Sunday, December 27, 2009
6 Things I Learned at the Mall the Day after Christmas
1. Everyone goes to the mall the day after Christmas.
Including me and my sister. Her to shop, me to tape flyers in changing rooms and bathrooms.
Why is that? You already got stuff, do you really need even more stuff? Or is it a social thing? Anyway, fucking everyone was there. And they were all carrying shopping bags.
2. Scene kids especially love going to the mall the day after Christmas. Dear god, I like you, Scene Kids, but is the mall your secret meetingplace or something? There must have been a hundred of you. I have never seen so many DC logo shirts, or little skull patterned hairbows in my life. I went to the mall again today (because really, when theres a foot of fucking snow outside, what the hell are you going to do for fun?) and counted the scene kids. There were 21 of them. Are you guys taking the mall over? Planning some sort of vigilante scheme using hairspray and eyeglitter as weapons? Count me in, fucking-a.
3. They still sell glass ponies in the exchange room at Dillard's. These goddamn ponies have been in Dillards as long as I can remember. I am pretty sure these are the same ponies that have always been there since I was eight. If I wasn't wary of the labor conditions, I would totally plunk down $20 for one.
I totally ogled this one.
Then I totally fondled this one.
4. Guidos will butt into your conversations, get offended when you call them guidos, and are still pretty cool, all in all.
Me: *points to painting of fetus on wall* Dude, its got its hands up at its face the way cats do.
My sister: I-
Guido 1: What looks like a cat?
Me: I dunno. Are you gonna impregnate a cat and make an abomination half-cat-half-person and feed it banana flavored soymilk?
Guido 2: You're crazy.
Guido 3 (to my sister): This one's cute.
My sister: Thanks...
Me: Shes the cute one. I'm the one less likely to get raped. *blushes when realizing how NOT politically correct that is*
Guido 2: Raped? WTF?
Me: Well, if the rapist had a choice....?
Guido 1: You're cute too. I like your boots.
Me: Thank you Guido.
Guido 1: Dude, everyone calls me that! A thousand times a day! All the fucking time! Why did you call me a guido?
Me: I dunno. You guys are buff, you're tan, and you're wearing Ed Hardy.
Guido 2: Is he a guido? *points to guido three*
Me: Wow. You guys are awesome.
And it sort of ended there.
5. The people who work in Hot Topic are really articulate and cool. Finally get to Hot Topic, tape and flyers in bag, totally prepared to fuck some shit up. My mom is a lawyer and she says its legal as far as she knows. And so I'm going to do it. I'm going to try to enlighten the populace. I walk into Hot Topic, bombarded by Alice in Wonderland merch and more scene kids then I can count. And a dude with a pin covered lanyard and spikey hair approaches me and tells me that I need to sign up for the new rewards program or something. And I tell him no, I never shop here, but he totally thrusts a clipboard at me. "Um, pshyeah, so lyke, I don't really shop here, cuz child labor is like, TOTALLY unpunk."
He matches my fake valleygirl accent. "Thats like, totes ironic. Why are we talking like valleygirls?"
"I dunno." I say. "Ohmigawd, you look totes cute today. Bradley is totally going to ask you out, then you're gonna get married and have like, ten thousand babies. Cuz you're so fucking cute."
He rolls his eyes.
"You know, you remind me of Daria." he said.
I am totally flattered. I finish writing out my fake email adress and rush back to the changing rooms to do the deed.
6. I suck ass at doing things even remotely wrong. I pick out three shirts to pretend to try on. I ask the other dude in the store for the changing room key. I walk in, look in the mirror and bite off six pieces of tape, then bite those in half, then tape the flyers (that say hipsterrunoff.com and adbusters.org on them over and over again in repetitive neon and helevetica), slanted, on the mirror. The girl who will come in after me will probably be hoping that the pink zebra miniskirt makes her butt look perky, only to be forced to examine herself, her culture, and her impact on the world. But probably not. I will probably just piss off the guy that compared me to Daria. I blush. I freak out a little. I debate whether or not to take pictures. On one hand, proof I actually did this stupid shit. On the other hand, evidence. Eventually, I take pictures.
I cheer up. I look okay. I feel okay. I am vain, kind of stupid, and probably not doing anything of merit, but I should feel good about myself. I am more of a punk then the kids buying Tripp Pants mere feet away.
I kind of hate myself for putting hipsterrunoff in the same category as Adbusters. When I was making these this morning, I wanted to include HR as a Christmas present to Carles. Now I realize thats retarded. Oh wow, am trying to enlighten these people? I am an arrogant cu-
"Dude? Are you almost done?" my sister calls. I put my jacket on and rush out, feeling like a dumbass. I grab her hand and run out of the store with all the grace and charm of a functionally retarded goat. My face is read and I'm breathing heavily.
"What is wrong with you?" she says, poised and elegant. "It looks like you stole something."
I stop freaking out. I don't feel so smart, but life is okay.