Tomorrow is the first day of my new job. I am pretty psyched about it because I really feel like this is a new beginning. With a new beginning I figured I could use a new wardrobe. I don't know what the dress code is going to be but I assume it is a smart-casual or slightly lower. I was interviewed by a few people wearing bluejeans and a few guys wearing ties. In any case I could use a few more collared shirts and a pair of black pants. A quick trip to the store is all it should take. Easy enough, right?

I hate shopping. I REALLY hate shopping for clothes. If I have to go shopping I definitely prefer to be buying something for myself (tagging along with girls as they shop… omg). When I buy things for other people I wouldn't really call it 'shopping'; I usually spend a lot of time in the planning stage and once I have picked out the perfect gift in my mind my trip to the store is a surgical strike that doesnt require any of this 'shopping'. When I buy something for myself it is usually the same. As I took a shower this morning I planned the entire trip in my head. I needed about 3 shirts, a pair of black pants, and 2 belts (one brown, one black). I need a new pair of tennis shoes as well, but I consider that a luxery item and would unnecessisarily extend the amount of time I would have to spend at the mall. I decided what type and quanityt of shirts I wanted as well as the cut and color of my pants. I planned out what route I should take to the store to minimize travel time and still allow me to pass by a bank and a wendy's without going out of my way. This in-shower planning phase was critical for two reasons. First, and most importantly, I wanted to spend as little time as possible doing something that I hate. There would be no 'browsing' or otherwise wasted time once I was in the store. Secondly, it was an attempt to thwart my nature as an impulse shopper. I've written about it before and many of you know, but I have a problem when it comes to spending money. On thursday after work I stopped at Best Buy to try and buy Wario Ware Touched for the DS. I was a little upset to find that it was sold out. But I couldn't just leave with nothing. I walked up and down the dvd aisles for another half hour before forcing myself out of the store. Anyway, with my trip planned I headed to the store.

Buying clothes is probably the most horrible activity a human being can subject themself to without first losing a bet. The plan was so pefect but the execution proved difficult. Once I found the men's section it took me about half an hour to pick out the 3 shirts I wanted. I claim that the fault is not my own. Here we are, living in the world of the future. We have computers and laser beams and Segways. Is it too much to expect clothes that don't change sizes after you buy them? Picking out clothes has become a guessing game. First, I have to find a shirt with a color/pattern that I like. Then I have to imagine what that shirt will look like once it's been washed a few times and the colors are faded. Then I have to pick the right size. This is probably the most difficult step. It isnt enough to say, 'Oh yeah, I'm a medium.' Every brand has a different benchmark for what is medium. Sometimes I am a large. Sometimes I am an XL. Sometimes, and this is a rare blessing, I am a “tall”. So with each shirt I have to hold it awkwardly up to my neck, trying not to stab myself with the metal coat hanger, and look down and think 'yeah… this is good.' But we aren't done. Yeah, it looks good NOW, but what happens when I wash it? Let me check the label. 100% cotton, eh? So i can expect this to shrink a bit, although I can't possibly imagine how much. Let's err on the safe side and just take whatever we thought fits now and go up one size so that it will fit later. But fuck! This shirt is 50% cotton! Does that mean it will only shrink half as much? So what do I do now? And then there are the shirts that are pre-shrunk. Fuck that. They will still change sizes, but now you can't even guess how much or little. So after about a half hour looking at shirts I had picked out my three. One is a bit too big for me now and will hopefully shrink after I wash it. Another is the exact perfect size and better not fucking shrink at all. The third turned out to be way too big and even with the most optimistic shrinking predictions it will still be too big. I am going to keep the first two and take the third back.

Now we get into pants. Pants are the most notoriously difficult item of clothing to buy. If shirts are the S.S. Minnow of non-standardized measurement, pants are the U.S.S. Enterprise. The cruelest trick of all is that they make you think that there REALLY is some standard. I think that I am a 34×34. But 34 what? One would think that means 34 inch waist and a 34 inch length. But if that were the case why am I a 34×34 for Dockers but a 36×32 for Levi's? An inch should be an inch, but apparantly it isnt. Still, that turned out to be the least of my problems today. How many styles of pants do we really need? The next time you are in the pant section of a store take a moment and notice just how many different styles of pants there are. Pleated, flatfront, sport, active, cargo, 5-pocket, all-weather, casual-knit, loose fit, relaxed fit, and all the combinations you can envision. That says nothing about the material of the pants, either. I just wanted a pair of flat-front, casually fitting black pants. It was an impossible dream. I searched through all the pant stands in the entire stupid store and couldnt find anything that might work. The closest I came was a pair of pants that fit the style and material but weren't black. The tag said black. The sign said black. They were very clearly blue. I held it up to my black jacket and confirmed that the pants actually matched my blue shirt. Apparantly colors are now non-standard as well. I eventually gave up.

I don't know if I am alone on this, or whether anyone actually made it this far through my journal without getting bored, but shopping is the worst ever. During the drive back to the apartment I kept imagining myself slamming the car into buildings oroncoming traffic just to ease my frustration and make the world feel a fraction of the pain that I had been forced to endure this afternoon.