Thursday, January 20, 2005

It was 6:30pm in Sherman Oaks and I had a half-hour to kill before worktime.

So I went to the Westfield Mall and browsed around.

Mostly clothing stores. No music shops. And their only book store was the size of an airport's. Bor-ing.

At least it explains why everyone in Sherman Oaks wears big fur coats and doesn't recognize Richard Marx and Norman Mailer when they see 'em on the street.

So I decided to leave Westfield Mall.

On the elevator to the ground floor, I was accompanied by a woman in her early forties. She carried two massive bags and was talking on her cell phone. I had nothing to do, so I eavesdropped on her conversation. Don't judge me!

Based on my brilliant spy-work, I gleaned that... her son was at a friend's, chicken was for dinner, and she...

Was walking down the street.

At least, that's what she said. Although clearly, she was riding an elevator with yours truly at the Westfield Mall. Hm.

Why was she lying? Much more importantly: why was she lying in front of me?

I may not have answers to these questions, but her lying guaranteed one thing...

I bet she was a politician!

Or a lawyer.

Or my teenage daughter.

Take your pick.

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