22 December 2006
♥ bah & humbug.
I am, in general, something of a hopeless Scrooge. It's not that I mind the holidays, but I hate malls, shopping, and other traditional Christmas-season activities involving crowds.
I thought I'd avoid the last-minute madness by shopping today, a Friday, in the late morning. Most people should be at work, right? And if they're snowed in from work, they won't be at the mall, right?
Wrong.
There were so many freaking people at the mall today I thought I would suffocate as soon as I walked in. I always find that kind of thing to be somewhat bewildering, but today, I'd made a list and knew exactly which stores I needed to go to and what order I would need to visit them in order to maximize efficiency.
Apparently, though, my mission was far less urgent than that of a particularly bitchy mom who was wielding what must have been a 5-kid stroller. There were only two babies in it (that I could see), but the rest of this monstrosity was filled with all kinds of Christmas crap, the kind that made me glad that many of my relatives live out of state and don't even know I exist, and, therefore, don't buy me pointless crap for Christmas.
Okay, so this mom is talking on her phone (a difficult task when steering a stroller the size of a Hummer), sipping an overpriced latte, and yelling at her kids when I catch her in my rearview periphs. I try to merge into oncoming traffic, thinking I'll do anything to get out of this crazy mother's way.
By the time I realize how close she is, though, it's too late, and the stroller has grabbed me. One of the handles was caught on my purse, and I'm being dragged down the main stretch of the mall trying desperately to free myself from the infinitely stinky stroller, whose built-in diaper compartment I seem to be attached to.
Of course, by now, I'm practically in tears from this trauma, and the wheels keep running over my feet (why isn't she noticing?!) and I'm screaming "Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Let go, stroller monstrosity of doom!" and this mom still isn't noticing! What the hell, right?
So finally, she looks over and gives me positively the nastiest look I've ever gotten from someone who wasn't related to me, and she says, "I've got to go, Gladys. I'll call you back. There's a teenager stuck to my stroller."
No kidding, you crazy bitch.
I wrestle free of the stroller's grasp, practially trip over that stupid rack in the middle of the mall that holds all the fake hair ("Hey! Watch it! Lots of mannequins died to produce this stuff, you know!" the guy at the counter exclaims facetiously. Very funny, asshole. Not in the mood.), and run away.
So help me God, I am NEVER going to the mall again. You all better enjoy your Christmas presents.
I thought I'd avoid the last-minute madness by shopping today, a Friday, in the late morning. Most people should be at work, right? And if they're snowed in from work, they won't be at the mall, right?
Wrong.
There were so many freaking people at the mall today I thought I would suffocate as soon as I walked in. I always find that kind of thing to be somewhat bewildering, but today, I'd made a list and knew exactly which stores I needed to go to and what order I would need to visit them in order to maximize efficiency.
Apparently, though, my mission was far less urgent than that of a particularly bitchy mom who was wielding what must have been a 5-kid stroller. There were only two babies in it (that I could see), but the rest of this monstrosity was filled with all kinds of Christmas crap, the kind that made me glad that many of my relatives live out of state and don't even know I exist, and, therefore, don't buy me pointless crap for Christmas.
Okay, so this mom is talking on her phone (a difficult task when steering a stroller the size of a Hummer), sipping an overpriced latte, and yelling at her kids when I catch her in my rearview periphs. I try to merge into oncoming traffic, thinking I'll do anything to get out of this crazy mother's way.
By the time I realize how close she is, though, it's too late, and the stroller has grabbed me. One of the handles was caught on my purse, and I'm being dragged down the main stretch of the mall trying desperately to free myself from the infinitely stinky stroller, whose built-in diaper compartment I seem to be attached to.
Of course, by now, I'm practically in tears from this trauma, and the wheels keep running over my feet (why isn't she noticing?!) and I'm screaming "Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Let go, stroller monstrosity of doom!" and this mom still isn't noticing! What the hell, right?
So finally, she looks over and gives me positively the nastiest look I've ever gotten from someone who wasn't related to me, and she says, "I've got to go, Gladys. I'll call you back. There's a teenager stuck to my stroller."
No kidding, you crazy bitch.
I wrestle free of the stroller's grasp, practially trip over that stupid rack in the middle of the mall that holds all the fake hair ("Hey! Watch it! Lots of mannequins died to produce this stuff, you know!" the guy at the counter exclaims facetiously. Very funny, asshole. Not in the mood.), and run away.
So help me God, I am NEVER going to the mall again. You all better enjoy your Christmas presents.
12/22/2006
