In the Interwebs Vernacular, Almost an Epic PHAIL of Shopping.

So, we're going to the annual employer (not mine) Xmas party next week. That's brought us such past disasters as Danielle and I dressing as matched tinsel strands. (On a related note, I ditched my date to that particular party for El Husbando, but in all fairness I did marry him in the end. My husband, I mean, not the date I ditched.) I've also worn Dana Buchman (yes, the actual Dana Buchman. That was an awkward night.), so you never know what level of class I might feel like bringing. If memory serves, these were from Rave and cost about $15. Worth every penny.

[picture deleted. if you know me well enough to ask, I'll show you the original in person.]

Okay. Out of appropriate dresses, off to the mall. First stop, Leather Jackets and Party Dresses. Hmm. Someone forgot to tell the folks at LJ&PD that it's no longer 1989. Electric blue spandex? No thanks, I learned my lesson the hard way, the first time. (But I did get the jacket Mark is giving me for Christmas. It's actually faux leather, which lends itself to me wondering why the hell it was so expensive. Are we having a polyblend shortage?).

Hmm. Hmm. That's right, H&M! Down the escalator I ride, already wondering if I should have gone with the Nine West booties instead of the Aigner heels because this is turning into a freaking hike. H&M has a cute little black dress with a ruffle on the bottom, completely inappropriate for anything other than a holiday party, and a suitably workable angora bolero sweater. But I'm not 100% sold on the dress, so I charge around the store like a rhinoceros, using my fierce Tyra face (I like to look angry at the mall), and decide to hoof it up to Banana Republic. I pass Sears. No power on Earth can make me shop for a dress there. Or anything other than appliances.

I try BR. Nice dress, even 25% off is still about 40% more than I want to pay, but I'll keep it in mind when I inevitably grow desperate. Ann Taylor Loft = no dresses. Bizarre. OK...I guess I'll try *choke* JC Penney. They have one cute dress. In a petite. Didn't I just say that I was stomping about like Tyra / a rhino in heels? So, Forever 21. Turns out I'm not 21. Nix that. Back to H&M. F it, I'll just get that bolero thing and the black ruffly dress. But no! It comes only in three sizes and none of them are close to mine.

Back to BR. I try on the expensive dress...plus three others. The dress made in Vietnam, no go. Magenta, you are still not my color. Let's try the Indonesian dress that appears to be made of shingles and / or some other sort of roofing material. Hmm. Although the tiny size makes me proud (allow me to mention that I have not eaten today, except for some coffee and a ladybug), I look like the top of my house. Next. Moving on to China, producer of dowdy velvet dresses. Now I closely resemble a rectangle. Finally, the dress I came for. I have resigned myself to paying too much, but must first try it on. And...it's too big, and doesn't come in the next size down. F**K!!!!!! I want to go home!

What's left? BonTon? No, no, no! TJ Maxx...blah. I guess. What choice do I have? So on to TJ Maxx I go. I find four dresses and (laugh Lokiec) a pair of calf boots, which are required for two of the dresses. Turns out that my calves are still non-existent, and my ankles are basically just sharpened points that I ram into the bottom of my shoes in lieu of feet. F**K!!!!! That eliminates two marginal choices. So, I narrow it down to one dress, which violates one of my primary rules - strapless. A night of tug, tug, tugging is not that fun. But...what can I do? So, now I need a bolero sweater, but I'm so NOT driving back to the mall. Food. Food. Food. I buy TWO different black drapey sweater things...who knows if I'll wear either because neither is going to go with it. Then there was a whole thing about a new curling iron...anyway. Now that you've lived my spree in near-real-time, MAYBE I'll share pictures next week. On the other hand, maybe I'll make the pictures more interesting by not shaving. Merry Christmas.