Always Anna

I’m experiencing a moral dilemma of epic proportions, and I just can’t figure out what to do.

For the past three months, I’ve been trying to find a basket for the bicycle that the BF got me for my birthday.  Because of the unique shape of the front of the bike – the front shock sticks out at an angle near the handlebars – not all bike baskets will fit on the handlebars.  And I don’t want a rear basket.  So I’ve researched and researched and researched, and the only basket I can find that should work is called the Bell Carry Away Handlebar Basket.

Which, after an exhausting online search, I can only conclude is only sold at Wal-Mart.

I hate Wal-Mart.  Hate it with a fiery passion.  And I really, really, really don’t want to give them my business.  I did once buy a pair of underwear and a chapstick at Wal-Mart – but I had to throw both away because it so horrified me that I owned something from that store.

Now, I’m not necessarily against all big chain stores.  I understand that all stores are in business to make money, and I don’t think that being big means that a company is inherently bad.  How can being successful in itself be bad?  But there’s a difference between stores like Wal-Mart that get to where they are by trampling over workers and land owners and the environment and anything with a soul, and only do good things if they think it will get them good press, and stores like Target and Starbucks that succeed while giving back to their workers or community or environment.  Plus, Wal-Mart has no style.

So how can I buy the basket from that store?  It goes against my vow to never again deal with that store voluntarily.  But I need the basket – I’m tired of wearing my stupid backpack everytime I want to ride my bike somewhere!

Sigh.  I’m at a loss.

There are a few things that can make you happy on a Sunday in the fall:

* Waking up surrounded by friends after a great house party.
* Walking around your neighborhood to enjoy the sunshine and clear blue skies.
* Watching your football team beat a team that no one thought they could beat, giving them a 3-0 record and putting them in first place in the division.
* Cheering and crying as your beloved quarterback ties the long-standing record for touchdown passes on his home turf.

When all these things happen in the same day, it pretty much ends up being a perfect day.

While out earlier this week, one of my guy friends said, “Thanks for letting [the BF] come out with us three nights last week!”  The comment threw me off, but I just laughed and said, “No, thank you for getting him out my hair!”  But it’s been bugging me ever since. 

It bothers me that people assume that I’m somehow responsible for the BF’s actions.  I know there are a lot of people out there that want to have some level of control over their significant other’s choices (and it’s not just girls – I’ve got guy friends that are like that too).  But I don’t let the BF do anything.  And he certainly doesn’t let me do anything. 

Maybe it’s because my own independence is so important to me, but I would never want to be in a relationship that required asking permission to do something.  We’re adults, right?  We can make our own decisions.  This doesn’t mean that I don’t care about what the BF does – I expect him to let me know what his plans are so that I don’t make conflicting plans.  But I trust that he takes me into consideration when he’s making plans with his friends, just as I do for him. 

But does it sound rude if, the next time someone thanks me for letting the BF have a life, I reply, “I’m not his freaking mother!  I don’t tell him what to do!”

Whenever I go this long without posting, I go into blogging withdrawal. I miss firing my random thoughts out into the void of the internet. And apparently, I start talking in cheesy cliches.

I’ve been really busy lately – taking two bus trips to New York (ah, New York in the almost-fall), passengering (since I don’t drive, this is what I do in a car) for a weekend to Vermont, stalking Kelly Clarkson concert tickets (literally, I was online every day checking up on this), preparing for the season premiere of America’s Next Top Model (I can’t freaking wait for this Wednesday!), and working such late nights that it became a surprise if I made it home before 9 PM.

I’ll still be busy the next few weeks, but I’ll be here too… if only to keep my brain sharp enough to avoid lame phrases like “into the void of the internet.”

This morning, I was chatting (via Google) with my friend about how upset we are that Yahoo! screwed up our fantasy football draft and we need to completely redo it.  I announced,  ”I am having 500 Kittens!” to which she responded, “… Kittens?”

Whenever people are flipping out around me, I always say (or think), “Stop having kittens!”  It’s something my grandmother used to say; I never thought it was weird until today.

Now I can’t help but wonder if there are other things I do that seem normal to me, but make other people say, “What’s with the crazy girl?”