Breadstick Boycott

Don't worry, this look was temporary

Somewhere a marketing or sales team at Victoria's Secret is calling me a sucker. They get me every time with these emails and direct mail coupon cards. Come "Black Friday" I am usually the one giving people a hard time about shopping for things simply because they are on sale - seriously I even put these people into levels, click here to read my thoughts on that mess - but for some reason Vicky's gets me every time. This summer, 3 bathing suits and plenty of extras later, I found myself venturing to the mall again with a "free panty card" (yes gentlemen, they send us free delicate's), $10 off cards, etc, etc. Like I said they know what they're doing. Anyway, I did some shopping and browsing among other stores, and then quickly realized it was nearing dinner time. I went to the food court. I chose to eat a meal from Sbarro's. Some kids never learn. In this case, that kid was me. It wasn't till after my next story that I remembered my experience from this past September. If you missed out - by all means, catch up quickly and read my tale of the breadstick.

http://hennesseyhits.blogspot.com/2012/09/dont-eat-food-shaped-like.html

I ordered the same meal. A slice of cheese pizza, a breadstick, and a medium Pepsi. For your reference - I'm a Coke girl, but that wasn't my option. Anyway I sat down again, alone, and enjoyed my dinner with my pink shopping back of treats in front of me. Like anyone eating by yourself in the mall food court you resort to looking at your phone while you grub...so you aren't awkward? Is that why? I guess I forgot I was already alone....in a mall food court. Again. Damn you Chic-Fil-A for being closed on Sunday's. 

I noticed a guy sit down to eat in front of me. A black gentlemen in his mid 20's who chose to get a plate of Asian cuisine. He wasn't there long before he boxed up his food and what I thought was about to walk past me. Instead, he somehow/somewhat lost control of the bag of food and began to pretend to spill it on to my table. Luckily the juices from his Asian dining experience remained in the flimsy white grocery bag. He apologized profusely. "Not a problem", I reassured him and back to my phone my focus went. Suddenly disregarding the food incident completely, he asked if I could give him my number and if he could take me out sometime. This kid doesn't waste any time. With my cell phone in hand, I went with - "Aww thanks maybe if we run into each other again". He followed with "Well, I'm really shy and you're beautiful". I again denied his bold, not shy, kind offer and he said "Ahhh man I gotch you, I got that time. Stay beautiful" and went on his way. First of all, the above grease ball of a picture was what this kid was looking at. Truly I'm flattered. Even I'll admit I was looking far from 'public ready'. Possibly ready for more of a Sunday Wal-Mart trip. Then I had a thought. Maybe that's what all the mall walkers are up to these days. You see these ladies where tennis shoes and walk the mall for exercise. Is that their version of a "Frat Lap"? I did look I came from the gym. Get it ladies.

With that I cannot stress enough that I will not be eating Sbarro's alone in the future. Specifically the breadsticks. Auntie Anne's is just going to have to be my new BFF mall snack. Or better yet, I just need to stay away from the mall.  VS - stop sending me coupons. Like free samples at Sams Club or Costco, if they are in front of me, I will continue to consume them. #FoodCourtProblems

Blurred Lines

A little rain never hurt anyone. Or in this case put a damper on the Black Keys and Flaming Lips concert. With a forecast of never ending thunderstorms I wasn't too sure how it would all pan out. The rain stopped just in time for our 2 party buses, seating 46, to travel to Simpsonville, SC for the outdoor show. Regardless of the occasional mud pit and intense line to enter the place, it was a success. I don't believe we lost anyone - and its been a day or two so you'd think I'd hear by now, and as far as I'm aware the buses were left in great condition, too. Overall a big win. Not so much for my rainbow flip flops. Those might be chalked up for a loss. Come Saturday I was ready to do it all over again. That is after staying in bed until Noon and following it up with a brief nap at 2p. The 3rd Annual Swanson Summer Fest party was upon us and I wasn't going to let anything get in the way. All you can eat and drink for $25 that goes to a good cause. This year the money raised goes towards supporting Greenville's Cancer Survivor Park and Brianna Webster, a local teenager who has been battling pancreatic cancer and injuries sustained in a recent car accident in which she also lost her father. A terribly sad and touching story. The turnout to the party was phenomenal and it's great to know that we possibly made Brianna's road a little easier. I applaud David and the rest of the guys who helped throw this years shindig. As well as the few they throw each year. Not only are they fun and well put together, but they manage to help someone in the community. It's always legit - Mustache March, and Swanson Festival of Lights. I could go on and on about Saturday and how great it was, but I thought a visual may be better than my words. Cheers!

Dammit Frank, Keep It Together

I went to Charleston, SC for the 4th of July. Well, rather Wednesday the 3rd, Thursday the 4th, Friday the 5th, and what should have been the night of the 6th. Homegirl here didn't make it to any activities on Saturday. I made the adult decision for my health, wallet, and probably overall dignity to scoot out of town and head back home early. I consider myself one of the lucky ones to have wonderful friends who offer places to stay, share cab rides home, and give support like this gentlemen to dear Frank. I say that because I went out with a bang on Friday. I was feeling good. And I thought I was looking good, whether I was or not - thanks to a few kind words from those around me. Sir bartender on the rooftop at Stars had quite the heavy hand and a handlebar mustache to make any grown man jealous. Throw in my favorite holiday and you've got yourself the perfect storm. Waking up to the beautiful face of my friend Charles in a house I was unfamiliar with was more than comforting, but rather confusing. Once I heard the voices of a few others I recognized, I knew - like Frank - I was good to go. But by go, I also mean it was time to go. Till next time Charleston. You were good to me, and I certainly was good to you. 

Once back in the motherland of Greenville, beating the majority of all holiday traffic, I did what any respectable 26 year old nursing a 3 day hangover would do - nothing. It was glorious. Movies on movies. Sunday, a little different. I got up and went golfing. Back to the driving range I went. This time alone. Call it luck, call it improvement, or please - natural talent, but damn if I didn't hit that ball straight and to the 157 yard marker. Trust me I texted a source immediately. Followed with "Is that good?", because of course I had no idea. I was just thrilled to get the ball in the air. Luckily no one was around so I had the chance to be a total tool and video myself for evidence.

Continuing on my path of athleticism, for this week at least, I went on the first of many runs with my marathoner-triathlete of a friend, Melissa. Like a gazelle that one. Never stops running. Impressive. I was fearful but 29 minutes and 3.2 miles later we returned home sweating like we stole something. Again, to hell with being modest. I haven't ran that far in a while. I'll give myself the ol' pat on the back. Especially because of this story. It's one of my favorites to tell. When I first moved to Greenville I dated this guy who was hilarious. We were always laughing and calling each other out on things. One day, when we were eating, because that is what we did best, we somehow brought up high school and I said I could just get up and run. What I was referring to were the glory days of lacrosse try outs and soccer practice - probably 25 lbs lighter and flat chested. Seriously. So he, knowing that, said 'how far do you think you can go?'. I said, 'I mean I could probably run like 3 miles'. He burst into laughter. He knew I was in terrible shape and I was. I had no idea what I was talking about or how far 3 miles was anymore. So he challenged me. He said 'Ok you think you can just get up and run 3 miles?' - 'Of course I can' - 'Ok great tomorrow we will go up to the Mauldin High School track'. My excuses started to flood out of me. Without fail the next day we went to the track. He took a book to read, had a stop watch for fun, and provided me music and headphones. If I were to succeed with my 12 laps, dinner anywhere in Greenville on him. If I failed, I paid and it was his choice. And with that I was off....4 laps around and I ran right past him and straight to the car. He yelled, 'Wait, where are you going!?!'. Both laughing hysterically, it was an epic fail, and I treated him to Subway. A nice healthy alternative. He owned a bulldog and he told me he knew I wasn't going to make it by my first lap. I asked why. He said I took off like a bat out of hell, then by the third lap I sounded like his dog coming down the home stretch. If only you could hear the impression. I was dying. Like the fat kid with asthma on the movie Little Giants. A few months later that flamed fizzled, but the motivational fire was lit. I killed my first 5K and continued to do more. It's amazing what humiliation can get you to do. Thanks Matt. 

Now on to train for something bigger. Some others are on board which to me means road trip! If I plan to run for the reason of running, I want something exciting at the end. Suggestions welcomed!

The Year of the Gaucho Pant

During the fall of 2005 there was a terrible pant invasion, and I admit I was part of it. They were everywhere. A thin yoga-bell-bottom-capri pant, if you will. They were known as the gaucho. Any decent sorority member had a pair in black to match her trendy letter t-shirt she was so proud to wear, and the real sorostitutes had them in several colors. It was the classy sweatpant. Roll out of bed, or match with your pearls, either way the dining hall and library were ready for your sweet cheeks to come strutting in. Add a pair of Rainbows on your feet and croakies hanging around the neck and the frat daddy's heads were turning. Or were they? I recently took a look back at albums on Facebook. Like Buzz's girlfriend - - Woof. Delete. Delete. And then I clicked delete, again. The year of the gaucho was terrible. Sophomore year to be exact. Killer in the terms of raging, but Dear God Lacey what were you thinking in terms of my wardrobe. For the Clemson fans - Explorers, the Ski Lodge, the Lakehouse, the quad, TTV, dt, and more...but for "Flash" - the digital photographer that took pictures at parties - probably literally a killer. Gaucho pants everywhere! The real bonus...elastic waistbands. Unfortunately some of us homegirls had figures to fit the pant. I'll go out on a limb and take a guess that like rompers and sock buns, unless you were already attractive, they weren't helping anybody. In some of the pictures I found it looked liked my face had been stung by a swarm of bees. Thank goodness for my strong sense of humor. 

Turns out this sweet fashion trend hasn't completely died. You can still score yourself a pair at your local Target, right next to the Jeggings - spandex denim with fake pockets and belt loops. 1 trend I'm proud to say I've passed on. 

So go back in time. Check out the invasion of the infamous gaucho pant that swarmed campus' and classrooms everywhere. Or perhaps, that's one year you'd rather just forget.