Fashion Werewolf: a very personal plague

I am almost constantly (read: never) approached by people for the plethora of fabricated mythology I know about two things: werewolves and vortexes. Today, after my years of research, I finally experienced something that was clearly one or the other.

Here's how this shit when down (you might need some eery music in the background): I went to the mall, on the seemingly innocent mission of buying some black pants, because my life sucks and all I ever get to wear is black. One job with a Bar Mitzvah uniform, one job with a funeral uniform. Eternal sadness and pre-pubescent masculinity all up in my wardrobe.

ANYWAY. I parked by non-threatening Boston Store. Non-threatening MY ASS. I walked in to a slew of Betsey Johnson purses and immediately forgot my identity, what I was looking for, and where I was. I walked out with a Boston Store credit card (what the shit?) and the following items:

Alright, there are some things we need to note about these purchases. First of all, none of them are pants. Three of them are kind of pants, but not to be worn out of the house without other pants. NOT EVEN A SKIRT. I did SO BAD. Next, THREE pairs of Packer underwear?! And they have vaguely slutty phrases on them? Who am I? "Let's huddle"?! That doesn't even mean anything. Unless you are actually talking about football (which I know you aren't, Victoria), that doesn't mean anything.

My main issue with all of this is the feeling I had when I walked out of the mall. Holding bags of shit, completely dazed as to how it got there. "You mean... I exchanged money... for this?" I asked myself, probably aloud on accident in the parking lot. When I got home and examined my purchases, I was not necessarily so much disappointed as surprised. I have only three rational explanations for this occurrence.

1. I was drugged. Somewhere between work and home and the bank and the mall, I was drugged and forced to spend my hard-earned money. It was probably Boston Store!! They have so much perfume and whatnot everywhere and it was drugged and now I have a credit card I have to cancel (but, guys, I got 20% off).
2. VORTEX. I don't know much about vortexes, but I am 98% sure that, based on everything I just made up about them, the mall is one. You walk in, walk around in a daze, and aliens sell you things. Everyone who works at the mall is an alien. You can quote me on that.
3. I am a fashion werewolf. What is a fashion werewolf? Perhaps one of the most specific kinds of werewolves, it occurs when a vulnerable (read: bitter and bloodthirsty) individual enters a shopping mall. It's like a full moon all the time in there, bitches, and you best watch out. You lose control of your body and your wallet and buy as much as you can carry until your inner willpower finally gets you the hell out of there roughly two hours later. It's like a battleground in there, I say based on nothing.

I'm guessing that it was explanation #3, since I came out dazed and covered in the blood of the innocent. But, like a lady Remus Lupin, I feel at least kind of bad about it.

...And, BAM! Still worked in a Harry Potter reference.