I lead a fairly sheltered life, and don’t even visit Facebook very often. So, I might be way off on this. But it doesn’t feel like I’ve heard too many insufferable blowhards pontificating about the over-commercialization of Christmas this year. Have I missed it? It’s a holiday tradition that seems to be lacking in 2013.
C’mon, people! You’re leaving an uncomfortable void in the middle of my soul. So, get to pontificating. Preferably in knowing tones. I thank you in advance for your attention to this matter.
On Sunday Toney and I went to the mall to do some clothes shopping. I need almost everything, all the way down to socks ‘n’ stuff. And if there’s ever a task that breaks my heart… it’s trading money for socks. Demoralizing doesn’t even begin to describe it.
I’d been suffering a mild case of cabin fever, because we were hammered by a snowstorm the day before, and had been in a semi-lockdown. So, I was excited to get out of the house.
However, the shopping wasn’t much fun. Toney was doing fine with it, but I couldn’t pull the trigger on many purchases. I was focusing on shirts, mostly, and 80% of them are mind-bogglingly hideous. I kept shouting, inside my head, “What kind of asshole would sport such a garment?” Then I’d picture said asshole, and become angry.
I was reminded, again and again, of this Butch Walker song, with the line, “Working at American Apparel, selling women’s clothes to guys.”
Plus, everything was shockingly expensive. A couple of times I saw something that wasn’t too bad, looked at the price tag, and audibly gasped. Seventy bucks?! For a shirt? Fuck you guys. I should burn down this building.
I found a rack way back in a neglected corner of Macy’s, where the carpet had been ripped off the floor for some reason. And as I flipped through the deeply-discounted items there, I was becoming more and more agitated. Who is their target audience? Human traffickers from Eastern Europe? I wouldn’t even wipe with half this stuff. And what’s the story with the electronic dance music they’re pumping in this bitch? I’m about to have a seizure.
Then I discovered a shirt that wasn’t half bad. In fact, it was pretty nice, and right up my alley. I checked the tag, and it had been marked down multiple times. Current price: $9.99. Hell yeah! That’s more like it. It was the right size (portly), but I didn’t trust it. It was made by Perry Ellis, and that made me worry it might be a torso-hugger.
And it was. I tried it on, and felt like I was trapped inside a giant set of Chinese finger cuffs. So, I was 90 minutes into this excursion, and still empty-handed.
I had to urinate with a fiery urgency, and found a men’s room way down some echoey corridor off the mall’s main drag. It was pandemonium in there, and more diverse than an Olive Garden commercial. It wasn’t a huge bathroom, but there had to be eight or ten guys inside — of various nationalities and religions, united by a common need to piss.
Within two seconds I realized someone was crapping in there, too. I was hit by a breaker wave of fresh-cut feces, and made the same sound I did when I saw that $70 price tag. I did a full military heel-turn, and marched out of that chamber of horrors. My bladder would just have to deal with it.
Who shits at the mall?!
I finally ended up buying a couple of things at Kohl’s, and also used their luxurious, civilized men’s room. I also splurged on a pair of jeans at Target. But I couldn’t buy the socks. I mean, seriously. It feels like throwing money in the trash.
My favorite purchase of the day: a six-pack of Dogfish Head 60 Minute Ale, at Wegmans, after the clothes shopping was finally at an end. Sheesh. The whole afternoon had been agitating. Plus, it makes me nervous to spend money. Every transaction, except the last one, made me feel mildly panicked.
Yes, I’m a lot of fun to go places with.
I’ll see you guys again tomorrow, I hope. We’re still taking it day by day. My job is a real ball-masher these days, but I’ll give it my best shot.
Have a great day!