-\/\- I hate shopping -/\/-

So, I went shopping tonight, and I ran across so many interesting things. I wish you guys could have been there. I wish I had one of those Fear Factor face cams. Or a blag-head. That way, I could totally blag as things happened to me. Kinda like this:














{ ignore the volcano on my forehead &=( }
So, I put this little number on - one of those "keeps you all smooshied together, when you're planning on wearing tight-fitting things, that your guts might try to push their way through, and people will mistake it for a stray muffin sitting on your belly." I originally had to turn it backwards, in order to get the back cinched up (it was a bunch of clasps, kinda like on a bra), then I was going to turn it around and pull it up. If you can't already tell, it's on me completely sideways. See the boobs on the right side? So, I'm herking and grunting and cursing and thinking tiny, tiny thoughts, trying to get this bastard turned around, and I look down, and this is what I see:














Well, you're damn right it does. It stayed in place so well, I kept having to stop, and breathe, and turn myself upside down to get air, and tell myself I was ok, just so I could make it out of there alive. I have serious anxiety when I hang out in dressing rooms. And, when I try clothes on? Yeah, that just makes it worse. I prefer to just hang out in them, if I have to choose between the two.

I actually tried these out in the push-ups I was trying on,











but they made me look like, not an intimidating D, but a repellent, sick, objectionable, overfilled D, and I was pretty scared I was going to lose an eye...or someone was. They were just interesting to mess with, for someone who scores right at a 36B. &=( They don't teach you your bra size on the ACT, so I'm assuming that's why I scored so low.

I just think department stores are so ostentatious, with the ridiculous things with which they come up. Like this, for example:











It's two little pearls with an elastic string attached to one and hooking over the other, in order to keep the bra on the silk & foam hanger.

Wow. There are people dying in third world countries, but I'm sure we spend lots of money for people to throw in tons of money to research and analyze, in order to come up with something that like.

"Ted, we need something...SOMETHING that will keep bra straps from sliding off their hangers in the department stores. I mean, this is becoming an epidemic. We cannot let this continue. No more bras. Not anymore."

So, Ted went and invented THIS one. This was my favorite:











If you zoom in on it, it's unreal. I was THERE, and I could hardly figure it out. I think you have to have two keys, a binary password, and either face algorithm or fingerprint recognition to gain access to this mother. Either that, or written permission from your mom, dad or legal guardian... Needless to say, this one was tried on with the hanger still attached. And, it wasn't pleasant. No pictures exist modeling that one, except for the ones the department store took.

Here's the disaster that was left after I was done:











You just can't see the things hanging on the hooks and over the door.

I had started out at Victoria's Secret, but they didn't have what I was looking for. I ended up at JCPenney, and got probably 3x as much there, as I could have gotten for one bra at VS. I got two really nice bras, replacement straps, & two nice pair of underwear for what it cost for the one bra over which I was pondering at VS. I'm so thrifty. (not. ever.) Victoria's Secret is just that she overcharges. Don't let them tell you otherwise.

I got really lost, though, after I checked out, and I always think they rotate and hide the mall entrance from me. It's always on the opposite side of wherever I am or am going. So, I walked around the same department at least 5 times, before I realized what I was doing. I might have been the one who prompted the overhead page for "security check." Oops.

I've been in quite a fog lately.

I was desperately searching for some opaque white thigh highs in one of the other department stores in which I found myself. I'm thinking that must be one of those "no white after Labor Day" retarded rules that exists, because I couldn't find white stockings ANYWHERE. They were all black, brown, ecru, eggshell, full pantyhose, knee highs, and all of what I wasn't looking for. While I was busy dismantling the stores' selection of intimate-wear, this lady walked by, with her two kids in tow, and said, "Let's go. You're going to get me divorced tonight, if you don't hurry up."

Interesting remark to make to your two preschool-age children, who I'm sure didn't drag you there, kicking and screaming in the first place. I know I'm getting old, but I quite vividly remember hating shopping at that age. Ahhhh, I can still smell the glue that attached the rough, grey carpet to the hard floor, as I lay there thinking, "Shit. I wish I would have brought Moondancer (My Little Pony™) and her princess robe and hairbrush."











Well, I probably didn't actually SAY Moondancer.......or shit.

I also made it by Spencer's, to purchase a black light, which I've been wanting anyway. Why not now, while I'm broke? But this is actually for decoration at John's party, that's going to be happening on Saturday. I'm still missing a stuffed, white rabbit, a tiny dormouse, and a teapot, but I'll probably drag myself out after work tomorrow, to see if I can locate those.

I hit up a couple of other stores, once I left the Galleria, to see if I could find those white tights to go with my costume. I actually ended up at one of those temporary Halloween stores - you know, the kind of holiday stores that crop up randomly - you never know when they're coming, and they're rarely ever in the same place....well, kinda like syphilis sores. It was the one over close to the Wal-mart in Hoover. I pulled up to park, opened the door to get out, and I manage to slip on a wet, old, mashy banana laying on the pavement - the only one in the parking lot, mind you. While my one leg was still in the car, awaiting further instructions, the active leg slipped on the banana and slid so far out, I almost had a baby.

I need to see if Ted will do some research on potentially violent bananas showing up in parking lots and accosting young women.

(Before you ask, I don't really know a Ted. If you do, let me know, because he's got a LOT of work to do.)

Then, when I was inside, I was making my way down the seriously cramped aisles, and I heard this guy say, "Yeah, but I STILL can't believe Dumbledore is gay!" As we were passing, I looked him right in the face and said, "I KNOW!" He and I stood there and stuttered and stammered over the absurdity of the subject, before I just said, "I'm sorry. I just can't talk about this," and walked away, shaking my head.

Yes, Hewy, she's pulling out this crap that D'dore is gay. A bit late for that, ay?

So, I'm home, now. I found some white tights at the Halloween store, but they have Dorothy's blue-and-white checkered bows on them, so I'll have to pretend I'm resourceful and take them off and replace them with the black ones I already have.

Where's that damn stapler?

I'm going to lay down now. We have cable. And, Aqua Teen is on. Granted, it's one I've already seen, but I kinda miss laying down, curling up in a warm blanket, and falling asleep with the tv on. Or like last night, passing out face-down, shirtless, still in pants and shoes...with the tv on.

One day, I'm going to get my schedule back together. But not this week, that's for damn sure.

I was supposed to be off for Voodoo this weekend, but since that fell through, I decided I'd go ahead and work Friday...but not Monday. I think I can have that day. And, they'll be ok. Derrick will be back anyway. So, Monday is all mine, to sleep in and do a ton of shit around here that really needs to be done.


Like sleep.