Posers

I've been running around like the worst kind of maniac all week, trying to get together some sort of non-frumpy outfit that will gag and conceal the Kindergarten teacher-slash-suburban mom that has taken over my being in recent years.  I'm not just doing this for a lark, though. Thing is, I really should wear clothes in LA this weekend.  So I go to Macy's, which is a corner of the mall I can kind of hide in, while the rest of the mall goes on around me without unnerving me too much.  I pick things off the rack that are expensive, and have brand names that sound like I might have heard them before.  I take more than the allotted number of items into the fitting room.  I try and try again.  I'm The Little Engine That Could of the fitting room.  I start to feel slightly hopeful, but then I suddenly lose momentum when I try on something so expensive and so ridiculous that it gives me an instant headache.  I make ugly faces at myself in the mirror, and then make normal faces, which look good by comparison.  I go home feeling like Macy's has failed me, and that LA is no place for someone with my bad attitude about shopping.

At home, I look into the bathroom and see this:

"What are you doing, Manny?" I ask.

"Practicing posing."

"What for?"

"Well, if I want to be in a magazine someday, I can do this pose, and be in the magazine, or maybe on a commercial for Aquasand. Don't I have a beautiful smile?"

"Yes, you sure do."

Trevi is a much better poser than I am.  And his kind of posing doesn't require $200 jeans.