Another Major American Holiday

Much of blogging is driven by the desire to make one's life sound interesting, full and exciting. Well, I'm here to tell you that the vast majority of MY life's moments are not only deadly dull but actually worse: they're spent agonizing over the very dullness that dulls my existence.

So, Happy Easter.

My dad sent me a bunny. I'm thrilled to say I haven't eaten or even unwrapped it. It's a dark chocolate (hmm), hollow (hmph) Russell Stover confection and it's very much appreciated. Other than a few whacked-out hats spotted on dubious characters during my Sunday walk, it didn't feel like Easter that much.

I spent much of the day backing up my iTunes, preparing for my personal musical Armageddon (when some new fabulous invention renders my Tunes obsolete). Then I attempted to return a shirt from that nasty discount-designer-label store at Sixth and 20th than I won't name.

How dumb is this: I found that the shirt (midnight blue cotton button-down) that I purchased last week still had the damn security tag on it. Great. So I walked the twenty blocks up and into the store, setting off the alarm that as usual no one cared about, and while going toward the cash register picked up a few more "must-have" items.

At the register, I paid for my new stuff and then asked that they remove the security tag from my shirt from last week. I was asked for the receipt and presented one that I thought MIGHT be the right one.. but of course it wasn't. "Oh well," I said. "Whatever. Just please remove the tag."

Of course, she couldn't. Oh noooo, not without the receipt. I said, "well, that's dumb. This was your store's mistake, not mine." A "manager" appeared instantly (I have a feeling there are "conflicts" a lot here in this store). He also demanded a receipt and we argued pointlessly for a while. Then he was stuffing my shirt into the bag and saying "Well, it IS your shirt." And I'm like, um yeah, but I can't exactly wear it now, can I? And he said, not without the receipt. And I'm thinking, wow, good for you I'm not a professional shoplifter because you just gave me a shirt without a receipt AND with a security tag intact. Dumbass.

So I walked out, forlorn except for my new DKNY trenchcoat, of course setting off the sad security alarm that no one even noticed.