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No "ping"!
A year or so ago my wife, my daughter and I went shopping for the essentials. You know, soap, shampoo, lube, toilet paper, aspirin and so on. We were at Wal-Mart finding everything on our list except for the personal lubricant. We scoured (that's actually putting it lightly... We were like rats on acid looking for another fix trying to score the stuff) the pharmacy aisles in search of it but came up empty. As you can well imagine neither one of us had the courage to go up to the customer service counter and actually ask them where they keep the joy jelly. So we abandoned our effort.
Later that day we had to go out again. We found ourselves at the local K-Mart. As I was passing by the pharmacy aisles I broke off from our little troop and started "reconning" for the lubricant. Hmmm... Spermicide... Condoms... Looks like on the right aisle, then "lo and behold" there on the shelf, was my "grail". Actually it was a box, a small box. A box small enough for me to "palm" in my hand. I looked at it, I looked past it. I walked up the aisle like I was browsing for Q-tips. Then I walked back down the aisle and grabbed it. The reach for, and the subsequent grasp of that product was such an artistic display of sleight-of-hand that I'm sure that David Copperfield would've gone "Whaaaa??? How'd he do that!?!?". A magician never tells his secrets.
Anyway, with my mission accomplished, the goal in hand so to speak I catch back up with my wife and daughter. All the while carefully palming the little box so I'm able to keep it out of eye-shot of my daughter, other shoppers, K-Mart personnel, God, or any other suspecting/nosey/judgmental/inquizitive eyes.
Of course, this is where the story gets blogworthy.
We live only a mile or two from the big K, we shop there often as do our friends, neighbors, my daughter's teachers and school administrators, waiters and waitresses at various restaurants we go to, my co-workers, Leslie's co-workers, our bank teller, various delivery folks, basically everyone shops there from time to time. I'd be surprised if YOU don't. Needless to say I'm in stealth mode when I give a quick wink and tell Leslie "mission accomplished, let's hit the road."
It's a Saturday, early afternoon and Kmart is crowded. You know like 5 deep in each check-out line type of crowded. So the three of us are standing in line waiting to settle up. My kid ask if she can buy a pack of Skittles, I agree. Hell she could've asked for a case of Skittles (or heroin for that matter) and I would've bought it as long as it'd would not draw any attention to us or my illicit purchase.
Finally, we're at the cashier. She starts ringing up our various items. She slides the notebook paper over the scanner, "ping", it totals into the register, then the Doritos, "ping", then the 12 pak of caffeine-free Coke, "ping", the instant grits, "ping", the Skittles, "ping", then the small box, " "... No "ping". Nothing. She slides the box over the scanner again, still no "ping". The cashier then breaks out into this wild arm flailing product-to-scanner shuffle slide in search of the missing "ping". Now, Leslie and my daughter exit stage left. They walk off nonchalantly to wait for me in the car. I'm in the checkout line that now is seven deep and counting, waiting while the skilled K-mart cashier tirelessly tries to ring up my "wretched little box of perv". Ok it's only lube, but the lady in line behind me is looking at me as if she's got this visual in her head that I'm going to try and sex up her cat. My sweat is puddling now.
So finally a light goes off in the cashier's head, she breaks down and enters the UPC numbers manually into the cash register. Still no fucking ping! She re-enters the numbers. NO PING!!! She calls over the manager, hands the box over to said manager who then proceeds to go through the wild-shuffle, then UPC number entry routine. Still no ping. For some reason this item is not in the store's computer. The manager calls over to the pharmacy, and ask the pharmacy clerk to give her a price on item number 12345678. Apparently the pharmacy clerk is in on this little conspiracy because she asks the manager for the NAME of the product. I don't recall the name of the stuff, but it was something embarrassing like "Doctor Love's Root Beer Flavored Jam Jelly". The manager is on hold, she's looking at me all slyly like "yeah, I'd do ya", the lady in line behind me still has images of me humping her cat, the teenager behind her is snickering like Beavis, then the rest of line is looking at me like I'm holding up their heart transplant. Vomi-Nervousa!
Finally, said clerk gives the manager the proper UPC code. The manager overrides the cash register and inputs the price and before she totals me out she apologizes for the delay and explains that the reason why the computer wouldn't take it is because the box has a 20 cents off offer on it and that the computer didn't recognize the cost difference (or something to that effect).
I went through all of that for 20 CENTS!!!
I paid for my purchase, got my bags up and as I was about to walk away, I looked at the cat lady, half-smiled, shrugged up my eyebrows and confidently said, "It'll be worth every penny."
11/26/2003 01:09:49 PM
What's in a number?
Somebody commented about my last post 400 and Shaking , " Are they 400 unique visitors though?"
Good point.
So I did the math.
"400 unique visitors"?....Nah, probably just a couple of dozen "unique" visitors. There are 8 or 10 that I'd say are down right special. Then there are 4 or 5 that I personally feel I could share the rest of my life with. After that, there's 2 or 3 that I actually share DNA with (my brother, my sister and my daughter). The rest of the hits are from me going to the site repeatedly to drive up my numbers so I can gush about my unbelievably successful blog. I can hear it now..."Gee, Mark's blog is remarkably, dare I say hugely, successful! He's had over 399 visits and all of those visitors have been since September! WOW! I hope Blogger's servers don't crash! Golly, 400... Mark, he's a swell guy!"
The last post wasn't about the numbers. It was about the fact I AM a verbal-retard and I don't have man-boobies. Honest.
By the way, I wasn't fishing for any compliments, but I really do appreciate the comments... "I feel the luv."
On a final--off topic note, wise words given during a conversation with a friend who is/was considering infidelity: "Hey man, do what you've got to do, just remember... don't shit on your toothbrush!" I was proud of my metaphor. Now, let's see if I can use it 400 "unique" times.
11/23/2003 11:34:30 AM
400 and Shaking.
I'm at work now, so this will be a short entry.
I've hit the 400 mark. Meaning that this site actually has had 400 visitors, hopefully readers. I'm sure the numbers aren't necessarily astounding or anything, especially for those of you who have had 100,000+ visitors, but I'm proud.
This little venue (R80o) has been an experiment that I never thought I'd have the guts to do. You see, I am a reforming verbal-retard ('scuse the lack of PC). As I'm sure you can tell from my assorted grammatical errors or my misuse of words from time to time that prose comes hard for me. In my first year of college I had to attend remedial English. While all the cool kids were in English 101, I was stuck in the room that was shaped like a short bus and had kids in there who had to wear helmets. I can't say it did much for my self-esteem, but I do have a greater appreciation for the handicapped. In retrospect, I probably chose my career path (guy who works with pictures) due to that trauma.
All of that being said, this is just a short note to say thanks for taking the time to stop by and read my stuff. I hope you find a laugh.
Just think, if I'd have been one of the cool kids in English 101, I might be an attorney now.
(Momentary pause while I quit sweating and shaking violently...)
Thank God for my handicap.
Oh, on a final unrelated note, I'd also like to thank God I don't have "man-boobies"!
11/19/2003 10:03:40 AM
One hell of a feel good story!
I just came across this and thought I'd share it.
It's just a great feel good story.
Back soon.
Mark
11/13/2003 09:34:36 AM
What Did You Not Do This Weekend?
I got a phone call from a friend of mine Saturday night.
This was no ordinary phone call, it was an invite to go to a little whole in the wall shit-dive of a bar.
This was no ordinary night at said shit-dive bar.
The said shit-dive bar was closed to the public for the night and only a 100 or so of the bar owners closest friends were invited over to enjoy a music filled evening with Greg Allman. Let me say that again... GREG freakin' ALLMAN!
What did I do instead? Instead of going out and listening to G.A. up close and in person, I stayed home and boiled 3 or 4 pounds of shrimp, hung out with my wife and kid, played PlayStation, watched TV, and went to bed around 11:30. Oh yeah, and baby-sat for the friend that invited me to go.
On a entertainment scale of 1 to 10, I'd have to say my Saturday night still rated a high 7.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to sound like man/dad/hub of the year for staying home. To be frank with you if it was somebody like Liz Phair, or Poe, or Garbage, or Dave Matthews I would've been there throwing my underwear up on the stage. But Greg Allman? Nah. I did alright by staying home. Let me back up, Dave Mathews as much as I like his music is still not BVD worthy.
Liz Phair on the other hand....
11/11/2003 06:37:02 PM
FlabTV, I'll Offer Comic Relief.
My wife's been giving me grief about my weight over the past few years. Last night she hands me an advert that she found in the Atlanta Journal Constitution. The ad was a casting call for Discovery Channel's National Body Challenge.
The ad asked for entrants to email in their information for consideration.
Here's my response.
If any of you have any clout with the network types at The Discovery Channel my wife would appreciate any "pull" you may have.
Frankly, I'll just have another burrito!
11/7/2003 12:02:26 PM
HOT TUNE!
Lyrics? a Great Story? Porn?
I like to think I have a varied and eclectic taste in music. There's one artist/lyricist in particular that I like (alot), Poe. I sit here listening to one particular song over and over as I work/blog and damned if this tune doesn't have my complete and unadulterated attention.
Here's the lyrics to "Hey Pretty"
Narrator:
Keiri suggested we go for a drive in her new 2-door BMW coupe
In the parking lot, we slipped into her bucket seats
Keiri took over from there.
At nearly 90 miles per hour she zipped us up to that windy edge
Known to some as Mullholland, that sinuous road running the ridge of the Santa Monica Mountains
Where she then proceeded to pump her vehicle in and out of turns
Sometimes dropping down to 50 miles per hour, only to immediately gun it back up to 90 again
Fast, slow, fast fast slow
Sometime a wide turn sometimes a quick one she preferred the tighter ones
The sharp controlled jerks, swinging left to right before driving back to the right
Only so she could do it all over again until after enough speed, and
enough wind, and more distance than I had been prepared to expect
Taking me to parts of the city I rarely think of and never visit...
Chorus:
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
Through my world
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna kick and slide
Through my world
Do you get the gist of the song now?
Narrator:
I can't remember the inane things I started babbling about then, I know it didn't really matter, she wasn't listening
She just yanked up on the emergency brake, dropped her seat back, and told me to lie on top of her
On top of those leather pants of hers, extremely expensive leather pants
mind you, her hands immediately guiding mine over those soft, slightly oily folds
Positioning my fingers on the shiny metal tab, small and round, like a tear
Then murmuring a murmur so inaudible that even though I could feel her
lips tremble against my ear, she seemed far, far away
Pinch it, she said, which I did, lightly, until she also said pull it,
which I also did, gently parting the teeth, one at a time, down under
and beneath, the longest unzipping of my life...
Chorus:
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
Through my world
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna kick and slide
Through my world
Hey pretty
My pretty baby
Rock it through my world (through my world)
Hey pretty (Hey pretty)
My pretty baby
Rock it through my world (my world)
Narrator:
We never even kissed, or looked into each other's eyes, our lips just
Trespassed on those inner labyrinths hidden deep within our ears,
Filled them with the private music of wicked words
Hers in many languages, mine in the off-color of my only tongue, until
as our tones shifted and our consonants spun and squealed, rabbled faster, hesitated, raced harder
Syllables soon melting into groans or moans, finding purchase in new words, or old words, or made-up words
Until we gathered up our heat and refused to release it, enjoying too
much the dark lane which we had suddenly stumbled upon
Prayed to, carved to, not a communication really, but a channeling of
our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to black forests and
wolves, mine banging back to the familiar form, that great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of
Which in spite of our separate lusts and individual prize, still
continued to drive us deeper into stranger tones, our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn
Fueled by sound, hers screeching, mine...I didn't hear mine, only hers, probably counter-pointing mine
A high pitched cry, then a whisper dropping unexpectedly, to practically
a bark, a grunt, whatever, no sense anymore, and suddenly no more curves either, just the straightaway
Too bad dark languages rarely survive..."
Chorus:
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna take a ride with me?
Through my world
Hey pretty
Don't you wanna kick and slide
Through my world
Hey pretty
My pretty baby
Rock it through my world (through my world)
Hey pretty (Hey pretty)
My pretty baby
Rock it through my world (my world)
Final Chorus:
Do you get the gist of the song now?
Do you get the gist of the song now?
Do you get the gist of the song now?
M M M M My G G G God it's h h h hot in h h h here!
Sorry for the studdering.
11/6/2003 05:24:07 PM
I made such a Spectre of myself.
This post is a bit belated. Sorry.
Halloween was fun as well as educational.
I dressed up as a phantom/spook/spectre/boogeyman, handed out candy for an hour or two then went to a costume party on the other side of town.
Handing out the candy was great fun in a sadistic sort of way. I scared the living shit out of a couple of five year old, they actually got a kick out of it. Later on I was sitting on my front porch, dead still, in full costume, when another group (5-6) of kids came by to scam some candy. They walk up to the porch, ring the doorbell, look into the house, talk to the dogs through the storm door, make jokes about our halloween "decoration". They're getting anxious, but they know somebody's home because the door is open. One of them yells out "TRICK OR TREAT... HELLO...TRICK OR TREAT!!!". In the most evil voice I could muster I say, "TRICK!!!" as I reach out like I'm going to grab them. I did damage.
A couple of them run off the porch and into the front yard in shear terror, another couple jump back then regain composure.
One kid is just standing there. Then she starts crying, then she starts shaking.
Her group is laughing at her.
In my futile attempt to "make the most of the holiday" I have royally screwed up. I feel like total crap. I never do well when tears break out and it's my fault. I take my mask off and try to console her in a cool sorta way so her friends will lighten up on her. Finally she starts settling down. I even got her to laugh when I tell her that I'll give all of the Reese' Cups I have if she'll be alright. I made a friend. From this point on I'm going to layoff of the "therapy scared" routine. I suck at being a bad guy.
Like I said in the opening line of this post this Halloween was educational. It's not even 8 pm Halloween night and already I've found out that what it takes to be a real asshole.
Now I find out that my wife has a costume fetish.
I've been married for 14 years and I'm just finding out that my wife likes me in costume?!?!? Well of course I oblige the fantasy.
Apparently she wasn't the only one with a dress-up fetish. I was propositioned at the party, but only in costume though.... What am I supposed to make of that?
I'll tell you what I made of that... I was at Kmart Saturday buying costumes at half price! My cart was full.
You ought to see me as Elvis.
Just for the record, here's the outfit.
Imposing ain't it.
It definitely has a "Scream/Eyes Wide Shut" vibe to it.
11/4/2003 10:32:36 PM
Quick post on the fly.
Dog Day Afternoon
I've been meaning to post something lately, but time has gotten away from me.
Here's a quick "interim" post.
Back soon.
M
11/3/2003 03:32:23 PM
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