Suppose it's my old age that's got me bogged down, feeling like I'm a zombie (or at least, like my brain has been eaten by one), but the past few days have not been my best. I've been snippy, snappy and snotty, a bonafide Asiafied Naomi Campbell, if you will.

But I was trudging through the mall this afternoon -which by the way I hate (both trudging and the mall)- and peered through Victoria's Secret and saw what seemed like a stampede inside the store, because everything was 50% off and don't women just like to buy something to feel good? Well, it didn't work -this time at least. I picked through the lacy underthings and all I could think about was, "Well, there was that one time I bought that one thing for him but never even wore it because..." but you don't think about that kind of stuff in the mall, much less Victoria's Secret, so I peered through the sheer camisoles and wanted to laugh because, seriously, who wears a shirt with holes the size of dinner plates? But you don't think about that, you think of the sexy pirouette, the half-smile and the pout. I don't need to buy lingerie to manage a pout; I'm ornery enough as it is.
Then we're walking outside in the parking lot, and I stumble and almost trip and I can't help it. I start to laugh. She asks me, "What are you laughing about?" And I guess I'm laughing because this whole situation is just so funny and also because I perpetually stick myself in a mood, I put the raincloud over my head. Thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening, indeed, but there comes a point when it just seems ridiculous to keep the whole thing going. Because it turns into a masquerade and the thunderbolts are paper-mache and the lightning is just someone in the background cracking sheet metal or whatever it is they use.

In other words, I just want to cut through this bullshit, wake up, smell the coffee, and eat some motherfucking candy.