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Quantum Beetles
Blargh. The pop machine ran out on me last night an hour into shift. My supply lines were brutally cut. ><
Stop Denying It
Me: “The system keeps freezing?”
SC: “Yes, ma’am.”
I know the soothing harmonics of my voice are akin to liquid honey slowly making its way down upon you from the very crest of Mount Olympus. However, I am not do not actually possess any of the required equipment or aesthetics to qualify as female. This is merely wishful thinking on your part, and I am afraid that I cannot live up to the celestial image you may have formed of myself and then mentally doodled breasts onto. I realize the strange feelings tingling in your heart and groin are new and frightening to you, but there is nothing wrong with them. You should embrace them. Just not me. Stay away from me.
Behind Door Number #2
C: “Hi, it’s <officer> here and weeeeeeeee’ve got a dead guy!”
I realize that your job, much like mine, has the side effect of slowly withering away at one’s humanity. However, please don’t announce that like I have just won a fabulous prize. For I have not won anything nor do I have any space at home to put such a prize. It is doubtful I could fit it in my closet and I somehow doubt Febreeze would take care of residual aromatics.
Nevermind keeping the cat away from it.
Save Me
Me: “And should arrive in about two weeks.”
SC: “uh, ok. Um, can I ask a question?”
Me: “Yes?”
SC: “is it warm?”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “That winter jacket I ordered.”
……<sigh>. I can’t even muster up the energy to be angry with you and your ilk anymore. I’ve come to accept that the situation truly is hopeless and until I find some way to disable or disrupt telephone communications between you and the rest of the world I will never find peace. Your stupidity will continue to haunt me nightly. Some day when I can take enough time off and can afford the appropriate cold weather gear to survive up there I will tread forth into your northern wasteland and do what I can to sabotage your communications. Whether I need hacksaw the one telephone line leading to the village or find a way to jam cellular or satellite communications, I don’t care. I will find a way and I will doom you and the rest of your herd back into the tiny world you lived in before our catalog ever joyfully rained from the sky.
Me: “Yes, it is a winter jacket.”
SC: “Oh”
Winter implies cold. Which implies that the jacket is in fact warm so that it may repel cold. I realize you may not actually have all four seasons there but I imagine you are at least intimately familiar with the one known as “Winter”. Maybe I can help you define it in the context of your frigid world. Ok, Spring is when you can’t feel your hands and feet. Summer is when you can’t feel your fingers and toes. Autumn is when your buddy leaves a party and they find him dead in his front yard from exposure. Winter is when your buddy leaves a party and they find him dead in his front yard from exposure in Spring.
SC: “Wha does cold weather tested mean?”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “The jacket says its cold weather tested.”
Me: “……”
If you want me I’ll be over in the corner by the paper shredder, weeping.
Hot Tips: The Next Generation
SC: “Hello, sir.”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Do you know <guy on duty>?”
Me: “I’m afraid not, no.”
Actually yes, I do, he’s part of the office. But I smell crazy and don’t want to encourage it.
Me: “Is there something I can help you with?”
SC: “Yes! I was informed by somebody in Canada that he called the police, and the police went to an address.”
I assume to have you arrested.
SC: “I WILL get that file number!”
Me: “…..what?”
SC: “I WILL get that file number! If the police do something, they MUST get that report!
Oookay, but I’m not the police. Thus your purpose here is still suspect and moist with the juices of mental unease.
SC: “There was two of them! Asking about my client!”
Me: “What exactly are you calling for?”
SC: “Apparently, you’re not listening to what I’m saying!”
Oh I’m listening, it just has utterly no relevance. Also….client? I find the idea of you being a lawyer highly suspect. So I assume you have chosen to represent yourself in the court of law, and thus can technically refer to yourself as your client.
SC: “I reported <guy at office> to Secret of State Clinton this morning! And once again at 1:30 this afternoon.”
Me: “……”
SC: “Mrs Clinton knows me!”
Me: “Oooookay.”
SC: “The whole US government knows me!”
Me: “I’m sure they do, bye bye now.”
I highly doubt the entire government knows you. Though I am willing to concede that you're probably on a watch list somewhere.
Dawg
When I stepped onto the bus this evening ( The Accursed Chariot™ ) before my eyes could readjust to the darkness within I took my seat. Unknowingly sitting near a small pack of troglodytes from the homeboy or possible dawg subspecies. It was foolish of me to not check for danger before I docked my buttocks. Normally I do a cursory scan but it was dark and the bus driver curb stomped the gas pedal the moment I stepped on, forcing me to seek a secure purchase. Lest I be tossed painfully to the unspeakably filthy floor of the bus. From which Gods know what sort of pestilence I would acquire.
No sooner had I found my perch than I was loudly greeted with “YO, WASSAUP DAWG?!”. I initially did not believe such a poorly formed inquiry would be addressed towards me. As I lack even the most basic of identifying garments to conform to this particular circle. Such as wearing my pants around my knees or bearing at least 2 kilos of gold jewelry.
My silence was met with an audacious “HEY! IMMA TALKIN’ TA YOU~!#”. At which point I realized these ape like verbal constructs were in fact being directed my way. Which I found most puzzling. I will respond to polite inquiries if they are posed in actual English. Things such as “Hi”, “Hello” or even “Hey, how’s it going?” may illicit a courtesy response. However, “YO DAWG”. Tends to fly beneath my verbal radar. Well, perhaps fly is not the term. Hunker along the ground through a mixture of gravel, dirt and bear feces.
My failure to comply caused him to go off on a rather high volume tangent about how you couldn’t talk to people in this day and age, along with various implications that I partook in sexual relations with my mother. While his friends sat there and nodded wisely. Now, I am perfectly willing to talk with people if need be, however you did not talk to me. You grunted a vaguely coherent sentence and struck a pose which involved pointing your fingers at downward vertical angles to indicate the presence of your penis. This may pass for communication in some circles of the animal kingdom. However, I myself do not respond to it. If you truly are so desperate for human companionship and acknowledge of your penis that you must seek it from utterly random strangers on public transit in the dead of night than may I make a suggestion? Perhaps you should A) Use your indoor voice, B) Attempt to form a sentence using proper English and C) Wait till you get to know someone a bit better before waving your penis at them.
These simple steps may lead you to actually locating and securing basic human interaction to fill the bleak, wretched loneliness deep in your heart. Failing that I am sure there are plenty of lovely folk willing to acknowledge your penis in exchange for a cash fee. In fact, judging by the looks of your companions, two of them appear to be quite willing.
Wha...
SC: “I’m trying to reach <some doctor>.”
Me: “Who, sorry?”
SC: “<doctor>.”
Me: “<doctor> isn't-“
SC: “WHO AM I SPEAKING WITH?!@#!@?"
Me: “This is GK”
SC: “WHERE ARE YOU?@$"
Me: "That is none of your business. Now, there is no <doctor> in this office. You have the wrong number."
SC: “You people just keep trying to bait me! Keep trying to bait me!”
Oooookay, I seem to have flipped the crazy switch.
Me: “W-“
SC: “You keep it up and you’re going to be facing a crime against humanity~! You understand that?!”
I can confidently say that I do not understand that actually, or anything you have said so far.
Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
SC: “I’m trying to reach my physician!”
Me: “He’s not with this office.”
SC: “Oh, you’re SCREWED!!!”
I am? Why, exactly? Did I just unwittingly commit a crime against humanity by daring to be the wrong number? Now I’m not 100% sure on the specifics of what qualifies as a crime against humanity, but I am pretty sure that you calling the wrong number does not qualify. In fact I don’t think it even merits a slight discomfort against humanity. If anything, you talking to me is a more qualified scenario as I am being forced to endure cruel and unusual punishment by speaking with you.
There must be something in the Geneva Convention about this
Earning Sympathy
Referring to me as “This fucking guy” to your compatriot in the background does not help endear me to your cause. Nor motivate me to render you any assistance in helping you after you locked yourself out of your apartment. Quite the opposite, in fact. I do not believe I shall assist you at all now. You may rot outside in the cold all night. For I am a resentful god and my role is one of gatekeeper between you and the salvation you seek. You should be looking to appease me with prayer and offerings ( preferably in cash, though I do take Paypal as well ) so that I might bless you with my mercy. Instead, you have spoken blasphemy and shall be stricken down for this sacrilege by my devoted followers.
Granted……I do not have any followers. Yet anyhow. But! Once I have obtained a sufficient amount of devotees…..and can pay for their cab fair, you’d best beware heathen.
Er...
SC: “Beetles keep coming in through my window, how do I stop them!?”
…close…..the window? I’ll admit it’s been a long time since Grade 12 Biology class but I’m pretty sure nothing in the insect kingdom possesses the ability to teleport or phase shift through solid matter. I think I would have remembered something like that. So unless we’re facing some sort of undiscovered species of quantum beetle a simple pane of glass should be sufficient to bar their entry.
I do NOT think so
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?“
C: “HELLO?!”
Me: “Hi.”
C: “Daddy!!”
Oh I do not think so my little snow gremlin. I have never been that far north and even if I had I would vividly remember waking up next to a…….well….a….damn there’s really no polite way to say this….um…..ok let’s say yeti. And likely would be dead within hours of having done so after I voluntarily wandered off into the frigid wilderness seeking the peace only the sweet embrace of death could provide me.
ARghdaflhf
Me: “Are You calling to place an order?”
SC: “I’d like to make….a……..or…place a….place an order.”
Well….this is ominous.
Me: “Alright, may I have your name please?”
SC: “Billy.”
Me: “Can you spell it for me please?”
SC: “Billy.”
Me: “Can you spell it for me please?”
SC: “…….uhhh…..what?”
Me: “Can you spell your first name, please?”
SC: “Uh….B.“
You know, even the most primitive of partially upright primates is at least dimly aware of his own identity. It’s actually sort of fascinating how you can, genetically speaking, be technically more evolved than the primates in question. Yet still appear to be far far less intelligent.
Me: “Alright, which catalog are you ordering from?”
SC: “…uh….wait….I don’t know which catalog….”
Me: “Is it the Winter catalog?”
SC: “I…think so…I dunno.”
Well than look at it. For fuck sakes. I can hear you greasily pawing through the pages so you obviously have it right there in front of you. They don’t print the thing in brail so you must have the portholes of your ocular nerves fixed lustily on its surfaces. Just look at it damn you and tell me if it says “Winter” on the front. You do know which part the front is don’t you? The front? The first page? The beginning? The Alpha?
Sigh
Me: “Alright, can you spell the last name please?”
SC: “P-O…..um…Car...T...Coke”
I suppose I wasn’t specific enough. When I said “spell” I meant “with letters” not “with random words and syllables feverishly pulled out of my ass.”.
Hah!
SC: “Yes, we’re looking for a 2 bedroom luxury condo for rent but we don’t want a to sign any lease. We just want a month to month.”
Hahahahaha. Yeah, good luck with that. You need a 6 month lease to rent bowling shoes in this city.
Nobody Listens <sob>
Me: “Good evening, <company>, how may I help you?”
SC: “Do you speak English?”
Apparently not.
ARGH
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Jaime”
Me: “J-A-I-M-E?”
SC: “Yeah”
Me: “And how’s your last n-“
SC: “Wait….wha? J-A……uh……J-A-I.....uh, M….E?”
Yet again….it just never bodes well when they can’t even figure out their own name.
Me: “Alright, and the item number please?”
SC: “xxx”
Me: “What size?”
SC: “Uh…..uh…extra large”
Me: “What colour?”
SC: “Black, grey and navy. 3 of them and the grey scarlet red.”
Wait….3 of them and grey scarlet red? Does not compute. There isn’t even a grey scarlet red...
Me: “……1 black, 1 grey, 1 navy and 1 scarlet?”
SC: “Uhhh…..yeah. 1 black, 1 navy, 1 red.”
Me: “…….so 1 black, 1 navy, 1 red?”
SC: “Uhh….ya…….no, uh….grey….grey…..grey red.”
Wha…I don’t even……stop it! I know what you’re trying to do, you’re trying to infect me too! Back, tard zombie, BACK.
Me: “1 black, 1 grey, 1 navy, 1 red?”
SC: “Um…black, navy and grey.”
Me: “Black, navy and grey?”
SC: “Yeah”
So we are in agreement than? Black, navy and grey? You're sure this time?
Me: "Alright, it comes to $xxx and should arrive in about 2 weeks."
SC: “Do you know what it is? The thing I ordered? It’s uh, it’s...I dunno....”
…..you don’t even know what the fuck you just ordered? Well rest assured my thick browed friend, you just ordered a trifecta of pants. So even if you don’t know exactly what you ordered or why, at the very least it will be something you have a fundamental lust for anyhow. It’ll be kind of like Surprise Christmas.
annnd rest....for the moment. Before I snap and have to rant for 4 pages.
Stop Denying It
Me: “The system keeps freezing?”
SC: “Yes, ma’am.”
I know the soothing harmonics of my voice are akin to liquid honey slowly making its way down upon you from the very crest of Mount Olympus. However, I am not do not actually possess any of the required equipment or aesthetics to qualify as female. This is merely wishful thinking on your part, and I am afraid that I cannot live up to the celestial image you may have formed of myself and then mentally doodled breasts onto. I realize the strange feelings tingling in your heart and groin are new and frightening to you, but there is nothing wrong with them. You should embrace them. Just not me. Stay away from me.
Behind Door Number #2
C: “Hi, it’s <officer> here and weeeeeeeee’ve got a dead guy!”
I realize that your job, much like mine, has the side effect of slowly withering away at one’s humanity. However, please don’t announce that like I have just won a fabulous prize. For I have not won anything nor do I have any space at home to put such a prize. It is doubtful I could fit it in my closet and I somehow doubt Febreeze would take care of residual aromatics.
Nevermind keeping the cat away from it.
Save Me
Me: “And should arrive in about two weeks.”
SC: “uh, ok. Um, can I ask a question?”
Me: “Yes?”
SC: “is it warm?”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “That winter jacket I ordered.”
……<sigh>. I can’t even muster up the energy to be angry with you and your ilk anymore. I’ve come to accept that the situation truly is hopeless and until I find some way to disable or disrupt telephone communications between you and the rest of the world I will never find peace. Your stupidity will continue to haunt me nightly. Some day when I can take enough time off and can afford the appropriate cold weather gear to survive up there I will tread forth into your northern wasteland and do what I can to sabotage your communications. Whether I need hacksaw the one telephone line leading to the village or find a way to jam cellular or satellite communications, I don’t care. I will find a way and I will doom you and the rest of your herd back into the tiny world you lived in before our catalog ever joyfully rained from the sky.
Me: “Yes, it is a winter jacket.”
SC: “Oh”
Winter implies cold. Which implies that the jacket is in fact warm so that it may repel cold. I realize you may not actually have all four seasons there but I imagine you are at least intimately familiar with the one known as “Winter”. Maybe I can help you define it in the context of your frigid world. Ok, Spring is when you can’t feel your hands and feet. Summer is when you can’t feel your fingers and toes. Autumn is when your buddy leaves a party and they find him dead in his front yard from exposure. Winter is when your buddy leaves a party and they find him dead in his front yard from exposure in Spring.
SC: “Wha does cold weather tested mean?”
Me: “Pardon?”
SC: “The jacket says its cold weather tested.”
Me: “……”
If you want me I’ll be over in the corner by the paper shredder, weeping.
Hot Tips: The Next Generation
SC: “Hello, sir.”
Me: “Hi.”
SC: “Do you know <guy on duty>?”
Me: “I’m afraid not, no.”
Actually yes, I do, he’s part of the office. But I smell crazy and don’t want to encourage it.
Me: “Is there something I can help you with?”
SC: “Yes! I was informed by somebody in Canada that he called the police, and the police went to an address.”
I assume to have you arrested.
SC: “I WILL get that file number!”
Me: “…..what?”
SC: “I WILL get that file number! If the police do something, they MUST get that report!
Oookay, but I’m not the police. Thus your purpose here is still suspect and moist with the juices of mental unease.
SC: “There was two of them! Asking about my client!”
Me: “What exactly are you calling for?”
SC: “Apparently, you’re not listening to what I’m saying!”
Oh I’m listening, it just has utterly no relevance. Also….client? I find the idea of you being a lawyer highly suspect. So I assume you have chosen to represent yourself in the court of law, and thus can technically refer to yourself as your client.
SC: “I reported <guy at office> to Secret of State Clinton this morning! And once again at 1:30 this afternoon.”
Me: “……”
SC: “Mrs Clinton knows me!”
Me: “Oooookay.”
SC: “The whole US government knows me!”
Me: “I’m sure they do, bye bye now.”
I highly doubt the entire government knows you. Though I am willing to concede that you're probably on a watch list somewhere.
Dawg
When I stepped onto the bus this evening ( The Accursed Chariot™ ) before my eyes could readjust to the darkness within I took my seat. Unknowingly sitting near a small pack of troglodytes from the homeboy or possible dawg subspecies. It was foolish of me to not check for danger before I docked my buttocks. Normally I do a cursory scan but it was dark and the bus driver curb stomped the gas pedal the moment I stepped on, forcing me to seek a secure purchase. Lest I be tossed painfully to the unspeakably filthy floor of the bus. From which Gods know what sort of pestilence I would acquire.
No sooner had I found my perch than I was loudly greeted with “YO, WASSAUP DAWG?!”. I initially did not believe such a poorly formed inquiry would be addressed towards me. As I lack even the most basic of identifying garments to conform to this particular circle. Such as wearing my pants around my knees or bearing at least 2 kilos of gold jewelry.
My silence was met with an audacious “HEY! IMMA TALKIN’ TA YOU~!#”. At which point I realized these ape like verbal constructs were in fact being directed my way. Which I found most puzzling. I will respond to polite inquiries if they are posed in actual English. Things such as “Hi”, “Hello” or even “Hey, how’s it going?” may illicit a courtesy response. However, “YO DAWG”. Tends to fly beneath my verbal radar. Well, perhaps fly is not the term. Hunker along the ground through a mixture of gravel, dirt and bear feces.
My failure to comply caused him to go off on a rather high volume tangent about how you couldn’t talk to people in this day and age, along with various implications that I partook in sexual relations with my mother. While his friends sat there and nodded wisely. Now, I am perfectly willing to talk with people if need be, however you did not talk to me. You grunted a vaguely coherent sentence and struck a pose which involved pointing your fingers at downward vertical angles to indicate the presence of your penis. This may pass for communication in some circles of the animal kingdom. However, I myself do not respond to it. If you truly are so desperate for human companionship and acknowledge of your penis that you must seek it from utterly random strangers on public transit in the dead of night than may I make a suggestion? Perhaps you should A) Use your indoor voice, B) Attempt to form a sentence using proper English and C) Wait till you get to know someone a bit better before waving your penis at them.
These simple steps may lead you to actually locating and securing basic human interaction to fill the bleak, wretched loneliness deep in your heart. Failing that I am sure there are plenty of lovely folk willing to acknowledge your penis in exchange for a cash fee. In fact, judging by the looks of your companions, two of them appear to be quite willing.
Wha...
SC: “I’m trying to reach <some doctor>.”
Me: “Who, sorry?”
SC: “<doctor>.”
Me: “<doctor> isn't-“
SC: “WHO AM I SPEAKING WITH?!@#!@?"
Me: “This is GK”
SC: “WHERE ARE YOU?@$"
Me: "That is none of your business. Now, there is no <doctor> in this office. You have the wrong number."
SC: “You people just keep trying to bait me! Keep trying to bait me!”
Oooookay, I seem to have flipped the crazy switch.
Me: “W-“
SC: “You keep it up and you’re going to be facing a crime against humanity~! You understand that?!”
I can confidently say that I do not understand that actually, or anything you have said so far.
Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
SC: “I’m trying to reach my physician!”
Me: “He’s not with this office.”
SC: “Oh, you’re SCREWED!!!”
I am? Why, exactly? Did I just unwittingly commit a crime against humanity by daring to be the wrong number? Now I’m not 100% sure on the specifics of what qualifies as a crime against humanity, but I am pretty sure that you calling the wrong number does not qualify. In fact I don’t think it even merits a slight discomfort against humanity. If anything, you talking to me is a more qualified scenario as I am being forced to endure cruel and unusual punishment by speaking with you.
There must be something in the Geneva Convention about this
Earning Sympathy
Referring to me as “This fucking guy” to your compatriot in the background does not help endear me to your cause. Nor motivate me to render you any assistance in helping you after you locked yourself out of your apartment. Quite the opposite, in fact. I do not believe I shall assist you at all now. You may rot outside in the cold all night. For I am a resentful god and my role is one of gatekeeper between you and the salvation you seek. You should be looking to appease me with prayer and offerings ( preferably in cash, though I do take Paypal as well ) so that I might bless you with my mercy. Instead, you have spoken blasphemy and shall be stricken down for this sacrilege by my devoted followers.
Granted……I do not have any followers. Yet anyhow. But! Once I have obtained a sufficient amount of devotees…..and can pay for their cab fair, you’d best beware heathen.
Er...
SC: “Beetles keep coming in through my window, how do I stop them!?”
…close…..the window? I’ll admit it’s been a long time since Grade 12 Biology class but I’m pretty sure nothing in the insect kingdom possesses the ability to teleport or phase shift through solid matter. I think I would have remembered something like that. So unless we’re facing some sort of undiscovered species of quantum beetle a simple pane of glass should be sufficient to bar their entry.
I do NOT think so
Me: “Are you calling to place an order?“
C: “HELLO?!”
Me: “Hi.”
C: “Daddy!!”
Oh I do not think so my little snow gremlin. I have never been that far north and even if I had I would vividly remember waking up next to a…….well….a….damn there’s really no polite way to say this….um…..ok let’s say yeti. And likely would be dead within hours of having done so after I voluntarily wandered off into the frigid wilderness seeking the peace only the sweet embrace of death could provide me.
ARghdaflhf
Me: “Are You calling to place an order?”
SC: “I’d like to make….a……..or…place a….place an order.”
Well….this is ominous.
Me: “Alright, may I have your name please?”
SC: “Billy.”
Me: “Can you spell it for me please?”
SC: “Billy.”
Me: “Can you spell it for me please?”
SC: “…….uhhh…..what?”
Me: “Can you spell your first name, please?”
SC: “Uh….B.“
You know, even the most primitive of partially upright primates is at least dimly aware of his own identity. It’s actually sort of fascinating how you can, genetically speaking, be technically more evolved than the primates in question. Yet still appear to be far far less intelligent.
Me: “Alright, which catalog are you ordering from?”
SC: “…uh….wait….I don’t know which catalog….”
Me: “Is it the Winter catalog?”
SC: “I…think so…I dunno.”
Well than look at it. For fuck sakes. I can hear you greasily pawing through the pages so you obviously have it right there in front of you. They don’t print the thing in brail so you must have the portholes of your ocular nerves fixed lustily on its surfaces. Just look at it damn you and tell me if it says “Winter” on the front. You do know which part the front is don’t you? The front? The first page? The beginning? The Alpha?
Sigh
Me: “Alright, can you spell the last name please?”
SC: “P-O…..um…Car...T...Coke”
I suppose I wasn’t specific enough. When I said “spell” I meant “with letters” not “with random words and syllables feverishly pulled out of my ass.”.
Hah!
SC: “Yes, we’re looking for a 2 bedroom luxury condo for rent but we don’t want a to sign any lease. We just want a month to month.”
Hahahahaha. Yeah, good luck with that. You need a 6 month lease to rent bowling shoes in this city.
Nobody Listens <sob>
Me: “Good evening, <company>, how may I help you?”
SC: “Do you speak English?”
Apparently not.
ARGH
Me: “And your name please?”
SC: “Jaime”
Me: “J-A-I-M-E?”
SC: “Yeah”
Me: “And how’s your last n-“
SC: “Wait….wha? J-A……uh……J-A-I.....uh, M….E?”
Yet again….it just never bodes well when they can’t even figure out their own name.
Me: “Alright, and the item number please?”
SC: “xxx”
Me: “What size?”
SC: “Uh…..uh…extra large”
Me: “What colour?”
SC: “Black, grey and navy. 3 of them and the grey scarlet red.”
Wait….3 of them and grey scarlet red? Does not compute. There isn’t even a grey scarlet red...
Me: “……1 black, 1 grey, 1 navy and 1 scarlet?”
SC: “Uhhh…..yeah. 1 black, 1 navy, 1 red.”
Me: “…….so 1 black, 1 navy, 1 red?”
SC: “Uhh….ya…….no, uh….grey….grey…..grey red.”
Wha…I don’t even……stop it! I know what you’re trying to do, you’re trying to infect me too! Back, tard zombie, BACK.
Me: “1 black, 1 grey, 1 navy, 1 red?”
SC: “Um…black, navy and grey.”
Me: “Black, navy and grey?”
SC: “Yeah”
So we are in agreement than? Black, navy and grey? You're sure this time?
Me: "Alright, it comes to $xxx and should arrive in about 2 weeks."
SC: “Do you know what it is? The thing I ordered? It’s uh, it’s...I dunno....”
…..you don’t even know what the fuck you just ordered? Well rest assured my thick browed friend, you just ordered a trifecta of pants. So even if you don’t know exactly what you ordered or why, at the very least it will be something you have a fundamental lust for anyhow. It’ll be kind of like Surprise Christmas.
annnd rest....for the moment. Before I snap and have to rant for 4 pages.
I was freaking amazed, but the company I was with always leased there and was on good terms with the owner, so we also got maid service kicked in.
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