Wednesday, September 27, 2006

CVS is wrong for that

Why it's still embarrassing to purchase products of a feminine nature after 20 years experience, I don't know, but sometimes it is.

I decide I don't want to navigate the perilous waters of Wal-Mart, so I'll stop at the drugstore (as it used to be called in the parlance of my youth), even though I KNOW a guy will be working the counter at 9:30 p.m.

I'm perusing the products, looking for my preferred species, and a Whitman's candy display is there on the end of the aisle, sparking a train of thoughts: "What the fuck is that doing there? Oh, no wonder I couldn't find it the last time I was looking for a last-minute gift -- it's here in this fucked up place, what kind of layout is that?"

Then it hit me: "WHOA, it's there because duhhhhh, it's the most expensive chocolate in the store and it's right here next to the pads and tampons!"

Stunned at this sexist display, I continue to shop, looking for other shit to buy to distract from my feminine needs purchase. I become aware of a bitchy, bossy fat girl (who may have been hosting Aunt Flo herself) being followed by her whoopt-ass boyfriend, ergo:

BBFC: (sassy drawl) You got my chips?
WAB: YeahyeahyeahIgot'em.
BBFC: You gonna get my Coke?
WAB: Yeahyeahyeahyeah,I,Ijustdidn'twannacarryitaroundallatimeI'mgonnagobackandgit itdamn!

Tired of being circled by those two, I head for the checkout. Of course, I was right about the cashier -- not only a guy, but the conscripted photo lab tech who is not likely jaded to people's purchases yet and probably still notices things like level of absorbency (gee, suffer from social anxiety disorder much, Ari?) I do note that he has a Christian fish ring and as I stand there swiping my card and completely avoiding eye contact, I hope that his Christian feeling extends to women who are bravely soldiering on in the face of excessive blood pouring from their extremities.

By the way, I don't know why the girl is in the picture is boycotting. Clearly, CVS is wrong in their misogynistic juxtaposition of period care products and pricey chocolates, but I'm over it. Now I'm off to download some Black Sabbath and some DC Talk from itunes at the same time just to see what happens.


"In the garage, where I belong, no one hears me sing this song."
-- R. Cuomo

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Totally stolen premise, ungulate finish

If you take one of those big ol' rubber bands and swallow it in an attempt to engineer a cut-rate lap band surgery... you might be a redneck.

Or you might just be that fat-addled and lacking of insurance.


p.s. Did you know that tapirs, even though they look like pigs with mini-elephant-trunks, are odd-toed ungulates, related to horses and rhinoceroses? They are said to eat dreams in some Asian countries, which could help me, because I've been having bad dreams lately. In specific, I awoke from a nap this afternoon with a fading remembrance of a big tray of deviled eggs, which I had apparently made. I hate deviled eggs. Conclusion: I need a pet tapir.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Mixed Bag

Although I can theoretically make up any new statement at any time like lemurs banging out Updike novels on word processors, I find myself saying the same things over and over and over. The dumb thing about this is I repeat stuff to people who know me intimately.

"I just can't deal with a militaristic management style."
"It has to be Hellmann's."
"Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me."
"I'd rather roll the dice."

I try not to, but I still do.

Wages the war
'Gainst being a confounded
Colossal bore.


Did you ever find yourself sad that a Little Debbie pumpkin cookie was gone?

Well, I just did.


p.s. Go out and find acoustic F*** It Up by Towers of London. Drink lots. Play it. Secret of universe inside.


With every breath, I thought I'd had too much.
With every breath I thought I'd had enough.

-- Tourettes/Rev/Brunette/Snell
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