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Oh yes.
Cinderella
Me: “Alright, what’s the product ID number, please?”
SC: “….19?”
Me: “…no. I need the product ID number.”
SC: “…uh…..A?”
Number. Number. A is not a number unless you’re suggesting it’s a variable in a complex mathematics equation and asking me to fill in the variable with what I believe is the correct answer. In which case you will be receiving a lovely pair of “Baby Phat Tag Cat” with neon pink “detailing” for “a girly feel” that apparently fits “every occasion”. I’m sure all the other guys will be jealous of your fabulous new footwear and remember, it’s good for every occasion, so I highly encourage you to wear them to work or to your sister’s wedding.
If you like I have a remarkable selection of equally fabulous accessories to go with them. All you need do is surrender yourself to me and I will forge you into a hip hop princess and whisk you away to the “Phat Farm” where “F” and “PH” are randomly interchangeable and every sweat shirt seems to be tailor made for helping you hide your identity while you rob convenience stores. After which you can stuff your ill gotten funds into one of our fabulous $150 designer purses that look like the colour teal was violently ill in.
Marital Bliss
SC: “Yes, our fan went out on our furn-"
SC2: “FAN!? TELL HIM THE MOTHER@*(@&$ING FURNANCE IS *()@&# DOWN P*(&$#@ BASTARD (@^$(@”
SC: “Sorry, that was my husband.”
….you must be very happy together.
Asian Tossed
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “HERRO?! huhuhuhuh”
( Yes, that's right, he's doing the worst most racially offensive Japanese accent he can muster. )
Me: “……”
SC: “huhuh, HERRO?! HOW R YEW?!”
Me: “…..”
SC: “HOW R YEW?!”
Me: “….”
SC: “OOOO, U LAHK A SOY SAUCE?!”
Me: “…..”
SC: “WASABI!? SOY SAUCE!? U LAHK WASABI? IN U BUTT?!”
Me: “…..”
SC: “LICK WASABI OUT OF U BUTT?!”
Me: “……”
SC: “……hello?”
Me: “…..”
SC: “Hello?”
Me: “….”
SC: “Aww c'mon man, don’t hang up! Hello?!”
Me: “….”
SC: “Hello!?!?”
Me: “….”
SC: "...hello? *@&$! <click>"
And this is why I am the master and you are still the padawan.
Will Go On
Me: “Ok, and your postal code please?”
SC: “….book?”
( …what? )
Me: “…I need your postal code, please?”
SC: “Umm….xxxx?”
Me: “No, I need your postal code, please.”
SC: “…..uh…..I don’t know that.”
Yes, I figured that. I also get the lingering impression this gap in your knowledge is but the tip of the vast iceberg tearing through the pitiful rubber hull of your mental dingy and threatening the lives of both you and Leonardo De Caprio.
If you find a piece of debris to cling too, don’t let that bastard up.
Doesn't Count
Ok, let’s see. So you had a couple friends over. They didn’t want to park outside in the snow so you told them they could park in the parkade. Even though that means they’d be taking other people’s parking spots. Which you are vividly aware is a no no. After a wild night out chewing shoe leather, sniffing paint cans and trying to make a big happy face out of butt prints on the front window of Starbucks you come back and found that both of their cars had been towed. Because they had taken other people’s parking spaces. Those people didn't appreciate that and had them towed. Now they have to pay $100 to get their cars back. You are swelled with the fetid blubber of anger like an enraged walrus. You want me to have the cars released, for free, and brought back because you were only gone for 3 hours. Correct?
So basically your entire argument is: I screwed up. I know I screwed up. I knew what would happen if I screwed up. Yet I still chose to screw up. But you should ignore all that, pay for the towing and give me the cars back because even though I knew what would happen and knew I wasn’t suppose to do that it shouldn’t count because I wasn’t stupid long enough?
Hmmm…..yeah, noooot really seeing your point here.
Durrr
Me: “Ok, I can put you at the <Hotel Name> for $59”
SC: “How do I get there?”
Me: “They have a shuttle”
SC: “To the <Hotel Name>?”
….no. It comes from the <Hotel Name>, but when it arrives they beat you senseless with your own luggage, bind your hands and feet, blindfold you than drive randomly around Houston for the next 2 hours while digging through your belongs and wearing your panties on their heads while singing along to the Bohemian Rhapsody until you regain consciousness. Than they shove you out the door at an undisclosed location and one of them whispers the cryptic hint: “Home of the Whopper” in your ear before they speed away with your underoos.
Therapy
Me: “Hmm, actually it looks our closest location to you closed today.”
SC: “Yes, I know, that’s why I called you.”
Have you ever just muted your mic and hissed at the screen? It’s actually very therapeutic.
......
SC: “Hey can I put another name on that?”
Me: “Sure, what is it?”
SC: “Her name is Tangerine Twist.”
Me: "....Tangerine Twist?"
SC: "Yeah, like the fruit."
….you know, you can give me her real name. You don’t have to use her...er….stage name.
So Lonely
Me: “Ok, and how many would you like?”
SC: “4 for 300”
Me: “Alright, you should receive those in about a week-“
SC: “How many tickets have you sold?”
Me: “We’re at about 80% sold I believe.”
SC: “That’s all?”
Me: “That’s our last count.”
SC: “So do you think you’ll sell out?”
Me: “I’m not sure, it’s hard to say-”
SC: “How many tickets do you have to sell to make a profit?”
Me: “….I wouldn’t know, sorry.”
SC: "Like 50%? 75%?”
Me: “I wouldn’t have that information, sorry.”
SC: “So what happens if you don’t sell all of the tickets?”
Me: “I guess you get a better chance of winning.”
SC: “Good point. Hmmmm….ok, how about I get 8 for 500 than?”
( Your Mercantile skill has increased. )
Me: “Alright. So 8 tickets than? Ok, you should receive those in about-“
SC: “So 8 for 500 than?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “500, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “What was your name again?”
Me: "GK"
SC: “GK, right?”
Me: “….yes”
SC: “and on Visa right?”
Me: “Yes.”
( ….you were the one that gave me the card number. You tell me. )
SC: “and an 8 pack right?”
Me: “…yes.”
SC: “and GK, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
Oh my God. Dude. Look. Seriously. If you’re this lonely there are other lines you can call that would be far more accommodating. They charge by the minute but it’ll still cost you less than $500 and they’ll at least act a lot more enthusiastic to hear you than I do.
Surrendering Dignity
Ok, seriously, guys. If you are about to drop $100 on or already shelled out $100 on this:
And now have gold foil on your ass cheek, it’s probably time to sit down and re-evaluate your life. Yes, these are men’s jeans. No, these aren’t the only example. There’s a whole line of “Silly things printed on my butt cheek” for men in the new 2009 catalog. Including my personal favourite: A hot pink skull. Nothing says manly like having blazing hot pink on your butt cheek. The majority are one cheek. Though there are two examples where both cheeks are artistically impaired. However, dual cheeks will cost you an additional $50. Because you’re paying for double butt cool.
I’m already terrified because they’ve already gotten a whiff of these new pants. Soon they’ll be slathering at the bit for these and I will die a little bit inside every time someone orders them. And they will order them.
Like, whatever.
"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."
"Ummm, like, nooo"
"....yes, yes you do."
I realize my speech is very difficult to understand seeing as I have not used the work "like" as a prefix or suffix as of yet and did not begin my statement with "Omigawd" nor did I offer a reconfirmation of the gravitas by pairing it with "Seriously, you guys".
For this I deeply apologize as I was did not spend the ages of 6-16 with only Hannah Montanna dvds, press on nails and hairspray for parental guidance. Nor am I currently measuring my self worth by the size of my wardrobe / the number of phone numbers in my cell phone - the number of books I've been forced to read + the most money I've paid for a single item of clothing I only wore once.
Yes, that's the formula: ( W / CN ) - ( B + MEC ) = Self worth.
Save Vs Shame
So Burnaby finally claimed me as a victim today. Since Burnaby still has not had plow, salt, shovel or even garbage pick up for 2 weeks. Now the snow is still there but its covered entirely in black ice. It was this black ice that proved my….er….well, down fall. I’d managed to stay on my feet for 2 weeks of this and it finally got me. I failed my saving throw. Lost one leg. Tried to catch myself on the other but, well, it was on black ice too. Tried to catch myself on the snow bank…..annnnd no such luck because it has a 1 inch crust of ice on it so my hand just slid off. Thus I landed on my derrier. While I only took 1D4 points of damage, my pride sustained at least 2D6.
But luckily this damage was halved because no one was around to witness my shame.
Cinderella
Me: “Alright, what’s the product ID number, please?”
SC: “….19?”
Me: “…no. I need the product ID number.”
SC: “…uh…..A?”
Number. Number. A is not a number unless you’re suggesting it’s a variable in a complex mathematics equation and asking me to fill in the variable with what I believe is the correct answer. In which case you will be receiving a lovely pair of “Baby Phat Tag Cat” with neon pink “detailing” for “a girly feel” that apparently fits “every occasion”. I’m sure all the other guys will be jealous of your fabulous new footwear and remember, it’s good for every occasion, so I highly encourage you to wear them to work or to your sister’s wedding.
If you like I have a remarkable selection of equally fabulous accessories to go with them. All you need do is surrender yourself to me and I will forge you into a hip hop princess and whisk you away to the “Phat Farm” where “F” and “PH” are randomly interchangeable and every sweat shirt seems to be tailor made for helping you hide your identity while you rob convenience stores. After which you can stuff your ill gotten funds into one of our fabulous $150 designer purses that look like the colour teal was violently ill in.
Marital Bliss
SC: “Yes, our fan went out on our furn-"
SC2: “FAN!? TELL HIM THE MOTHER@*(@&$ING FURNANCE IS *()@&# DOWN P*(&$#@ BASTARD (@^$(@”
SC: “Sorry, that was my husband.”
….you must be very happy together.
Asian Tossed
Me: “Good evening, <company>.”
SC: “HERRO?! huhuhuhuh”
( Yes, that's right, he's doing the worst most racially offensive Japanese accent he can muster. )
Me: “……”
SC: “huhuh, HERRO?! HOW R YEW?!”
Me: “…..”
SC: “HOW R YEW?!”
Me: “….”
SC: “OOOO, U LAHK A SOY SAUCE?!”
Me: “…..”
SC: “WASABI!? SOY SAUCE!? U LAHK WASABI? IN U BUTT?!”
Me: “…..”
SC: “LICK WASABI OUT OF U BUTT?!”
Me: “……”
SC: “……hello?”
Me: “…..”
SC: “Hello?”
Me: “….”
SC: “Aww c'mon man, don’t hang up! Hello?!”
Me: “….”
SC: “Hello!?!?”
Me: “….”
SC: "...hello? *@&$! <click>"
And this is why I am the master and you are still the padawan.
Will Go On
Me: “Ok, and your postal code please?”
SC: “….book?”
( …what? )
Me: “…I need your postal code, please?”
SC: “Umm….xxxx?”
Me: “No, I need your postal code, please.”
SC: “…..uh…..I don’t know that.”
Yes, I figured that. I also get the lingering impression this gap in your knowledge is but the tip of the vast iceberg tearing through the pitiful rubber hull of your mental dingy and threatening the lives of both you and Leonardo De Caprio.
If you find a piece of debris to cling too, don’t let that bastard up.
Doesn't Count
Ok, let’s see. So you had a couple friends over. They didn’t want to park outside in the snow so you told them they could park in the parkade. Even though that means they’d be taking other people’s parking spots. Which you are vividly aware is a no no. After a wild night out chewing shoe leather, sniffing paint cans and trying to make a big happy face out of butt prints on the front window of Starbucks you come back and found that both of their cars had been towed. Because they had taken other people’s parking spaces. Those people didn't appreciate that and had them towed. Now they have to pay $100 to get their cars back. You are swelled with the fetid blubber of anger like an enraged walrus. You want me to have the cars released, for free, and brought back because you were only gone for 3 hours. Correct?
So basically your entire argument is: I screwed up. I know I screwed up. I knew what would happen if I screwed up. Yet I still chose to screw up. But you should ignore all that, pay for the towing and give me the cars back because even though I knew what would happen and knew I wasn’t suppose to do that it shouldn’t count because I wasn’t stupid long enough?
Hmmm…..yeah, noooot really seeing your point here.
Durrr
Me: “Ok, I can put you at the <Hotel Name> for $59”
SC: “How do I get there?”
Me: “They have a shuttle”
SC: “To the <Hotel Name>?”
….no. It comes from the <Hotel Name>, but when it arrives they beat you senseless with your own luggage, bind your hands and feet, blindfold you than drive randomly around Houston for the next 2 hours while digging through your belongs and wearing your panties on their heads while singing along to the Bohemian Rhapsody until you regain consciousness. Than they shove you out the door at an undisclosed location and one of them whispers the cryptic hint: “Home of the Whopper” in your ear before they speed away with your underoos.
Therapy
Me: “Hmm, actually it looks our closest location to you closed today.”
SC: “Yes, I know, that’s why I called you.”
Have you ever just muted your mic and hissed at the screen? It’s actually very therapeutic.
......
SC: “Hey can I put another name on that?”
Me: “Sure, what is it?”
SC: “Her name is Tangerine Twist.”
Me: "....Tangerine Twist?"
SC: "Yeah, like the fruit."
….you know, you can give me her real name. You don’t have to use her...er….stage name.
So Lonely
Me: “Ok, and how many would you like?”
SC: “4 for 300”
Me: “Alright, you should receive those in about a week-“
SC: “How many tickets have you sold?”
Me: “We’re at about 80% sold I believe.”
SC: “That’s all?”
Me: “That’s our last count.”
SC: “So do you think you’ll sell out?”
Me: “I’m not sure, it’s hard to say-”
SC: “How many tickets do you have to sell to make a profit?”
Me: “….I wouldn’t know, sorry.”
SC: "Like 50%? 75%?”
Me: “I wouldn’t have that information, sorry.”
SC: “So what happens if you don’t sell all of the tickets?”
Me: “I guess you get a better chance of winning.”
SC: “Good point. Hmmmm….ok, how about I get 8 for 500 than?”
( Your Mercantile skill has increased. )
Me: “Alright. So 8 tickets than? Ok, you should receive those in about-“
SC: “So 8 for 500 than?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “500, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
SC: “What was your name again?”
Me: "GK"
SC: “GK, right?”
Me: “….yes”
SC: “and on Visa right?”
Me: “Yes.”
( ….you were the one that gave me the card number. You tell me. )
SC: “and an 8 pack right?”
Me: “…yes.”
SC: “and GK, right?”
Me: “Yes.”
Oh my God. Dude. Look. Seriously. If you’re this lonely there are other lines you can call that would be far more accommodating. They charge by the minute but it’ll still cost you less than $500 and they’ll at least act a lot more enthusiastic to hear you than I do.
Surrendering Dignity
Ok, seriously, guys. If you are about to drop $100 on or already shelled out $100 on this:
And now have gold foil on your ass cheek, it’s probably time to sit down and re-evaluate your life. Yes, these are men’s jeans. No, these aren’t the only example. There’s a whole line of “Silly things printed on my butt cheek” for men in the new 2009 catalog. Including my personal favourite: A hot pink skull. Nothing says manly like having blazing hot pink on your butt cheek. The majority are one cheek. Though there are two examples where both cheeks are artistically impaired. However, dual cheeks will cost you an additional $50. Because you’re paying for double butt cool.
I’m already terrified because they’ve already gotten a whiff of these new pants. Soon they’ll be slathering at the bit for these and I will die a little bit inside every time someone orders them. And they will order them.
Like, whatever.
"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."
"Ummm, like, nooo"
"....yes, yes you do."
I realize my speech is very difficult to understand seeing as I have not used the work "like" as a prefix or suffix as of yet and did not begin my statement with "Omigawd" nor did I offer a reconfirmation of the gravitas by pairing it with "Seriously, you guys".
For this I deeply apologize as I was did not spend the ages of 6-16 with only Hannah Montanna dvds, press on nails and hairspray for parental guidance. Nor am I currently measuring my self worth by the size of my wardrobe / the number of phone numbers in my cell phone - the number of books I've been forced to read + the most money I've paid for a single item of clothing I only wore once.
Yes, that's the formula: ( W / CN ) - ( B + MEC ) = Self worth.
Save Vs Shame
So Burnaby finally claimed me as a victim today. Since Burnaby still has not had plow, salt, shovel or even garbage pick up for 2 weeks. Now the snow is still there but its covered entirely in black ice. It was this black ice that proved my….er….well, down fall. I’d managed to stay on my feet for 2 weeks of this and it finally got me. I failed my saving throw. Lost one leg. Tried to catch myself on the other but, well, it was on black ice too. Tried to catch myself on the snow bank…..annnnd no such luck because it has a 1 inch crust of ice on it so my hand just slid off. Thus I landed on my derrier. While I only took 1D4 points of damage, my pride sustained at least 2D6.
But luckily this damage was halved because no one was around to witness my shame.
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