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We hit the local supermall, The Americana, because we’ve got nothin’. No ideas, no theme yet, nothing bought. The only real decision I made tonight is not to wear a thin t-shirt out at night to an outdoor mall. Wind knifed through my unbuttoned flannel shirt, causing me to spend the evening clutching it closed, like an old woman pulling her shawl tighter.

We ate at the Jewel City diner, where everything was jammed in so as to allow us to barely squeeze through in order to eat at a ten-inch-wide bar. Morgan failed once again to avoid my taking his picture.

It was like a compact version of 50s nostalgia, and not a bad scene, overall.

I had a very good turkey burger, while Morgan tried horking down the World’s Most Drenched Caesar Salad. Seriously, the thing was smothered.

We wandered through, window shopping and browsing through stuff that was way too expensive (the Sony store, particularly). I didn’t get any shots of them, but there were more people wearing sweats than I think I’ve ever seen at any mall. It was the strangest dichotomy; people were either overdressed or looking like they just came from their evening spin class.

Urban Outfitters had a few stocking stuffer novelties we liked, admidst the skinny jeans and keffiyehs. Um, can anyone tell me when this marijuana book craze started?

Mostly a bust tonight, but there is always one thing The Americana can boast: Gayest. Statue. Ever.