Shop­ping on steroids with Ann Tay­lor and Josh Groban

North Penn Life - - ACCENT -

It’s usu­ally around this time that I start think­ing about tak­ing the cover off the grill. And as it turns out, I should have thought a lit­tle harder about do­ing just that dur­ing the most re­cent hol­i­day week­end.

In­stead, I once again suc­cumbed to what’s be­come an an­nual tra­di­tion at our house: the hol­i­day shop­ping spree.

My shop­ping trips have been a reg­u­lar source of ma­te­rial over the years in this space. And the rou­tine hasn’t re­ally evolved that much at all: I go, I schlep the bags, I try to finG D EHnFK WR IDOO DVOHHS on. And I whine and moan and com­plain — all to my­self, of course. It’s not good strat­egy to com­plain out loud.

But this year there was a bit of a twist: In­stead of just be­ing The Blonde Ac­coun­tant’s chauf­feur and schlep­per, I was The Man Fri­day for TBA, Older Daugh­ter, Younger Daugh­ter and Daugh­ter of Blonde Ac­coun­tant.

That is what’s known as “Shop­ping on Steroids Day” at the Lim­er­ick Out­let Mall. (I refuse to call my shop­ping night­mare by its proper name, the Philadel­phia Out­let Mall, be­cause as folks around here know, Lim­er­ick is nowhere near Philadel­phia.)

When I an­nounced my shop­ping plans that morn­ing to the Face­book crowd, I was en­cour­aged by sev­eral “friends” to of­fer a play-by-play of my day. See, my pals on Face­book seem to en­joy my play-by-play ac­counts, which up to this point have mostly been limited to prom nights and teen par­ties at my house where I de­tail my con­tempt for the knuck­le­headed jamokes that mope about, ogle my step­daugh­ter, eat my food and demon­strate poor aim in my pow­der room.

“Shop­ping on Steroids Day” pro­vided an­other such op­por­tu­nity at some crack re­port­ing of a non­event, which in this in­stance we’ll call “Diary of a Poor, Un­for­tu­nate Soul.” To wit:

9:50 a.m. - “Out­let Mall Break­ing News: The women lit­er­ally ran from the park­ing lot to start shop­ping, knock­ing down old ladies and run­ning over baby car­riages to get to the Ann Tay­lor store. (Oh, ex­ple­tive.)”

9:53 a.m. - “Out­let Mall Break­ing News (OMBN): “Found a bench out­side the Ann Tay­lor store. Even odds on whether I freeze to GHDWK RU VunEuUn Py EDOG VSRW fiUVW. (Ex­ple­tive.)”

10:04 a.m. - “OMBN: Chilly wind blow­ing side­ways and right up my skirt (I cleaned that up for print), which we all know makes for a more pleas­ant shop­ping ex­pe­ri­ence. Wish the umps would call this game. (Ex­ple­tive.)”

10:07 a.m. - “OMBN: The chilly wind has forced me back in­side the Ann Tay­lor store, where the air conditioning is on and there is no place to sit. (Ex­ple­tive.)”

10:35 a.m. - “OMBN: Ann Tay­lor coupon not valid for an­other three days (un­ex­pected rookie mis­take by The Blonde Ac­coun­tant). So I had to open an Ann Tay­lor credit card ac­count to get the ex­tra 15 per­cent off. All to­gether now: Oh for crying out loud, Mike. (Ex­ple­tive.)”

10:36 a.m. - “OMBN: Who the heck is Ann Tay­lor any­way and why would I want to have her credit card in my wallet? (Ex­ple­tive.)”

10:45 a.m. - “OMBN: On deck, the Loft. The good news is that I can use my new Ann Tay­lor ac­count to get an ad­di­tional 15 per­cent off at the Loft. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. And Ann Tay­lor. (Ex­ple­tive.)”

11:15 a.m. - “OMBN: Ba­nana Repub­lic on deck. I gotta use the re­stroom. Ap­par­ently there is no time for that. I’ll bet Ann Tay­lor has time to use the re­stroom, in be­tween count­ing all the money I’ve given her. (Ex­ple­tive.)”

11:30 a.m. - “OMBN: The Nike store was a nut­house, but at leas­t­old Dad got a new pair of kicks. Tired, broke and hun­gry. Ann Tay­lor should at least buy me lunch. (Ex­ple­tive.)”

1:40 p.m. - “OMBN: Shop­ping is over. I needed a dump truck just to get all the bags to the car. And then, the car­load of women chose to lis­ten to a Josh Groban CD on the way home. (Ex­ple­tive, ex­ple­tive, ex­ple­tive.)”

2:30 p.m. - Break­ing News Alert: Lunch. Ann Tay­lor did not pay. Guess who did? Hint: It wasn’t Josh Groban ei­ther. (Ex­ple­tive.)

4:15 p.m. - Break­ing News Alert: There is a big old dad passed out on the couch in the liv­ing room. His wallet has fallen out of his pocket and his credit cards have snuck out the back door be­cause they refuse to in­habit the same wallet at the forth­com­ing Ann Tay­lor credit card. (Ex­ple­tive.)

, VKRuOG KDYH VWuFN wLWK Py fiUVW instinct and just taken the cover off the dadgummed grill. (Ex­ple­tive.)

Mike Morsch is ex­ec­u­tive edi­tor of Mont­gomery Me­dia and author of the book, “Danc­ing in My Un­der­wear: The Sound­track of My Life.” He can be reached by call­ing 215-542-0200, ext. 415 or by email at msquared35@ya­hoo.com. This col­umn can also be found at www.mont­gomerynews.com.

Outta Leftfield Mike Morsch

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