Now, I'm not an angry guy, but I'm sitting here in my brother's living room, and for the past half hour all I have heard is this constant POUNDING from downstairs - first on the front door, now all over the place, and IT'S DRIVING ME FUCKING CRAZY! WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU PEOPLE? Jeez Louise...
I feel slightly better now. Thank you.
Another fun story, inspired from Melissa's post (and her reader's comments) about weird people doing weird things today: I went to the local pharmacy this afternoon to get a prescription refilled. When I returned to pick up said medicine there was a very old man at the front counter (who I later noticed took about 4-inch steps when he finally started walking) arguing with one of the cashiers. The conversation went something like this (picking up in the middle):
OLD MAN: But these laces are fifty inches!
CASHIER: (frustrated) I'm sorry, but we don't carry 50 inch shoelaces. These laces are 72 inches.
OLD MAN: No, I bought 50 inches! The girl said 50!
CASHIER: Sir, I sold you these laces, and I never said they were 50 inches.
OLD MAN: Well, where did the 50 come from?
CASHIER: I don't know. We only sell two kinds of shoelaces, and they're both 72 inches. These are the ones I sold you, the brown ones, and they're 72 inches.
OLD MAN: Well, how am I supposed to get 50 inch laces?
HELPFUL WOMAN IN LINE NEXT TO OLD MAN: You may just have to cut them down to 50 inches. You could try that.
OLD MAN (to HELPFUL WOMAN): How'm'I going to cut them down to 50 inches? How'm'I supposed to do that? Look at me? I want 50 inches.
(HELPFUL WOMAN looks slightly hurt, shrugs, pays for her merchandise and leaves)
CASHIER: (annoyed) We don't have 50 inches. These are the only brown laces we have, and they're 72.
OLD MAN: But these ones I brought in here are 50 inches!
CASHIER: No, they're not. They're the same as these laces, and they're 72 inches.
OLD MAN: (rebellious) Well, what am I supposed to do?
CASHIER: (visibly annoyed; she'd probably say something really rude if he wasn't ancient) Well, you could do what the lady suggested. You could cut them down to 50 inches yourself.
OLD MAN: How'm'I supposed to do that? I want 50 inch laces!
CASHIER: We don't have 50 inch laces. We only have 72.
OLD MAN: Well, what are you gonna do about it?
GUY BEHIND ME: (in a slightly homicidal tone) Give him his money back. Please. Give him his money back so that we can all go on with our lives.
They gave him a store credit. Thank God. You gotta love New Yorkers.
More exciting posts coming soon. DH tagged me, so I've got to respond. And there's more Hip Hop School on the way, too...