shopping

i really, really, really love shopping. you could drop me off in a hardware store, a grocery store, a model train store, a comic book store, a store full of nothing but miniatures, a butcher shop, a lumberyard, a florist, a bead store, it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter if i don't have any money. it doesn't matter if don't know what the hell to do with 750 thousand different beads. it doesn't matter that graphic novels really confuse me. it doesn't matter that i weigh 115 pounds but am in lane bryant. nothing matters. when i am in a store, i become myopic. i decide that i should be a jewlery maker with all of those beads. wouldn't that be cool? people would buy my jewery and i would get a blurb on entertainment tonight because the all of the stars would love my beautiful jewelry. oh! and all of the different kinds of tools at the hardware store! i could make stuff with wood, and tile samples, and coathooks, and yards of chains. i don't know WHAT i could make, but it would be cool when i did. and flowers! i could make the coolest arrangements and not put in a bunch of pussy willows and dried leaves and those annoying white sticks with the little white dry round things on them.i don't know what they are even called, but who cares, i'm not using them. i could be famous for my innovative avant garde arrangements, right? and if i could draw even a little bit, i could make the best comic books ever. forget archie and that stupid lesbian comic in the gay magazines. I'M WAY FUNNIER THAN THAT FOR GOD'S SAKE! don't even get me started with the little tiny representations of everyday items. no. i can't do any of that, because i am not only a dreamer, but an underachiever. also not so much with the talent. i never buy anything in any of those stores, but i can spend hours in each one of them living a life i could have if i wanted (i mean, how hard can it be, really) in my head. but my most favorite venue are clothing stores. i love clothes. i am amazed that just by putting on certain clothes, you can be anyone you want. i dream about having a boyfriend just so i could buy him clothes. i don't want a boyfriend for any other reason than to dress him up. it's difficult to find someone to fulfill only that role. straight guys want a few others things to go along with it, and gay guys can dress themselves. it's hard to find nice things for the ken barbie guy, and plus i don't play with dolls. but i do hate one thing about stores: the salespeople. not as individuals, but as a team. i feel okay if one person says in an insincere high-pitched voice, "HI! HOW ARE YOU TODAY? ALL OF OUR FULL PRICED SWEATERS ARE BUY ONE GET ONE HALF OFF! ISN'T THAT FABULOUS?" it's alright if one person pretends to care about how i am doing today. kind of. but then the other seven people working there need to individually ask me how my day is going. so i learned a trick. when the first person asks how i am doing, i answer, "mediocre. how are you?" to pull this off, i must not smile. i'm not sure why, but after that, no one else in the store asks me how i am, and i can live my alternative reality in peace. i tried to mix it up by answering, "medium. how are you? but that induced a whole lot of "ha, ha, i am well done!" and "i think medium rare! ha. ha." not ha ha. that is not funny and i make more money than you and i'm just a waitress so quit talking to me. so only mediocre works. half of the people don't know what it means, and the other half think that i are some kind of lunatic. i'm okay with that. i probably am a lunatic.

p.s. i don't care who you are, NEVER buy pants with pleats, they make your stomach look fat if you are a man, and they make your hips look big if you are a woman. and never buy unlined wool pants. i don't care if they cost two hundred dollars. you WILL itch.