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In The Immortal Words Of Stephanie Tanner . . .

2004-12-13 - 9:21 a.m.

Christmas Wish: That someone @ LA Christmas party doesn't go all Ukrainian dissident and poison my soup

Listening To: Beck, Byrne, Bowie, The Band, The Byrds (can you tell I'm at "B" on Titie's iPod?)

Quote: "Fern Gully?! That project was dead before it started." - Peter

So apparently Emma "Baby Spice" Bunton thinks tall guys are ridiculous. And not in a good way. I quote, "[Guys] should be tall, but not too tall. I was seeing a guy once who was 6-foot-4! It was ridiculous." 6'4"? That's ridiculous? But I guess being 4'11", being known as "Baby Spice", and generally considered to be the least talented Spice Girl, that's not ridiculous at all. (Did you catch that part where I said least talented Spice Girl? Because that means for those of you keeping score at home that she ranks below Sporty Spice! Sporty! No offense Mackenzie, but that's just horrid. [Note: Spell Check insists that "Bunton" should be "Bunion". Who am I to argue?]

Well, I'm glad we got that out of the way. I had a pretty fun-filled Friday last week. You know that when you start the day dining at the Friendly Toast with Cam-bot, it's going to be a banner day. Andrea and I met Justin and Cam at the Friendly Toast after we did some carousing in Bull Moose and as usual, Cameron was the best kid ever. (He's making the adjustment from "Best Baby Ever" to "Best Kid Ever", what with a new "Best Baby" on its way) Despite the waitress's best efforts to poison Justin with the decidedly non-Vegan CHEESE on his burger, the visit went well. Well, Andrea didn't like her Avocado Burger, but even she admitted that's what she gets for ordering such a Californian delicacy out of season. My right shoulder is tingling. And not in a spidey-sense sort of way. Anyway, after that, Justin and I decided to do the coolest, most awesomest thing EVER! If you guessed, "buying Cameron Spider-Man shoes" then . . . well, that's kind of creepy if you were able to guess that. So now Cam-er-on inexplicably was able to up his cuteness by fastening some Spidey shoes to his feet. By all accounts, it's pretty gosh-darned sweet.

Friday night saw all of us braving the arctic slush storm to attend the Artist Formerly Known as Smith's gallery showing. Our Hannah Harrison was Artist of the Month! I think she even gets her own parking space! Hmmmm, I need to see if I can be Artist of the Month at G. Willikers. Then maybe I won't need to park 3 miles away from work so all those precious customers can park closer during the holidays. (Oh, who am I kidding, I park by Sears and run from Security whilst shouting obscenities over my shoulder at them) So yeah, I drove up with my party posse - Peter, Titie, Waldi. We met my mom and Don for a drink at The Common Man before we went over. There was some unpleasantness when my mother almost threw herself at a mini-van screaming for it to stop because, "It's the law in New Hampshire to stop at a crosswalk! The Law! The Law! The . . ." until I had to restrain her and yank her into the gallery. Aw, that mom o' mine. We met Tender Crisp and Spicy (Tim & Jackie, though that's the last time I remind you of their civilian names) and Rich and Julie there. It was truly a big Hannah love fest. You could see all the other artists sharpening their looms and kilns so they could assassinate the monster they created after we all went home. I had to smack down talk of, "that internet diary thing" from Hannah's parents when they brought up that they had read what I had written (or should I say what "Benjamine" wrote) concerning the wedding. While I appreciated the compliments, I had to remind people that somehow, against all odds, my mother, Queen of the Bat Shit Insane, hadn't unlocked all the clues in order to find this here site. We pretty much cleaned out Hannah's stock of art. Meanwhile, the cloth lampshades and prints of pears hung angrily on their hooks, bitterly watching us all buy Hannah's art. Of course, the urge for the other artists to kill Hannah didn't subside in the least when all of "her" guests started winning the door prizes. Starting with her own husband, WMUR star, Brian. And then Rich won the next one. And then one of her family members won the next one. And then I think Don won one in absentia. We had already gone back to the Common Man at that point so we could order 700 rounds of appetizers. And be freaked out by their magic trivial pursuit cards. Hannah and Brian joined us later, and then, out of nowhere (as she wasn't at the gallery with us), Hannah's friend Brenda shows up from Boston. I find it very strange that Brenda lives nowhere near Ashland and yet the only 3 times I've interacted with her have been in Ashland. And usually at the Common Man. Strange. We were going to go to Hamna & Brain's afterwards, but it was pushing midnight and I had to work at the wildest of Willikers before 8am the next morning, so we bailed and drove back to R-ford. I was outvoted in my own car that driving to Concord and then going down Rt. 4 was the fastest way home. I did it only to show them they were wrong. And I feel confident that they understand that now.

And then came Maude. Man, I have definitely maxorized that segue. So Saturday morning saw Aly, new kid Tim (Jason's roommate), Jim, and me opening gloriously early. Just so no one can even know the mall is open at 8 so they don't show up slowly sipping their coffee and tut-tut-ing our lack of 20Q's until almost 9. So around quarter past 9 that morning, while Al-Y was putting out the Calico Critters (they're so darling!) and I the Groovy Unicorns, Tim is approached at the counter by this hell beast who is curious if he'd be so kind to wrap the Sassy Stacking Cups she was purchasing. [Note: In less than a month, I'll never be typing things like, "Groovy Unicorn" and "Sassy Stacking Cups" ever. again.] Sure, you know the ones:

Needless to say, I didn't think Tim would be able to wrap this here Sassyified infant toy very well. The picture doesn't do it justice but it's a very odd shape that doesn't fit into a box well and is a bit of a challenge to wrap. So I see this potential wrapping disaster going down and scurry on over to save Tim. I grab it, ask the obligatory, "Birthday, Christmas or Hanukkah paper?" And as always, before choosing Christmas, most people stop to slightly chortle over the fact that we have Hanukkah paper. Oh I see, Jews don't actually shop at our store, we just employ them. Gotcha. So I start tackling this wrapping mission and the spidey-sense is going off full blare. I can tell that it's one of two things, if not both. #1. Hell-beast's huffing and puffing that she is not-so-subtly displaying behind me means she is about to pitch the knuckleball that is, "Did you take the price tag off?" And then I rip her face off and hang it on the marionette rack, OR #2 - She's going to say some sort of delicious bon mot about how difficult it usually is for guys to wrap presents, and oh me oh my, did the girls have to teach me how to do it, and I bet it took me lots of practice. And then I say, "Lady, are you trying to emasculate me? Because honestly, it's gonna take more than that. I work at a store covered in rainbows, stars, and Hello Kitty wallets. It's gonna take a village to emasculate me." BUT, neither of those things happened. Nope. She just kept huffing and puffing. Maybe she had a deviated septum. I didn't fucking know. I'm a Doctor of Quickhands, not Noses. So I continue to wrap, while being careful not to tear the paper, which is difficult with a toy of these strange dimensions. Then, as I start to tie the red ribbon around it, but before I can start to curl it she says,

"Excuse me, sir? Sir? I just can't take it anymore. Please come here." So I curse my spider-sense for being so damned spot-on and turn around.

"I'm sorry, did you not want red?"

"What?!", she responds. "Of course I want it wrapped!"

"Red. Did. You. Not. Want. Red. Ribbon?"

"Red is fine. What I want is for it to be pretty. That," she says, with horror in her eyes. "Is not pretty. Unwrap it and try again."

Seriously, blood is coming from my tongue I'm biting down on it so hard. Tim, who has worked with me maybe twice, is even scared that I'm going to stab this woman in the spleen with the scissors I'm holding. So many things race through my mind that I want to say. Such as, "Ma'am, you do understand that this is a free service, correct?", "You know what? Here's the paper. Go home and do it yourself if you want 'pretty'.", "You know, down in front of Mrs. Fields they have a table set up for wrapping, knock yourself out.", or one of the tamer ones, "Hey you worthless cunt, this store isn't even going to be here in a month because of worthless hags like you that will end up returning this toy in a few days and going to buy it cheaper at Wal-Mart. Plus, it looks like you hired a blind midget to apply your make-up. You stupid, stupid bitch. Have a nice day." But I said none of these things. I don't know why. Probably because I knew Jim was out back and because I haven't quite totally snapped yet. So instead I just ferociously unwrap the paper, drop the paper on the ground, grab a ridiculously oversized box with which the Stacking Cups in question can fit into and begin again. I ask Tim to hand me some tissue paper, as I, "want to make sure it's pretty." Yeah. I probably didn't need to say that. But what-thefuck-ever. And then I look at the clock, realize I have 8 more hours to work, close my eyes and sigh, "This is gonna be a long day." That's it. I wrap the present to neat & pretty specifications and go back to doing the Groovy Girls. (Oh don't be a sick fuck, I didn't mean it like that! I meant that I "went back to having intercourse with the Groovy Girls" - Oh man, Google's gonna have a field day with that one)

Well, apparently, that wasn't it. Hell-Beast stayed after and asked Tim my name. She said she was going to, "lodge a complaint against me through the proper channels". What does that even mean? Does she need my badge number? She said, "In all my years of dealing with retail that person was the rudest person I have ever come across and I've shopped here for years and I plan on requesting that he no longer work here." Damn bee-yotch, who you think you be? Tracey Lundgren's Mom? A.) If I'm the rudest person you've ever come across then I guess you've never shopped in a jewelry store, Spencers, Hot Topic, or any department store. B.) Oh, you don't want me to work here anymore? I have an idea, why don't you hold that thought, come back in a month, and request it again. C.) If I'm going to have a complaint lodged against me, I wish I AT LEAST DID SOMETHING GRAND. You know, like kicked her in the neck. Something. Anything! So I gave both Jim and Bob the heads up that the governor would be getting a call from Hell-Beast about my behavior. Bob said it would be quite the red mark on my file. If I had a file. Seriously, I think Stephanie Tanner would have handled the whole ordeal much better. "How rude!" (You can decide which of us is Stephanie Tanner: Hell-beast or me. Personally, I think Hell-Beast is a deeper shade of Kimmy Gibler)

And Lost? Yeah. I know. It's super fucked up. Rick came down last Wednesday, and between him, Andrea, Hayley, Peter & Titie, and me, we had ourselves quite the Lost party. Beforehand, Rick watched "that episode" of Alias. You know the one. The one where your mind starts bleeding out your ears because it's so fucking insane. Yup, THAT one. If you must know my feelings on the "Charlie controversy", see the last Comment Section. Unless you plan on watching Lost at a later date and don't want to be spoiled. Then, you know, don't go to that Comment Section. But, if you want to see an incredibly fantastic picture of Evangeline "Kate" Lilly from this week's Entertainment Weekly, why then simply scroll down a bit. You're welcome.

Also, for those of you that I haven't yet shared this with: Due July 2005 Don't come crying to me that it's fucked up. I don't dispute it in the least.

It's been real,

Steve Holt

ps - "I'm . . . on tv." - Tobias, in last night's Arrested Development.

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