Therapeutic musings mixed with humorous ramblings and sometimes spiritual notations of life as I know it in written form. A diary of my heart inspired by life.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Panic Buttons are for the Clueless
The weekend my cousin and I went to the mall, we had to off set our spectacular eating talents with exercise so we could fit back into the car when it was time to go back home. We did a blond workout routine because it just seems to work best for us. The trick to the blond exercise routine is to not pay attention to your surrounding, or the people who are A) Are looking at you strangely, or B) Scoping you out as a possible mugging victim. We left the mall at the exit we were pretty certain we had entered the mall. I say we were pretty certain because it was the exit closest to the shoe department of Dillard's (merely by accident I assure you). We walk into the parking lot and head for the car... Except we didn't remember where we parked. I drive a Nissan Cube and when it's tucked between ginormous SUVs everyone is compelled to drive these days, it is almost impossible to spot. A lot harder than the cyber green Bug I used to drive. We walked up and down the parking lot, re-entered the building and exited again like that would make the car magically re-appear the second time around. All the time we're walking row to row, I'm holding my arm in the air clicking the panic button on my car key fob. Dead silence! We walk and walk until my skin get moist (it would be called sweating on other people but I don't sweat I get moist in the most feminine of ways) and the plastic dress cover they put over the dress I bought started sticking to my skin getting me all tangled up. I'm wrestling with my plastic, we're walking and my moisture is getting stickier and stickier and just a little bit of anxiety is starting to creep up the back of my neck (or is that more plastic I feel), and I'm pretty sure that we're being stalked by someone wanting my new dress and really cool eye shadows when I hear the constant wailing of my little Cube. Finally there is hope that we will not forever be stuck in the parking lot of a mall, or skinned alive by some freak wanting to make his own dress of our skinned hides. You would think that the car making panicking sounds would draw a large crowd ready to take up arms and defend it from being defiled by some thief, but no.... Everyone just walked right on past the sad little car crying out in panic because apparently everyone knows that the alarm system on a car isn't really there to prevent theft, it's there for clueless women everywhere who can't remember where they parked.