Coupons don't just save you money. They also save you from being cool.
15% off 
Women's denim bottomsYesterday, Chris and I found this coupon from the Target website, which Chris used to buy a pair of Mossimo jeans for me that I was surprisingly and ridiculously in love with but hadn't bought for myself yet since I just treated myself to hundreds of dollars in car repairs (I deserved it, you guys. And my savings were growing to be waaaay too big, and so something - new brakes, a new alternator - had to be done). Chris and I like to use coupons for stuff because they help us save money for pageants, but this one somehow became a source of outrage and disgust. Women's denim bottoms? Why can't you just call them pants? Or, how about jeans? Or even slacks, the word of choice for grandmas. "Denim bottoms" causes one to think of the cheap jean-like material that you buy at Ben Franklin and then fashion into shorts with a ladybug stitched onto the back pocket, which your daughter can then wear in the local 4th of July parade when her dance class performs their baton routine to "I Just Called (To Say I Love You)" by Stevie Wonder. But not for fancy places like Target! What is happening to you, place of domestic and apparel wonder? Is it JCP? Is that what's got you down? Are you thinking of just giving up, giving in...they've already stolen so much from you anyway, you might as well just pack it in and start wondering what Kmart does on nights like this to get by?
And because of this, Chris and I have inadvertently started referring to my jeans as denim bottoms, which of course started as a joke that is hilarious but now is also terrifying because deep down we both know it's the kind that's going to start sinking in until one day we start using it around other people who don't know what we're talking about and they'll think we're using it for real instead of ironically and then we become known as the couple who calls jeans Denim Bottoms.
It is really funny, though, when we say it in a Brooklyn Jewish Grandparents accent and then talk that way all afternoon just to torture ourselves (and Dax).
Because we are dorks. Big, women's denim plus-sized bottom ones.
Women's denim bottomsYesterday, Chris and I found this coupon from the Target website, which Chris used to buy a pair of Mossimo jeans for me that I was surprisingly and ridiculously in love with but hadn't bought for myself yet since I just treated myself to hundreds of dollars in car repairs (I deserved it, you guys. And my savings were growing to be waaaay too big, and so something - new brakes, a new alternator - had to be done). Chris and I like to use coupons for stuff because they help us save money for pageants, but this one somehow became a source of outrage and disgust. Women's denim bottoms? Why can't you just call them pants? Or, how about jeans? Or even slacks, the word of choice for grandmas. "Denim bottoms" causes one to think of the cheap jean-like material that you buy at Ben Franklin and then fashion into shorts with a ladybug stitched onto the back pocket, which your daughter can then wear in the local 4th of July parade when her dance class performs their baton routine to "I Just Called (To Say I Love You)" by Stevie Wonder. But not for fancy places like Target! What is happening to you, place of domestic and apparel wonder? Is it JCP? Is that what's got you down? Are you thinking of just giving up, giving in...they've already stolen so much from you anyway, you might as well just pack it in and start wondering what Kmart does on nights like this to get by? And because of this, Chris and I have inadvertently started referring to my jeans as denim bottoms, which of course started as a joke that is hilarious but now is also terrifying because deep down we both know it's the kind that's going to start sinking in until one day we start using it around other people who don't know what we're talking about and they'll think we're using it for real instead of ironically and then we become known as the couple who calls jeans Denim Bottoms.
It is really funny, though, when we say it in a Brooklyn Jewish Grandparents accent and then talk that way all afternoon just to torture ourselves (and Dax).
Because we are dorks. Big, women's denim plus-sized bottom ones.
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