My grand adventure through... Minnetonka!

I'd love to talk more tonight, but it turns out that when I got in my car to drive home after work the car, in fact, drove itself right on out of the city and in to one of them there mysterious and elusive suburbs everyone talks about. And you know what I found in the suburbs besides poor driving and tapered pants?

SHOPPING.

Have you guys heard about this things called shopping? Cuz it's fucking *awesome*. Honestly, you're lucky I came home at all tonight. The next time my friends call me up and suggest we go get drunk and laugh ourselves right under a table at some snobby bar downtown, I'm gonna say something like, "Dudes, shopping in the suburbs is way more fun. Trust me."

And they'll be all, "Intriguing. What is this 'suburban shopping experience' you speak of?"

And I'll be all, "It's shopping, but, like, you do it in person. You know, like in the old days."

And they'll be all, "You mean, like, not on the internet?"

And I'll be all, "Yeah! Apparently people still walk in and out of stores. Like, for real. WHO KNEW?!"

And then we'll all have a good laugh about how cute old people are.

Sadly my bank account now knows all about the repercussions of shopping, the suburban housewife's crack. So does my closet, but to be fair my closet is quite thrilled about the whole thing and thinks we should have a party to celebrate. But not one of those snobby, downtown restaurant kind of parties - A SUBURBAN MALL PARTY WITH THE GAP, EXPRESS, MARSHALL FIELDS, AND EVERY OTHER STORE IN THE UNIVERSE INVITED!

There were new shirts... and more new shirts. And cute pants! Pants that really fit and aren't 5 sizes too big or 2 sizes too small and shrunk in weird places so that I look like I should be tightrolling them at the ankle. Best news of all - I didn't buy a single pair of khakis. That whole conservative, dressing like I work in a hospital look is soooo last year. Tonight I reclaimed my style.

All hail style.

I have officially been reborn and shall remember this day, always.

It's time to finish off dinner (suburban malls also have Big Bowl - isn't that the weirdest coincidence, like, ever?) and then think of ways I can convince all my flickr photowalk buddies that our next photowalk should be at Ridgedale. Or Southdale. Or the Mall of America. And that maybe they should just leave their cameras at home and instead bring their SUV-like vehicles so they can each and every one of them help me take home all the IKEA stuff I purchase. Because honestly, you just can't lightrail home with a new system of bookcases.