Friday, December 19, 2008

The Wheels on the Bus

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I was on the bus today, and some jackass who boarded reeked of Abercrombie cologne. Eau du Douche, and not French douche as in shower. Douche as in -bag. It makes me think of the horrible few weeks that I worked there. I was a stockboy slave and had to work many of my shifts until 2 a.m. It was a terrible environment, the pay was shit, and employees hated it (managers included, I really pitied them). I remember seeing a laminated sheet detailing how to odorize the store with the FIERCE room spray. It came in big bottles because you were supposed to use half a bottle every day. There were diagrams showing how close you need to place the bottle when you spray it on EVERY single mannequin, display, and pile of clothing. Customers would regularly complain to me that the smell gave them headaches and affected their allergies. Sorry, but there are three things you're gauranteed when entering an Abercrombie & Fitch store: an overwhelming FIERCE smell, unnecessarily loud dance remixes of songs that should never have been mixed, and pretension. I vividly remember using the employee bathroom in the stock area. Someone took such a toxic, punishing dump that I could smell it from the sales floor. On the policy poster that was curiously hung in the bathroom, someone had changed the name of the company to Fagercrombie and Fitch, and no one cared enough to do anything about it the whole time I worked there. I found it funny and took a picture of it with my phone, but thinking back, maybe I should have sued them. My time there ended when I left early one day and didn't go back. I just didn't want to! I figured I could easily get some other shitty temporary job. From then on, I avoided the store like the plague whenever I was at that particular mall. Then I remembered they still owed me a paycheck, and they didn't do direct deposit. I waited long enough that maybe they would forget who I was. The employee turnover there is sky-high anyway, but I had to do the walk of shame through the store, ducking behind clothes racks to get to the backroom and retrieve what turned out to be a measly thirty-five dollars.

On the subject of the bus. When I got on today, out of the corner of my eye I saw a little old man at the very front. He had a cane: the kind with four supports at the bottom for extra balance I guess. His cane was wrapped with a ribbon of Santa Clause so that from far away, it looked like a candy cane!!! So cute. Then when he turned around, I realized he was actually pretty young, I'm guessing 30. His grizzly beard and small stature misled me. I think he had MD. Or MS. Maybe a palsy? I don't know. If something is medical and not in the realm of vagina, I am ironically lost. Anyway, it was adorable.

That reminds me of this one time I saw a hot midget. I'm sorry, little person. We were walking in opposite directions on the sidewalk, and he was so fine! He had a very handsome face, "normal" torso, and disproportionate arms and legs. He was wearing a suit and tie, and I like to think he was on his way home from his successful career as. . . I don't know, something only big people are traditionally good at. But in that brief moment of passing each other, I imagined our lives together complete with picket fences and stepladders.

I Heart Slang

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Anybody who knows me knows that I find the humor in every situation. Abortions included. Please to read:
Falcon Punch :
The act of intentionally punching a pregnant female in the stomach, so as to cause miscarriage. Shouting the phrase "Falcon PUNCH!" is optional.
Man A: "Oh man, I got this chick pregnant..."
Man B: "How about I do you a favor and give her the ol' Falcon Punch?"

OR as I like to call it, THE ANGELMAKER!