It’s been a busy summer over here in Lame Adventures-land. But, my fashion police friend, Coco, shattered my concentration from my current passion — I know everyone saw this one coming — studying spots, with this illustrated email.
Tag, you’re it!
Yes, really tagged.
Coco: I normally would not take a picture of a stranger’s ass but did this chick just steal these pants?
Me: Really good question. How could she not know that thing’s there?
Coco: How embarrassing not to mention uncomfortable.
Me: Would only that store’s sensor activate? Or, when she bought them did the clerk fail to remove it and she decided to just flaunt it, the ultimate “I don’t give a shit” attitude?
Coco: I’m pretty sure it would trigger other store sensors. Although this idiot probably wouldn’t realize she was the one setting the alarm off. If the clerk failed to take it off, anyone with half a brain would take the pants back to the store in a bag and ask them to remove it. What an idiot. She doesn’t even have the sense to wear a shirt long enough to cover it.
Coco raises so many good points here. But she did not take it upon herself to ask a pertinent question to the wearer that could have solved this mystery:
Coco’s unasked question: Are you aware that you’re wearing a store security tag?
Upon further reflection, having a store security tag planted on one’s person might just be a way to attract attention, maybe make new friends? Or, if life could imitate the kind of chick flick that usually makes me retch copiously, it’s a way to meet one’s soul mate cute. It is possible that this person lost her receipt and was determined to wear these pants anyway. On the other hand, a two second Google search explains how to remove these types of tags. Possibly, she is truly absent-minded or just completely clueless, but I’m not convinced of that. In conclusion, I’m joining Team Coco. I vote: idiot.
What do you think, fellow Lame Adventurers?
Lame Adventures 
Now, I’ll admit to being pretty much of an idiot most of the time. However, this chick tops even my idiocy! I’m with you and Coco! Hope you have a great weekend, LA!
Hugs from Ecuador,
Kathy
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Kathy, I have to admit I’m not anywhere near as perfectly put together as my bud, Coco, but I do have the capacity to look at myself in the mirror before heading out the door to ensure nothing looks that too attention-getting in an embarrassing way.
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Even me, fashionista flunky, thinks this is a ding a ling. maybe a new trend is starting.
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Hm, maybe a new trend is starting. She is clad in all cool New Yorker black. Maybe she is introducing the cool jerk trend?
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Maybe it’s a new homing device. She’s on the NSA watch list
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Thank you Edward Snowden.
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Unrelated reply. Taking bride and D2 to see Jays and Sawx for final home stand Saturday gam on 9/21.. Sorta like you did in Blue Jays’ first trip to Fenway in May.
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Oooh I’m jealous. Have a fab time!!!
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No, I think it’s a fashion statement, V. It attracts attention to her rear – that has to be it…
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Ah, nerd butt power, Cathy?
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That is funny. One time I slipped on a pair of pants and pierced myself with the pin side of the tag the checkout girl left behind. YOUCH!
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I am instantly reminded of a work trip that I took to San Fran where I bought offwhite pants (I was much thinner and could pull off white pants then). The clerk left the sensor on and I so desperately wanted to wear them at my work event that evening, but I didn’t have time to go back to the store. So I tried to take it off myself and ink exploded all over the white pants. My coworker and friend still makes fun of me for this proud, smart moment in my life!
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The gods of the white pants (huh, that sounds like the name of some ghastly novel destined to be made into a ghastly film) were definitely not on your side on that trip. That sucked! But thanks for sharing!
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I’ve worked retail (shut UP), and there were numerous times where I forgot to take off the clothing tags. Oops. One time, I got a fab sweater from Anthropologie with the sensor still intact. Since I didn’t want to rip it off myself, I took it back to the store, with the receipt and the sullen sales gal begrudgingly removed it whilst bitching to her co-worker about how Fiona Apple, is like, sooo misunderstood.
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It sounds like you were the Lucy Ricardo of retail clerks, Jules! That’s great that you can remember that cranky Anthropologie sales clerk carrying on about Fiona Apple when you had the audacity to return to the store to make her do her job.
It’s interesting in a “my mind is feeling so blank I have nothing else to think about” kind of way that there are so many times that clerks fail to remove the sensors and the alarms malfunction. Are these crummy alarms made by Wile E. Coyote’s beloved Acme?
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Nothing that a hammer wouldn’t fix.
I’d go with the attention whore too but that’d be judgmental, so let’s say she’s clueless.
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Yeah, but Leo if you hammered the daylights out of that security tag as Life on Wry experienced, it could explode ink! Or, were you just feeling like smacking the attention whore with a hammer to knock sense into her head?
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So I went to CVS the other day and walked out with two of those razor blade packages encased in a huge clear space-aged polymer cube invented by NASA scientists (you know, the guys who brought us TANG). Yes the damn things are security sensored. And yeah the frigging things went off. So what did I do? I convinced myself that it was being caused by the lady who was walking out of the door next to me. But in my defense, I did return a few days later to have the packaging removed. Okay it was like 2 weeks later and only after I failed miserably to remove the polymer cube with a huge screw driver a hammer, and 5 pound adjustable wrench.
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I think it’s interesting that you managed to leave CVS with the alarm ringing certain that it wasn’t you setting it off, and it seems that the CVS clerks must have been certain that it wasn’t you, too. What’s the point of having goods security tagged? Naturally, Mike, you were subject to a Larry David level of security tag removal frustration. Maybe the solution here is for you to grow a beard worthy of ZZ Top.
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On vacation for a few days. Heading south to audition for Duck Dynasty. Alas will have to shave on Wednesday as I return to Hoboken, aka Sinatraville
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Break a leg.
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Crap, I was just about to attach one of those tags to my pants so I could be “NYC hip” right here in the Ozarks, but now I feel foolish and red-faced.
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Thank your lucky stars you didn’t try to put it on your new thong aka banana hammock. Not that I did or anything like that. Ouch, gotta adjust something right now. That’s better.
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Is this like stuffing a pair of socks in the back of your pants instead of the front? I hate when that happens.
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Your Dockers feel grateful, Russell.
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Thankfully, I’ve never done this, but once I went to work (on the subway and everything) with a price tag still hanging off my new jacket. It was an embarrassing moment when someone at the office pointed it out. Sheesh.
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You’re a writer, Jackie. I cut you a pass. But I’m glad that your colleague that the decency to point it out. I’ve worked with people where I could have had a ten topping pizza lodged between my teeth and they’d be silent as the grave about it.
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Odd. I’ll go with the julesagray “misunderstood Fiona Apple” approach. Or, speculation B — she hadn’t had her morning coffee yet when she dressed? Or was this taken in the evening, having just gotten off the subway on the way home from work.
Glad you are back, V., if at least for a moment. I miss my L.A. fix. Things have been rather quiet around the blogosphere this summer, it seems to me. My writer caregivers “Women Writing for (a) Change” LinkedIn discussion group finally came alive yesterday with a number of posts, trampling the crickets, possibly, whose only sound I heard much of the summer. It’s like somebody woke up and removed the security tag.
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When my friend takes it upon herself to practically create a post for me, Samantha, that screams, “Please update your site!” I’m not sure how back I am, because US Open Tennis is happening right now and that is my all-time favorite sporting event. I’ve forgotten just how comfy life is away from the blogosphere. It’s something I can really enjoy, like napping.
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I can so relate to the napping, V., and the taking time off from blogging. In fact, I have slacked off to the point where I’m in the midst of writing a three or four part post (have published parts 1 & 2) to pressure myself to keep writing them. After all, would I want my reader(s) to have PTSD because they never found out how it ends? Well … let me kick back and give that one some thought….
As for the plastic wrapped produce in the supermarkets — that’s such a turnoff, and, yep, I bet they WILL start putting security tags on them. That’s the logical next step. I hate it when I peel one of those little stickers off a peach or a nectarine and one side of the fruit comes off with it. Thankfully, they haven’t put those stickers on individual grapes yet.
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I hate those fruit stickers and I know exactly what you mean when you remove them and off comes a layer of skin. I thought “they” (whoever “they” are) were going to switch to stamping fruit with some sort of dye, but that has yet to happen. Maybe the FDA realized it was a carcinogen.
I’m so far behind in my blog reading, I will never catch up. I can only read so many before I need to take a nap or maybe hit the bottle.
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I’m behind on the blog reading, too. My consolation is that everybody else seems to be, too.
Enjoy your tennis — hopefully they won’t be affixing stickers to tennis balls.
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Since Wilson is a sponsor, it’s safe to say that their logo is all over the balls.
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I hate those security tags, especially when they place them at the back of the neck of a top I’m trying on. How can you tell if the garment fits with that thing poking out? I don’t need to look any more like Quasimodo than what Nature is already accomplishing on its own.
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That’s a good point! I remember trying to get a tee shirt at the Gap, but they had those tags at the neck and once removed, that left a hole in the shirt. I ended up ordering it online. I’m with you, I hate those tags, too, but I suppose they’re a statement about our lying, cheating, thieving society. I expect we’re nearing the day when those tags might even appear on a carton of eggs. Fun times in the supermarket checkout line.
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How true. They already have produce in individually wrapped packaging. Can security tags be far behind?
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I believe this is a new item from Garmin’s GPS line so the wearer will always be able to tell where her/his sorry ass has been.
OMG, thank for the laughs on this page tonight … and I’m with you re the US Open Tennis. I’ll be glued.
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Oh, you’re in good form, Patricia! Excellent observation for the lost amongst us.
Play’s suspended due to weather for the night, so that means no Roger Federer. Boo hoo. Did you see Serena steamroll Schiavone? It could have been easy to miss since she plowed through her in about the time it takes to make toast.
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I say a combo … as in she paid for them, clueless that it’s still attached, temporary uses it as a fashion statement, then later returns to the store to complain about the clerk not removing the tag.
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And maybe threaten a lawsuit for pain and suffering.
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I don’t know. I think the sensor tag is a bit more subtle and classy than the cursive “Juicy” one sees on people’s asses.
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But would the sensor tag comply as well with the Olive Garden’s dress code?
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I once walked out of the house with the plastic strip indicating the size of my vest all along the front of it. Luckily it was very early morning and only two people saw me – but both of them had big enough grins on their faces that I could tell something was up. Thankfully, it was easy enough to rip that thing off and go about my business. Just another day.
However did you do this stealth photo shoot to get such a classy shot?
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So two people could look at you and smirk, Tania, but neither had the decency to tell you what was going on with your vest? They both deserve a smack or at least a clump of spinach between their teeth during the most important interview of their lives.
Lucky for Lame Adventures, my friend Coco has the paparazzo gene and an eagle eye with her ever ready iCamera.
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Spinach indeed!
Ah, the Lame Adventures’ friend in good places! An enjoyable asset.
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Remember, Tania, Lame Adventures is on your side!
Yes, Coco has contributed to this site steadily through the years.
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Idiot. 😛
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Ah! Succinct Wendy!
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Sure it was the tag wearer she was calling out or her chronicler?
Unclear.
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I suppose the exact meaning of W’s comment will have to remain another mystery in this exciting life.
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That’s what I love about the whole LA blog experience. I mean it is so existential. Kind of like reading Sartre or Kafka. Not sure which (if either) was considered an existentialist. Too depresses to even look at Wikipedia right now. Left D2, the dog and the bride down at LBI. I am thinking it’s Sartre. I am in an existential funk. Which should not be confused with The Parliament Funkadelics or Bootsy Collins.
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Thank you for reminding us not to mistake you for being the Bootsy Collins of Glen Ridge, New Jersey. Glad we clarified that for your fans.
Both Sarte and Kafka are considered existentialist, but I’ve always been more of a Franz-fan. Plus he worked a grind.
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Worked a grind? Please elucidate. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Bootsy
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He worked for many years at the Worker’s Accident Insurance Institute. His father referred to it as a bread job; a gig to pay the bills. On the plus side, it gave him time to write. Franz despised it.
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I have to ask about the store detectives of NYC here. Do the sheer numbers of people make it impossible for them to respond to people walking out with tagged goods on them? Surely the second time she set off alarms she should have been rugby tackled to the sidewalk?
Alternatively, maybe this is an obscure neo-punk fashion statement in the spirit of the large safety pin through the nose. Clothes piercing, or some such thing.
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I don’t think the store detectives are the problem, Kate. It’s more the clerks inability to remove the tags followed with the security alarms failing to go off. It’s a 1-2 snafu.
But I rather enjoy the image of the rugby tackle on the sidewalk outside. There’s a Monty Python-esque quality to it.
Clothes piercing sounds like a legitimate possibility here as well.
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Okay, got it. Akin to your situation. I had some sad, twisted image of him doing work on vaudeville; as in “the bump and grind.” Thought maybe he was a cross-dresser. Never mind.
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Who knows? Maybe it’s a new fashion statement. Not a faux pas, but a faux tag. 😉 I’ve heard story about some who have left the designer label on the outside of their suit without removing them… You never know these days.
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I think you’re definitely on to something. In a city where people wait for hours on line to spend $5 on a cronut or eat hamburgers on a “bun” made of fried ramen (that, I actually would pay $5 for but it is probably more) the “must have” fashion trend of the faux tag seems spot on.
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This kind of status nonsense might start in NYC, but I do think the cronut, the repulsive ramen burger you find so enticing and Arti’s faux tag idea could easily take this country by storm, or at least a heavy drizzle.
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“Faux tag” I like that Arti. A new low kicked off by branded designer jeans back in the 70s.
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The way trends catch on these days, I wont be surprised if it is suddenly hip to be seen wearing it. As we speak, tag conventions are perhaps being organised and tags in neon pink and green are being made for more cooler looking tagged look. One can never be too sure..:)
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Your comment, Nenne, makes me think that there could be a tag for every season. And that reminds me of an old Pete Seeger song, “Turn, Turn, Turn” expertly sung by the Byrds in the Sixties I should add. But in Lame Adventures case, it might be called “Tag, Tag, Tag”.
Thanks for visiting and welcome to Lame Adventures!
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That’s certainly is a good title for a jingle. BTW, that song by the Byrds remains one of my all time faves. As for the tag in your pic, it must be faux or else as you said, buzzer would sound whenever that person goes into a store. Usually when that happens here, they won’t even let you in the store, not to say get out of one.
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Unless, the security tag is inoperable, Arti — like a faux tag. Mystery deepens as snoring prevails.
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I recently (about three weeks ago) took a picture of a woman’s backside in Santa Barbara and posted it on Facebook. I assure you, however, that’s not the kind of thing I normally do.
You know, I’d think that the person in question DIDN’T steal the pants. My reasoning is that a thief would be a lot more aware of the security measures than would a clueless customer. On more than one occasion I’ve worn an article of clothing with the plastic size sticker still on it. But then, I’m known neither for my fashion sense nor my attention to detail, so I mostly get away with it.
Also, many years ago I worked in retail, and I don’t know if those tags have changed since then, but they’re hard as a MoFo to get off.
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Hey, Smak, welcome back, “we” have not heard from you in a while over here in Lame Adventures-land. That said, have you been MIA due to your gotcha shot antics in Santa Barbara?
Returning to topic: you might have worn the plastic size stickers on your attire, but how long does your wife and kids go along with that? Does at least one of your cats hiss, “Peel that thing off, or do I need to claw it?” But I’m with you, I think the tag-wearer was clueless.
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Could be worse, her pants could hang halfway down her ass with her undies sticking out the top…..oh wait, that really IS a fashion statement, normally expressed by young males.
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Whenever I see guys making that statement, I wish there could be burkas for men.
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I think those security tags are a bit of a joke. Half the time when the alarm goes off as you leave a store, someone will just wave you through. Other times no one even notices! A couple of times I’ve had to return to stores to have the tags removed – such a pain! I’d never thought to just go ahead and wear it!
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You strike me as someone with an excellent eye for detail, Terri, so yeah, if I were inclined to bet, I would bet the house that you would not go out wearing a security tag. And that’s so true, that when you leave a store and the alarm goes off, I have been waved through. I also attribute this to a sign I wear on my back: I AM Not A Thief.
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