Ah, what a weekend. On most of my weekends, either nothing really happens or whatever happens isn't worth mentioning. Not so this weekend.

Saturday afternoon, Girlfriend, The Kid, and I went on a small shopping spree. About an hour's drive south is some pretty nice shopping, with some of the larger chain stores (Best Buy, Barnes and Noble, etc.) that haven't yet worked their way north into my smaller city.

After hitting a few smaller stores, we made our way downtown to the mall. When we arrived, Girlfriend took The Kid and went ahead of me while I hung around by the car to smoke. I was just standing there doing my thing when I heard, "Excuse me, sir?" I turned to see a carload of young women staring at me. "Is this the mall?" a girl in the backseat asked.

You know how your mind can move so much faster than your mouth? How you can think a dozen things in a second? This was one of those moments for me. I thought, They can't be serious. There are huge signs at every entrance. It's impossible to miss that you're "now entering west mall parking." Besides, everyone in this part of the state has been to this mall. It's over 150 kilometers in any direction to find a bigger mall. What's the game here? And why have I been singled out to be a part of it? Is my fly open? Toilet paper clinging to the bottom of my shoe?

All of these thoughts took about two seconds, which was just long enough for her expression to change into one that seemed to say, "Well? You do speak English, right?"

I very hesitantly replied, "Yeaaah, this is the mall."

"Oh, great! Is it still open?"

I was still wondering what the deal was. After all, the parking lot was jammed. I would have thought it was obvious it was nowhere near closing time. "Yeaaah, it's open until 9."

"Thank you!" They pulled into a nearby space and all got out of the car. It was then I noticed that three out of the five women were wearing cheap cowboy hats. Ah, I though. The fair! I'd forgotten all about that. The annual fair in this particular city often books nationwide country bands. They really were out-of-towners. Go figure.

So I finished my cigarette, and into the mall I went. We shopped for a while and eventually The Kid talked us into getting a few pretzels from Auntie Anne's. We got our grub and some slushies and sat on a bench to eat. Auntie Anne's isn't in the food court, but is instead just off the center of the mall. The bench we chose was right at the edge of the children's play area in the direct center, under the skylight.

Girlfriend set her and The Kid's slushies on top of the short wall separating the play area from the rest of the mall. Almost immediately a janitor appears and chastises her for it. The janitor woman tells her that she should set her drinks on the floor so they don't get knocked over. Girlfriend explains that her drinks get knocked over on the floor. Janitor woman retorts that it's easier to clean the tile floor than the carpet of the play area, should a drink get knocked over the wall. Janitor woman suggests we use a table and starts to push her cart away.

Through their brief exchange, I just grit my teeth. What janitor woman said wasn't so bad. The problem is the way she said it. The tone of her voice seemed to say, "Are you stupid? Your drink's going to get knocked over there!"

I resented janitor woman's attitude. So I wasn't about to just put my drink on the floor and leave it at that. Frankly I would have preferred to use a table, but there are only two tables, which are not near each other and each only seats two anyway. You'll recall that we were a party of three.

You've seen Men In Black, right? You know that part near the beginning where Will Smith is taking that test in the egg chairs? Well, I did that table thing. Those tiny little cafe tables have a solid iron base, so they're a lot heavier than they look. And they make a fantastic squeal when you drag them 15 feet.

We now had seating for three and a table for our drinks. I felt pretty satisfied with myself. I did not look over my shoulder to see if rude janitor woman was watching me.

The bench we chose had three jewelry stores nearby. While sitting there munching on my pretzel, I noticed something that I had missed many times before. Girlfriend experiences physical pain if she passes a jewelry store without stopping to make a few engagement ring suggestions, so I've seen a lot of jewelry store employees. Today was the first time I had ever really noticed the two classes of jewelry clerks.

1. The type of clerk who is, or will be, a jewelry professional. These people are proficient salespeople and are very knowledgeable about gems and precious metals.

2. The type of clerk for whom the jewelry store is just a job. They might be good, and they might be smart, but it's still just a job.

That much is probably obvious to everyone.

But what I realized while sitting there watching them, is that I could tell the difference just by looking at them. I looked back and forth from Fred Meyers to Zales to Kay and was amazed I'd never noticed it before. The professionals dress nicer and even carry themselves differently. I felt pretty pleased with my newfound knowledge, until I realized that my new knowledge was of no practical use. If buying jewelry, I wouldn't care which type of clerk attended me. Hrmph. At least I felt really smart for a few minutes.

As is the normal routine for The Kid, he waited until I am exactly half-way into whatever I'm doing (in this instance, eating a pretzel) to tell me that he needs to go to the bathroom really really bad, Daddy! And of course, the mall restrooms are 30 kilometers away. So we immediately left our snacks with Girlfriend and started off for the restrooms. All the while I quietly tried to convince The Kid to "pinch it off" in a less literal way than what he was currently doing with his right hand.

We made it in plenty of time and began a more leisurely walk back to Girlfriend. We exited the hallway with the restrooms and I immediately saw a young man comforting a woman who appeared to have no face.

She probably had a face under there somewhere, but I never saw a glimpse of it. She was seated with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Her dark hair had spilled all around her head and completely obscured her face. I'm not sure exactly what she reminded me of most: Cousin It or one of those long-haired Afghan dogs. Before writing this post, I spent a few minutes looking for a suitable photo of a long-haired dog to insert here. I didn't find one I liked, but I did find this:

It's from a site that sells candy molds for home confectionery. Is this a good idea? I can't speak for you, but I've never had any desire to suck on a dog.

The Kid and I returned to the center of the mall. As we sat down to finish our pretzels, Girlfriend said, "Now I have to go to the bathroom. Will you walk down there with me?"

I gave her a withering look while I thought You couldn't go with us before? I'm going to hit you with my half-eaten and rapidly cooling pretzel.

"Shut up! You took off so fast I didn't have a chance to go with you. I can't carry our packages, our drinks, and the pretzels," she said.

"What? I didn't say anything?"

"You were thinking it. So knock it off."

So we walk the 30 kilometers back to the restrooms, at which point she hands me all the packages, drinks, and pretzels that she couldn't carry but I apparently can. While she went off to do her thing, The Kid and I browsed around in Hot Topic. You simply have not lived until you have shopped a trendy apparel store while balancing three drinks in your left hand. I got some fantastic looks from the people working there.

What the hell is wrong with the people who work in Hot Topic, anyway? Hot Topic must employ the most inept workers in the world, because it apparently takes five of them to run a store the size of a closet. And do you think it's required that every employee wear only clothing purchased at their store? They're all walking billboards. And if you've ever been to a Hot Topic, you know this isn't really a good thing. A little goth can be really cool. A lot of goth just makes you look weird. And can we please move past the heavy black eyeliner? Especially on men? Eew.
 

100 things about me

5. I am addicted to books. I've got books crammed everywhere in my house. I read daily, but not fast enough to keep up with what I buy. I even buy books I know I'll never read. But I feel good about myself for having them.