|Me... commando. Kidding.|
So, I went into the nearest shop and said, "Excuse me, do you have sundries?"
And the lady was all, "We have toothpaste."
And for a moment, I got a little disgusted trying to figure out how toothpaste would help my undy (singular of undies?) situation.
Then I realized that perhaps I was using the word "sundries" in the wrong way. Perhaps it didn't mean what I thought it meant. Perhaps even though it sounds like "undies", it might mean something else.
So, I was all, "Okay, I'll take a toothpaste. Also, as a sidenote, do you have... underwears?" Because if you use the plural, it's less embarrassing.
She's all, "Um we have these..." She holds up a thong that has words on it. Something about which way to do something.
I was all, "Do you have anything... with more coverage? With a back that doesn't go... between things?"
She sent me to another shop, the only place in the entire hotel that carried non-novelty undies.
Upon entering the second shop, my face went red. It appeared the clothing designer had been challenged to make as many outfits as possible using only the material from a handkerchief.
I asked the lady behind the counter, "Um... undies?"
She pointed me toward a basket, with tiny little black boxes inside. Each tiny box (about the size of a ring box) claimed to contain three underwears.
Apparently Las Vegas really is magic.
I asked the lady again, "How do you tell the sizes?"
She's all, "They're one size fits all."
Because "One Size Fits All" is for sweatshirts, and ponchos, and sleeping bags. Not underwears!
But the lady pointed to the side of the box, where it clearly stated (in 10 pt font) One Size Fits All. And then in the small print underneath, it stated Sizes 4-8.
me: "That is not One-Size-Fits-All. That is One-Size-Fits-A-Small-Percentage-of-the-Population-and-Have-You-Seen-The-People-at-your-Slot-Machines?-It-is-Not-THAT-Percentage!"
She's all, "That's all we have."
me: "The people who fit in these [holds up box] are not the people who forget underwear. They're the people who pack their underwear very carefully because they love how they look in underwear."
her (looks at the poor woman having a breakdown about underwear sizes. Pities her.) "Do you want the box or not?"
me (resigned): "I'll take it. Maybe I can stitch two of them together."
I have to say I got used to the feeling, and eventually I stopped picking at them.
So... how was your Thanksgiving? I ate so much that "One-Size-Fits-All" is a mere fantasy land far, far away.