Tell me. Do I look like a tart? After the events of today, I have this overwhelming concern that I look like a tart and I just don’t realize it.

Why? Because I either look like a tart, or today is National Hormonal Man Day. Practically everything I tried to do today ended up proving yet again that the vast majority of men are overly hormonal idiot nitwits who have no idea how to properly treat a woman. Not only that, but these are probably the same men who cannot sustain a relationship, because of their own ineptitude.

I started the day off knowing that I needed to buy shoes. Not wanting to deal with obnoxious people and poor service, I decided to just head straight for Nordstroms. Guess what I got? Obnoxious people and poor service, both of which are very unNordstroms. After making seven laps around the shoe department, not a single sales person would even return a smile. Worst still, there was a group of four salesmen, standing in the aisle, blocking traffic, carrying on a very loud conversation about women. They were swearing up a storm, shot me dirty looks, and it was just awful. Disgusted and not wanting to listen to their conversation carry throughout the department, I left.

I went upstairs, the lingerie lady argued with me about my bra size (I *hate* that, I think I know when I need new undies), then finally went off to make-up to try and recoup. Oddly enough, the make up ladies were the only ones who were nice and civilized – interesting, since they aren’t even technically Nordstrom employees.

After regaining my emotional strength (cause believe me, after listening to those salesmens’ conversation and being told my bra fits fine despite the fact it *hurts*, I was about ready to get uncivilized myself), I attempted to buy shoes yet again. After five laps, I finally caught a salesman who was apparently PMSing. I asked for three different pairs of shoes in a size 8 and 8 and a half. He brought me 10’s and 11’s. When I pleasantly showed him those didn’t fit, and asked him for size 8’s, he rolled his eyes at me and refused to go get the correct size. Didn’t offer any apology, no explanation, no excuse, just acted like a hormonal teenage girl.

I left. Didn’t buy any shoes. Left. Couldn’t take it. So I tried Nordstrom Rack, the outlet. Nothing there. Long waits. More hormonal people. What really sucked was when I left. Now, today, I was covered from neck to wrist to ankle. I had on regular Calvin Klein blue jeans and a simple black sweater. While the sweater fit quite well, I wouldn’t consider it obscene in how well it fit. Not like it was a second skin or anything, just well fitted.

That said, with the behavior of men today, you’d think I was walking around in a teddy. As I walked out of Nordstrom Rack, approached my car well out in the depths of parking land, a man about four or five parking lanes away rolled down his van window. He leaned out the window, and shouted at me, “Hey, baby! (bleep-bleep-bleep)… How YOU doin?”

When I first heard it, I turned around to see what poor woman was being mistreated. As soon as I turned and caught a glimpse of the moron protruding from the beat up old van, he started doing the Arsenio arm wave and hooting. Obviously, his comments were directed at me. It seemed fairly clear, so I don’t think I’m being egotistical or anything. Especially considering the only other woman in the parking lot at the time was easily over 60 years old.

A couple other things happened today that I don’t think I should repeat, but my point is, what the crap is wrong with men today? One by one I’m slowly losing my havens of civilized behavior; as Tiffany’s was to Holly Golightly, Nordstrom was to me. I lost BMW, I may lose Nordstrom. And it’s all cause certain men are despicable cretinous cro-magnons. What’s next, world? Sweetwater!? Please, say it ain’t so! Tell me men can actually put a clamp on their testosterone production and hey, maybe for once, not treat me like an undercover tart.