Monday, July 03, 2006

I Don't Like To Shop

There, I said it. I'll even say it again. I don't like to shop.

The fluorescent lights, the parking, the crowds.

I don't want to spend $89 for a gauzy summer skirt. And how did every "summer" skirt become completely transparent at the exact moment slips became obsolete? No, I don't want a renaissance for slips and girdles. I want other people to not be absolutely certain from 3 blocks away that I ran out of clean laundry and had to resort to the flowered granny panties.

I don't want to spend three hours looking for a shirt with sleeves that are made from the same fabric as the rest of it.

I don't want to buy gabardine pants. I don't want to know what gabardine is.

I don't want pleats.

I don't want to have to buy a dress that I can't get into or out of without a "dressing buddy". I know it's the only thing in the entire department store that fits me and isn't chartreuse. Or see through (see above). But if I can't reach the zipper, what would I do if there were an earthquake, and I was pinned to the floor by the blink-and-you'll-miss-it trendy again/not handkerchief hem? I'd have to chew my own skirt off to escape.

Oh sure, my baby Lab, Banana Dog, would cheerfully eat through it for me. But you can't guaranteed that when I am trapped by eathquake debris in my hemline-challenged dress, my puppy will be with me. She could be out in the yard digging a hole for her new in ground hot tub/jacuzzi at the time. I think that's what she's excavating for. She's being decidedly tight-lipped about her plans other than Dig More.

But, alas. It is summer, I have not purchased any new clothes (except for work clothes) in two years, and my boyfriend, Laughing Boy, has finally admitted under duress that he has never liked my one and only daytime casual skirt. In his favor, he has told me every time I have worn it that I look beautiful. So I can't blame him for finally, after two long blue-skirted years, resorting to honesty under interrogation. But I wish his confession had come with a brightly wrapped present, in a large.

So that I would not have to go to the mall.

2 Comments:

At 5:58 PM, July 03, 2006, Blogger Bob Souvorin said...

I really enjoy your slightly manic, steeped in frenetic, and largely quirky writing. It's hard to pull that off without sounding ditzy (you aren't, at all) and the fact that you keep it under control also shows you are a pretty accomplished writer.
I sympathize with your dog issues - I have recently acquired the worlds largest puppy (six to eight months old, 85 lbs and feet like swim fins) named MAXX and he is 90% black lab, with a rotweillers (sp?) head (but solid black) and the beast will chew on anything. ANYTHING! He has destroyed every chew toy - the house is scraps of rag, rubber, wood shreds (from the dining room chair legs) bone fragments (from shattered big bones - he has a very large head), and his new joy is throw pillows - I used to have eight or ten.
He is a rescue, so I feel I should persevere, and he is slowly improving. Hang in there! Bob

 
At 6:09 PM, July 03, 2006, Blogger panda said...

Thanks for the compliments! (blush)

This is my third lab, and my first was a rescue like yours. The second lab I got when she was a puppy, and she had the first lab to chew on, so she wasn't nearly as destructive as this one is.

It was kind of cute when Banana Dog was 15 pounds of fluff and trying to get under the couch cushions to get a chew toy that had dropped under there. Next thing I know, she's 30 pounds of teeth, and dragging the cushions off the couch every other minute, shaking them like prey. (SNAP the neck)

It's a crappy couch, but still!

Thanks for dropping by!

 

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