I am not a mall rat.

I just want to say first-off that today’s font is called “Shruti.”  If I start typing about beets and Chinese throwing stars, please understand that it’s not me.  It’s the font.

Last night I went to the mall with a dear friend.  You know she was a dear friend because I went with her to a mall.  Malls aren’t exactly my preferred stomping grounds.  When I was little, going to the mall meant hours of wandering around watching my mom shop for necessities.  My brothers and I took it upon ourselves to practice hiding in the racks of clearance.  (This generally incurred the same disciplinary measure we “earned” at the grocery store.)  Yes, mall shopping to me means sore feet and that tantalizing smell that wafts for 100 yards in every direction of the soft pretzel shop.  As a 7 year old, you drool at the aroma, but never have enough coinage to actually get it into your mouth.

Now that I’m grown up I can buy a pretzel if I want, but the average mall demographic still consists of 14 year old girls who are already dressing for a future in…modeling, 14 year old boys wearing “pants” that start at the knees and end several yards below their feet, 80 year olds doing their daily exercise (pace approximately 0.04 mph), and 2 year olds who have escaped their parents’ clutches and are running around, screaming with unmatched delight.  It’s like being inside a Pacman game.

VWH likes malls even less than I do.  He seems to think that there are certain rules that must be followed upon entering said establishment.  These include and are not limited to:

1.    Speed-walking

2.    Sighing a lot

3.    Getting distracted and bumping into people (usually the elderly or the toddlers)

4.    Sitting on the floor whenever we enter a store and opening his current book

5.    Hiding in the racks of clearance

All of these reasons contribute to my aversion to shopping malls.  But I love my dear friend, who was on a mission for some very important items for another mutual dear friend.  I didn’t want her to brave it alone, so I said I’d go along.  I figured we needed two items, both probably purchasable from the same place, so we could be in and out.

Well, our excursion got off on the expected wrong foot when, not 30 seconds into our visit, Dear Friend literally yanked me away from a large pool of puke in the middle of the walkway.  Yum.  Of course we did make it to the desired stores eventually and of course they didn’t have what we were looking for.  So we had to go to a separate store apart from the mall, where we did end up finding the invitations we had been searching for.  And in spite of the puke, we had a decent time (this is due almost entirely to her wonderfulness, and that the total cost of the necessary items was minimal).  But I still don’t really like malls. 

So I think VWH might have the right idea when it comes to mall shopping.  Get in, get out, go quick, and then hit the road.  And I think my chances of being successful are pretty high.  After all, I am faster than 80% of all snakes.