| rev:text
| - Holy shit this place has gone down hill.. like all the way to the bottom of the hill, into the water below, sinking to the deepest depths which then sucked itself into the fiery center of the earth.
Metro center, is now Ghettro center. I was honestly afraid to walk in here.. but it was on my way home and I wanted a new pair of shoes. Here is a recap of todays ghettocenter adventure..
I park my car, and am approached by two enormous black rappers asking me to buy their homemade CD with "Akon on track 12!!", in order to help them support Phoenix. Are you kidding me? How the hell is this supporting my city?! This is supporting your weed habit, dicks.
NO.
Next.
I walk into entrance 1, and am surprisingly not shocked to see that I am the only person in the entire mall. I proceed to walk through the place and hit up every shoe store possible.. this was manageable because there were a total of 12 stores left open in the whole place and 8 of them were shoe stores. The others had names like K Momo, and HotLove filled with racks of what I call disposable clothing.. shit that only lasts 4 washes before its in pieces.
I walk the entire mall and browse every store in under 20 minutes.. all the while being eyed by every male, and female in the place. Maybe because I was the only white girl. I don't know. Saddened by the state of this mall, as a result of the state of our economy, I become more and more depressed about being unemployed. I become so depressed that I indulge in a Cinnabon, the only food available besides Annies Pretzels. I almost ate 2, but the fiber filler in the dough got to me, so I felt like vomiting instead. I leave the mall, thinking I have the right exit, but I was wrong. I needed to be upstairs rather than down. Unfortunately there were no stores open to be used as a landmark to identify which exit I was at, only corridors, so I got a little confused. Finally I find my way out to the parking lot, as a tumbleweed rolls by, with a group of crackheads peering at me from around the corner, I find myself back at my car. I leave, satisfied with my purchase of super cute Chuck Taylor's, but vow never to return again. ever. I would rather go to Chandler Fashion Center, which in itself is the biggest oxy-moron Ive ever heard of..
Apparently this place used to be cool.. but I'm pretty sure I was an infant when it was at its high point.
Sad.
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