No typos there. Last night I had the most enjoyable experience of being trapped in a dress that a woman older than my dead great-grandmother had to CUT ME OUT OF. With scissors. With bra and dignity exposed for all of high heaven to see. And it wasn't even one of my perky Victoria's Secret push-ups.
Even before that, it was a less than fabulous time. I had no trouble locating potential buys - the problem was too big or too small or too hot pink or too flesh toned or TOO FAT because, when the only way to remove a piece of clothing is to take scissors to fabric, not a good sign.
To be fair, and to beat Luke to the punch come comments time, this particular dress fit fine; the zipper just caught itself and wouldn't go up or down, no matter how aggressively Luke, Gladys, Dorothy, and I pulled. Twenty minutes later, I offered the dress up to the cashiers like a religious sacrifice, my victim bearing a frantically cut vertical gash from breast to hip. I won't say it was exactly like the zipper scene in There's Something About Mary, but for a woman it was pretty damn close.
The zipper would've got stuck on a mannequin. It was just broken, with no one to blame but itself and the third world sweatshop that sewed it on to the fabric.
Besides, that freakin' dress got what it deserved.
Posted by: Luke | April 20, 2005 at 01:10 AM
You're lucky it was a dress you could wear a bra to try on, or you might have been arrested.
Your Mom
Posted by: Anonymous | April 20, 2005 at 10:40 AM
This entry might bring new meaning to "What're you lookin at?"
Posted by: Anonymous | April 22, 2005 at 06:51 PM
Stop looking at that !
Posted by: Chris | April 23, 2005 at 12:09 AM