Last weekend, I and the Missus went back to our hometown to visit some friends. After spending that Saturday night on the floor of my Grandmother’s newly-renovated family room, my Mother decided to take us to the mall to get me some new clothes.
I’d like you to think that I live comfortably. Don’t get me wrong, we live paycheck-to-paycheck and my student loans cost me hundreds every month, but we’re not starving and we haven’t had to sell the cats for crack just yet. One just has to make some sacrifices to sustain your ways of life. Trim the fat, if you will. One of the ways that we do this is by never buying clothes. Me and Celia basically wear the same crap that we had when we got out of High School. It’s not like we want to, it’s just that we have to pay for seemingly more important things first (like that sculpture in my bathroom that lactates Kaluha). When it comes to expenses, new clothing takes a back seat to everything.
This is where my Mother comes in. I by no means attempt to take advantage of her, I just know for a fact that she wants me to always look like a millionaire. When I was growing up, we had little to no money whatsoever. I grew up on a farm, and my Dad probably made less money than I do right now, working in a mailroom 40 hours a week. You wouldn’t have known by looking at me, though. Weather or not it’s sad to cover up ones’ monetary shortcomings with fancy clothes isn’t the topic of conversation right now. What matters is that my Mother always likes to see me in a new shirt.
So, needless to say, we were off to the mall in a heartbeat. I was most excited about picking up a new, Simon Cowell-esque black t-shirt. All of mine were starting to fade and gather inoperable amounts of cat hair, so that was my top priority for the day. I also needed some new khakis for work, because I’ve worn the same pair for the last year straight, Mondays thru Thursdays (Friday is casual day!).
Now, it should be mentioned that I don’t like the mall. I don’t like the large amounts of people, because they make me claustrophobic, and then I start swinging my pocket knife at everyone. I don’t like the crowds of kids that congregate at the Food Court and never buy anything. I’m just trying to get my Julius Smoothie and hit the road, and some kid who’s barely visible through his massive sea of giant, baggy clothes is in my way and not moving. Hey kid, 1997 called and they want their raver pants back.
What also upsets me are the size options. 90% of all women’s stores have sizes so embarrassingly small that only a fetus with a charge card could shop there. Meanwhile, they assume that every man on the planet is 9 feet tall and weighs 1400 pounds. The only places I can find a small shirt are Target, the Gap & Old Navy (I also refuse to shop at Abercrombie, Hollister, American Eagle and Hot Topic. I’m aware that they’re all more or less owned by the same conglomerate, but it’s the principle of the thing. Not to mention, I refuse to wear anything with writing on it, because I’m not a Goddamn billboard. This pretty much nixes out every other store in existence. I’m a picky shopper.) If you were to see me on the street, you’d see me in jeans and a plain t-shirt or festive sweater, no exceptions. The deck is stacked against me finding anything that I’ll ever be happy with.
Walking back into the hometowne mall that I basically grew up in is always unnerving. I’m always afraid that I’ll run into someone that I used to know, and don’t want to continue to know. This usually happens 3-9 times on every occasion. I also used to dread going to the mall with my Mother, for fear that my friends would see me and think that I’m not allowed to go anywhere by myself. Nowadays, it’s completely different. When you’re over 17 years old and your Mom wants to buy you some pants, you let her buy you some damn pants.
The day went well, I got everything I needed and made off like a bandit. My Grandmother even ironed my new slacks before I headed home to Sun Prairie. Fantastic!
This weekend, we plan to take it easy and take care of some stuff around the house (nothing whatsoever). I’ll also be working on another album review for Core Weekly that’s due on Sunday. I’m reviewing the new Sublime Tribute Album. If you live outside of Madison and won’t be able to pick up that particular copy of Core Weekly, here’s a sneak peek: It sucks!
Later, kids. The Suns are playing the Mavericks in Game 6. Keep sounding off in the comments section. It’s where all the cool people congregate, like an online Orange Julius.