
Yes, this post is about my unmentionalbles. You still have time to turn the car around, but after this point, you may be as scarred as I am. For you creepy people, there will be no photos that correspond with this post.
It was a day of retail therapy for me. Suz and I dropped the fellas off in a delightful cafe and took off for a few area department stores. The first store we tried had tons of stuff that was interesting to look at, but nothing to buy.
The second store was a huge score for me. I found a few great things at reasonable prices. Two of the things were Unmentionalbles (that's all the detail you get). After I thouroughly perused the store, I took my purchases to the counter to pay. This went off pretty much without a hitch for someone in a foreign country. Bag in hand, Suz and I decend three floors to the ground level to continue our retail conquest.
Just as I reach for the door handle, the store alarm starts screeching. And hustling toward me is the biggest, baldest, darkest skinned Frenchman I have ever seen. His size is intimidating. His uniform is intimidating. The fact that he and I can't understand each other is intimidating. But he was very nice.
He asked for my bag and the reciept for my purchases, which he took to a small table just inside the door but still in front of everyone exiting and entering the store. He checked the reciept and then began pulling one item at a time out of my bag and waving it in front of a security sensor. It wasn't the tights. Nor the hat. Next came an Unmentionable, which he flapped around like a flag for the Nation of Underpants. If I had known how to say, "This is the best part of your day, isn't it?" I would have. Although, I'm pretty sure my Unmentionable purchase would have probably suited someone's granny.
Alas, it was not the offending item. It turned out to be the turtleneck I bought. Thank goodness.

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