Shop At Divine Rags

Shop there! Come on. Go to Wolfchase Mall (?!?!?!?!) and SHOP THERE! Where else are you going to shop? Bergdanff Bogman’s? You just get in the Civic and you drive down to Wolfchase and you take your mom’s credit card and you buy yourself something pretty. That way, this weekend, when you are drinking a two-dollar Rolling Rock over at the Blind Pig and someone comes up to you and says “You look fascinating,” you can look right back at them and say, “No shit, I bought this at DIvine Rags.” Then you slap your knees and do a devil dance and the next thing you know, you and this stranger are married and you have a baby inside of you and the clothes from Divine Rags don’t fit you anymore but you still hang them in your closet with care because they help to remind you of the person you were before all this human life and responsibility got splattered all over the place and sometimes at night when the baby has finally been put down and the two of you are watching TV, you will lay your head in your husband’s lap and he will stroke your hair and you will ask him to tell you that you are beautiful and that he is still fascinated by you, and he will grunt because he was barely listening but the truth is you weren’t really talking to him anyway, you were talking to yourself, your former self. DIVINE RAGS! (Thanks for the tip, werttrew.)