Shopping, Or, What I Do When I'm Feel Masochistic

There are three things I love shopping for. It's not really so much an act of shopping as it is an act of giddy adoration coupled with an inability to acquire those items forever and ever.
Those three categories are books, alcohol, and knives. What can I say--I like to read and I'm attracted to sharp, shiny things. Especially if it can fold up and hide in your pocket. And there's just so many different varieties of alcoholic beverages in the world I suspect I won't be able to sample them all before I'm forced to leave this mortal coil.

Otherwise, the process of shopping tends to be a slightly arduous and torturous process. I approach clothes shopping like an undercover sting operation: sidle into the clothes section in hopes people will think I'm just cutting through on my way to the electronics department, grab a few different items of clothing that I don't think my nearest and dearest will try to embarrass me for wearing, ninja my way into a changing room, struggle in and out of multiple pairs of clothing while becoming aware of the fact that the last time I showered was two days ago and I'm forcing my slightly sticky body in and out of cleanish clothes that I don't own, select the two or three items that don't make me look like an horribly bloated elephant...and then I make a dash for the cash register because right now I'm really in pain and I want to get the most painful part of it (spending money) over with.

The only item of clothing I tend to be picky about are sandals--possibly because I wear them almost every day year in and year out until they finally fall apart on my feet to get away from me. They can't have Velcro straps because those collect lint and eventually stop staying attached; they have to be open-toed so my toes don't get all sweaty and gunky; they have to have a heel strap so I can run without worrying about my shoes falling off; and they have to at least give the illusion of having some sort of tread so I can caper over rocks or whatever I feel like capering over without doing a snake on a greased pyramid impression.

I own about three to five items that can be combined to give me a semi-professional look if I ever need to dress up. The downside of these items is that they seldom have pockets (which are essential for my keys, chapstick, cell phone, knife, and whatever else needs to go into my pockets that day) and force me to carry a purse which I don't normally do (most of the time a bellybag waist purse fanny pack does nicely).

The funny thing is, sometimes I do my normal approach of digging random items out of my drawers and then people are asking me what the special occasion is. I guess this just goes to show all things are possible in a chaotic universe.