Yesterday I was stuck at a downtown bookstore while my son Sam took an all-day cartooning workshop with the man who creates the “Big Nate” books. I had my laptop with me and planned to get some work done, but unfortunately the bookstore had other ideas because it was Skippyjon Jones day. Meaning there were 500 screaming babies and toddlers and a giant Chihuahua/Siamese cat running rampant. Observe:
Sure, Skippyjon may look sort of evil, but at least he knows to not wipe his snot nose on some innocent blonde lady’s purse. Unlike a certain sniffling toddler who shall remain nameless. (Yeah, that’s right. I mean you, Tommy J. It’s called “Kleenex,” you toothless, drooling chump. You’re just lucky I’m so good at cleaning suede.)
Understandably panicked by this horrifying scene, I quickly texted my friend Jennifer: “At bookstore. Giant 6′ chihuahua. Pandemonium. So scared…”
Jennifer, being Jennifer, didn’t inquire as to why there was a 6′ chihuahua and immediately responded with: “On my way. Stay low & don’t show fear.”
At this point the noise level got even worse, so I fled the bookstore and ran into the Anthropologie store next door. So that’s why, when Jennifer texted me, “I’m here, where are you?” and I texted back, “Anthropology,” she headed off to find that section of books.
“Cultural or social?” she then texted. “Or are you by Self-Help?”
“What? No, I’m in the dress section. By the weird Grandma teacups.”
Five minutes later:
“OMG, are you in Anthropologie with an “ie”??? Dumbass.”
Once that was finally cleared up, the two of us started looking at Anthropologie’s new fall collection. But unfortunately, it seems that the muse for their new designs was Mrs. Roper from Three’s Company because there were lots and lots of roomy dresses and pleated, patterned palazzo pants. Like these for $148:
They’re called the “Gracious Wide-Legs” and I guess they’re the antithesis to skinny jeans, but come on. Why not just strap a pup tent on your thighs and call it a day? You could smuggle 50 pounds of black tar heroin in those babies. (Not that you should, of course. Just something to keep in mind if you’re ever interviewing for a mule position. As Tim Gunn would say, it’s important that drug runners look stylish, too. You never know if there’s a hot DEA agent around.)
Jennifer then went into the dressing room to wrestle herself into a $250 Mrs. Roper dress that had a vintage beetle pattern, while I waited on a couch and was treated to a teenager trying on clothes with her mother.
“Do you like that shirt, Adrienne? The yellow’s so pretty!”
“YELLOW IS OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE, MOTHER.”
“Yes, but it’s so bright and sunshine-y!”
“I TOLD YOU, YELLOW IS OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE.”
“You could wear it with your white jeans!”
“WHY DO YOU NOT GET WHAT I’M TELLING YOU, MOTHER? YELLOW IS OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE. BECAUSE IT’S YELL-OOOW.”
At this point, I was ready to tell Adrienne that looking like a jackass was also probably out of her comfort zone, but apparently that that didn’t stop her from having idiotic blue peacock feathers woven into her hair, only then the chipper dressing room guy zoomed up and said, “Ooooh, look at you! You’re totally lucky you can wear bright yellow since you have brown hair. I can’t pull it off since my hair’s also bright yellow and that’s just too matchy-matchy. Oh, I know—-add a VEST!”
“THERE’S NO WAY I’M ADDING A VEST TO THIS, MOTHER.”
All of this made me flash back to earlier in the week when I went to the mall with my friend Maria and she made me go into all of the pre-teen smelly stores that start with an A. (Abercrombie, Aeropostale, American Eagle, Appalling & Abysmal…) She needed to buy longer shorts for her 6th grade daughter, only most of the shorts in these stores are about the size and length of a pygmy gerbil. It’s seriously very shocking to a mother who only buys clothes for crazy little boys who think tie-dye is haute couture.
By the time we made it to the last store, I was so incensed that I picked up a pair of shorts and spent about 20 Old Lady minutes holding them to my pelvis and yelling, “Do you see this? This is obscene! They barely cover me! My lady bits aren’t even hidden! Only junkie hookers dressed like this when we were in high school, remember? Remember, Maria!?! And now they’re charging $44 for a tiny piece of denim?! It’s End Times, people! END TIMES. Load up your canteens and buy ammunition! This is how it starts! It starts with short shorts!”
I guess now that I think about it, the 6′ chihuahua wasn’t the scariest thing I’ve seen lately after all. Plus with that brown fur, I bet he looks totally great in yellow.
In other news:
I also did a quickie interview with my friend Stefanie Wilder-Taylor for her cool Parent Experiment podcast when I was at BlogHer in San Diego. I sound JUST like Wanda Sykes. What, you don’t believe me?