Get Crazy with the Cheez-Whiz

I believe in the Power of Walgreens.

Sometimes, you just need to get out, and when you live in a small town, there aren't too many options. Walgreens has saved my bacon on several occasions. And sometimes I just find really interesting stuff there.

So the other day, my mom needed to get an immunization against Shingles, and the only place she could do it was the Walgreens of Belen, NM (I should point out that Los Lunas has TWO Walgreens locations, and the newer store is about 10 times nicer than the older one, with a much more-helpful staff, but neither location had a pharmacist authorized to administer immunizations). I love a good trip to Belen as much as the next girl, but I generally only go there to see my doctor or go to a Weight Watchers Meeting (I heart the Belen group, truly!) or to buy bulk spices from the River Market. Until recently, I didn't know of the majesty of the Bethlehem Trading Post or Bernie's Fabrics. Their Wells Fargo is so far superior to the branch I use (with a very handsome teller). But Walgreens, ooh, Walgreens. There were so many great things there!

Paizlee and I wandered the aisles, searching for the new Burt's Bees lippy (no one has it yet, so I'm not gonna hate on Walgreens), but ended up finding a lot of other great things-- inexpensive lavender soap, which makes clothes stashed in the dresser smell great when a bar (in the box) is placed in a drawer; one-hour acne treatment; delicate pink nail polish for spring; Cola Icees for our family of enthusiasts; folders with "doggies" and "kitties" for Paizlee, who identified them correctly and the cashiers fell in love with her; a sampling of Dove Chocolate (4 dark Promises... just the right size for a person on a diet); an iTunes gift card, and....

This little bit of Walgreens magic.

So, we noticed earlier that poor Paizlee has "Aunt Rachel Butt" which means, just a wide, flat expanse. People think we're trying to bring back that great 90s style, sagging, but it's just the way our pants fit. Sigh.

So, nestled in between leftover, oversized stuffed animals and Valentine "love" kits (because who doesn't want to buy fuzzy handcuffs and massage oils at a family-friendly drugstore?) were pairs of "Booty Pop" body-enhancing underroos. I laughed and laughed at this padded underwear, because it reminded me of a conversation I once had with Rudy Parsons at a baseball game (forgive me if you've heard this one before):

Rachel: Oh, it's so sad to have a butt like mine. I've thought about getting a prosthetic bum, or that padded underwear, but I really hesitate to do so.

Rudy: Why's that?

Rachel: Well, because what if someone came up and gave me a little pinch, and I didn't react? That would be embarrassing.

Rudy: I wonder if you'd have the same situation wearing a padded bra.

Rachel: Somehow I don't think so, because if someone were to give you a pinch, you'd see it coming.

Rudy: That's funny, because I've actually touched your boobs three times tonight.

Hahahahahaha!

Anyway, my mom heard me laughing in the clearance aisle and came over to see what the fuss was about. I showed her the "Booty Pop" and she said, in all seriousness, "You should get those."

See how abused I am? Or at least, how much people make fun of my butt?

The testimonial-- not the miracle product I was looking for. I slid 'em on, over my other underroos, threw my jeans back on, and had a REALLY good laugh. They didn't give me a J-Lo. They just made me look fat and like I had a lumpy butt. Someone is going to get these at the next white-elephant gift exchange I go to.

The iTunes proved to be the better purchase. I went sentimental with downloads Friday afternoon:

* Always-- Bon Jovi

* Each Coming Night-- Iron and Wine

* Back to December-- Taylor Swift (Guilty pleasure)

* Rhythm of Love-- Plain White Ts

* Loser and Lost Cause-- Beck

* Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da; Oh! Darling; We Can Work it Out; Come Together; Please Please Me; Hello, Goodbye-- The Beatles

* The Boxer-- Simon and Garfunkel

In other weekend news, I had to say goodbye to my friend Jeff last night. Jeffy is getting transferred to an AFB in Las Vegas. Boo to that. We got a little sentimental. He told me I was his first friend, and then said a bunch of sweet things, and I cried a little bit. Then I gave him the best going-away gift I could think of-- my copy of "Knowing I have Feelings He May Not" by Alison Ann Budd.

Those of you who know me well understand this is my favorite book of beat poetry ever, written by a very angsty girl (at least she was when she was 11). I take comfort in knowing I can buy another copy from Amazon.com, because it was hard to give up, but Jeff needed it so he could read about "stabbing, stabbing, stabbing pain" and feel better.

We spent a good little while reminiscing. We talked about him moving me into my house right after we met and having breakfast with my dad. We talked about him putting my mailbox up for me. We laughed about going on movie dates with his friend Gregory (where I was the third wheel). He confessed his family has a weakness for R-rated movies. We laughed about him getting a nasty lizard out of my house. I forgot to mention the time I saw his naked backside at the hospital when he had his appendix out.

We discussed how we'd describe one another to our future friends. He's going to mention that I have a creepy baby puppet named Desmond, and a chair in my living room my grandmother died in. I'm going to tell folks how good he was at kissing and washing dishes. We are friends, and Las Vegas is a little too far away. But it was the best goodbye I've ever had, even beating out the (first) time Ray and I broke up and I sang "Tell me on a Sunday."