mole (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} tangognat) wrote,@ 2004-03-24 15:22:00 |
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why does this kind of shit keep happening to me?!
if anyone recalls, the last time i had the great pleasure of waiting a couple hours for my car to get fixed i went shopping, well this happened again...with my new-to-me-supposed-to-be-more-reliable-t
so, i drop the little 'molbrew' off at the mechanic's and walk my happy ass down to the ghetto-style jc penny outlet store. mind you, if i had a choice to shop elsewhere i would have, alas, as far as the eyes can see: tire store, pawn shop, gun shop, tire store, pawn shop, gun shop, etc... the clientel there is a mix of delightful pregnant women who have already blessed this world with two+ screaming, unruly, this close to getting a shoe hurled at their heads twerps, a gaggle of mexican guys(hmmm?), and the old ladies that reeeeelly smell like old ladies. i have like two hours to kill, so i start grabbing random shit: floral prints, sweatshirts with kittens and butterflies on them, stirrup pants, and the like. i head to the dressing box and perform a quite entertaining molly montage in the mirror. i figured this wouldn't cause raised brows considering the 'person' next to me had been trying clothes on for a good hour all the while singing every song from "victor victoria" (great movie, by the way).
bear with me i have a point, i swear.
in the midst of sequins and spandex i come across three possibly purchasable items: a shirt, a skirt, and some jeans.
if i were cartoon molly there would be a thought bubble above my cocked head which would read: "gee, i do believe most my clothes are dirty, mostly, hmmm... [i weigh my options using my hands as scales] do laundry or buy new clothes? hmmm..."
SOLD!!! to the girl in the snazzy leopard print number!
i buy said items for the bargain price of $24.11 and go pick up my 'good-as-new' car.
so, i rush home and throw on the new duds, the jeans really do accentuate my ass. after two or three days of continuous wearage i begin to notice that my legs have turned this sickly shade of grey/blue and i immediately jump the conclusion that i have some weird skin disease like leprosy and fear that i'll be spending the rest of my days enduring electric shock therapy in burma, until my dear one calms me by pointing out that the new jeans have mostly bled all over my legs, mostly, because in my haste to wear them i neglected to wash them, touche, i say.
in an attempt to rid my legs of the seemingly permanent new tint, i shave them, what molly, no?! yes that's right, i do. the shaving cream turned a murky grey as it ran down my leg, almost puked, i did, especially when i cut myself and everything turned purple.
yeah, so, anyway, moral: when in doubt, laundry!
if anyone recalls, the last time i had the great pleasure of waiting a couple hours for my car to get fixed i went shopping, well this happened again...with my new-to-me-supposed-to-be-more-reliable-t
so, i drop the little 'molbrew' off at the mechanic's and walk my happy ass down to the ghetto-style jc penny outlet store. mind you, if i had a choice to shop elsewhere i would have, alas, as far as the eyes can see: tire store, pawn shop, gun shop, tire store, pawn shop, gun shop, etc... the clientel there is a mix of delightful pregnant women who have already blessed this world with two+ screaming, unruly, this close to getting a shoe hurled at their heads twerps, a gaggle of mexican guys(hmmm?), and the old ladies that reeeeelly smell like old ladies. i have like two hours to kill, so i start grabbing random shit: floral prints, sweatshirts with kittens and butterflies on them, stirrup pants, and the like. i head to the dressing box and perform a quite entertaining molly montage in the mirror. i figured this wouldn't cause raised brows considering the 'person' next to me had been trying clothes on for a good hour all the while singing every song from "victor victoria" (great movie, by the way).
bear with me i have a point, i swear.
in the midst of sequins and spandex i come across three possibly purchasable items: a shirt, a skirt, and some jeans.
if i were cartoon molly there would be a thought bubble above my cocked head which would read: "gee, i do believe most my clothes are dirty, mostly, hmmm... [i weigh my options using my hands as scales] do laundry or buy new clothes? hmmm..."
SOLD!!! to the girl in the snazzy leopard print number!
i buy said items for the bargain price of $24.11 and go pick up my 'good-as-new' car.
so, i rush home and throw on the new duds, the jeans really do accentuate my ass. after two or three days of continuous wearage i begin to notice that my legs have turned this sickly shade of grey/blue and i immediately jump the conclusion that i have some weird skin disease like leprosy and fear that i'll be spending the rest of my days enduring electric shock therapy in burma, until my dear one calms me by pointing out that the new jeans have mostly bled all over my legs, mostly, because in my haste to wear them i neglected to wash them, touche, i say.
in an attempt to rid my legs of the seemingly permanent new tint, i shave them, what molly, no?! yes that's right, i do. the shaving cream turned a murky grey as it ran down my leg, almost puked, i did, especially when i cut myself and everything turned purple.
yeah, so, anyway, moral: when in doubt, laundry!
