Saturday, July 18, 2009

Inadvertant Colon Cleansings and Hermaphrodites

A couple things.

I meant to post this story shortly after it happened, but it had slipped my mind. Luckily, my boyfriend, who I had told before I had forgotten and whose short term memory is longer than that of a goldfish's (as mine is), had just recently reminded me of it:

While working in the cafe at Borders one evening a few weeks ago, a woman in her mid forties or so, carrying some kind of foreign accent (I wanted to initially recognize it as British, but then decided against it, because it had something more exotic to it as well, as if she had immigrated to the UK from somewhere in Eastern Europe) had come in to place an order for a drink. After ordering, I asked her if she owned a Border's Reward Card and, when she replied in the negative, proceeded to get her email address to sign her up. She starts spelling it out for me:

"S as in Sam...H as in Henry...A as in Anna...R as in Rob...T as in Tina...I as in Ian...N as in Nina...G as in Gertrude...64 at (domain name)"

I stared at the screen, dumbfounded, unsure what to make of what she just spelled out to me... Sharting64@(domain). What the fuck? Was she shitting me (no (bad) pun intended)? Had I misheard her? This middle aged woman, who would have looked right at home in an upper class environment, had friends, family, coworkers, and others send emails to her at an address that described passing some juicy, voluminous gas?
I hesitantly turned the computer toward her and asked her to make sure I had gotten it in right. She smiled and nodded, which increased both my confusion and my already reddening complexion. I was, obviously, curious to ask what (she thought) her email meant, but was also unsure how to pose the question without then explaining to her that, here in the U.S, it generally meant you happened to be blasting off a chunky, generously full-bodied fart.

Needless to say, I hope to God that it was her last name, and that that last name is common from where ever she happened to be from, and that, where ever she comes from, that particular affliction is all too common. =)

Since I'm already into a pretty spectacular subject, I may as well sidetrack into these stories, as well:

I've been helping to rearrange the layout of the store, lately, and found a book with a particularly incredible title:
They Popped My Hood and Found Gravy on the Dipstick
What does it mean? I have no idea. It certainly does its job at being an awkward, quadruple entendre, though. The best part? It was in the Christian Inspiration section =D

I told one of my managers about the title, and we had a small chuckle between us. He then related to me the story of his own:
Apparently, at one of his prior jobs, they had gift cards available with a picture of a lady holding a cocktail on the front. In the computer inventory, as is common at most retail locations, they abbreviated the names of their items in some way. The result here?




Wait for it...


Giftcard: Lady with Cock

That story made my day. I don't care what they sold there; I would buy gift card after gift card of that Lady With Cock for everyone I knew. =)

That's all.


somuchbetter88 July 18, 2009 at 8:03 PM  

This made my day.

It's like the elderly gentleman who lived in the room next to my grandma in the nursing home... his name was Mr Slutte. His wife had died a few years previous: Anita Slutte.

I'm not joking, hand to God.

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