Shopping!!!!!!

I'm more in tune with my womanly nature than many of you that know me would think.  I become giddy and excited when the prospect of going shopping, especially at one of the largest malls in Asia, is a possibility.  Dream Mall, in Kaohsiung, with 2300 stores and 11 floors make my mouth water at the opportunity of buying anything I've ever wanted.

Dream Mall.  The pic doesn't do it justice.

The excitement always turns into depression for me whenever I step foot in a mall.  I like the idea of shopping more than I like shopping in itself.  I have this awful indecisiveness about my personality.  I'm the last person you want to ask, "What do you want for lunch?"  I hate being asked because I would like a little of everything and I can't decide what I actually want. So all of a sudden, a simple question turns into a high pressure situation in which a decision must be made.  So when I see some sweaters, blouses, skirts, pants, jeans, shoes that I like...I have lots of problems making decisions...I don't have the energy to deal with that kind of pressure through a 2 story standard mid-western American shopping mall, let alone an 11 story Asian one.



I would enjoy shopping much more if I were a billionaire.  My problem is, is that I hate actual work.  There is only one solution to my problem, a rich husband.  So if you're out there, lets get this show on the road, Here are my requirements:
1.  9 figure net-worth, with a steady rate of income.
2.  If younger than 80, respectable amount of living space so I can have my freedom to do my own thing. 
3.  If older than 80, must be on death bed, and must be a hilariously-funny dirty old man. (I determine humor)
4.  Must pay for my gym membership and hot personal trainer...If I'm gonna be a trophy-wife, I must look the part.
5.  Must have houses in New York, Miami, Paris, Bali, Tuscany, Rio, and the Virgin Islands.
6.  Children, I like kids but not when they are my age.  Don't be jealous when I take Daddy's money, it's not like you work either.
7.  We have country-club memberships on all six livable continents.
8.  When I say, I want to go to Paris, it means that I want to go to Paris...there was no We in there...We should go to Paris, means you are invited to come along.
9.  I get my own Yacht.  Home port will be Miami.
10.  Princess is a nickname for your daughter.  We can come up with something better.


 

I'm SO Cold

As part of my daily doabsolutelynothing at work routine, I get to see all the winter stuff that's happening back in the ol' U.S. of A. and I have one thing to say......HA HA suckers!  Okay, I like the white stuff in moderation,  but in my mind cold weather is good for only one thing, sports.  Snowboarding, Hockey, Skiing, what am I missing? No, curling is NOT a sport...it's a chore.

I hate snow because back when I was in high school we lived in a house with a long downhill driveway...from the house to the street it was uphill.  My brothers and I were taught life lessons growing up like, why would you do fun things on the weekend when you can spend it cleaning and doing mindless chores?  My mom insisted we clear off the driveway because she worked and put food on the table or something like that.

*My favorite break from weekend cleaning was on Sunday mornings my mom would drag us out of bed to go to the most boring place on earth, Catholic Mass.  It was a chance to sleep with the occasional slap of the head demanding that I pay attention.  I learned at about the age of six that the best place to sit during mass was on the far end from my mother allowing my three little brothers to be between me and her backhand.  She should have been a tennis player, she has great reach and accuracy.

Okay, back on track.  My mom would have my brothers and I shovel the snow from what seemed like our million-mile long driveway.  We would never do it when we should have, so the snow would eventually become compacted and basically turn into an 8-inch thick, million-mile long slab of ice.  Therefore, we would have to go outside with real spade shovels, hammers and sledgehammers to clear off the driveway in the middle of January when was 0 degrees Fahrenheit.

My brothers and I couldn't do anything together for more then 15 minutes without a fist fight breaking out.  So as soon as our mom would hear us yelling and screaming she would come outside and say something along the lines of "I told you guys, you would be sorry if I had to come out here."  Boy, were we ever.  (I'm pretty sure my mom is secretly a marine corps drill instructor.) She would stand there and yell over us for however long it took us to accomplish this task in true drill instructor form.  This always seemed to ruin my day, somehow, and that of my brothers.  I'm sure maybe hers too, but she enjoyed yelling a bit too much I think.  If there is anything I have ever learned from crappy weather it's to cooperate with my siblings as to not have mom come out and yell at us.

For those of you wondering how snow would become so compacted on our driveway:
My mom would call us from work and tell us to have it shoveled by the time she got home...Duh, Mom, we are off of school, therefore, we shall play video games, go sledding and drink hot chocolate.  No where in that code of kidom does it say, "I will shovel the driveway, on snowdays, no matter how many times you call us and ask us to do it." We like having you come home and scream at us like a lunatic because you "fish-tailed all the way down the driveway."  We don't want to hear any whining about fish-tailing from someone who walked barefoot, 2 miles up hill in the snow to school everyday, anyway.

Happy shoveling to you in the States, and if you have kids, pay them to shovel your driveway. They don't drive so why should it be their responsibility to shovel snow.  I'll be thinking of you on days like this when it is 20 degrees Celsius and I'm freezing.  I'll be thinking in my 3 layers of clothes, how the hell can those people live where it's hovering between 0-15 Fahrenheit for almost a month straight?

I think that I will go to the beach when I get out of work today.