The Friday Mall Report

It was quiet at the Laurel Mall in Hazleton, PA. So quiet that the thin and rather tightly wired woman staffing the bathtub lining booth - The Most Boring Job in Hazleberg - decided it was quiet enough to slip away for an ice cream cone.

A teenage girl sat, surrounded by her friends, in front of the Auntie Anne's pretzel shop, and Perfume Island. She had a brand new baby in her arms, fresh out of the shrink wrap. The girl periodically held the baby up over her head, for inspection by the other teenagers, in true Michael Jackson on the balcony fashion. The baby blinked myopically in the bright light and wiggled its little fingers, sort of like a star nosed mole bursting out of it's earthy tunnel and onto the stage at a Kiss concert. The baby daddy was nowhere in evidence.

A young man walked by, wearing a blue ball cap and one of those silky do-rags that serve no purpose I know of on a white boy other than to cut off oxygen to the brain and lower the IQ by 10 points. Make that 20.

Two pre-teens walked up and sat on a bench, sucking on those candies that look like pacifiers. One pulled out a cell phone, dialed, and then the two of them wandered off, tethered to nothing and no one. For some reason I had the ridiculous notion that the pacifier candy was a gateway drug leading to the cell phone.

Meanwhile, back at Auntie Anne's, a guy wearing a black tank top, man-boobs, and his ball cap on backwards ordered supper.

A 20-something rake wearing stylishly baggy, worn jeans and (despite the warm weather) a knit cap over his just long enough to be hip hair, bought a coffee at Caffe Europa. The young teenage mother would have been panting over him if she had seen him. Hell, I was. He was really hot. That kind of asexual, doesn't matter that you're straight hot. You know what I mean!

As the sun started to go down, the goths, and their hangers-on, began to appear. A monumentally ugly man came around the corner. He had dyed his hair black except for a large patch up front that was an astonishing, eye-popping orange. He also had one of those spikes through his right eyebrow, whatever those are called. I'm sure one of my young, vibrant readers will inform me and I'll have learned my new thing for the day. Anyway, there was just no improving this guy. He was the kind of ugly that immediately makes you start thinking of snaps. You want to play The Dozens with somebody, this guy was so ugly. You know, like "You're so ugly, your shadow quit!" or "You're so ugly, they moved Halloween to your birthday!" or "You were such an ugly baby, the doctor threw you up against the ceiling and told your father 'If it doesn't come back, it's a bat!'" This guy was the kind of ugly that instills a weird sort of pride in itself. "Yeah, I'm ugly! So fucking what?!" If the coifed and rather arrogant women working at Littman's Jewelers had seen him they might have damaged their botox.

Through all of this wandered the old men and women. The Hazleton natives. The men in their golf caps and Members Only jackets. The women in their sweaters and tightly curled perms. A couple stopped at the cheap-ass chains and rings that turn your skin green kiosk in front of me. The husband groused at his wife as she leaned over the glass counter -- "You've got jewelry at home that you don't wear!!" His wife ignored him.

I wanted to stay long enough to see the super-goths emerge from their basements but it had been a long week, I'd been on my feet all day, and my dogs were barking in their new shoes. So that's all you get for your Friday mall report this week.
  • Current Mood: mallish
So that's all you get for your Friday mall report this week.

More than enough, my good man -- and I mean that in the most obsequious, complimentary way. Loved it.
No one else can elevate the art of mallwatching to, um, an art. Wish I'd seen that one guy (no, the sexy one, not the ugly one), only I'd just have gotten depressed when he didn't look at me.