mall-o-dramatic

ali and i went to the galleria today. it's not something i make a habit of doing. i needed shoes and she needed something. i didn't walk away in a new pair of shoes, but i did walk away with a headache.

there's something about malls that a) confuse me, and b) make my head hurt. as soon as i enter i loose all sense of direction. i feel like a blind pavlov's dog without an owner. i know there's something i'm supposed to want because a thousand advertisements give me their best sales pitch, but i don't know what it is.

i'm quite certain i've unlocked every marketers' code for selling handbags, watches, sunglasses, organic tea, (fill in the blank)- put a breast next to it. they've done a bang up job convincing every teeny bopper (and everyone else, for that matter) that they can actually wear their self-worth. don't believe me? how often do you slow down when you pass a mirror in the department store or a glass window? everyone does...i do too.

how come the perfume section of every department store has more employees than customers? and every employee is so numb to smell that they have to overstimulate the hell out of everyone else's olfactory bulbs. they use adjectives that don't go with smell like "soft" and "accentuating."

every mall's only saving grace- the pretzel stand with the glaze dip.