Boys, my girlfriend needs me. I’m going in. If I don’t make it back, remember me whenever you see a two-for-one sale. Wish me luck!
Boyfriend’s log, mall-date 4-17: I’ve officially crossed over into enemy territory. My girlfriend is teaching me the safest routes through treacherous tracts of women’s clothing. To the untrained eye, the land looks colorful, almost cheerful. I scan for faces in the sea of racks around us. Several steps away, the hardened eyes and bared teeth of other female shoppers show me the truth. The whole place is a minefield.
I very quickly learned, no pleats and tapered legs!
Definately no elastic wastes!
Time has no meaning here. We’ve had little luck. Finally, hugging the wall to avoid the local politburo dressing several impossibly proportioned mannequins in clothing nowhere to be found, I stumble across the right size garment that appears to fit all of the rules – style, make, and importantly, price.
The tag falls off as I pass it to my girlfriend already entrenched in the dressing room. I pick it up. OMG! I didn’t look at the price tag – that pair did *not* belong on the $20 rack! Before I can throw myself on the live grenade I’ve tossed her, she comes out smiling – with the perfect pair of pants.
“You found these on clearance?!”
“Umm… Well… Those are actually $120.”
FRIENDLY FIRE! FRIENDLY FIRE! I try to find something wool to get behind but all I can find are blends that fall prey easily to the napalm heat.
I love my girlfriend. I can’t blame her. There was never a Geneva Convention for women’s shopping. No rules of war to ban the psychological torture clothing manufacturers and retailers put them through.
The horror… the horror…
Very funny! The last time I did something like that … I went with my sister who said … I just need to pick up a swimsuit. I stood around, bored out of my skull … moving less than the mannequin for ~90 minutes.
I went to Wal-Mart to exchange clothes for new ones. Time spent — 7 minutes. that was long. When I’ve been at Kohl’s, I can spent up to 40, including trying on clothes and paying. I don’t like shopping … it borew the _________ out of me. Commercials therefore peeve me and they don’t generate sales from me!