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Costco may not be for everyone - some of their items are best used/eaten by an entire bus - but it sure is awesome when you happen on things you want, for cheap.
They currently have DVDs of fairly recent releases for $11.99. These are DVDs that still sell for $20+ at Borders or Barnes & Noble. Even Amazon can't beat that price (if selling at around $14, plus you need to purchase $25 to get free shipping).
This is sort of why I should not be allowed to go outside and shop. I can't resist a good bargain. As if Costco knew I was visiting this afternoon, it had to let me see the 2005 "Pride and Prejudice," on sale. A copy of the widescreen edition is now sitting on my desk.
Hm, look like I had forgotten a little note I made to myself on my Amazon wishlist: "Wait for the special extended edition." Oops. Besides, I kinda forgot what that was supposed to mean.
Wait, I think it means the special extended edition allows you to play the movie in both widescreen and full-screen formats. I remember reading somewhere that the full-screen edition is superior in some ways because there is a lot more content on each screen, since bits of the tops and bottoms would have to be cut out of the widescreen edition. What is with that anyway?
Drat. I suppose I could always sell my copy later on.
Anyway, Target is also having great deals on DVDs. "V for Vendetta" was one of two DVDs sitting atop my wishlist (P&P being the other).
The other day, I was having a late evening lemming for a red lipstick (yes, I'm a MU whore; yes, I'm still looking for that perfect red lipstick) and went to Target just to get a cheap thrill. Something made me turn down towards the DVD section at 10 minutes before closing, and I'm so glad I did! Two copies left of a limited edition "V for Vendetta" DVD that comes with a collectible, 64-page version of the graphic novel from DC Comics. For a whopping $19.99. Amazon can't beat that, either. A copy of the DVD is sitting under the P&P DVD.
I think I've done plenty of Christmas shopping for myself already. Do I really need any of this stuff? No, but they are sure nice to have around. Long live capitalism (I swear I'm a socialist at heart)! Should I feel guilty?
Edit to add: "Shawshank Redemption" and "Finding Neverland" are both $9.99 at Target. Already have the latter from a garage sale, but seriously considering getting the former.
All I need is 10 pounds. Maybe even less, but my body refuses to budge (in several manners of speaking), and it's driving me a little nuts.
How can it be that I weigh X in the morning but 3 pounds less in the evening, then gain another 5 pounds by the time I wake up again? I drink water and love tea, but geez, I don't drink that much. Can't be the water weight.
Some family friends have started jokingly call me "Jock" because I've finally (re-)joined the gym and go there at least every other day, if not daily. It's been about a month now; while I see results in some areas (as in, I'm actually building some muscle!), I'm also buldging in unexpected areas (as in, where did the love handles come from, I always go to the lat machine!).
10 pounds, which I guess is a lot for my body, as it seems my body refuses to go below a certain threshold. Down 10 pounds, down 5% body fat, and it'd be "perfect," according to the trainer.
I have neither time nor money to shell out to the trainer, but goodness, he's GOOD. The first session I had with him was free, as part of my gym membership. He spent almost 2 hours with me, working all the muscles that I didn't even know existed and acting like a manual resistance. I was sore all over for at least 2 days - it even hurt when I squat to sit down. But it was awesome because I knew something must've been working. I've tried to repeat some of the routines myself and with the machines, but it's just not the same, when someone isn't there to push you and make you do just one more crunch. Still, he is expensive...something like $600+ for 2 months or 16 sessions.
"How much is it worth to you to reach your goal?" A friend had asked me when I complained how expensive personal trainers are. (Note to self: No wonder celebrities look great, with their personal trainers, diet plans, and almost unlimited time to work out.)
At this rate, it's beginning to look like it's worth it.
For some of us, it's amazing how hard we have to work at it to get our bodies in ideal shape.
Addicted.
No matter how Glamour or Allure keeps touting the origial Rosebud Salve as a miracle product, I just can't get over the powdery rose scent. Not purchasing it any time soon.
The Strawberry Lip Balm, however, was one of my Katrina refugee purchases, and has kept me good company since.
Sephora now sells the Minted Rose Lip Balm, made by Rosebud Perfume Co. exclusively for Sephora. Unfortunately I spotted this a couple of weeks ago and had to have it, too. I think it may have replaced the strawberry one as my favorite.
The Mentholated Salve and Cloverine Salve have been ordered. I needed a little retail therapy. When they arrive I'll have a little collection of .8 oz Rosebud balms and salves in their charming, old-fashioned tins.
I am such a sucker for packaging. It's even better when the products work well, too.
How can the desire to protect oneself not outweigh the desire to save others?
In the subway there was a man. He was obviously sick. He shouted at the top of his lungs. He mostly closed his eyes, with what appeared to be both fresh and dried trails of tears. He looked like he was in pain - if not physically, mentally.
I am sick. The police wants to put me in jail. I don't belong in jail. I have bipolar disorder and need medication. I am on lithium and ___. Can someone tell me what lithium is? Does anyone have any information on ___? Can someone please help me?
He held some crumpled pieces of paper in his hands. Some looked like paper bags given by pharmacists after one's prescription is filled. Others look like receipts of some kind. Possibly prescriptions. Possibly blank pieces of paper.
In the subway train, there were people. One man slept through that entire speech, but most gaped and glared at the shouting man. Quite a few people laughed and whispered to one another. Had they seen him before?
In the second row behind the door, there sat a woman. On the subway platform, when the man gave his speech, she was taken aback. Somewhat frightened, maybe, of the reason why this man was shouting, and of the unknown. She was alarmed, and perhaps even a little annoyed, that the man got into the same subway car as she.
Of all cars, she thought, why did he have to come into this one?
The man began his speech anew. He directed it at no one and at everyone.
I know I am a black man. I know that is against me. I know my clothes are dirty. But someone has got to speak the truth. I guess a lot of people want to see a black man put in jail. I am sick. I need help. I need money for the medication. I won't hurt anybody. Can someone please help me?
The woman did not want to raise her head. She focused intently on the ground, afraid of possibly meeting his gaze. But she saw people laughing, and couldn't understand why anyone would find the situation funny. Lithium aside, but that was not why people laughed. The man was not well. Fear remained, overwhelmed only by sadness, sympathy, anger, and shame. Anger, from seeing the medical bracelet on the man's wrist, with his name written on it, and how others seemed oblivious to it. Shame, from realizing that despite wanting so much to help him, she was afraid. So she sat, paralyzed by her conflicting emotions. She wasn't even sure if handing him money would do him any good. Should someone alert the transit authorities? The cops? Where did he just come from?
All it took was one middle-aged, well-dressed lady. She walked from one end of the car to the middle, just to hand him some change.
Here, she said, with a force that should've been from sympathy, but conceivably was from annoyance. Then she went back to take her prior space.
One by one, a few others followed suit. A man in paint-stained overalls gave him a dollar bill. A woman waved one to him. All of them blue-collared. The shouting man took the bills without counting or acknowledging them. He looked at the ground and mumbled something about needing more help. He teetered out of the car two subway stations later.
The woman who sat saw all of this and gave him nothing, except her sadness, anger, sympathy, and her shame.
