Bunco Queen October 26, 2006

I went to bunco last night. I wasn’t feeling all that great, and truthfully would have rather lolled around in bed reading a good book in sweatpants. But I went, because it’s always fun and always great to see my girlfriends. Plus I haven’t been for a while.

I’m sure glad I did, because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have won the big money! Somehow, the stars aligned and I won both big bunco and little bunco and sorry if you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but I don’t really feel like explaining the game of bunco, plus each group usually has their own set of rules, but let’s just say that out of 30 rounds, I rolled a set of 3 identical numbers of the number we were rolling for 6 times. It’s unheard of, at least in our group. I don’t know shit about statistics, but it seems highly improbable. Everyone was flabbergasted. Plus, I got the most number of little buncos. Which means, I came home with an extra $200!

So, what do you think I did? I went shopping! Duh. Now, usually when a nice chunk of free change comes my way, I go on the hunt for shoes. But today, I decided I wanted a new bag. At first, I was really looking for a nice black leather purse, big enough for me to stuff my journal, perhaps a large 8×11 notebook for school notes, maybe a folder full of student work in it, perhaps a book or two. First, I went to Nordstrom (of course, I looked at shoes first, just in case something really grabbed me, but nothing did). I found nothing. I nearly got in a catfight with some bitch who snatched a bag I was looking at on the sale table right out from under my hands. I said, “Excuse me, I’m still looking at that.” She said, “You set it down, I thought you were done,” and walked away. She’s dead now, and I’ve buried her body, stuffed into that purse, in the garbage can in the Ladies’ Lounge.

I didn’t find anything else I liked there, so I decided to go over to Field’s, which is now Macy’s, but I’ll be calling it Field’s well beyond the time when my daughter gets embarrassed by the fact that I still call it Field’s and starts yelling at me when she takes me on a nice day out from the home, hollering things like, “For Christ’s sake, Mother. It hasn’t been Field’s for fifty years! Get over it!”

ANYWAY, apparently the bitches in the nice handbag department at Field’s work on some kind of insane commission. I imagine if they don’t sell a certain number of or $$ worth of handbags per day, they must get electric shock treatments or have parts of their anatomy removed without anesthesia, because the woman who was “helping” me nearly earned herself a spot in the morgue. She would not leave me alone. She kept bringing me things that had nothing to do with what I wanted, which was to be left alone to look at fucking purses! For Christ’s sake! I finally said to her, “You know what? This hard sell thing is getting annoying, and I am NOT going to buy a bag from you specifically because you’ve been annoying me so much. Now, excuse me while I go over to the Coach department.”

In the Coach department, I wandered around with no clear idea of what I wanted, yet knowing full well that there wouldn’t be a black bag large enough for what I wanted that I could get for $200 in the Coach department. So, I broadened my horizons and thought, you know? I’ll just see what catches my eye.

What caught my eye was this:

Isn’t she pretty? She was the only one there, and, she was on the sale rack. I’ve been considering a tweedy bag for a while, and looking for the right one. This one has a lovely color pallette and it’s a nice size and has some nice, easily accessible pockets and fits perfectly under my arm. I was giving it a good once over, and then decided to take a look at the price tag. It was on the sale shelf, mind you.

The tag said $98. $98.97 to be exact. I thought for sure it must be some kind of mistake, and looked up to see the saleswoman (a different one than the previous) smiling at me. “Ahh, that’s a beautiful bag, no?” she said in an Asian accent. I nodded. “It’s pretty,” I said. “But I wasn’t really in the market for a bag like this.” So she says, “Who’s not in the market for a bag that is on sale for $100?” I shrugged. Really.  Who isn’t?  Then she said, “A bag that was originally $398.”

I pretty much handed her the money right then. Because if anything gets me, it’s the thought that I just saved $300. Granted, I would never in a million years even consider buying a purse for $400. No fucking way. That’s just ridiculous. $200? Maybe. Okay, maybe even a little more. But $400? That’s crossing the line into ostentatious and just plain stupid. Anyway, I got myself a $400 purse that is probably really only worth $50 for $100. I saved $300!

And, I have $100 left over for a pair of shoes. Or two. We’ll see.

I love my new purse! And, I love Bunco and all my girls who seem to enjoy giving me their money. Okay, so they don’t enjoy it. Okay, so they want to rip my head off. Okay, so they want to change the rules so that if you win Big Bunco, you can’t win Little Bunco too, even though I think that’s just pathetic. If you win, you win, right? This isn’t some stupid soccer team for 5 year olds where no one supposedly keeps score and there’s an emphasis on the positive. It’s Bunco, for Christ’s sake.

Okay, well, that’s enough for now. I’m going to go to the store, just so I can walk around with this purse under my arm.

And, of course, when I got home I had to look up on the internet to see if the bitch was lying about the $398. She wasn’t, but you can get this bag on eBay and other assorted sites for $279. So, I still saved nearly $200. Yeah me!