OK, so I had to head out to the Apple store to pick up my laptop (which I had returned to Apple for its fourth logic board in a year and a half--I hope I don't sound like a relationship lightweight, but I think I'm going to have to break up with Apple, my very cute but clearly abusive demon lover). I figured while I was in strip mall land, I'd swing by the local Ulta, because I stupidly left my magical frizz-destroying Conair Ion Shine hair dryer and my perfect, perfect, PERFECT hair styling brush in New Hampshire. I was not about to walk around with Bad Hair until August, so I needed to get replacements.
This shopping expedition revealed me to be the Compleate Village Idiote of Ulta shoppers. See, when you head into certain stores, like a supermarket, they have carts or baskets or some such so you can walk around and purchase lots of stuff. The genius designers of stores like Ulta and Sephora have adopted this cart/basket scenario even though some of the stuff they're stocking is more in the price range of fresh Iranian caviar than say, your average loaf of bread and quart of milk.
So I walked around Ulta for about an hour. When I got home, I had not just the hair dryer and a reasonable facsimile of the ultra-super perfect styling brush, but no fewer than three different foot files, two different kinds of foot cream, a lipstick, a bottle of nail polish, and this weird electrical thingamajig that claims to both floss and whiten one's teeth.
Either I have become obsessed with grooming, or upon seeing the basket at Ulta, I devolved into some kind of weird, proto-Homer Simpson state, and walked around in a daze murmuring "must ... buy ... grooming ... crappe ..." Or both.
So anyway, I spent a great deal of today grooming myself in an attempt to justify having purchased a shopping basket stuffed with beautifying products. As a result, my hair is great, my feet are soft, "my shoes are clean and neat / and this is odd, because you know, I haven't any feet."
Sorry about that. I don't believe I've mentioned this, but I have Carroll's Syndrome. This is a very rare phenomenon, so don't be surprised if you've never heard of it. Scientists define it as "1.) the ability to recognize when something scans uncannily like a well-known poem or jingle and 2.) a concomitant lack of social awareness, resulting in the immediate production of idiotic doggerel."
Anyway. I'm happy to report that the Ulta booty appears to work fine, although the jury is still out on the motorized tooth flosser, which kind of reminds me of one of those colored vibrators that's trying to look like a cute little animal, except made for midgets instead of grown-up ladies, and I can't believe I'm expected to put it in my mouth, but whatever--I tried it and while the earth didn't move at my end, my teeth appear pretty pleased with themselves.
So, although I'm clearly the mindless minion of the mass market, I'm happy enough. But God help me if Ulta ever gets those big ass carts like the ones at Target.