Battles at the Mall

There are a couple of blog entries I have made on "MySpace" and the points made and questions asked are still "valid" so I figured I'd post them here.

Following is the first:

Why isn't it legal - and openly encouraged - to bitch slap those perfume nazi's at the mall? I'm not talking about the ones inside Dillards or Macy's (since I can't afford to go in there anyway) that you can easily avoid by sidestepping the stores. I'm talking about the ones that are in the employ of those "kiosks" that you HAVE to walk by just to get from JC Penney's to FYE to wrap up your Christmas shopping.

The kiosk at our mall that I'm referring to sells some kind of seaweed extract/all natural/homeopathic crap that they want to squirt on your hands and they do everything short of tackle you and knock you to the ground trying to get your attention to ask if they can apply a bit of this miracle lotion while you, on the other hand, are trying to thunder past and not make eye contact which - in a bustling scene such as a mall packed with Christmas shoppers - is damn near impossible or, if you ARE able to avoid eye contact, you run the risk of either 1) walking one way and looking another and, quite possibly, tripping over a small child; or 2) looking so intense in your angry efforts to avoid the seaweed spritzer that you come off as a hostile stalker.
On my latest attempt to walk sideways and look backwards, I failed miserably and smacked right into the perfumed lotion pusher. Here is how that encounter unfolded:

Her: (while using moves any defensive football player would be proud of in her (nearly successful) efforts to keep me from bolting): Can I squirt some "Seaweed Miracle Crap" on your hands?
Me: (madly trying to escape): No.
Her: (now trotting to keep up with me): Can I ask you a question?
Me: You already did.

At this point I actually broke into a run. Bear in mind, this is no small feat for someone of my age and rapidly expanding body habitus. And I didn't stop until I reached the escalator which would take me safely to the food court where I could comfort myself with a hot buttered pretzel.

Now, see.... if there was justice in the world and we were free to exact whatever force necessary to deal with these ever-present pests, I would have been perfectly within my legal rights to inform her (to quote Alan from "Boston Legal") "You've made the strategic mistake of pissing me off" and then, quite calmly, poke her in the eye with my car key.