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Monday, February 11, 2013

Where's the Bar in this Place--Old blog


For those of you who know me, I’m not a big shopper. The whole idea of spending the day taking on and off your clothes for no other reason than to try on things you probably aren’t going to buy anyway; really is not appealing.  I remember one of my first times visiting my friend Linda in Houston. She took me to the Galleria.  I was over it in about an hour. So I sat on the bench by the Dippin’ Dot’s guy and she comes over and exuberantly states, “You can’t be tired!!! We still have 4 more malls to hit!!!!” I wanted to punch her in the face. So I pry myself up off the bench, wave adios to the Dippin’ Dots man and continue my trek into uncharted territory.  It was at about the 7th shoe store that I blacked out. I think the overwhelming smell of leather and pretzels sent me into a coma.  I walked out of that place that day with one purchase…an American cookie.  5 hours of my life wasted, not to mention I couldn’t feel the lower extremities of my body anymore.  

It’s not just the actual shopping that I don’t care for.  It’s the entire experience.  The smelly people nose breathing on you in line, the survey people asking you what you think about their new steamer, the people who obviously have no end-sight in mind and walk about .03 mph when you are trying to pass them like Mario Kart. I really wish I shot red shells out of my butt at that very moment. I walk like I drive too which makes this worse.  I WILL be all up in your business when walking to my next destination within Satan’s Playground.  MOVE OVER and take your baby stroller with you! Can we please put lanes in malls so the people who leisurely walk like they have all day to do this meaningless act of self-indulgence can stay in their own lane? My mom loves going shopping with me because I’m in and out of each store. I know what I need and I get it. When I was younger she used to have to bribe me to go. At 12 years old, my mother would ask to take me shopping and I was ask right back, “what’s in it for me?” she would reply “new clothes” and I would reply…”I meant in terms of food items.” So I’d go, get my cookie and be done with it.  I know this is blasphemous to the female species but get over it I’m not normal AND I save a hell of a lot more money for beer and the ponies. Until next time…

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