Confessions of Two Shopaholics...

Question: What does one husband being out of town plus one boyfriend being on call all weekend equal? Trouble. Well, this is true if that husband is Whitney's and that boyfriend is my own. Where does the destruction begin?

It all started on Friday afternoon at the nail salon (Where Whitney MAY or MAY NOT have offended a rather large black lady sitting next to us by clapping her hands and yelling "Hercules, Hercules!"). We have an endearing factor that draws people to us, thus causing the owner, Michael (or, in Vietnamese, Chien) to be our new BFF OH and did I mention we're still working on the friend discount? After learning several Vietnamese phrases from Michael, prank calling an old man whose wife was ready to be picked up, and finding that the word "orientals" is offensive to Vietnamese (and thus tipping profusely), we decided we needed to exercise. At Bridge Street, of course. P.S. Whitney, i won't tell that we valeted the car to reduce walking if you won't, either.

To begin our exercise, we went to the Apple Store, and not to toot my own horn, but, didn't spend any money there. We did, however, meet LeBron James...or maybe his name was Lebront Jones, whatever.

Next, we did crack. Okay, not really, but we visited our version of crack....Anthropologie. You know, i've never really related to the people on "Intervention" until I began my fascination with all things Anthro. Our experience there was nothing short of ecstacy. We bought dresses, skirts, tops, jewelry, and pants so cute that i almost had an asthma attack (Side note: I dont have asthma). I'm getting all tingly just thinking of the beautiful pieces we absolutely needed.

Next, Whitney went to Kate Spade and now i understand the meaning of fate. Would you believe the purse she has envied for weeks was ON SALE? I mean, she'd be losing money if she didn't invest in it. Words cannot describe THE most glorious Tiffany blue, pebbled leather handbag that I'd secretly take Jack hostage for..oh wait, did I just say that?


The next day I woke up with a TINY bit of a shopping hangover AKA buyer's remorse. I decided I didn't have to have the ONE top that I bought on sale (i mean really, if it stays in the store long enough to be on sale than obviously it screams "last season"). So, naturally, we head back to Huntsville and we both have the brilliant idea of stopping at Parkway Place first (great minds really DO think alike), and as luck would have it, I ran into my favorite shoe salesman and gay boyfriend, Ronald. Of course, he showed me a pair of light gray suede BCBG heels. I didn't care how much they cost (i mean, do i REALLY need utilities for a month?), they WOULD be mine.
But first, I needed the perfect outfit to go with the perfect shoes, so upstairs we go. To make a long story short, one and a half hours and an ungodly amount of money spent later, we strut out the store feeling the happiness of what some might describe on their wedding day.

After this, we went back to Bridge Street and to show the self control that I have, i returned the shirt (Whit, I'll hurt you if you mention the two dresses and the top I bought, too). So, yay me..I'm back in control. Crazy thing is, I couldn't find a thing to wear Monday morning. Hong Chieng Vonda Mon Uma (Vietnamese Expletives).

And that, my friends, is what denial looks like.