Joe Mauer has come back from a long Minnesota winter of chopping wood, drinking hot chocolate and sexin' you up for Fashion Friday because he really, really wants me to buy this dress.
Joe Mauer wants me to buy it--wants all of us to buy it--because it is the perfect dress to wear to a rendezvous in some airport Hilton where he'll sign some balls and you'll have steamy Lifetime movie shower sex. Which, while we're on the subject, why is shower sex even a thing? I have never seen a shower that looked particularly conducive to love making (If you can prove differently, leave a comment. Let's turn this thing into Penthouse Letters, ya'll!). But since we're leaving reality at home here in VA, let's imagine that all those Lifetime movies have been correct, shall we? Joe will tenderly pull on that front tie there, like he's plucking a guy off first (give a minute ya'll--my baseball similes have been stuck in the off-season too!), and the next thing you know, you'll be loosening his gear too, and preparing for a session that will include sex, a cuddle session while you watch Law and Order: SVU and three mocha truffles from this candy store next to where I went to college.
Joe aside, I want to buy it because I have a sick, twisted love affair with polka dots. I freaking love them. And I know what that says about me--that I am some juvenile, Manic Pixie Dream Girl wannabe. I totally fit the role as well--I've got the requisite bangs, the funky purple glasses, the English degree, the no clear and discernible plan for the future. I am, quite obviously, Zooey Deschanel without the bone structure and plus about a 100 spicy chicken asiago clubs from Wendy's. Adding polka dots onto all of that is just a little much, and I know that. But that does not stop me from just going completely nuts when I see the dots. Then I become a puppy, sitting expectantly in front of my treat, panting, slobbering and being an all-together unstable hot mess. Thanks, J.Crew. YOU BASTARDS GET ME EVERY TIME.
The kicker with this dress is that a) it is backordered until March and b) it is $148. I desperately want it to go on sale, or for J.Crew to announce a code or some such. Moreover, I don't even know what size to order. The larger of the two sizes I am now? The size I want to be in the spring (which is the smaller of the two sizes)? But I am afraid to wait too long because I know other people like the dots too, we the Mediocre Manic Pixie "Dream" Girls (heretofore known as MMPDG). So here I sit, check card in hand. Will I go ahead and order it? Will I try to wait out a code? THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING US ALL.
Joe Mauer doesn't understand any of this. He's all like, "Hey girl. It's cool. Just let me go up to Lynchburg and just get it out of the warehouse for you. And if they say they don't have it, I'll just invite them to the gun show, and I'm sure Mickey Drexler will show me the secret stores, where they keep the extra dresses in case of nuclear holocaust. It's worked before, honey. Don't you worry. And while I'm at it, I'll pick up some ribs and we'll smear barbecue sauce all over some white sheets somewhere and I'll tell you about the time I lit Tim Lincecum's hair on fire."
Note: I don't actually think Joe Mauer has lit anyone on fire, but I figure if one is dreaming, it is go big or go home.
Actually, I'm not going to front, the whole J.Crew catalog for February has kind of gotten me in a tizzy, which is not good for anyone involved. And it sucks because I'm really loving the new roll out, and I kinda want it all, which is not something that I've done with any of the more recent roll outs. But I know that all of the stuff is prohibitively expensive and that the quality is not near as good as it was say, in '07, which was a real banner year for the Crew. It really grinds my gears that I know that. I am starting to imagine myself in some nursing home someday, walking around in a bunch of moth eaten sweaters recounting the 2007 J. Crew line like one would discuss a far-off war. "I don't care about another damn picture of the grandkids! If you're comin' to see me in this hellhole, bring me some '07 merino! And some sriracha!"
Pitchers and catchers report next week, the J.Crew roll-out is looking good, I have finally found some foundation that I adore (and that Joe loves too--yeah, MARY KAY!), things are looking up. Next thing you know, I'll actually have Joe Mauer writing these posts for me while I lay back in that dress and eat those truffles. Be ready. The Morgpocalypse waits for no man.