are you Italian? Spanish? Portuguese?" I started to wonder if I was being Punked. Nope. Ashton Kutcher was nowhere to be seen. I must exude something that prompts guys to question my origin as a conversation starter. Then he basically started hitting on me with a thick layer of flattery that I honestly didn't mind. I figured I'd point out my almost six month pregnant belly, which fazed him a bit, but then he got over it and asked if I was married. It must be the prenatal glow. Nothing boosts a pregnant woman's self-esteem more than being hit on by random strangers.