Love at the D.I.?

Have you ever been to the D.I. in Rexburg at 4 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon?  As of today I have.  And let me tell you, its the happenin' place to be.  

You see, I had the day off (which is very exciting of course...its not too often that my snorting boss doesn't make me work for at least 7 hours on a Saturday).  So I slept in until 8, went for a leisurely run on the tready, spent some time reading my book (Little Women, in case you were wondering...its definitely top 10 favorite status, in case you were wondering), took a little nap, finished up my letter for my missionary friend, spent some time texting my funny cousin, and then the boredom hit.  

I tried to take another nap and couldn't.  
I tried to read more of my book and couldn't.  
I'd already checked my Facebook 
and blogs 
and emails 
and read all of the "news" stories on Yahoo.  
I had no desire to look at my homework for this next week.  
The sister, niece, and nephew were all taking naps 
and the brother in law had his face buried in Potter #7.  

So I decided to take a little adventure...and naturally D.I. was the ideal destination.  Can I just say the D.I. has a very distinct smell to it.  At first I was hoping it was magic, but then I realized it was just the smell of stale, old clothes.  What a letdown, huh?  I tried to look through the clothes, I really did, but for whatever reason the idea of wearing someone else's old clothes just freaks me out a bit.  I don't even like borrowing clothes from friends (unless its something really cute, there are always exceptions).  So instead I made my way over to the books, where I found a few gems but nothing so amazing that I felt the need to spend a whole fifty cents on it.
Well, except for The Art of Microwave Cooking.  I prob should have gotten that one.
But lets be honest, I mostly just stayed in the book section because of Mr. Hottie McHotterpants.  He was checking out all of the religion books.  And he called his roommate to tell him he'd found one he'd been interested in and wanted to see if he still wanted it.  How nice of him, right?  We made eye contact for a whole 0.237 seconds.  Pure magic.  I thought I heard the hallelujah chorus kick in, and then I realized it was just some kid screaming over by the furniture.
But then he went to the checkout
and I left the store
and our short-lived imaginary D.I. romance came to an end.
It may take some time, but I think I'll be able to move on.
If not, I'll send my story in to T. Swift and see if she can write a song about it for me.

Some other randoms from the day:
I ordered myself some PJs for my birthday.  Yes PJs.  What kind of person has new hoot owl pajammies in the number one spot on their birthday wish list?  Oh yeah, me.
I got these new Starbursts.  They're Fiesta Fruit flavored.  Its literally a fiesta in your mouth.
My sister just sent me a sound text of my baby niece laughing.  Holy for precious.
I finally painted my nails.  I went a whole two days without any color on them.  Thats the longest I've gone without painted nails since February 13th of '10.  Don't judge.