My night at the mall

Tonight I had to run to the mall. Lately I haven't been going to the mall very much due to budget constraints inflicted upon me by the universe which won't make it so I can spend unlimited dollars on stuff without consequence. What's that about, universe? Not cool.

Anywho, I realized some things tonight:

1. Being someone who works at one of those mall kiosks has to be one of the loneliest jobs ever.

2. I know I am old because I only go to Hot Topic for Halloween costumes.

3. But I'm not so old that I don't laugh at stuff like this at Spencer's. What is up with that store by the way? It's like a third retarded, a third awesome and a third devil worshipping scary. What are you, Spencer's? P.S. I seriously want those straw glasses.

4. Claire from Heroes works at Chik-fil-A. I told the girl that she looked exactly like her. I was totally that person who just tells a stranger who she looks like. I hate those people, and now I am one. Oh well, it's not like I was like, "Hey have you ever seen Goonies? You look exactly like Sloth!"

5. Chik-fil-A makes me a better person.

6. Buying bras is almost worse than buying a bathing suit.

Let me just elaborate on that last point since the gentlemen reading this will never have to experience this. I mean if you do, that's totally cool-you'll get no judgement here. But I mean, I won't date you. Probably.

Here's the thing about bra shopping. First, it's really hard to find a bra that fits really well. Different brands' sizes are a little different just like in regular clothes. Plus you want to find one that pushes the ladies up and in a little bit. I know you always hear "lift and separate" and that's fine as long as you're not separating them so much that you can drive a semi between them. Plus you have to find the right shape of bra. You don't want to look like this:



Well I should say, I don't want to look like this. For some of you this might be your work look (John).






So all of this means that if you don't have a "favorite bra" or if every time you find a favorite bra Victoria's Fucking Secret goes and discontinues it, you have to try them on. Lots of them.

This is what I had to do tonight. Because let's just say that in the last week, I have busted anywhere from 0-2 bras. 2. I broke 2 more bras. It's not like I am that big. I mean they're a good size, but they're not superhuman. Or are they? Maybe I'm just assuming I don't have a superpower, that I have just regular human breasts. Maybe they're trying to send me a message. Tomorrow I will try preventing street crime with them. That's the only way to find out what kind of boobs I have.

Anyway, so I had to try on about a bajillion bras, and I avoided Vickie's It's-Not-So-Secret-How Expensive-You-Are because all the bras that have broken have been from there. Obviously I went to Kohl's. Because Kohl's and I are BFFs. Everything is on sale there, you guys. All the time. EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS ON SALE!! How is that possible? God I love you, Kohl's! I will kiss you full on the mouth.

So I tried on about-no exaggeration-4,200 bras. Okay that might be a slight exaggeration. Really it was more like 40. Not kidding. Boys, here is something you never think about because most of you have spent the majority of your life trying to remove bras: Bras are annoying to put on. I mean I don't want to give the impression that putting one on is so difficult that I have to get up early to accomodate it so I can make it to work on time. It's not like that. And actually after you've worn bras for a long time, it's just kind of an autopilot process. But there is a little bit of a process. Some maneuvering must take place. Some hook it in the front and then slide it around into place action. Unless you buy frontsies which, admittedly, are awesome. Especially when the guy you're fooling around with thinks it hooks in the back and you don't tell him, and then he gets all confused and frustrated. If we had time today, we would delve deeper into why I think it's funny to confuse and frustrate men during kissy time and how this might relate to why I don't have a boyfriend. Another reason I might not: blogging about bras.

Okay so the maneuvering really isn't a big deal...except for when there are tags involved. For some reason, bra tags are enormous. It's not like there's a ton of fabric there, yet the bra companies feel the need to cover half of it with a giant piece of hard cardboard with sharp edges. I was going to draw a picture of it then I kind of felt like a pervert. Suffice it to say, the tag takes up half the bra, and there's usually more than one.

Not only that, the tag never just lays flat. It's always at a weird angle so as your maneuvering into the bra, the sharp corner of the tag is stabbing you. After trying on about 38 bras, I started laughing at how scratched up my back and sides were. I mean it's really inevitable that that's going to happen when you try on that many bras. So as I was laughing about it, I tried on one more and was not paying attention to where the tag was. Suddenly it was like someone was jabbing me in the side with a nail and dragging it across towards my back. I actually yelped. Out loud. I took a look at the damage. Blood. I was bleeding. I actually drew blood trying on bras. Do you understand what this means, Internet?

I injured myself trying on bras!

That's a special kind of clutzy, you guys. I mean I have really brought it to a whole new level. I tried on one more after that, but it hurt too much and I was getting blood all over it. So I gave up.

In case it's not clear: I effing hate bra shopping. And it hates me.