By Tracy M
Holy heck on a stick! I just came from the Evil that is Voldemart. I know. I know. I said I would never go there again- and for the most part, I have not- however, the commercial insanity that is Christmas forced me to drastic measures- consider this post the equivalent of going to the Bishop to confess.
You would think at 6 a.m. I might be able beat the crowds- at least I thought that. For the most part, I was right. Other than the mascara drenched, late-night partiers looking dazed and confused as they searched for the Red Bull, there weren’t many people.
Quickly making my way to the back of the strategically placed toy department, I searched for my prey. It wasn’t there- despite having called and been assured by a clerk named Jinger that they did, indeed have them- many of them, in fact. Nope. Nada. Not a one. Institute plan B and hope children don’t notice in the furor of all the goodies grandma sent.
Now determined to just get out of there, I think- well, I’ll pick up some pop, then be gone, right? Mistake. Making my way towards the pop department, I am forced to walk past the little girls section. Oh, hey, Beanie stretched and ripped Abby’s Christmas tights, maybe I’ll just pick up some tights while I’m here and have to wait in line anyway. Mistake #2.
Much like a car battery dying, my feet slowed, and slowed and then stopped. What was this place? Standing on the threshold of the _Girls_ department, I marveled, in awe, and the assortment of, well, I suppose if one was generous, (and I clearly am not), one could call it clothing. Before me was an entire department of child-sized Fredericks of Hollywood. Feathers, boas, glitter, leopard print everything, bikini underwear and suggestive t-shirts galore. Mounds and stacks of suggestive t-shirts.
Powerless to resist, I found myself wandering the shocking disaster that is the Voldemart girls department. This isn’t news to most of you, I know, but the whole girl thing is still uncharted territory to me. Why on earth would a girl need a t-shirt that says _hot chick_ or _blow pop_? And for goodness sake, did the glitter department throw-up in the girls’ department? There was nothing, no nothing, without gobs and blobs of glitter. Even the little rubber bands for making piggie-tails were imbued with glitter. Gah!
Let’s just not even talk about the fact my 18 month old daughter needs a size 4T shirt if it’s going to cover her cute belly. A cute belly, mind you, that the rest of the world does not get to see.
And I didn’t even get to the underwear department.
I can’t even think of a quip to make about that one. Good taste dictates just leaving that one alone. Someday, I’m going to learn to listen to myself.
WordPress database error: [Can't open file: 'wp_comments.MYI' (errno: 144)]
SELECT * FROM wp_comments WHERE comment_post_ID = '970' AND comment_approved = '1' ORDER BY comment_date