05-28-00
Here's a bizarre twist of fate for you... After last night's micro-binge, I slept in a little late, then realized that I wanted to see Gladiator, so I primped a bit and went out into the cruel world that is Coral Ridge Mall. The movie kicked ass so hard that I could barely stand it. I've always maintained that Ripley Scott can do no wrong [I know he has, but humor me], and this movie backs that theory up to a T. Wow. I can't even explain it all. It just was pure and absolute goodness, embodied in celluloid form.
I then went to Contrampo Casual to buy a new pair of hoochie pants, because everyone who matters has now seen the leopard pair. And I did. Oh, did I find some magical pants. That's all you need to know for now.
I also went to the gym, picked up a new contact, and then went into Younkers to tell Carol that she was wrong, and it wasn't the way I ran that made my calves hurt, it was my old pair of suckass running shoes. The new pair not only felt like sunshine and happiness wrapped around my feet, but they looked nice with my ensemble as well. But Carol had gone home for the day, so I went downstairs to talk to the fragrance counter manager. That's when the bizarre stuff happened. Apparently all the super good stuff happens when I'm not working, because the fragrance girlie told me a strange, strange tale that I feel compelled to share with you all, and here it is...
Sometime around 11am Saturday, a woman came into the store, asked the Clinique manager where the nearest Osco Drugs was, left -- presumably to go to Osco, came back and asked where the bathroom was. The woman was told where the bathroom was, and she apparently found it, because a short while later, a different woman went into the bathroom, quickly came back out and told the office manager that she had better get into the bathroom because there was some blood on the floor. The office manager went into the bathroom, opened up the handicapped stall door, and found a gigantic puddle of blood all over the floor, as well as the woman who wanted to know where Osco was, with deep, jagged lacerations all up and down her arms. Totally freaking out, the office manager ran out of the bathroom, called 911 and summoned the other managers on duty, who gloved up and used table linens from the home department as tourniquets around the "victim's" arms. She resisted the whole time, presumably telling them to let her die, but that is actual speculation. The paramedics came and took her away, down through mens and right past the Clinique counter, and that's when the Clinique counter manager realized just who the woman was -- the Osco shopper!
I'm sure the attempted suicide Osco shopper is fine. She was lucid during the entire incident, and is most likely resting comfortably in the local loony ward of one of our dandy hospitals, enjoying a nice cocktail of drugs drugs drugs. She has lots to look forward to, as well. Counselling and monitoring, and more!
You know, if she really wanted to not be found, she should have gone to the mall's restroom, because no one would ever have found her in there until she was dead in a puddle of her own rapidly-congealing blood. And there is a nice image with which I will end this story.
