So I'm at Grandma's and of course she bring up the subject of the one thing I hate most in the world.
We were sitting having breakfast when she leaned over the table so Caitlin couldn't hear her. "Want to go to the mall to look for pants?"
I thought abou tthe typical, plain and simple no. Then I thought about it, the Express at Springfield mall may have the Extra-Longs (I feel like such a freak when I have to say that). So I said, "Sure. Couldn't hurt."
So we go my sister ready after watching Mary Poppins and went to the mall. Walking through the Target entrance, because I'm me, I see a few skirts I like, a couple tops, I see pants that I would kill for but again: too short so I don't walk near 'em, I could tell they were THAT short. We get to Express.
This short sales rep with fake boobs, bleached teeth and short bouncy brown hair comes over way too smiley, "Hi, is there anything I could help you with?" God, she sounded like Britney Spears.
"Yeah," I was on my way to the pants anyways. "Do you know if you still have any Extra-long jeans left?"
She looked sad. "No I'm sorry." Then she went on to explain how it was a 'trial' sort of thing.
How depressing.
I ended up getting new shoes, a new shirt and a skirt...but I need pants. I hate going to the mall now, the vibe I get now is so depressing. It's like a funeral.
Speaking of funeral, my Mom's friend Dave Norton died last Monday (the 17th) So on Sunday I'm going to a "get together" for him at his house with all of my Mom and Dad's friends from High School. I've never been with the "group" when it's been anything but happy, I don't know how everyone will act. I've seen my Dad cry two times in my life.
1) When my Grandpa Stanley died when I was in fourth grade, this was at the funeral when I saw him for the first time that day.
2) When he told me that there was a possibility my visitation rights would be taken away, for reasons I'm never disscussing with any of my friends. That's family business, and frankly I don't feel comfortable talking about it with any of you.
Supposedly he cried again, or so my Step-Mom said. I feel horrible. Here I am whining because I'm depressed because I can't find pants that fit...Dave's dead.
Takes something sad and upsetting to realize how spoiled you are, huh?
