Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Welcome to The Gap

As an aside (like that's a surprise), I'm listening to Neil Young's Rust Never Sleeps. Have there ever been better opening and closing songs to an album than My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue) and Hey, Hey, My My (Into the Black)? If you ever wanted to know what Neil Young was like and only have ten minutes free, just listen to these two songs. You'll know all you need to and have fifty-seven seconds to spare.

Gloria wanted to buy some shorts, so we went to The Gap on Saturday night. Ladies, here's your fashion forecast for this spring in regards to shorts: Knees are out. Asscheeks are in.

Every pair of women's shorts were either below the knee or threatening to track the crack. So heed this warning, my friends: if you dare walk through a mall this summer, you will see infinite galaxies of cellulite. It's The Year of the Big Bang of the Big Butt.

Gloria was trying on a rack of clothes, and as I went into my screensaver walk--half speed, arms crossed, staring blankly--I noticed three other men doing the same. We looked like airplanes circling O'Hare, waiting for landing instructions.

After a wait of several days, Gloria emerged, and as we walked to the register I saw a trust fund baby standing beside us.

It was a clothing dummy.

"How in the hell did they do that?" I asked, pointing. "That headless clothing dummy has a trust fund, he's eighteen, and he's an asshole."

"You're right," Gloria said. "I bet he has one of those little pastel sweaters, too."

"Which he would have tied around his shoulders--if he had a neck," I said.

On our way out, we saw a woman walking in enormous wedge sandals. "I've never understood why anyone would wear those," Gloria said. "They're just not attractive."

"They look like giant hunks of cheese," I said. "Why would anyone strap a giant wedge of cheese to their foot?"

We just ask questions. We don't always answer them.

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