Wednesday, July 29, 2009

The Mall of America is the worst part of Minn.

A few months ago I hastily proclaimed (I don't like to proclaim unless in haste, I make all of my well-meditated announcements discreetly) that I would forevermore buy all of my clothing on the internet.

Now, possessing the wisdom of two additional months and a few ill-fitting and downright strangely colored shirts, I am taking it back. I know I should pause here to denounce unfounded decision making and sudden personal policies, but I won't and for a single reason: it seemed like such a great idea at the time.

Buying things online means no more going to the mall. And I seriously abhor the mall. I mean, who would guess that a place smelling so heavenly of doughy over-sized pretzels could be so heinous? I suspect that my least favorite part of the mall (aside from the obvious high population of intimidating teenage mobs sulking about) is the way that a person's true personality will reveal itself during the exercise of walking the mall corridors. For some alpha personality types, walking the mall is like parting a sea of humanity with their double-wide stroller. For a squeamish sort like myself, the mall is all about false-start walking and dodging out of the way.

And so the internet seemed a perfect solution. Though by no means a spectacularly proportional specimen of humanity, I figured I was familiar enough with the S, M, L, XL system to wing it over the web. Having done more complicated things over the internet (e.g., banking, cellphone bill, buying bird feeders during the holiday season) I thought myself well qualified.

However, the other day I bought a shirt that I thought look cleverly like a sack, but when it arrived it looked like a simple non-ironical sack. And thus I may be heading back to the mall, that isolated hell dimension perched on the edge of an enormous parking lot.

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