Wednesday, May 28, 2008


I'm not a big fan of shopping. Wandering aimlessly around the mall makes me a little nuts. Picking through picked over fruit at the grocery store is tedious and frustrating. I don't enjoy picking out clothes or purses or sheets or dishes or shoes. Wait, I do kinda like the shoes, but only if I'm shopping alone for shoes for me.

However, regularly I am required to procure basic necessities such as bread, milk, and cute new shirts for Rebi. For some reason, she doesn't like to buy clothes over the internet. No matter how hard I beg. Which is why I found myself stuck at the mall last Saturday. And because Dave put Rebi's black dress pants in the dryer and they became black dress capris, it was our mission to try on every single pair of petite black dress pants in the entire mall. None of which fit, naturally. And she needed them because she was working at a wedding that night.

Having exhausted the options in the reasonably priced stores, we started on the more expensive stores, finally finding a pair that fit nicely and were under $100. Barely. Of course, Dad ruined hers, so he was paying to replace them. She loves it when stuff like that happens. I do believe I heard her begging him to do laundry more often.

But, she felt badly for giving him a coronary and to appease him, she wanted to pick out a couple of new shirts for him. I am a creature of habit, so we went up to Old Navy, found the ringer T's, and picked out two.

Plain simple T's, on sale, nice colors, what's not to love?

Until Dave tried them on, only to find that they were muscle tanks masquerading as T-shirts.

The ugliness amazes me. But more than that, I am seriously grumpy that I now have to go back to the mall to return the ugly shirts. Would it have killed them to have one on display? Because trust me, I would have steered clear. As it is, I'm contemplating whether $8 is too much to pay for a cleaning rag/painting shirt. Because I am that desperate to avoid a repeat trip to the mall.

I hate shopping.


katzbox said...

The price of clothing frosts my shorts. How much fabric was used for Rebi's pants? They were probably sewn by a poor Honduran woman with one arm and 8 kids. AARRGGHHH. Poor Dave...that was kind of Rebi to want to buy her dad a gift...

Natalya said...
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