Sonja got me downtown to the newly opened Nordstrom's department store today. Crowded as death row in Texas it was. Crowded with people buying clothes they did not need; shoes they did not need; sunglasses they did not need ... all designed to separate themselves in some really quite insignificant from the rest of the doomed herd.
Sonja was there for make-up. She does not mind spending extra on that. I was hoping she might buy some of the high priced gonch for herself but she passed them up same as all the other high priced shit. "$300 for a scarf. People in Dope City must have completely lost their minds."
Guess I looked pretty fucking bored waiting for Sonja to decide on her make-up package because one of the sales girls offered me a seat to twiddle my thumbs in. Class. Or maybe she thought I might be in the market for a make-up package myself.
In another part of the store, the $300 scarf department I believe, I asked one of the attentive sales girls, "So where is the record department?" May as well have asked her where the wooden hockey stick department was.
Later in the evening when I was talking to Kitty on the telephone about my Nordstrom experience she asked me, "How did you like the bar?"
"What fucking bar?" I asked back.
"They have a bar there," she assured me. "I saw it on tv."
My next review of Nordstrom's is sure to be better than this one. Hopefully they will have a record department by then.