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.
2 comments:
When you go back let me know if they have any jeans with legs over 34 inches and workshirts with long sleeves that are actually long. I was just at Army & Navy and Mark's and no such luck. Wouldn't have been so disappointing if they had a bar. I am thinking the length of jean inseams and shirt sleeves readily available to the workforce could be used as a valuable indicator of percentage of temporary foreign workers in any given area.
Dope City too once counted itself among our country's many seam busting Lumberjack Cities. Used to be a few yuppies around here, enough to ignore, now there's so many they have their own multi-storied department store with 960 workers, as many as once worked in my own first long vanished sawmill, waiting for them come through the doors with their superior credit cards and even more superior attitudes. Shit changes. The wise guys around here all once knew the Yuppies Had To Die. Now they have become too numerous to exterminate and it is the wise guys who find themselves on Dope City's Death Row.
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