On Saturday I had my improv show. It actually went better than I thought it would. However due to the extreme nerves I had I needed adult beverages afterward. Many adult beverages. It seems the city planners had thought this out as the block my improv theater is on goes like this:
Bar, Restaurant, Theater, CLOTHING SHOP, Bar, Bar
Guess which one I hit after drinking? That's right, the clothing shop. I wandered in thinking I would look at the pretty things and then go home. It was upon walking in that the shop girl walked up to me and asked if I would like some wine. Yes, yes I would. And this is how I ended up spending an hour of my life being dressed up like improv Barbie by a woman with giant fake implants (seriously, her headlights were on full force the entire time I was there. It was not cold).
I was twirled, I was pushed/tucked/pinned and had my hair twisted into brains and side buns to show me what would go with that particular dress. I was also given more wine. I was also called busty. Repeatedly. I don't know if you've had a moment like this, but it's AWKWARD. Imagine me, anonymous conservatively dressed (in normal life) blogger girl being thrown into a black silk dress that is cut to my navel. As I stand there wondering if I can simply just will my boobs to stay in the dress the badly implanted shop girl walks up, gently pats my right boob and screams 'she sure is busty, huh?' It was then that Texas realized his only job during this adventure was to keep his head down and not laugh. He barely made it.
After a grueling hour of clothes trying on I left having spent the GNP of a small nation. On three items. After sobering up I realized the folly of my ways. It was also then that Texas informed me that Sarah Silverman was in the dressing room next to me and that she kept poking her head out and giggling every time the shop girl called me busty. Which was roughly every 13 seconds.