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2/07/2004 - What if this is as good as it gets?
(Sorry, this is REALLY long. I just remember it quite vividly, and I like to tell stories) I'm at Magic Wok, eating some rice with my mom. She mentions going to the mall, and I immediately perk up. I love going to the mall. It's the only time I can feel like a normal "teenager", when I'm browsing the cramped areas for things that I don't need, but want. "Yeah, I need to pick up a new purse. The zipper is broke on mine, and things keep falling out" I envisioned a Mallrats-like escapade, stopping only to talk to Stan Lee, and say things such as "Like the back seat of a Volkswagen?" My mother did not. "Which mall? Southwyck, or Franklin Park?" I retort. For those of you outside the immediate Toledo downtown area, there are mainly two malls. Franklin Park, the nice, busy, big one, and Southwyck, the smaller, deserted one. "Probably Southwyck." Half of the mall is a Dillards store, for future reference. And it's Saturday, so there might be a few more people than usual, but not half as many as Franklin Park on a slow day. "Sweet. I wanna check out some stuff there too" I say. We leave Magic Wok, and head to the mall. We use one of the multiple Dillards entrances. A good 45 minutes is spent right near the front doors. "I'm looking for a fabric that's nice and crisp like this, but in a green." She's looking for Pajamas, which I was not aware that she needed, with her already existing 5 pairs. "And I'm going to need a long-sleeve pajama shirt to go with it". "Same fabric, I assume?" says me. My mother is the most particular person I know. If the shirt and pants don't match, then she can't wear them. If both pieces of clothing are not the same fabric that she likes, no dice. If they don't have the right pattern, out of the question. They're pajamas. My brother and I are the only ones who will ever see her in them. "Huh. 'Made in Turkmenistan.' Never heard of that place. Have you?" I stand dumbfounded. Turkmenistan? You've never heard of Turkmenistan? I admit, I am no expert on the place, but I know of Turkmenistan. Hell, I may not even be spelling it right, but I know of it. "Are you serious? You're never heard of Turkmenistan." "Nope" she says, quite simply. Bluntly, almost. If this were a Japanese comic book, there would be a sweatdrop on my forehead, and a word bubble saying "..." "I don't believe you. You HAVE to have heard of Turkmenistan" "Well, I don't believe that YOU'VE heard of the place!" She replies with a false anger. "Oh my god, mom. I don't know how I came out of you. This can't be possible." This conversation goes on for a time. All the while, we edge ever closer to the handbags and purses. Her current purse isn't even old, and she's getting a new one. Fix the zipper and save yourself the time and money. "So what do you think of this one?" she asks me, as if I knew anything about the subject at all. "How would I know? It's a purse. I don't use purses." We eventually maneuver over to the jewelry counter, sans pajamas or purse. "Y'know, I think I want a little cross necklace". Let me explain something here. My mother is converting to Catholicism. As is my brother. I am not. As you can imagine, this has lead to some minor disputes, especially when I let my brother watch "Dogma" (I highly advise that you all watch it as well). He's going to be baptized on Easter, and as for her, I haven't the slightest clue. "Well, take this one." I hand her a small, jeweled necklace, not knowing any better. "Heh, ah-no" She replies. Trying to make light of my mistake, I say "Yeah, you'd be the most bling-blingingest catholic in da hood" We have a good laugh over this, and move on. "Well, I'm looking for something kinda fluid, kinda like this, but without the black jewels, and much smaller." She holds up a large, fluid cross with black diamonds. There's really no other way to describe it. I find a smaller version of the exact same one. "How about this?" "Nope. I don't like the little black things, already told you that", as if it was imperative knowledge that I was supposed to hold on to, for future reference. She looks at a little spinny-rack thing. I let out a deep sigh, and a salesclerk I hadn't noticed, a middle-aged female, says "Oh my, your mother must be looking for something, eh?" "You're good", I reply. She attepmts to assist us, but once again my mother's particularness drives us away from the jewelry counter. She says, "Well, let's exit through the mall". "OHTHANKGOD!" I exclaim. This was what I came for. My disdain for her shopping was clearly evident. "Lets go into this Foot Locker here, your brother said that he wants a (some sports star, I forgot who it was) Jersey, and I was thinking of getting it for him for Valentines Day." "Seriously? Why? They're far too expensive, and you'll never be able to find one that fits him, or is specifically (same sports star)" I counter. "Still, just let me look." I follow, and, surprise, I am right. "So, are you going to get me a Valentines gift?" I propose. "No, I'm going to get one for your brother and not for you" she says with a sarcastic twinge. "Why don't you leave the sarcasm to me, eh?" For some reason, I still have a feeling that my brother's gift will be better than whatever she gets me. We mosey on over to a hair care salon, and she looks at the enormous rack of hair products. "Do we REALLY have to do this?" "Just a minute! Jeez! You're so whinny!" We spend 30 minutes at this enormous rack of hair care products. After a good half-hour, she finally decides on a two-pack, Honey Oatmeal Shampoo and some sort of conditioner. She walks over to the counter and converses with the cashier to see if this will really help her. "Twenty-three Fifty, please". My jaw literally drops. "We don't have $23" I think to myself. We barely have enough to keep the cable running. Even so, she eagerly hands exact change to the clerk, and walks off with a smile. "Mom! Are you serious? $23 for some shampoo? That's crap!" "Oh shut up" she says, with more false anger. At this point, by back is really starting to hurt, from standing up straight. I always slouch when I sit. "Lets take a look at this jewelry counter, maybe they have a cross". They have the exact one she wants. Good price, only $15 or something, which (I assumed) was a fair price. "Hey! That's the one! Get that!" "Too small" she said plainly. I freeze, and silently go insane. "Mom, did you know that %85 percent of the population has once worked in retail?" I didn't know if the number was correct, but I thought that I heard something like that before. "I would be one of those" she quietly replies. "Did you have a quota to fill" "I don't really remember." "Well, dearest mother, those people do. If they don't meet their quota, they get fired. And when they see a person browsing over the jewelry rack, they think, 'Oh boy! This'll help me fill my quota!' or something to that effect. And when that person doesn't buy anything, the cashier is crushed." She walks on, pretending not to notice the depressing fact I posed to her. "Hey, you want to walk into Far East Trader?" "Hell yes", I mutter. I don't know if she heard me say hell or not; if so, then it would be the first time I have ever sworn around her. She didn't say anything, and we walked towards the store. "Wow, look at all this stuff!" She says, and I never know if it's false amazement or not. I had bought a small Buddha figurine from this place before, since they were real cheap. Around $3. We browse around, showing eachother all the cool stuff, and she wanders out. I reluctantly leave, trying to send the message that I want this little Buddha figurine. Either she doesn't get it, or she doesn't want to shell out. "You can go into Gamestop real quick, and I'll go into Osterman's." Ostermans is a jewelry store. Gamestop is Babbages, but Big B was bought out. It's till Babbages, even though the sign says Gamestop now. All the bags still say Babbages. I surf the aisles for a quick minute, then happen upon the bargain bin. It's near the entrance. I never notice my mom walk in. "Whacha looking at?" "Oh, I need a Playstation 1 memory card." "Playstation 1? You have a Playstation 2 memory card. Isn't that better?" I give her a glare, and look back. It's only $7, a measly sum compared to her $23 oatmeal shampoo. "Maybe as your Valentines Day gift" My jaw drops again, but she doesn't notice. She's already walking out. We hit up Waldenbooks, since they're going out of business (it's a really small mall). I walk, almost run to the SciFi aisle, which is conveniently located near the anime. My mother notices the mother of a friend of mine, Casey Tony (he's on the little sidebar chat there as "Alpha"). They chat for a while, and she brings me into the conversation and grabs me by the collar as I read the back of Issac Asimov's "Robotic Dreams". "Oh, hi!" I manage to get out. When speaking to people, I go into super-nervous mode. Almost like an anxiety attack. "Oh my gosh, Greg, you're getting so big!" Casey's mom hasn't seen me since about 6th grade. "Heh, yeah, I get that a lot." I mutter, mixed with a nervous laugh. "So where's Casey?" My mother quips. "Oh, he's at a 'LAN' Party at Brad's house.", Mrs. Tony replies truthfully. Folin also went to this party. As a matter of fact, it's still occurring right now. I was not invited to said party. After a bit of shaky conversation, we part, and mother and I decide to leave. As we head for the entrance/exit, I say, "So. We came for a purse. We leave with $35 dollars worth of stuff (she got my brother some boxers), and none of it a purse." We enter the car. Irish music is playing on NPR (Public Radio). My mother says, "You didn't have a good time tonight, did you?" "Nope" "Well, I'm sorry I didn't get you anything, Mr. Selfish." "Mom, you bought $23 worth of Shampoo. And we didn't go to any good stores. And my back hurts. And for all this, I think I deserve something, perhaps a SMALL, $3 BUDDHA FIGURE, but no. Nothing. Nothing at all." Long pause. "Well, I did buy you some of your favorite cereal" She pulls out a box of Reeses Puffs from a Walmart bag in the back. Two things here: 1) I haven't liked Reeses Puffs since the 4th grade, and: 2) She thinks she can buy my happiness with food. I don't tell her this, because I've been trained, and I know that if I talk back, or yell, or anything at all, I will be severely punished. Even above, when I mentioned the Buddha figurine, I didn't really raise my voice. I know I'm not really going to be punished, but I'm scared. I have a very sheltered life. I've never smoked a cigarette, done any drugs, drank a beer, nothing of the sort. You would think that she would be satisfied. But this is not human nature, so she demands more. Constantly more, and if I don't meet expectations, well, you remember when she banned me from the internet. It gets worse. I don't look at her the entire ride home, until the end. Stony silence. "You know what the best part of this night?" "What?" she replies. "You don't know that Turkmenistan exists." //Greg::11:17 PM EST\ # | |
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