Shopping in the Oooohhh Zone

Well, strap me down to an ant hill and cover me with honey – I done fell victim again. Now, what has me all riled up, you say? Shoppin’. Shoppin’ with a gaggle of females.

Last Saturday, whilst I was unawares (they must have drugged me or somethin’), somehow I found myself wandering around the local mall with Mammy and three of the younguns. “Oooooh, isn’t this so cuuuute?” “Sweeeet!” “How cute!” “Isn’t this pretty?” “Cuuuuute!” “Don’t you wish you had one of these?” And so it went, on and on for over 30 minutes. In an’ out through the maze touchin’ and handlin’, ooohhing and aaahhhing, pointin’ and agrabbin’, showin’ and mincin’. On top of that, there were a dozen other gigglin’, gapin’ females adding to the chorus of ooohhs and aaaahhhs.

Must escape. Must have air, my mind screamed frantically. Must get out before my masculinity implodes, overwhelmed by the oppressive amount of female giddiness. Finally I made it out, walked around a little to clear my senses then ducked my head and re-entered the Ooooohhh Zone, only to be nearly thrown into a tailspin by returning too quickly. Finally, I managed to shepherd my lot out of that dangerous environment and on to safer stores we went.

Finally, we ended up in Pennys. Mammy quickly found some clothes she wanted to try on, as did one of the older girls. That left yours truly with the two younguns. Not that I minded that – they can be a passel of fun. The problem was, they wanted to find and ride the escalators and the elevator. So off we went. Up and down the escalators we went, people wondering if we done got ourselves lost or something. Kind of like the lab mice that have always found the cheese in the maze in exactly the same place all the time and now suddenly someone moved the cheese and they can’t find anything.

After that little bit of embarrassment, we ended up walking into a store decorated for Halloween, only to find it to be an “alternative” store with strange body piercing jewelry, incense, racy clothing, gothic paraphenelia, and a multi-tatooed, nose and tongue-pierced, pink highlighted haired clerk. I immediately figured out we were in the wrong kind of store and proceeded to devise and execute an exit strategy.

Next came the trip on the elevators. I don’t know if’n your younguns do this but mine like to jump up and down through the whole ride, then giggle as their stomachs give a little lurch at the end. Thoughts of country hicks that seldom make it to “the city” were reflected in eyes of passersby as the youngest let out with “Can we do it again?”

It was then back to more ooohhhhs and aahhhss in the girls clothing section, only to be followed by cries of despair and anguish as one daughter lamented that since we wouldn’t buy her anything that day, it means we never buy her anything, period. Blubbering all the way to the car, grinding on my nerves – I reflected “Now, why do I do this?”