Saturday started with a trip to the Clinique counter at Macy’s so I could purchase some Dramatically Different Moisturizing Gel. This miracle in a jar has been part of my skin care regimen for the last six years, but I was fresh out on Saturday and OH THE DRAMA that would surely arise if I didn’t replenish my stock in time for my bedtime application. I would be paying the skincare piper for days. DAYS.
As I got my wallet out to pay with cash money, the woman behind the counter asked me if I would like to open a Macy’s credit card and save twenty percent on my purchase! When I politely declined she asked again, this time with added emphasis on the fact that I could save! twenty! percent! Listen, if I am going to open up a credit card just to save twenty percent on a purchase - that purchase is going to be something more along the lines of a speedboat or diamond tiara a la Kate Middleton. Not a jar of moisturizer.
After round two of her pitch, the woman got quiet, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Wait, are you even 18 years old?”
My mom promises me that there will come a day when I will be overjoyed if someone thinks I am five years younger than I really am, but Saturday was not that day. So I just put on my best 22 year old, I’M TOTALLY MATURE AND FULL OF WISDOM AND BY THE WAY, ALMOST TWENTY THREE smile and said, “Yes, I am” and handed over twenty five dollars.
When I first started using this moisturizer it cost $18.00, and now it costs $24.50. I think the secret ingredient in the moisturizer is INFLATION. At this rate I will be paying a pretty penny for some D.D.M.G. by the time I am eighty years old. Although I’ll look like I’m only seventy five, and really, that is something that you just cannot put a price on.
After Macy’s Emily and I continued on our retail journey with a trip to Ikea. I like to describe my relationship with Ikea as rocky at best. You know - when I’m asked to describe my relationship with it. Which happens approximately, oh, NEVER. However, I do blame the downfall of Philadelphia’s Thanksgiving Day parade on Ikea’s sponsorship. Also, they tend to sell lamps that require bulbs that only exist in China, which is convenient if you live in China but not so much the eastern region of the United States.
When Em and I arrived at Ikea we were giddy with a successful trip on a limited access highway and decided to celebrate at the snackbar, where we ordered two giant slices of pizza and two large drinks. Just $4.00 for all that and a bag of (Swedish) chips. It’s safe to say that Ikea is working its way back into my heart one bargain priced slice of pizza at a time.
Emily and I went to the drink machines to fill our cups and I decided that I wanted milk, because, well, I love it. I put my cup under the little spout and pushed the button, and the milk started coming out in a teeny tiny little dribble. I waited there watching the milk trickle ever so slowly into my cup while Emily got a table and started her pizza. I glanced back at her a few minutes later and the look she had on her face can only be translated to TOTAL DISGUST. In an attempt to lighten her mood I said, “Hey Em! It probably would have been faster for me to just find a farm and go milk a cow there! You know?!” My attempt was futile and she said, “Laura, that milk is for the COFFEE. You are SO EMBARASSING.”
I guess I got a little excited about the opportunity for a nice cardboard cup of delicious snack bar milk and didn’t realize I was at the coffee section of the drink counter. But there I was, right in the midst of the coffee mate and the sugar. I would hate to inflict further embarrassment on Emily, so my tablespoon of lukewarm milk and I joined her at the table where we ate our pizza in peace and harmony.
When we got home from Ikea I laid down on my bed and took a nap because all that shopping was exhausting and I am, after all, TWENTY TWO. After my nap Matt and I hit the casino, because nothing says Happy Saturday like thirty dollars, some slot machines, and sky high expectations.
Actually, I had gone to a casino in Atlantic City for the first time a few weeks ago, and came home $112.31 richer. Ever since, Matt's been wanting to test his beginner’s luck. And as soon as we walked through the casino doors, I was intercepted by security and carded, and then a bright orange bracelet was taped around my wrist for reasons I am still unsure of. It was probably code for “EVEN THOUGH SHE DOESN’T LOOK IT, THIS GIRL REALLY IS OLD ENOUGH TO BE HERE.”
Matt kept saying that the more money he won, the fancier the restaurant we would go to afterwards. He had his hopes set on a large, expensive steak, and I was dreaming of a restaurant with cloth napkins. Bring on the fancy.
We had sandwiches for dinner.
And the cashier at the sandwich shop didn’t even offer us a credit card or twenty percent off.
Although, she didn’t card me either. Silver lining.