Are you looking at my butt?

I just went to the mall. If you know me even remotely well, you know that such an experience for me is usually traumatic.

My intentions were to buy a new watch and a pair of pants or two.

My first stop was Fossil, where I've purchased several watches in the past. I found one I liked, had it fitted, and bought it. I also tried on a pair of jeans there, but wasn't wowed by them. Yes, I need to be wowed in order to buy clothes.

Next up was Hecht's. I picked out five assorted pairs of jeans, and tried them all on. Now would be a good time to inform you all that FORM HAS GOT TO STOP. Function, people, function! Function is far more important than form when it comes to clothing, especially jeans. I literally had to *stuff* myself into most of these pairs, as the low-rise craze seems to have gone far beyond the female and hyper-homo markets. Seriously, I have no right to be trying on low-rise anything. My body just ain't like that, ya know? But apparently I no longer have much of a choice. As far as I could tell, I had two main choices: faded/distressed/low-rise homo jeans, or your typical old-school cowboy jeans. No!

I put the original five pairs back, selected a few others in different sizes, and tried those on. Negative.

I then realized that I also need some new black socks, as the pairs I recently bought are already getting threadbare. Did I miss the memo that states that socks can now be worn no more than three times before they go to shit?

I wandered to the other side of Hecht's, picked out a pricier package of Gold Toe socks (the premium had better bring better performance, god dammit), and bought them.

A new watch on my wrist, and six pairs of socks in a bag. Alright.

Next was American Eagle. As soon as I walked in, Joe called me. Joe is the guy I made out with last week who likes me more than I like him. I picked out five pairs of pants while he told me all about ash Wednesday, lent, blah blah. At some point along the way, I inadvertently slipped a "goddamn" into the conversation, which led to him demanding that I not use the lord's name in vain. I'm sorry dude, but the (wo)man upstairs and I don't get along well (to the point of me refusing to believe that (s)he even exists). You and I just aren't going to see eye to eye on this one.

Anyway, I quickly became saddened by the fact that the majority of AE's pants come in a waist size of anywhere from 26 to 29. Who exactly is their main demographic, nine-year-old boys? I'm sorry, but full-grown young men with a 26 inch waist need to see a doctor. Or eat a fucking burger.

I marched into the fitting room with my newest set of pants, none of which I liked.

I decided to throw in the towel and go to the food court for some delightful Famous Wok sesame chicken and lo mein.

Walking from the food court to my car, I was reminded of yet another thing I hate: teenage girls. Especially the kind that walk endless loops through the mall, at a third of the pace of most other humans, carrying their keys (complete with dozens upon dozens of loud, plastic keychains). Every last one of them needs to burn in hell ASAP.

One of my roommates just informed me that the suncatcher Jesus I hung on our kitchen window in New York has been stolen. Earlier in the school year, our trading card Jesus was stolen from the kitchen window, as well. Apparently someone has a serious dislike for our kitchen window Jesus collection. This makes me unhappy. And laugh. All at the same time.

Despite all of this, I still can't help but wonder... what else will fit!?

I'm Listening To:
One Thing I Did Today: