Stuff That’s Near My Wall: WTF

Want to know why I love ordering stuff online? It’s cause it’s like you’re sending yourself a present, and who doesn’t love that?

I’ve been making online orders for over a year now, usually for books or tea for me or for when I have birthday or Christmas shopping to do.

However, clothing is something that I’m much more hesitant to purchase since my legs are a bajillion miles long (give or take a few inches) and I’d prefer to try something on before buying it.

Because it’s apparently necessary this week to talk about how much time I spend on the internet, you should know that I have wasted more hours on youtube that some people do courting their future spouse. A statistically significant portion of that time has gone to watching Joe Santagato’s videos. Despite my of love clothing, I waited a year after I found out there was Santagato TV merchandise, since I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t making an impulse buy.

Oh, I also wanted to be able to pay for it with my own money, and since I had my first job only last summer, the purchase was  delayed until this winter (I was busy with school and forgot about it).

Over the winter break, I ordered one of the sweaters:

 

Having sent the order to my mum’s house – and then spending the following week at my dad’s – I wasn’t the one to receive the parcel when it came in. When I got home from school the following Friday, switching back to my mum’s house, I was excited to open my order.

That excitement was replaced by confusion when I found two grey envelopes waiting to be opened.

Both had my name on them.

But one was heavier than the other. I started with this one, figuring that my sweatshirt would have been the bulkier of the two.

My assumption was correct, and so I got to opening the next parcel.

For the record, my shirt size ranges from small to medium, depending on the brand.

The shirt in the second envelope was 2XL.

And bright green.

 

WTF indeed.

The irony aside of someone purchasing a 2XL shirt asking where the food is, I still had no clue as to why I was the recipient of this … fashion statement.

Rooting around the remnants of my order, I found the invoice for the shirt. Scanning the sheet of paper, I found the location that it was actually supposed to be sent to.

It wasn’t Montreal.

It wasn’t another part of Canada.

It wasn’t even within North America.

It was supposed to go to Australia.

Clearly the same place.

Hopefully the person who was supposed to get the shirt in the first place has gotten a replacement at some point or another between January and now…

Stuff That’s Near My Wall: The Legging Collection

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong, but – do you own any normal pants?” – a question I got in macroeconomics, second semester, from the girl sitting next me.

I spent five years wearing a very strict uniform for high school.

Once I got out, I had to rebuild my wardrobe beyond my church clothes, weekend stuff, and summer clothing.

Being a dancer, I feel most comfortable in clothing that isn’t restricting – so that I can bust a move, if the mood strikes.

Since I don’t work, I hunted down clothing that wasn’t going to break the bank, even if I was using birthday and Christmas money that I had saved up.

Over time, I accumulated an array of leggings, each pair crazier than the last, until I plateau’d into an insanity of patterns and metallics.

In the collection, I have my neutrals:

   

From there,  I went into more colours:

 

Then I went patterned:

 

And then metallic:

And finally, astronomical/sky pants:

 

Having gotten that many pairs of leggings over the course of a year has been a personal fashion-Genesis/exploration since I had been given the freedom to dress myself according to how I felt, not what a set of guidelines in my too small agenda dictated.

Also, it’s really easy to put together an outfit when you’ve got some flashy business going on in the leg-region and all you have to worry about is finding the right black top to go with it. Simple enough, if I do say so myself.

And finally, if you’ve wondered it while scrolling on through, yes, I have worn each and every pair of the above leggings in public, because I can rock it and I don’t care what others think if they judge me in my drunk-zebra leggings (third to last pattern pair).

And because you guys are awesome, here’s the full set in one shot:

Piece(s) out.

 

HyperPost 10: My 11th Birthday (Stuff That’s Near My Wall Part 2)

Your 11^th birthday means one thing and one thing only: getting your acceptance letter from Hogwarts.

This was my second Harry Potter-themed birthday (the first being for my eighth birthday, where all of my gifts, the cake, loot bags, and decorations were Harry Potter-themed).

I was excited for this year because my Grandmum was out of the hospital and well enough to come to my birthday party and I had new cousins – from my step-mum’s family – that were much closer in age than my dad’s biological nieces and nephews.

Hunting down decorations wasn’t too difficult with a couple of party stores in our area – but being right after Halloween and within the same week of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire opening in theatres meant that a lot of the good Harry Potter stuff was out of stock.

We came home with a Hufflepuff banner for our front door. I dealt with it and moved on, even though I was a Gryffindor at the time, since Cedric Diggory had died in the fourth movie and he was a Hufflepuff.

Once the party was rolling, all the kids were sorted into one of the four houses, with one of the first Harry Potter movie on in the background.

Then came cake time – where I was presented with a massive chocolate cake, decorated to look like one of the books from a class at Hogwarts.

Then came the big moment that I’d been waiting for – getting my Hogwarts letter. Rolled up in a scroll attached to a plush owl’s foot, the letter and owl were tossed to me. I unrolled the scroll and read out loud to my family what Professor McGonagall had address to me.

My parents had it easy in regards to editing the letter – all they had to do was change Mr Potter to Ms Potter.

Also, the Half-Blood Prince came out that year, but my parents were kind enough to let me read it early even though it was technically my birthday present, so that I wouldn’t fall behind in the fandom.

Piece out.

Stuff That’s Near My Wall (Part 1)

It’s always good to have a conversation starter handy.

In 2011, I was in my last year of high school, and the only photos that mattered to my classmates were the graduation pictures.

They saw the student IDs as a jokes, and sneaked in large, lensless glasses, huge bows, and funky ties – none of which were allowed by the strict uniform rules.

I still made an effort to look decent in mine, bringing in a small, white bow – which fit in with the rules.

A few weeks after the photos were taken, we received the order forms at school. I was pleased with the results.

Later that day, I was on the photography company’s website, filing through pages of questionable backgrounds – including goats on a farm, a rock concert, and an iPhone screen – I found one that didn’t cause me to roll my eyes.

The next step in the ordering process was a page of various options: displaying a bored looking 9 year old boy on puzzles, calendars, aprons, mouse pads, key chains, water bottles, and t-shirts.

“Mum, you said I can get myself something extra with the photo order, right?” I shouted over the stove fan into the kitchen, where she was making dinner.

Putting the spatula down, she walked over to the dining-room table, standing behind me to get a better look at the small laptop screen, her left hand on the back of my chair.

“You really want to order that one?” She asks, amused.

Scrunching up my face in delight, I nod with enough force to make the bun perched on my head to wobble about.

“But can we have that sent to the house instead of to school? I’d rather not have my homeroom teacher judge me…” I ask, turned back to look at Mum.

“That’s fine, we’ll make it two orders then.”

In early December, I came home to find a small white box sitting on my bed – Yes, it’s finally here! I think to myself. Breaking through the tape with my keys, I pull out the small water bottle, turning it over to the side with my picture on it.

“Now, that is a quality beverage receptacle,” I declare, while taking a photo as proof of the definitive starting point of my rampant narcissism.

Since getting the bottle, I’ve been using it at every opportunity – equally for its intended purpose of holding water as well as a conversation piece.

Piece Out