Every three or four years I go clothes shopping whether I need to or not. Last week, I decided that most of my clothes were a little too old (navy) for me to continue wearing much longer. I need to get some clothes that don’t make me look like I am still in college.

The first place I went was called Ross, which should be the first indicator that I am not a good clothes shopper. I have never been somewhere that had so much and so little at the same time. Reaching into a pile of dress shirts hoping to come up with my size reminded me of those gross bulk foods bins at the grocery store, with their sticky clumps of gumdrops and chocolate covered macadamia nuts…

Yes, I’d like 3 pounds of oxford button downs, please. Can you direct me to the sock vat?

After I found a couple of shirts, I decided to look for a blazer. Just a black or dark grey blazer, but not the shitty kind they sell at the gap. I wanted a grown up one. The helpful lady at Marshall’s just looked at me and then vaguely pointed in the direction of the men’s department. I responded by going to another store.

I went to the mall. You are more likely to see Jimmy Hoffa playing lead in the nutcracker than you are to see me in a mall. I went into a big department store called Bloomington’s or something and wandered around looking for anything that wasn’t a) perfume, b) sassy boots, or c) crappy watches. Finally the hot chick with too many fragrances happening told me that the men’s stuff was on the third floor. I went to the third floor and realized I had no idea what I was looking for. I don’t know if there is a difference between a sport coat and a blazer, and the only sizes I really deal with are small, medium and large.

Needless to say, when the sales guy approached me, I was the proverbial blond chick at the mechanic’s…

Him- So, what are you looking for today?
Me- A jacket for semi-formal events and stuff.
Him- What style?
Me- …medium rare.
Him- …
Me- I have no idea. Show me some stuff and I’ll signal my approval by nodding my head.
Him- Do you like single or double breasted?
Me- Does it only go to two? Because I love breasts, so if there is a six breasted one, I’ll probably buy it.
Him- …
Me- …I’m going to just go look around and see if I like anything. I obviously have no idea why I am even here…
Him- No, let me show you these. Some of the best looking blazers we have, in my opinion.
Me- yeah, that’s pretty swell. It’s about what I’m looking for. What do these things cost?
*he shows me the price tag, which I am sure was a type-o.*

After regaining consciousness, I asked if I could see something a bit less like my mortgage payment and more like my insurance premium. He got a little “I’m better than you”, and said “well, that’s what blazers cost”. I said, “No they don’t, because my dad owns several. If I told him I paid that much for any article of clothing that wasn’t charged with magical powers, he’d punch me in my face and disinherit me.”

It always kills me to see these flaky, arrogant dickbags act like they are superior because they work in a clothing store and know more about fashion than a person who couldn’t care less.

After I finally settled on a coat that wasn’t recockulous in its expensitude, I went looking for a shirt. Different guy this time, but he showed me a nice $75 shirt that I scoffed at. That’s right, I scoffed. Scoffed because I was just at Ross and they had these things on sale. Nine of them for a dollar, and they came in a huge Ziploc bag.

Me- Seventy five dollars? (looking bewildered)
Him- Yeah, but you can tell everybody you paid $150 for it.
Me- I don’t want my friends to think I am any dumber than they already do.
Him- Aww, come on, they’ll think you’re rich.
Me- No, I’d print my 401k statement on a $2 tee shirt if I wanted my friends to laugh at my financial status. What do you have in the discount shirt bin?

As I was leaving, I was approached by a guy at the bottom of the escalator-

Him- Sir, do you shop here often?
Me- At least once a day, starting today.
Him- Yeah, I got a gift card and I’m looking to sell it because I don’t shop here.
My thoughts- This guy is completely full of steaming poop. I can’t believe my luck. Let the games begin…
Me- Really? How much?
Him- It’s worth $200, but I’ll let it go for $175.
Me- That’s awfully “in the holiday spirit” of you. I could get that $150 shirt I was looking at and still have $25 left over for a sock.
Him- Yeah man. So you want to buy it? (produces a plastic card with a mag stripe on the back)
Me- Sure. Let’s go over to the customer service desk and let her check it out.
Him- What?
Me- Well, I need to make sure it has that amount of credit on it before I go throwing money at you. The Customer service person can put it in a magical machine that will tell me how much it is worth.

Our criminal mastermind was apparently unaware that this technology existed. His little mind was racing-

Him- I’m in a hurry and ain’t got time for all of that. If you want it, just give me $175. I’m a man of honor, dude. I’m not trying to rip nobody off.
Me- Do I have streams of retard slobber running down my chin? Have I been speaking in grunts and wild hand gestures? AM I WEARING A HELMET TO PROTECT MYSELF FROM MY OWN FLAILINGS?!
Him- What do you mean?
Me- Dude, no one is dumb enough to buy a plastic card for $175 just because you say that’s what it’s worth.
Him- I ain’t trying to play games, man. Do you want it or not?
Me- I’ll buy it if you will take fifteen seconds to prove that it is what you say it is.

A security looking guy walks up and hovers in a way that makes me feel like I did something wrong.

Security guy- Can I help you, sir?
Smooth criminal- Naw, I’m leaving.
Me- why don’t you sell this gentleman your awesome discount gift card?
Smooth criminal- I don’t got a card. (let the record show that the card was still in his hand)
Me- *pointing to card in his hand*
Security guy- Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to surrender the card and leave the premises.
Me- God bless us, every one.

I think the best part was that the security guy said “surrender the card and leave the premises”. I think “vacate the premises” would have been even cooler, though. That’s what I would say if I was a security guy. Then I’d use my walkie talkie to gesture toward the nearest exit. And then beat the guy senseless with my flashlight.

I can hardly wait to go shopping again in 2007.

Well, I hope everyone has the all time greatest new year celebration ever. I’ll be face down in a pool of my own sick at the Fabulous Fox Theater if anyone needs me. See you next year.

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