Miasmatic Review

Pretty pink hell.

A couple of days ago my wife advises me she needs a new bra. One of hers needed replacing; some wire had come out and was poking her. Okay, I have no problem with her buying a new bra, that’s all fine and dandy. However, I did not see any reason to throw out a perfectly good bra. Okay, so it had a loose wire. I told her I could fix it. Guys, back me up here anytime you have a lose wire you just secure it or remove it. I could have soldered/welded/taped it back into place. Ktreva did not find this to be an acceptable solution to her problem, even as a temporary fix.

This morning she tells me she has to get a new bra today and wants to run on lunch to pick it up. Since it was morning and my brain was still groggy, I blindly told her, “Sure, anything you want.” If it had been even two hours later, I would have thought about it and found some reason not to go. You need to understand that we work together, different departments, and we generally go to lunch together. This means I have to go with her, we both rode in my truck. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but it was were she wanted to go that bothers me.

The Mall. I blame ArmyWifeToddlerMom for this; I left a comment on a post earlier today stating I was glad it was she and not I that had to go to the mall. Karma came back and bit me yet again. I’m really starting not to like Karma, I think I need to sick my dogma on it!

The Mall is the second vilest place on the face of the earth. There are things I would rather do then go to the mall, this list includes dental work, drive through Chicago at rush hour and go see a Packer game in Philadelphia (Philies fan’s treat visiting team fans the worst then any other home team fans). When Ktreva told me she wanted to go to the Mall I actually felt an icy grip on my stomach grab and twist. Trying as hard as possible, I tried to convince her to go anywhere else… Target, Kohls, K-Mart, even Walmart to no avail. What she said next is what almost made me scream in horror.

Ktreva, “We have to go to the mall because I only buy bras from Victoria’s Secret.”

Me: (Falling to my knees, eyes widened in fear, head turned to the heavens) “NOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo! Oh Jebus! Why?!?!?!”

This was a double whammy. Victoria’s Secret is probably my number 5 most vile place on Earth. The mall being the second most vile place on Earth is pretty bad, throw in Clitoria’s Secretion Victoria’s Secret and this is pure hell, and not the good hell, but the bad hell. You know the really bad hell, watching Lifetime movies instead of football hell. I despise having to go into that store. Just like a Jeff Foxworthy routine, bad things happen to me. Today was no different.

We arrive at the mall and I can feel my pulse start to rise. Everything is okay, no urges to run back to my truck… yet. The mall isn’t very crowded at all, so we are able to make our way quickly to the store. Don’t get me wrong there are still too many people there for my comfort. Confirmation that my “mall” face is on when I make eye contact with a local cop patrolling the mall and HE averts his eyes and changes the direction he is walking. The crowd of on coming people parts around me like a school of fish avoiding a shark. Then we arrive at the store.

There it is in all of its pink glory with tables and displays of bra’s and panties. They pick some of the most interesting colors of pink. I still don’t understand why they use pink; it’s not a good color for a store. It’s not as if they have to make sure people understand it’s feminine. Bras and panties are for women, I have yet to meet a man that wears them. That I know if… (Eyes Bad Example Family closely). The doors to this pinkish hell are wide-open, inviting people in. The glass on both doors is reflecting the pink interior giving it a resemblance of the labia, opened and inviting you to enter.

In we walk

Ktreva finds the bra style she wants. How many different styles of bras do females need? By all that is good and right in the world I’m not kidding when I say they had at least 100 different styles. I’m not talking different colors, but different styles. Every way I turned my head in this pink hell there was a different style of bra staring me in the face!

After picking the size she wants, she goes to try it on. This leaves me alone. First I waited outside fitting room area, but the women going in and out kept giving me strange looks, so I decided to go else where in the store. Then one of the clerks comes up and asks if she can help me find anything. I tell her no, I’m waiting for my wife. Other female customers start eyeing me as they enter the store. Okay, they think I’m some pervert. To ease my discomfort I start checking out the quality of the lighting fixtures.

Where is my wife?!?! She sure is taking her sweet time! Another clerk comes up and asks me if I need any assistance to which I reply, “Nope, just waiting on my wife. By the way you might want to have an electrician check out those lighting fixtures, they are flickering and may have a short.” With a grin of satisfaction on her face, she tells me she’ll advise the manager and walks away. Some of the other customers are walking around and I hear a voice behind me say, “Excuse me sir…” I quickly interrupt with a yelping, “I’M WAITING FOR MY WIFE!” Sweat is starting to bead on my forehead, my pulse is probably around 165, and I can hear the blood flowing in my ears. The customer laughingly tells me she wanted to look at some panties and would like me to move.

I move out of her way and return to my examination of ceiling tiles. This time when I hear a voice behind me asking if they can help me, I about jump out of my skin. What the hell! We could NOT have been in there that long. These clerks are screwing with me! I curtly reply that I am fine and just waiting for my wife to try on an outfit. I like to test drive before I buy. My comment was not appreciated. Once again, I return to staring at the ceiling. What happened next is the truth, there was a flash and I heard the sound of a Polaroid camera. I whip around and the three clerks are huddled together talking and glancing in my direction smirking. Finally, my wife comes out, apparently, her jubberlies have grown and she had to try on different bras to get just the right fit.

She decides she is going to pick up two, one white and one pink (there’s that damn color again!). They go to ring her up and each bra is $50.00. FIFTY DOLLARS A BRA! Son of a goat! These aren’t even sexy bras, these are plain, no frills, and the woman looks better nekked bras! I could understand $50.00 for a bra if it was leather and had metal studs or if it was lacey and came with a pair of crotchless panties! However, this is what she wants so okay, two $50.00 bras… I don’t want to hear a complaint the next time I buy something pricey. I can get a three pack of my underwear for $10.00! Boxers ladies, and I wear a kilt, and work boots. That’s right, swoon now! ;)

We finally leave the store; she is carrying this little pink bag that defies the laws of physics. There is no way in hell they folded both bras into this bag, yet somehow they did. People are now staring at me; apparently, a flyer with my picture was passed around the mall warning of a pervert hanging out in Victoria’s Secret. I needed to go some place just to calm down. My heart is pounding like an air hammer and it looks like I just stepped out of a shower. Quickly I pull my wife into the sports memorabilia store to look at what they have. When I’m able to get my breathing and heartbeat back to normal (Normal for being in the mall that is), we left.

My wife is laughing at me the whole way back to work; she insists it was my imagination. I tell her I saw the flash from the Polaroid when they took my picture! She is adamant that I’m just being paranoid. I think they added me to a book they have under the counter of possible sex offenders!