some high-class shopping

The other night, Husband and I went to a ritzy mall in Dallas called Northpark. I do not use the term 'ritzy' lightly here. This place is seriously high-end. They have stores that I am afraid to enter because the blonde, tanned, polished fembots who work there might remove me immediately for being too poor. Regardless, we walked around the mall several times so I could 'ooh' and 'ahh' at all the fancy stores and make fun of all the crazy Dallas women who shop in them. At one point, I almost went up to a women to chastise her for shopping WITH HER THIRTEEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER in the Juicy Couture store. [Juicy Couture makes pants that have the word 'JUICY' written across the rear. 1. You should not have words on your rear. 2. You should NOT have the word 'JUICY' on your rear. 3. YOUR THIRTEEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER SHOULD NOT HAVE 'JUICY ON HER REAR. Also, your thirteen year old daughter should be shopping at Old Navy or somewhere equally age-appropriate and reasonably priced.]

One nice thing about ritzy malls is that they have ritzy paper and stationary stores. Poor Husband in his long-suffering patience spent about twenty minutes letting me wander around one of these paper stores pointing out journals and notecards that I liked. He nearly choked over the crazy-expensive wedding invitations. Then, much to my delight, we happened upon the Baby Announcement section.

That's right. Baby Announcements. He he. Remember the last time Husband was confronted with baby paraphernalia?

"Babe! Look! Baby Announcements!"

[Grunt.]

"Awww! How cute! We are totally doing this when we have a baby!"

"Why?"

"Because we have to ANNOUNCE our baby's birth. Doesn't your baby deserve an announcement?"

"Sure. Its called Facebook."