When my self-esteem is low, I go to Home Depot. Home Depot has the best customer service (if I am wearing a bustier). I like to ask where the lubricant aisle is. Army's of employees in little orange aprons, rush to my aid. I always ask for an item on the top shelf. I love it when they have to climb up the ladder to help me. I wish they had to wear bright orange bikini bottoms.
When I am feeling needy, I buy shoes. Yesterday, I felt needy. No one could comfort me but Steve Madden and Kenneth Cole and Nine West. They called out my name. Softly at first. Then louder. I was in a frenzy. One pair. Then two. Then five. I couldn't see over the tower of shoe boxes. I walked through the aisles in a daze. One shoe on; a little nylon stocking clinging to my left foot. I wanted to take them all home. Except for the fur lined clogs.
Shopping makes me thirsty. So does typing and reading and napping and thinking. I needed a drink. I dragged my bags to Applebee's (I was in the upscale mall, clearly). I walked past the barber shop (please see reference to classy mall). I have a technique for walking past the barber shop. I walk verrrrry slowly. I sway my hips rhythmically from side to side. Sometimes, I drop something and have to pick it up.
This time, I noticed a sign in the window. The sign invited me to worship in the barber shop on Sunday mornings. They offered an early service and a late one for the heathens who were out drinking the night before. I thought of the convenience of shaving my head and praising Him at the same time. If I ever shave my head, I will make sure that it is on a Sunday.
The name of the small church is T.H.U.G. Ministries (True Honor Under G*d). I am joining. I stopped by the Kiosk of Bling and purchased a "platinum" chain with a large "platinum" blinged-out hand grenade dangling from it.
Word to Our Father. Can I get an A-Mizzle?