Mall Madness

Got my harr did, but beforehand I had some fun at that there ol’ mall. I bought a wedding shower present for my friend who is planning my party today; it felt really good to turn my attention to her, she has been doing a ton for me and it improved my mood to return the love.

I also popped in and paid a little liberating visiting to the door of a stall in the Macy’s bathroom:


Yes, do it. With “fancy catsup.” EAT THEM. They have it coming.


Then in the women’s lingerie department at Macy’s there was this:



Why don’t you go tattoo that on yourself, hipster? Looking at that ironic perfection, it was like all my thoughts were magically coalesced into an unintentional concrete example of my every rant! That is just exactly what. That is just exactly what. You are plastic poseurs, hipsters, and you number in the thousands and are cast from a totally un-unique mold. Love it. I don’t have to feel bad and awkward and like I am the uncool big sister at the family gathering as I walk the mall, because I can remember I am just looking at narrow-eyed unhappy mannequins and hope for their sakes that sooner or later they wake up and break out of their plaster shells. Then we can all be happy together.

And finally, the Mouse Who Sold The World.

Again: that is just exactly what. Dreams for sale! I believe we should tell children the real fairy tales and not this watered-down materialistic nonsense, because children are incredible and they can stomach them much better than you suspect.

I am feeling better. I am ready to have a great time with people who love me. I am thankful again for my sheltered little nook of the world where people suffer my folklore and give me the space an E kitty needs to keep from going mad and clawing out her own throat.

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