mycological mystery

our faithful readers will remember leon, my downstairs neighbor who subscribes to all of the mushroom magazines. so this afternoon on checking my answering machine, there was a message from some guy with a new-york-ish accent asking for leon. seems it is imperative that leon call him back immediately regarding a situation in chicago, illinois (that's illi-noise, not illi-noy). out of curiosity, i looked up leon's phone number, thinking maybe we had similar numbers and that this confusion would continue to happen, allowing me to continue spying on this fascinating fungus lover. but alas, it was not meant to be. so that means i only have this phone call to use... i'm trying to figure out how i can call this number back and tell the investigating party that i am not leon, but for some reason desperately need to know what's going on. i'm taking suggestions.

in other notes, i'm having angst about the previously mentioned pink party dress. the rest of the story, briefly, is that my blogmate and i were on a marathon shopping afternoon, one of the only shopping expeditions we've ever had that does not involve hunting clearance racks at t.j. maxx, and we had a blow-out at ann taylor loft on halsted. so many things fit me perfectly. one of them was a size 6 bubble gum pink party dress, complete with tulle in the skirt so it flares out a little. now, as one might gather from my stated interests of power drills and spying on leon, i am not a pink party dress kind of girl. but we were having such a fun yuppie (how do you spell a single yuppie? yuppy?) afternoon, and it was so nice to wander into starbucks with our arms full of purchases, thinking that just for this one day we could hang out with the trixies before going back to the organized-by-color racks at unique thrift... so i bought the dress. but now i'm realizing that the dress costs the same amount as a pair of shoes for work that don't hurt my feet or make my feet smell yucky (yucky? yuckie?), and so i'm torn. it's all well and good to feel girly and pretty in a pink party dress, but it's also hard to feel girly or pretty wearing smelly beat-up sneakers that need to be febrezed every night before i put them back in the closet. what's a girl to do?