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The Elevator Strained Under The Stress of Our Combined Pounds, Plus Transylvanian Hunger
Went to Barneys with Xtreem Aaron to:
1. Buy my mom a Mother's Day gift (unfindable)
2. Look for a birthday gift for ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
moroccomole (May 18th, also unfindable--I had this big idea I was going to find MM a new messenger bag because his old one died of disintegration and he's been walking around with this cheap, tacky, free OUTFEST nylon bag for weeks and weeks now and it's just un-good, but did you know that the clean black perfect Prada messenger bags are $1,500 and you still have to suffer the indignity of having a big metal triangle permanently attached to them that screams PRADA! FUCKING PRADA! I BUY PRADA! -- so yeah, no way, Miuccia).
3. Buy a candle (found two, but got a super-pitch for some new ones that cost like 80 bucks each and the lady had this whole rap going about how the glass they come in is individually handblown and each one is unique and they use them in all the chicest monasteries and whatnot and how they were ONLY 80 DOLLARS EACH--not to worry, I didn't one, even though they all smelled amazing. Because I just don't do that)
But none of that is as good as the events of the elevator. XA and I walked into the box and we were followed by a girl (think Ashley Tisdale, sunglasses inside, expensive gladiator sandals, wishes she could afford something from the huge Goyard display going on in the front of the store and who knows she just might be able to already) and a guy (pocket-gay-of-the-year, 75lbs MAYBE, modified fauxhawk but actually just that little fauxhawky peak in the front, stove-pipe jeans, too-small v-neck t-shirt with big word like RETRIBUTION on the front of it).
I could post a sound clip of me trying to do an impersonation of them as they rode with us down to the parking garage under the store, but even I couldn't do justice to that weirdest of all native So-Cal accents, the clipped, 1982ish, exaggerated-Valley Girl-meets-"betch-speak" and whiney malaise that was coming out of the mouths of our fellow shoppers.
So try to recreate those elements in your mind as I try to spell their speech patterns phonetically.
Him: Mah ah hrts [my eye hurts]
Her: Mah er hrts [my ear hurts]
Him, pulling on his face skin in the mirror behind us--the entire back wall of the Barneys elevator is a mirror:
eh fill uhfl [I feel awful]
Her: Mih too [me too]
A pause while the guy stands in profile against the full-length mirror. He arches his body backwards until his head is leaning against the wall of the elevator and his body is curved in front of the mirror. He touches his stomach and pushes it out as far as it will go, which is to say that it doesn't go out at all, even in the most sad anorexic fantasy.
Her: Wht rr you do-ehng? [what are you doing]
Him, after sharp exhalation: ehm feht [i'm fat]
Both XA and I have been silent during this exchange. But the guy's last words made me laugh spontaneously in spite of myself. "Hah," I sort of expelled, but not angrily or anything. I assumed he was kidding so I kind of chuckled. Then I said, pointing at my own belly. "THIS is fat."
I could tell they didn't know if they should be shocked or to laugh along and so they both kind of had that animal-frozen-in-the-road face (or as best as I could tell from her sunglasses, but he definitely did.) Then the elevator doors opened and they ran out giggling.
Me: "Bye, Fatty!"
Went home and bought a Darkthrone t-shirt online. I will model it when it arrives. If you're lucky.
