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Friday, June 5, 2009

Frame By Frame

It's official. This is the last day of my life I am wasting even one minute in the mall.

I hate malls.

And by that I mean fucking hate. First of all, how can anyone actually work there? There are like 20 different songs playing in any one area at any one time and they are all clashing even though they have the very bad music thing in common so they should gel. Secondly, there is a hum, vibration in malls that makes you want to unzip your own skin and run towards the nearest exit while barer than naked, like with all your organs showing and if others did this you'd get to see that their hearts were also palpitating from all the stimuli. So how anyone can work there - spend even 5 hours at a time there or worse - 8 hours - is one of life's great mysteries right up there with how Dylan came to think he could sing.

My theory, (which I gave birth to a few hours ago while in the fires of hell which is The Mall) is that the mall owners actually create this hostile environment on purpose because they want shoppers to need to get out of the mall so badly that they'll (or rather she'll because guys have been onto this whole mall is Satan thing since the beginning) grab something, anything that kind of works no matter what it costs and leave quickly, probably breaking into at least a jog if not a full fledged sprint and sometimes even screaming a little.

I almost did that. Except for one problem. I couldn't find anything even close to what I wanted. You see, there is no such thing as three simple black matted frames in the same size (matted for 5X7.) Yes, this does not exist in this universe, people, trust me on this. There might be two black and one brown, or there may be 3 black matted for 8x10 or there might be 3 black, right size but butt ugly as hell, like with seashells on them or little buttons or those sofa tacks which makes the frame look like some chair you once sat on in the library, that kind of creepy brown leather chair, the one that was kind of crinkly and smelled like old man cologne and possibly bum.

Oh did I mention it took me a good part of an hour to even find the frame "department" ? which would have been more appropriately called the Frame Corner From Hell The Place Where We Don't Have Black Frames and If We Did We Wouldn't Have Your Size or Style Preference and If We Did We Wouldn't Have Enough of The Ones You Like Even A Little Bit. And if We Did The Price Would cause Mastercard to Freeze Your Account For Suspicious Activity But You Wouldn't Care You Would Pay Anything Just To Get The Hell Out of The Mall Before You Died Or Everyone Got To See Your Exposed Internal Organs As You Ran Frantically - Skinless and Shrieking Towards the Exit.

Otherwise known as The Bay, Fifth Floor, Home Decor.

In other news, the Human Statue at Dundas Square today was a guy, a bronze cowboy statue guy. There was a concert right in the square and a guy playing an African Drum across the street. I saw a homeless man sleeping with a well worn paperback novel next to him which has to be about the saddest thing I've ever seen, and a guy who stopped in the middle of an intersection decided he would back his car up into a whole crowd of street crossing pedestrians just for fun which resulted in my first experience with Canadian public almost-anger. (In Massachsetts that guy would have so been dragged out of his car and hung on the nearest tree, preferably some really crooked looking witch-tree) but here I think one woman said something like "Are you kidding?" Yeah, not even fucking kidding. And that was it. Life goes on.

And obviously so can I.

Updates as they happen.

1 comment:

  1. I'm with you about the mall. It makes my skin itch and I always need a big glass of water and a shower after I've left. I don't think it's psychosomatic, but it may well be.

    I also dislike the Christmas Tree Shop, but am pretty sure if you were to dispatch someone there, they could find what you want!

    Oh, and people who drive 40 in a 50. That bugs me, too.

    I could go on.


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