This just happened:
Sophia: I have an awkward question for you.
Sophia: How do you get to work here?
Rachel: (immediately, brightly) I drive!
Sophie: No, I mean…how did you get this job?
Jesusgod. How did I get this job, or any job for that matter.
Today I feel like doing something unnecessary and time-inappropriate like go Christmas shopping. I have to get it done soon, on non-weekends, before the mall and the city is overrun by everyone who lives within a ninety-mile radius. Thousands of country drivers in the worst-planned city of all time, all trying to make left turns (not in this town, fools!) and generally getting in my way. Entering the mall on a Saturday in November or December is not an option, and if you so much as think about going to Wal-Mart you will immediately be run over by a truck with a “WE SUPPORT OUR PRIESTS” bumper sticker. At least in the Cities there are multiple malls, other options, but here we’ve got the one thing that isn’t that awesome anyway.
I remember when I wasn’t so jaded and coming here was a shopping adventure. Cannot walk past DEB without thinking of prom dress shopping, although is embarassing as the store is sort of like an 11-year-old’s idea of what it’s like to be a teenager (I will wear six-inch platforms with my pink velour sweatpants!). Yet there I was, seventeen, buying a blue-black dress to match my dyed blue-black hair and some clear-heeled shoes to boot. And then I went to prom with two dates, one a girl and one who I asked at a math meet, interrupting his conversation with someone else, and he looked panicked and went “sure” before going back to math-related conversation. It was like an explosion of awkward for all involved, but that’s prom for you. Or maybe that’s just me for you.
The blue-black dress and hair weren’t really that bad, actually, considering the previous year’s outfit decisions. Why I chose to wear a sickly-green, strapless, backless, technically two-piece thing, I might never understand. I think at the time I had some sort of mermaid thought in my head, but I did not look like a mermaid. I looked like a mermaid’s algae-filled vomit. Which combined with the curly hair-tower of doom and eighteen hour bus ride made the whole thing giantly non-romantic, but again, that’s prom for you.
Since both dresses for Prom 1 and Prom 2: Prom Harder were purchased at mall, the place has sort of lost its lustre for me. I would go back and do it all again, no doubt, but since I can’t it’s less grossnostalgia-inducing to just buy Christmas presents online and never enter the mall again. But that would defeat my original purpose of doing something unnecessary and time-inappropriate. Quite a quandry…