March 9th, 2004

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Dancing Hampsters and Big Giant Underpants

Good gifts are hard to find, as is a decent strapless bra. If nothing this past weekend, I did at least learn that bras off the rack will pinch in uncomfortable places and that wedding gifts, like underwear, are best bought through catalogs.

It's time to confess - I can't shop worth a damn. Even food shopping makes me crazy. Seriously, whenever I try to food shop I end up coming home with the oddest assortment of things - like last week when I bought Garlic Bread and a Snickers bar. After two hours at the market, I just gave up. So this past weekend, when I had to buy my best friend a wedding gift and an assortment of 'foundation garments' to wear under the wonder in Latte that is the bridesmaid dress, bad things happened. I wasn't prepared for what awaited me.

First of all, NEVER, and I repeat NEVER, wander into the 'Intimate Apparel' section of a Sears. There are things there that no one should ever see. Scary, hideous underpants that could double as tents in an emergency. Giant bras with things hanging off of them. Girdles. Support hose. It's frightening, really. I now own a pair of underpants that come up under my boobs. I'm a short girl, but I've got a fairly long torso (matches so well with my short legs), so when I tell you that these giant underpants come up that far, believe me, they are enormous.

I went to the mall for three basic things: 1. A strapless bra. 2. Latte shoes. 3. A wedding gift for my friend. I came home with the following: 1. A Cinnabon cinnamon bun. 2. Bright Pink socks with a psychotic bunny on them. 3. Lip gloss, in two shades, brown and bright green. 4. Big giant underpants. 5. A dancing hampster that sings "Going to the chapel" and finally, 6. Wet 'n Wild eyeshadow. (Wet 'n Wild, for the uneducated, is the eyeshadow you buy when you're twelve and still hiding make-up in your locker at school because you don't think you're mom will let you wear it. Wet 'n Wild is tacky and cheap, and I love it.)

I did buy shoes, but not at the mall. I bought them at David's Bridal, which, as it turns out, is just about the only place on the planet to get shoes dyed "Latte." I had to beg them to rush the dying for me, because, of course, when there was plenty of time to buy dyed shoes, I was flat, busted broke. The exchange went like this: I rush into David's Bridal and say, frantically "How long does it take to get shoes dyed?" and the skinny clerk says "Vhat coooler to you wannnn?" Then there's a pause while I translate in my head. "Oh, ahhh, Latte," I say.
"Laaahay?" she quips, "Vor a Vedding?" I nod, my head bobbing like a Tom Brady bobblehead on crack, "Next Saturday." The skinny clerk looks annoyed. Also, she has a little crease between her eyes that seems to get bigger each time I open my mouth to speak. I figure if I keep talking her entire face will eventually cave in. Fearing this I say, "So how long?" "I check," she says, and disappears into a sea of half-dressed brides and prom goers parading in front of mirrors. In the meantime, I'm to pick out a pair of shoes to be dyed. It takes only minutes to find the only pair of shoes in my size, 9 and half. They're are basic, functional, white shoes. Let me say this, the box was marked 48 dollars. However, when I got to the register to pay, after being assured by the resident shoe dyer that she'd do them for me in a rush, the shoes were only 9 dollars. SO basically, I'd made a big deal, and turned out to purchase the most ghetto pair of shoes in the entire store. This caused the skinny clerk say, "Deesse are shoes you buy?" and the dent in her forehead to get a little deeper, threatening to take her beady little eyes right into her skull.

The scariest part of all is that I have to go back. While I'm excited to give my friend the Dancing Hampster as a special little "from me to you" gift, I can not in good conscious, show up with only a dancing hampster as a gift.

Long live the Dancing Hampsters.