Today was my first day back to work after a long, leisure filled summer vacation (yeah, right, if you can call packing, moving, and unpacking leisurely). During my 15 minute, new and improved commute, I stopped at my corner Starbucks for a non-fat venti iced chai to make my day-long inservice about the new social studies curriculum a bit easier to swallow. I was standing in line when the woman in front of me turned around. I glanced up from my wallet and had my first face to face encounter with a bonafied Catwoman. You know, a woman who feels compelled to say to her plastic surgeon "Please, make me look like this!" as she points excitedly to a box of Meow Mix. This phenomenon is deserving of a WTF? WTFingF? "Go ahead," she purred, rubbing her head against my leg (okay, I made that last part up).
Apparently, this is some sort of plastic surgery reserved only for the very rich, older woman who thinks that having her face sculpted into feline form (save the whiskers) will make her look young and beautiful. I IMHO believe that it makes them look freakish, Michael Jackson-like, and like they are about to bolt off after a mouse at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, I'm sure that this sighting is only the first of many in the new 'hood. Next thing I know, I'll be greeted by a chorus of "Memory" in the milk aisle at the local Krogo, or be hissed at for taking too long in the litter box, I mean, bathroom stall at Neiman's.
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