I have sort of withdrawn myself from surfing the web and doing all sorts of other interwebually related things this weekend in an effort to run around the city. For the past few weeks I've felt a bit held up inside my apartment, only traveling outside to go to Hyde Park Produce, Exonn, and the liquor store. So I had a fun-filled weekend in Chicagoland, except for Friday night when I was having what one of my friends calls Throwback Friday, which basically means that I drank everything I could possibly get my hands on starting at 3:30 PM because it was my last day working from home. As you can see, I had devolved into a Jack White-loving monster by 7:40 PM.
So after some major recovery hours on Saturday, I headed up to The Loop for some Valentine's Day shopping. Not only was a I nauseous the entire time, I was also thoroughly irritated by the douchebags -- this is the honest term for the worst tourists around -- on Michigan Ave who don't know how to walk down sidewalks, either in the proper direction or speed. They also love to stand in the middle of busy corners, for example Michigan and Ohio or the every busy Michigan and Chicago, talking about which direction Water Tower Place is in, where the Sears Tower is, and of course, where they can find a Starbucks. Asking where a Starbucks is in of itself the most idiotic question ever.
Anyway, what I really should have done -- aside from getting some awesome sushi at Friends Sushi on Rush -- was go back home and get some bread and jelly and make Mike some fancy Valentine's Day breakfast, even including some fancy toast, the next morning.
Totally Tubular V-Day Breakfast Accompaniment.
Instead, I braved The Gap. Maybe you're wondering, and I asked myself a buttload of times, Why go in The Gap on President's Day Weekend? I, even in the mental state I was in, realized the sheer madness of my decision: it would be, naturally, insane in there. And it was. It was about 7,000 degrees, my puffy, sleeping bag of coat was clinging to me, my face was flush, and I was panting as I entered the store. I by-passed all the fun stuff geared towards Shelly and headed up the stairs to the men's section. T-shirts. Get t-shirts and go. This reconnaisance mission was really dangerous, and more similar to Kurtz's travel up the Congo than a regular day of shopping. If you please, we may also compare it to the fictional Nung River in Apocalypse Now.
I made a bee line to the pocket tees, grabbed three non-Metro Sexual colors and then went straight to the register. Well, not exactly straight to the register -- I did stop off to buy some teal opaque tights for $3.99 and two pairs of fancy socks at 2 pairs for $10. In any event, the deal was done.
Following this purchase, I was wracked with self-doubt. I wondered if I should have bought these t-shirts. Were they appropriate for Valentine's Day? As a veteran holiday shopper, I thought my purchases would be well received, but did Mike desire something more stereotypically cheesy? Probably not, but of course it was necessary. And so I went to CVS, one of my all time favorite stopping points. (After Duane Reade, of course.) And bought him a mini pack of SweetTarts and, for the love of Job, these awesome Pez dipensers and Elmo and Sesame Street V-Day Stickers:
Please note that Mike does not have a particular fondness for Pez or Disney characters. Nor does he particularly love Elmo or Sesame Street. These were, effectively, impulse buys aimed at obtaining laughter, a high on candy, and enjoyment in putting the stickers on Solomon and Kitty. Less a kind gesture and more of a joke, Valentine's Day confounds me.
I still, after nearly 28 years on this planet, cannot grasp the relevance and/or importance of Valentine's Day. All of the wilted flowers, shitty chocolates, and retarded copywritten greeting cards are generally too much for me to handle. An excuse to go out to a nice dinner, I'm all for. But random candies and shiny, red heart-shaped boxes with Russel Stover chocolates that have no map of which turd contains coconut and which has caramel is not for me. Which is why when asked what I wanted for Valentine's Day (which is basically just Halloween sans costume) I asked for these David Bowie-inspired shiny, red side-zipper inspired leggings:
They are red and therefore represent Valentine's Day. They are shiny, which makes me happy. And they have side zippers so that I can look like I am going really fast even when I am, in fact, going very slowly. To be completely honest, that picture does not do these pants justice. They are unreal, unholy and fucking insane. I loved them the second I laid eyes on them in December. And here they are in American Apparel's intended state:
I have no idea how I am going to wear these. Or where. All I know is that they are the best Valentine's Day gift ever -- oh, and dinner was good too, but these are insanely awesome -- and I will be wearing them in late March when Mo and BBChug come to Chicago. Mo, get a pair or be square.
Happy belated Valentine's Day! And YAY President's Day sales!
Shelly
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