2002-05-28

Send me an angel. And incidentally, fuck you.

OK. So yesterday I went bra shopping with Paula. Victoria's Secret cracks me up, it really does. It's like walking into a perfumed bordello-cum-candybox. We were there to buy something tasteful, and strapless, for Paula to wear under her wedding dress.

We'd found a number of possible underthings, thanks in large part to the very helpful sales associate, whose name was -- I swear to God -- "Angel." After trying on said brassieres, checking for unseemly boob spillover and such, we exited the fitting room and wondered what to do with the rejected garments.

"Perhaps we should find Angel and she can tell us where to put them."

"Send me an ayn-gel.....send me an ayyyyn-gel..."

"Oh, God. Did you go to the show where we opened for Real Life?"

"Holy shit. No. When the fuck did you play with them?"

"It was when I still in Boy Wonder."

"Huh. Jesus, no, I can't believe I missed that. How was it?"

"Ohhhh, there were only, like, six people there. I couldn't believe it. I mean, we totally grabbed that gig when we were offered it, you know, thinking, 'This'll be a huge show. HUGE.' I still don't get it; that song was really popular, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but Paula. Really. Who would actually know that Real Life did that song? We know it, because we're dorks."

"I guess."

lisamcc at 5:52 p.m.

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