Mall Watching

Ok, so I’m sitting outside the mall Starbucks sipping my Vitamin E-less Iced Venti 2 pump mocha and waiting for hubby to get off work so we could walk through the mall and comment about how people aren’t buying anything as we weave our way through the halls avoiding millions of people dragging 600 lb shopping bags around.

Sitting next to me were two women talking rather loudly about cults. I’m not sure whether they are pro cult or anti cult, but it seemed to be a strange topic of conversation at a mall Starbucks. One of the talkers had a small Saks 5th Avenue bag around her wrist and was making expansive hand gestures with it, as if to call attention to the fact that she shopped at Saks, bought something at Saks, and would probably leave the Starbucks to go return whatever over priced piece of crap she got at Saks.

I came to the realization that Starbucks (at least the mall Starbucks) have THE most uncomfortable chairs in the history of chairs. Its as if they were specially made to look chic and cool, but designed to make sitting in them not only painful, but downright torturous. Its like they want you to sit there for a whole 1 minute before running away and seeking chiropractor assistance to make room for more caffeine fiends (who no doubt also have cysts and don’t take Vitamin E).

Across from Starbucks (are you counting how many times I write “Starbucks”?) is the Victoria Secret shop. Through careful study I’ve found that husbands will run for the store dragging their wives (or significant others) into the store. If women are alone, they stroll in as though they’ve lost their balance and Oh look! I’m inside Victoria’s Secret, I’ll just walk around and not pick up that flimsy thing that looks great on the anorexic plastic torso but will make me look like an overstuffed sausage. I was momentarily yanked out of a peaceful zen moment by the screaming of a small child and looked up to see a woman trying to drag her young daughter into the store. Children are born with the knowledge that underwear is suppose to be comfortable and comforting and should not consist of one strand of barbed wire that imbeds itself up your ass and must be removed with surgical tools.

To the woman with the patent leather bowling bag-like purse, one streak of fake purple in over dyed black hair tied back with a gigantic fake daisy... get some better friends that will tell you that you look like Ruth Gordon in “Harold and Maude” and then have them explain to you just how tragic that is so you don’t end up like that character.

I think that malls don’t use overhead music to their advantage. Playing monks chanting or piano music merely lulls the shoppers into a glazed over zombie-like state and is not conducive to shopping. They should play the end theme to Benny Hill or something peppy to get them buying crap they not only don’t need, but have no idea why they bought it in the first place before chasing down a large bussomed woman sporting a nurse’s uniform.

Are those ghastly knee high sport socks with the rings at the top back... and why, or is one person still back in the 70’s?

Wearing 14 mismatched layers of clothes does not automatically make you look bohemian or “earthy”, just pathetic and crazy, perhaps even homeless and in need of security people driving Segways to herd you out of the mall.

I certainly hope that Ugg boots are out of fashion this year. To those who wear them in the summer... what kind of stink does that create when you take them off?

I close with two dreams I had the other day:

1.) Despite going to at least 4 different restrooms, they are all malfunctioning in some horrid way (This is a reoccurring dream I have for some reason)

2.) I am the photographer on the wing of a jet while two men and a woman walk on the wings (as the jet is zooming and doing all sorts of acrobatic things) and they do fancy tricks like handstands and junk. (This one is new and frankly I have no freakin clue what this means)