At the dreaded MOA

Despite my allergy to enormous, indoor shopping malls, I let the ducks talk me into showing them our biggest tourist attraction; that cathedral to capitalism, the Mall of America. Enormous, ugly, loud, filled with crap I don't need; I could only stand the air for an hour, otherwise I may have taken them on the rollercoaster.

This is how I shop: I don't shop for a year, then I pick a day (usually a Monday, at 10:00am when I know the place won't be crammed with people, most pushing strollers and sporting vacant looks in their eyes) steel myself, stick closely to my list of a few "needed" items and the map of stores I might find them at, I find nothing and leave remembering why I haven't shopped here in a year.

Ten days to go. Gulp.

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Here's how it all started. If you'd like the diminutive uber-couple to visit your part of the world, drop them an email to buckytheducky[at]googlemail[dot]com with your postal address and blip journal name.

Use the buckyblip tag to see the long list of places they have visited.