Saturday, December 16

Life's not a track meet, it's a marathon

After my work's holiday party yesterday, I decided to get some shopping done. I went to the mall. The. Mall. Not as bad as I'd expected, but not good times either. A little tip: If you're buying some seriously heavy shit at Crate and Barrel, do not go there first. I thought my hand was going to fall off by the time I was actually done. And then, that was it: Two quick stops, and I was done. Linens and Things? Check. Target? Check. Kind of. You have no idea how long you can wander around Target. It's a freaking vortex in there. And forget about asking for help. "Do you sell ashtrays?" I kindly inquired after searching high and low. "What do you use those for?" I am not kidding, people. She asked me what you use an ashtray for. Now, I know smoking is a no-no, but you're fucking kidding me, right? (And before you start on me, it was a gift.)

I had to wander around some more before I finally gave in and became That Girl, and called various family members searching for further gift ideas that could be purchased at Target. Because I was not going to another store. It was nearly 9 by this time, and I'd been shopping for over five hours. I forgot to eat. I still couldn't flex my left hand right due to the shopping-bag lines imprinted on it. I was not going to another store. Until I did. Fine. But Newbury Comics was the last store! If I couldn't find it there, people were going without! After I find my last few gifts there, I saw it. Cue the heavenly music and the spotlight, because there, my friends, was an ashtray. A whole selection of them, actually. But you know the one I went home with? The one that said, "Jesus hates it when you smoke." And, apparently, Target does, too.

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