The Mall Report

A pretty girl strolled into Rue 21. The eyes of the clerk at the Crazy Cellphones booth undressed her as she walked, literally burning holes in her ass, and making her walk pigeon toed.

Speaking of cell phones, the kiosk with the sleaziest salesmen this week was T-Mobile. Congratulations. I recognized one of them as someone who had been a trainer at a company for which we had both worked some years ago. He had been fired for altering his girlfriend's time card.

In the Subway, the whitest white boy in the whole wide world sat down to a little supper. I'm talkin' WHITE, man! He was the HONKIEST baby! And out of his jacket pocket came some seriously rappin' ring tones. His ring tone was so ghetto I couldn't help but think that his cell phone should have been kicking his honky ass with regularity just for being such a white boy with such ghetto ring tones.

The honky's companion was wearing black basketball shorts and a brown hoodie that said RELAX. Naturally, his pants were too big and he was forever adjusting them. He was also constantly adjusting his package and I wanted to yell at him, "Say, hairy legged tarantula boy, you pickin' a banjo or what? Knock it the fuck off! And put on some pants! It's 30 degrees outside!" I have become my own mother.

Banjo boy had the bad habit of chewing with his mouth open. I mean REALLY open. He chewed with his mouth so wide it was like his lower jaw was fixed and he had to move the whole top part of his head to masticate. A nightmare nutcracker from some weird crack addict Tchaikovsky. A Subway crocodile that had just made a kill of spicy italian sammich with chips and drink.


Still in line was another young man. He had a very unfortunate haircut. He may have cut it himself. It was sort of a modified bowl cut except it was crazy uneven in the back. Somebody had tried to shear him like a sheep. This fellow was obviously one fry short of a Happy Meal. As the "Sandwich Artist" was making his sub the dude pointed at the stuff he wanted. Lettuce? Yeah. *point* Tomato? Yeah. *point* Onions? Oh yeah. *point* *point* *point* He even used his finger windshield wiper style to say no. *finger wag* You just know this is one of those guys who taps you on the shoulder when he wants your attention. *poke* *poke* *poke* Hey, guess what!

In the center of the mall a wrinkled old woman with tragic eyes and a wart beside her nose, and wearing a babushka, sat down on a bench with her granddaughter. The granddaughter instantly jumped back up and started banging on the keys of the nearby ATM. She thrust her small fists in the air and exclaimed, "I won! I won! I won!" The babushka completely ignored her. A few minutes later a 30 something woman with the same tired sad eyes as the babushka appeared. She spoke Russian to the babushka and English to the little girl, her daughter. The little girl did the same and I thought, "How lucky that you can speak two of the hardest languages at your age. That will be so useful if you keep at it." The three wandered off, the two adults slowly, with slumped shoulders. The little girl skipping, proud of having won out against the ATM, even in play.

I stopped into Alechia's Unique House of Country, a local chain as it turns out, which didn't surprise me at all. Amongst all the curios, and wooden painted cows, and shawls and tea towels, and candles, a teenage girl sat behind the counter, the local Top 40 station playing on her radio. That was completely inappropriate. The radio should have been playing bluegrass or Lake Wobegone on NPR. Kanye West does not mix with calico and lace.

I was at Alechia's to catch up on the latest home-spun wisdom that can be stitched, sewn, or painted onto a little sign, perfect for framing. Things like "Bee Thankful" with little honey bees sewn all over, and "Going to Bingo. Won't Be Home B4 Dark." I saw one I actually liked. "Beware the Grinning Cat. Jumping This Way and Over That." Someone had stitched a kitty cat with great big teeth in a great big grimace. I think I'll buy it next time.
  • Current Mood: maaaaallll
Man, mall-watching is something else. I work at a mall, so I've seen some interesting stuff. My sister is the real mall-watcher though; she is constantly observing folks and trying to figure out what their lives are like. Anyway, I enjoy your observations.
God fearin' people like their sin reminders wherever they can put them. They're heaven's obsessive/compulsives.
I hate malls, but somehow your observations make the horrible-ness of malls bearable. I think you need to get the cat motto; if you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. I regret not stealing the sign in my college cafeteria that said, "The ice cream is not spoiled. It's eggnog flavor."
Please pick up the bingo 1 4 me. I won't reimburse you, however.
God, I love to read your writing.

Here's a bumper sticker I saw last week on a rusted-out pickup:

Honk if stuff falls off.