Holiday Cheer.

I hate shopping. I have to be in the right mood and the right situation. I can not shop:

A) With other people (unless I need help or the other person is my dad)
B) During the holidays
C) When I don't know exactly what I want
D) Without music
E) With a time restraint

Today I went shopping with my two brothers, during the holiday season, without music and without knowing exactly what I wanted to buy. It was a rough day. Despite my lack of enthusiasm, we were extremely successful until I came across a make-up department lady I wanted to stab with a sharp eye-liner pencil.

My brothers and I decided that we would be good children and buy some nail polish for our mom to finish off her Christmas gift. (Dad... don't tell.) We went into Nordstrom and walked through the make-up department. An extremely thin, old lady from the Yves Saint-Laurent counter pulled me in instantly. It was late in the afternoon and the deep wrinkles in her face had soaked up her heavily applied foundation so that it was caked between the creases around her eyes. She asked if I needed help. I HATE when people approach me in stores. If I need help I will ask you. Every time I walk into a store I feel like I am bombarded by vultures trying to con me into buying all kinds of dumb crap. Like this lady. Let's call her Barbara.

So I eventually break down in the presence of Barbara's piercing stare and tell her I'm looking for nail polish for my mom.

"You know what would be perfect for her?? The [insert difficult to pronounce French name chosen to make product sound more appealing and useful than it actually is]. Does she have the same skin tone as you? Here sit down I'll show you how great it is."

My brothers start chuckling because they know how much I hate being poked and prodded by strangers. Especially strangers who sell make-up.

Barbara sits me in a high black chair.

"Off with your glasses." She pauses. "OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!" She giggles uncontrollably.

Against my better judgment, I take off my glasses and let her have her evil way with my face. She took out something that looked like a pen with a brush at one end and applied the cream on it under my eyes. She shoved a mirror in front of my face. The angle was off so I couldn't even see myself but I told her the difference was amazing. I tried to get up but she stopped me saying "that's not all either!!!" She analyzed my face for a few seconds then grabbed a bottle of foundation and started applying it to my entire face with her cold, wrinkly hands. As she was applying it, she decided to make small talk with me. I hate small talk almost as much as I hate shopping.

"Are those your two brothers?" Barbara pried.
"Yea."
"So you're the oldest?"
"Yup."
"I bet you keep them in line then."
"I try."
"Do they pick on you a lot?"
"...I guess the normal amount."
"I always wanted a brother."

She shoved the mirror in my face. Again, I couldn't see myself because of the awkward angle of the mirror but I told her it was great. I started to get up and couldn't believe that she was standing in my way yet again. She grabbed a brown compact from a shelf and started putting bronzer all over my face. Apparently I'm pale... but the "good" kind because the undertones of my skin are good. I have no idea what that means. She finished with the bronzer and picked up red sparkling lip gloss. I'm pretty sure she told me it had peach juice and flecks of 24-carat gold in it but that can't be right. She shoved the mirror in my face one final time. Now I could see myself. My entire face was sparkling. I'm not sure why someone would buy things to make their entire face sparkle... but I guess I'm just weird like that.

I stood up from the chair, thanked her as politely as I could and told her we would come back after walking around the mall.

I never went back and never will. That woman is the devil.

My other adventure today involved taking my brother shopping for his girlfriend at Victoria's Secret. The cashier thought the panties he was paying for were for me. I don't know what was more uncomfortable: having Barbara rub her freezing, near-death hands all over my face or having some girl make jokes about my younger brother buying me tiny thongs.