Sometimes I feel an urge to let people acknowledge some inner part of my soul. Like right now. I would just like this known, on the record, that I loathe shopping. Especially at Chinook Centre, on a Sunday afternoon, amidst the craziness of Christmas hu-bub. Truthfully, the sight of all the babies (I swear, Moms bring them out at this time of year specifically…) or the kids lined up in anticipation of sitting on Santa’s knee does not, I repeat, does not make the event any more enjoyable. The fear that you will run into that guy from your past or english 354 class is always looming in the sweat and chocolate smell, a compilation of scents from the huge amount of RUSHING Calgarians and the Cookies by George stand. And to top that all off, do you ever even find what you are looking for? I swear, I should just hold off on that Christmas gift idea until the middle of January, where I can grab an Orange Julius and wear my flipflops and leave the cellphone in the car… but then I would rather be bowling or shooting hoops or hanging out in residence like old times.
My thought strayed there for a second, sorry, it is just that my excuses for not going Christmas shopping are wearing thin and I am justifying why people might be recieving gifts in July or something. Because I HATE SHOPPING.
Want to know a secret though? I do enjoy it sometimes… when it means retail therapy, Chapters, American Eagle, a MAC store, and a credit card I found on the road. That belongs to Paul Brandt. Who I sadly did not see at Centre Street tonight.
This entry is what people in english call “stream of consciousness”… just a mass production of jargon. And the picture is just self explanatory… well, it’s cute.