(no subject)
I can't believe I forgot to write about this...I would like to introduce you all to a brand new Midway Favorite!
I will call him....Elf.
Yesterday I was busy stamping cards for our big 30% sale starting on the 18th, when this funny looking old man in a winter cap, a knit sweatshirt adorned with snow-flake decorations, and giant thick glasses entered the storte in a spritely manner. He was quite short, with pursed lips and a curious look on his face. He stood before me, and announced, "I am looking for books on gnomes or elvess *pacifically*." It was all I could do to stop myself from barfing on him. I was trying not to laugh so hard. It was the way he said it...there was this serious emphasis on the word "pacifically" which he very clearly DID NOT pronounce "specifically"...it was like he went up on his tiptoes when he said it. "I am looking for books on gnomes or elves PAH-sifically." I always wondered what Santa's elves do during the off season. I mean, what strange men who are clearly obsessed with Christmas and who's only job is probably working as an Elf ata department store for one day a year, do on their off time. Apparently they collect books relating to elves and gnomes.
I was trying not to laugh almost as much as Audrey was trying not to laugh when some post Gastric-bypass surgery kid with Interpol hair and a black t-shirt with a picture of a golden lion or something, like a fat dorky girl in junior high would wear, was dancing...or I should say "blorping"...in her face last night. He was shaking around like a Ralphy May underwater. I don't think he had any bones. He was totally up in her face, flashing his hands around and jigglin' like a jelly fish. It was amazing.
In other news, last night was the worst night of my life and made me realize I hate every living person. Or at least I hate them when they are in groups having fun. We decided to take Hennepin Ave. home instead of the highway...at about 3:00am...This was a giant mistake. I wistnessed the worst humanity has to offer...the drunk masses spilling out of GameWorks like rejects from an Elimidate casting call. It's a miracle I didn't commit suicide when I got home.
I will call him....Elf.
Yesterday I was busy stamping cards for our big 30% sale starting on the 18th, when this funny looking old man in a winter cap, a knit sweatshirt adorned with snow-flake decorations, and giant thick glasses entered the storte in a spritely manner. He was quite short, with pursed lips and a curious look on his face. He stood before me, and announced, "I am looking for books on gnomes or elvess *pacifically*." It was all I could do to stop myself from barfing on him. I was trying not to laugh so hard. It was the way he said it...there was this serious emphasis on the word "pacifically" which he very clearly DID NOT pronounce "specifically"...it was like he went up on his tiptoes when he said it. "I am looking for books on gnomes or elves PAH-sifically." I always wondered what Santa's elves do during the off season. I mean, what strange men who are clearly obsessed with Christmas and who's only job is probably working as an Elf ata department store for one day a year, do on their off time. Apparently they collect books relating to elves and gnomes.
I was trying not to laugh almost as much as Audrey was trying not to laugh when some post Gastric-bypass surgery kid with Interpol hair and a black t-shirt with a picture of a golden lion or something, like a fat dorky girl in junior high would wear, was dancing...or I should say "blorping"...in her face last night. He was shaking around like a Ralphy May underwater. I don't think he had any bones. He was totally up in her face, flashing his hands around and jigglin' like a jelly fish. It was amazing.
In other news, last night was the worst night of my life and made me realize I hate every living person. Or at least I hate them when they are in groups having fun. We decided to take Hennepin Ave. home instead of the highway...at about 3:00am...This was a giant mistake. I wistnessed the worst humanity has to offer...the drunk masses spilling out of GameWorks like rejects from an Elimidate casting call. It's a miracle I didn't commit suicide when I got home.