I went to the mall yesterday in hopes of finding some spring clothes for my upcoming vacation. Typically, when I go to the mall, I don't venture beyond Macy's. But I had some various birthday coupons and stuff, so I decided to explore the rest of the mall. I was immediately reminded of why I never do that.
- Kiosks I hate kiosks. I feel bad for the people that work at them...but not so bad that I'm willing to put up with them hollering at me and trying to stop me and ask me about skincare or something. Just the thought of it stresses me out. I usually dart around them, pretend I'm on the phone or go into a store I'm not remotely interested in. Amazingly enough, I was not harassed by any kiosk employees yesterday, but the stress was still there.
- Sunday Walkers I have the same problem when I'm walking the halls at school. How is it physically possible for some people to walk sooooo slooooowwwwww? I understand if you're old, but these people were not old. I'm not saying that everyone should walk as fast as I do (although they might be surprised at what they got accomplished, because I walk very fast), but for the love of everything: walk with a purpose. Have you ever noticed how when you're trying to get around these people they seem to zig-zag back and forth to completely block you from passing? I don't know why they want to make my head explode, but they're doing a fabulous job.
- Disgusting Sights Yesterday I saw two different men in jean cut-off shorts. I also saw a couple making out in the middle of Macy's--did I mention they were about 60? These are all things that I can never unsee.
- Children After I'd been to every conceivable store, I headed back towards my car. While making my way through the crowds of slow walkers, aging make-out artists and the extremely fashion challenged, I kept seeing young girls dressed as baby hookers (to borrow a phrase from the most recent episode of 30 Rock). What parents are letting their children go out like this? I'm sure some are OK with it, but I suspect that most of them have no idea. This made me terrified to ever have children. You might think your kid is one of the good ones, but how do you know she's not at the mall dressed like a small-town slut at the age of 12?