"you're where?"

i'm blogging at the mall of america.
i know.
yeah, i know.
my sister meg is at a job interview at jcrew right now and, thanks to the overpriced dr. pepper and sugar cookie, i now have a free ride on the computer here at dunn bros. (okay, free for 45 minutes. 10 of which i've spent online swimsuit shopping.)
that's the topic.
swimwear.
grrrr.....if you'd rather skip my whining about my body and whatnot, feel free to scan down to where i'm sporting a bit more wit and a bit less self loathing.

it's no real mystery that i no longer have the same girlish physique i had in my former years. so now i'm faced with a visit to mexico and the reality that i cannot wear my usual garb there.
by usual garb i mean jeans and a long-sleeved black thermal shirt. that may only cause heatstroke.
so i've been glancing around different stores for swimwear that will be appropriate for my....physique, if you will...not a whole lot out there that doesn't amount to a swim skirt.
shopping in general is fairly uninteresting when you are like me. i'll go into "normal" stores with my wee sister and i'm sure it's just my psychosis-induced paranoia, but there are a few looks here and there that say something to the effect of "what in the world will she buy here? what here will fit her?"
or maybe that's just what is going through my own head.
and it's my own fault, i've really just become what i've always dreaded and i totally need to get my ass into action and start doing something to reverse my lazy trend.
i came up with the lose 50 by 30 plan. when i turned 29, i decided that i needed to lose 50 pounds by the time i turn 30. yeah, you can about imagine how well that's going now. and i've seen other people do it and i know that i'm capable of it, but there is something that keeps stopping me.
it sort of feels like i'm so far gone, that how can 20 minutes a day on an elliptical machine work? and that's where i get stuck.
end of whining.
so maybe tomorrow will be that day. that magical day where i wake up and think "damn, i can't wait to exercise! my instant gratification complex is gone! i'm so excited to work and work and not really notice anything for quite some time! hurrah!

we'll see....

32 minutes on dunn bros. dime to go.



and i have always hoped that my blogs would not turn into some sad diary entry.
.... it.
i just tried to type the f word above, where there are four periods in front of the word "it."
and it censored it. dunn bros. censored my blog.
.... it.
see? it did it again!
hell!
okay, that's one worked.
damn!
that's a safe word...
shit!
that worked too.

i guess .... is really the mother of all cusses. crazy!

maybe if i didn't speak like a truck driver (no offense to all those truck drivers out there..) i would not have been censored. maybe i should just cuss like roman moroni in "johnny dangerously."
"fargin icehole!" "i'll put your bells in a sling..."
that worked.

the mall of america itself is a really strange phenomenon. very strange. there is so much money here. soooo much money here. there's is a store directly across from where i am sitting called johnston & murphy, and it is being manned by chronically dissatisfied little man with wrinkles and greasy thin hair. and he's probably making between 7 and 10 clams an hour.
and the shoes he's wearing, made by his employer, probably cost at least 100 dollars. at leasat. and they are not nice shoes. not attractive. they are smarmy and should be worn only by drug dealers.

but in this store the man stays, day after day, regretting every decision he's ever made, lamenting the existence of all those pox marks on his face, wishing he could just be able to one day say "that's it! .... you all!" and flee for a better place.

i'm hoping that one day, people like him (or me, mostly) will one day just find a big bag of money on the street.

until that day comes...hmm. who knows.
19 minutes to go. and i think i might be a good citizen and give up my chair for someone who is waiting for a computer.
he's a very suburban looking kid with a baseball cap on sideways.
no way is he getting my chair.
no way, mister.