Retail Re-tales

When I lived in San Francisco the store I worked at was in the heart of the city, right down the street from Union Square, so most of the people I dealt with were tourists from foreign countries. But now that I am back in the valley, the clientele could not be more different. The new store I work at is much smaller and therefore has a much smaller pool of customers. This store being more of a local neighborhoody one, rather than a huge tourist attraction, deals with more returns and exchanges of clothing than I could ever imagine. If there is anything I have learned in the last few weeks, it's that every return has a story.

This is mine:

" I don't have the receipt because I obviously shredded it the minute I got out of the store. I do that with all my receipts. I don't like the possibility of all my information floating around. Identity theft is a big crime, ya know. I also ripped all the tags off the clothes because I don't really like trying things on with that little piece of paper hanging off the side. It just throws the entire look off.

I washed each of the items, because who knows what kind of germs and infestations grow in clothing that has sat in a store for a few weeks. When I washed them, these little holes developed in the front of the dress, most likely because I put the clothes in the washing machine with rocks. A completely normal practice, everyone does it. A dress should be constructed to withstand a rock washing, it is absolutely absurd that it would disintegrate on only the first try.

 After I washed and wore the shirt I bought three times, I realized it's the wrong size. So I'd like to return it, and I would like cash back. I'll take my shirt business to another store. One that has HUGE size labels so I don't ever make this mistake again. I knew when I threw it on for the third time, after my gym session last week, something seemed a little off. This is a XXL, and as you can see, I only wear a XL

Lastly, I have a pair of sandals I bought only a week ago that just completely ripped apart. I was running full speed through sand and then water for about eight hours. Then when I got home, my dog got a hold of them, and it was somewhat of a confrontation struggle to get them back. But as you can clearly see from the shredded nature and teeth marks, these shoes seem to be very poorly made.  I expected twelve dollar shoes to be much sturdier than that.

I am sure that all of this information is really going to help you process this return. Surely since I have had such a traumatic experience, you can make an exception when it comes to taking these items back. I have no receipts and no tags, and nothing to prove that I actually bought any of this stuff recently.. But since they all have sewn in tags that clearly display your store name, I am expecting you to take every destroyed piece back and reimburse me fully. In cash. I also intend to dictate to you all the prices I paid for each of these items. I don't care if it's on clearance now, I paid full price for it. I swear."

Best Friend Adventures

Life is always an adventure when it comes to my biffle Cori. I think she is probably my oldest friend, and one of the only people I still talk to from those dreaded middle school/ high school years. That alone should say how pretty freaking awesome she is. After high school we traveled our separate ways to college, and it has been five years since we have been in the same town together, so it's obvious that some real craziness needs to happen. Apparently we have been making up for those lost years, because since I have been back we have been hanging out ALOT, and when Cori is involved, good times are sure to ensue. So far she has made my move to LA feel like the right decision, and the fun has only just begun.

Yesterday, feeling fun and adventurous, we decided to ride our bikes around Balboa Lake. The fact that I am not the most practiced bicycle rider should probably have been my first red flag. Let's just say for the safety of the cars on the road, it is much better that I ride my bike on the sidewalk. You would think that as a twenty three year old, I should be able to ride my bike pretty steadily, but in my case we can just say the "wobbling" is part of my charm. Despite this important factor, I decided to be spontaneous and power through. I borrowed my Dad's truck and I got ready to go pick up Cori and her bike. When I arrived at Cori's house, I realized that we both had very different ideas of what this bike ride was going to be like, let's go ahead break it down:

Lauren: thinking this was going to be an exercising opportunity, I put on running shorts, a tank top and my running shoes. What else would you go bike riding in? I threw my wet hair into a single french braid, for obvious practicality: staying out of my face, but not interfering with safety of wearing a helmet. I also put together a bag with a bottle of water, sunscreen, chaptstick, and the other essentials like phone, keys, etc. I threw my purple mountain bike in the bed of the truck and zoomed off to pick Cori up. I find her on the corner of her block as follows:

Cori: Standing there with her electric blue beach cruiser, my dear friend has on a slinky black summer dress, rainbow sandals, curly voluptuous hair, and a little side purse. And no helmet. WHAT!? (can we just reiterate for one moment that my hair is in a single french freaking braid.) Did I miss the memo, is there some sort of hot guy biking convention happening, was I supposed to dress to impress? Not to mention as we get later into the ride, we find out that in her side purse she has lip gloss and breath mints, all the practical items for a bike ride. I think she may have had a minor lapse in clear judgement, and forgot that we actually don't live in a cute beach town like Venice. I don't think the Balboa Lake crowd is really an appropriate pool to fish for men. But hey, that's just my opinion. I have been wrong before. (it's rare, but possible.)

Although my little bag was packed with a girl scout's "always be prepared" mentality, one thing I did forget to put in what Cori so fondly called my "man satchel," was an extra tube for my tire. I think on normal bike excursions this precaution is not usually necessary, except when your tire pops less than halfway through the five mile journey. Which mine did. Obviously. It's okay though, we weren't really looking forward to bike riding, what we really wanted to do was to go bike walking. I mean Cori was so appropriately dressed for that sort of activity. And thank god for those breath mints, they really kept us going.

And so went my walk of shame, with my butch braid and man satchel, pushing my flat tired bike all the way back to the car.

Lesson Learned: get a full bike tune up ASAP. Dress cuter when "working out" with my best friend. But none the less, even when things don't go according to plan they can still be hysterically fun. As long as you're in good company.

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old adventures in Tuscon

Parental Guidance

Disneyland is easily one of my favorite places in the world. Growing up in LA, I have been fortunate enough to visit the park a lot during my childhood, and at least once a year for the last ten years. Tickets have become so outrageously priced, it makes me sad to think how much money parents spend to give their kids that magical experience. If you like Disneyland, (which there are some crazy people out there who don't) it's one of those places that can be fun no matter what age you are. Yesterday I got to do my first trip of this year, and while it was still every bit as magical as it always is, it also reminded me of some serious issues I have with the general public.

Obviously when you go to Disneyland you expect to deal with a lot of children running around, laughing, and crying. And although I think it's unnecessary for your child to scream bloody murder for 20 straight minutes while you eat lunch, it's not the kid and his set of lungs I have a problem with. It's the parent. I completely understand that there needs to be boundaries set, but sometimes when it comes to a public place, with a thousand of your closest Mickey loving friends,  you might just need to give that kid an extra fucking cookie. Yesterday just pretty much confirmed an idea that my pal Kimi and I have had for quite a while:

People should have to take a test before they are allowed to become parents.

This needs to be a serious test of whether or not these people have the skill set necessary to raise children. We will of course have to address the obvious stuff, like whether or not they are abusive, or horribly addicted to drugs, or in the mafia. But once they get past that first set of evaluations, the real issue will be at hand: Stroller Etiquette.

I get it. You birthed a child. I give you mad props for that, and I am in no way trying to say I know more about raising children than you. I don't. But when I do have a child, (in the far far future) I don't think I'm going to suddenly feel it's okay to ram people down with my stroller. It's not a utilitarian vehicle. It's not even a hummer. You do not have the right to plow through the crowds. You are not getting where you are going any faster. In fact, you continually "flat tiring" my shoes is actually slowing me down, which in turn is slowing you down. While the back of my foot appreciates your subtlety in asking me to get out of your way, if you're so insistent on being a raging stroller driver get a horn or a megaphone. I'd rather be given the opportunity to get out of the way before I am just mowed down.

Contrary to what you may be thinking child leashes are not the answer to this problem. I have never been a fan of "walking" your child like a dog, it seems degrading and barbaric. But most importantly, for anyone who has ever seen a 101 Dalmatians, we all know what kind of sticky situations leashes can get us into. When it's you, me, and your five year old child fighting to get out of the tangled mess, I hardly think I'll come out of the situation with a soulmate like Roger and Pongo did. As a society we should just nix leashing our children, I have faith that we can survive with some love and hand holding.

So next time you're feeling the urge to powerfully thrust your stroller into a crowd of innocent bystanders, save the rage for the underground stroller racing ring. At least there you have the possibility of coming home with some cash. Although I guess if you mug the next person you plow over, you'd also be coming back with some winnings. Thoughts for later. But most importantly, calm down, and exercise patience when pushing your child through crowds. Remember we are all practicing constraint, because if I had it my way, I'd sucker punch the back of your head.

If we are all just aware of each other, then we can enjoy the magic. I mean it is the fucking happiest place on earth.

 To Infinity and Beyond...!