I Hate The Mall...

because it is a proving ground for pre-pubescent girls to show off their overly made-up faces (as an aside, if we ever invent a car that can run on make-up, all we need for energy independence is a trip to the mall on a Friday night) and horned-up high schoolers looking to score with the former. In fact, I counted no fewer than five badly-dressed, backward-hat-wearing, pimply-faced, cell- phone-using, hormone-spewing dipshits French-kissing young girls.

Chris Hansen sets up internet stings on Dateline: NBC; but, there is no sting at the mall. Troubling, since there is probably more sex at the mall than parents want to admit. After all, there is the car park, the dark corners, the complete and utter lack of parental (or other adult) supervision.

Indeed, I would wager that the parents of little Suzy would go absolutely bugfuck crazy if they knew that their little 13 year old (who is made up to look 18) was kissing (and being pawed) by Deshon (or one of his budding-felon friends). I mean, it was 65 degrees yesterday. Far too warm for the down-filled Rocawear parka, the baggy-ass Diesel jeans, and the $300.00 Nike Air Force Ones.

So, as I am standing there in the mall, watching the trainwreck, a sobbing little boy walked up to me and said that he had lost his grandpa.

I felt bad for him, and I wanted to help this forlorn little child out of his troubles.

I got down on one knee, looked the little man in the eyes, and said, "What's he like?"

The little boy said, "Jack Daniels and women with big tits."