Thursday, December 17, 2009

BaHumBug Crocs

I do love the Christmas season. I love the little childrens singing, I love the Christmas time lighting in my neighbors' yards, I even put up a wreath (although upon close inspection it is bent from where I got it on sale a few years ago at a discount wholesaler that rhymes with Schmaller Schmrenal). I don't like to give free plugs to retailers this time of year but I do enjoy discount decorations. Anyways, I enjoy the holidays and mostly the eggnogs and chocolate covered varieties of things. Do you know any given carbohydrate will do as long as it's dipped in chocolate. Anything is better covered in chocolate- except fried chicken, that was a greecey mistake. And one time with an ex, that was not our best decision, the clean up is not as romantical as you thought when first setting out in your Valentine fondue experience.... but back to the holidays.

I love it, the store signs, the garland, the mistletoe...However, I don't enjoy shopping. I find myself impatient with people- lots of people. Most people. I was at this one big store we will call Schmacy's and there was a woman in one of those hover-around vehicles. I am not a prejudice person and Lawd knows I don't park in the handi-capable spots unless I am just running in to get something real fast. But, this heifer was moving slow until I walked up there and she had to run up behind me like I was in her way. I had been waiting behind her, trying not to disturb, so I went around her - a whole isle around because I respect boundaries. Again, I try to put Christ in Christmas and get out of her way. Until... it happened again. I find myself shuffling over to look at something I don't even want just to give her space. Why am I looking at Martha Stewart Mellon Ballers? Oh wait, Schmartha, oh to hell with it- you know what I was looking at. And, I don't even like melons. No, damn it, I want to look at bathrobes and Miss Big Wheels in my way again now. So, I move on over there and you know what happened? She rolled up on me. I turned around and jokingly said, "Can I see your insurance card ma'am?" She didn't think that was at all funny. She just grunted.... a grunt? If she had been in a Honda instead of a hover-around I could have sued. I've seen the commercials I am entitled to a settlement.

Well children, let's just say I was pleasant. I moved over to the vacuum cleaners section. But there she was again. Now how can you come up in between me and my lustfulness for a Dyson? At this point this woman had followed me around the store for more than half an hour. She had done ran up on my leg -and she was rude. I even offered at one point to help her pick up tray she couldn't reach. Do you know what I got? Nothing. No "thank you"... no "excuse me." She should have been picking up a scale is what she should have been putting in that basket. I love big people- but I can't handle rude big people. (Yes the windows in my glass house roll down so that I can throw the stones upon them.) I felt she had it out for me. I don't know why. I had tried to be nice and I had even tried to help her. But come between me and this dyson- you know they have been engineered for cleaning efficiency. No, this time she could move around me.

So, this was a spiteful little thing. But, I left the vacuum out that I had been pretending was mine. In my fantasy it was in my foyer, that I do not yet have. And, I took petty comfort as I heard the beeping sound of her reversing out the vacuum area.

I tell you one thing: this is a cautionary tale children. My spiteful karma got me in the end. I got home and found out my second order of Crocs has been cancelled. Now, I hate crocs, but some knot head in my family put it on his Christmas list. In my day crocs were loafers made of expensive endangered materials that I could not afford. Now they are plastic shoes with big holes in them? And the Crocs folks don't even email you to tell you the order is cancelled. They don't call you, or email or write you a letter like in the olden days. They don't twitter but you can follow- them there. Ironically, it's a one-way communication with the Crocs folks. Give us your order and wait....Nope you check the order after a week and if it still says "processing" that means you're gonna be crock-less under the tree on Christmas morning. What am I to do? Put a picture of those damn ugly shoes in a box? "Here you go, Santa's a little behind this year" No, I am a giver. I will go back out to Schmacy's and find some ugly Crocs in a size 11- so we can look at those big ugly clown shoes with holes in them. I just hope I don't run into that Big Wheel lady. She might drag me down the escalator behind her assault hover vehicle.

I hate crocs, but I do love eggnog

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