10.13.2002 - 4:48 p.m.
I went hog wild at the mall
today. Rooting and squealing and grunting, even.
I decided this morning that
it might be fun to tool around the Bellevue Square mall; I wasn't
sure what else to do with myself today. I really hadn't planned
on buying anything at all - window shopping sounded appealing
It was when I was in Nordstrom's
that something snapped. I went to the Lancome counter (fighting
against the intimidation I always feel when approached by those
lab-coat-wearing, perfectly painted women) with this half-memory
of some ad I'd seen in the paper. Gift bag with $25.00 purchase.
I walked away with an overpriced salve with the purported capabilities
of smoothing and softening skin, and the free little makeup kit
From there I headed to the
hosiery section, where I bought some socks, and a black pair
of tights with white stripes running down the sides. Racing stripes,
said the packaging, and I thought: yes!
I was in a giddy rush now,
and feeling my oats from the successful encounter with the whole
scary Lancome thing, so I went to Victoria's Secret. V.S. usually
just makes me feel inadequate and lumpen, but this time I breezed
through, picking up a slutty negligee (so appealing when coated
with dog fur), and three insanely sexy panties that at least
appeared not to have the potential for crawling halfway
up my large intestine.
Now I had my little telltale
pink-and-white striped V.S. bag bouncing against my Nordstrom's
bag, which thrust me into a snooty shopping demographic that
I didn't feel comfortable with. So I ducked into the Gap, where
I bought a wine-colored turtleneck sweater, a soft comfy beige
little zippered sweatershirt thing, and a red-and-beige striped
JB, if you're reading, everything
was so totally on sale.
My last stop was at the Bon,
where I got two pairs of jeweled chandelier earrings, which will
probably just make my ears itch and ache, but were completely
This splurging is really not
typical for me. But it felt so good. Except guilty, at the same
time. Forbidden. Exotic! Smoldering! Shopping is like porn!
Well, it sort of is. Shut up.
So I had missed a day of work last week because I had a cold.
Not much of a cold, but Workplace is teeming with hypochondriacs
and their stern view on sickness is to stay home. It's called
the Workplace Sick? LEAVE! policy. Which is hunky dory by me,
no objections here.
The random thing is that a
few of my friends at work decided that I was skipping work because
I had decided to quit. They came up with this bulletproof theory
after several drinks Friday night, and called my cell phone to
leave two long, blathering, slurred messages about how they didn't
want me to go. "We (hic!) would mish you!"
I wrote them all emails that
night, joking about how I was flattered that they found me incapable
of succumbing to a common cold, and that there had to be a different
explanation for my absence. I assured them I wasn't planning
to quit, and thanked them for caring. This is the email I received
from Molly, my office-mate, later that night:
----- Original Message
From: "Molly "
Sent: Friday, October 11, 2002 10:31 PM
> I swear to my drunk
god selgf that I doont' iwant you to leavvvv
I mean really. Don't ever drink
and type, people. It's not worth it.
go back :::
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004