Little Bits of Stupid Real Life

I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter…

So I’m walking home from the Day Job tonight after closing, with the cell-thingy in my ear. You know; the Little Doohickey (that’s a technical term, I swear). The “handsfree” over-the-ear-hide-in-my-hair-and-no-one-can-see-it-so-the-whole-city-thinks-I’m-wicked-weird-headset thing (Downtown Dennis calls me “Suzanne” for Ye Local Lurkers’ information).

The thing the cat is wearing…

Take a Message
“Take a Message…”
Taken April 25, 2006 with HP PhotoSmart R607

This guy is chatting away in my ear, and I’m practicing ventriliquism in a vain effort to get people to stop staring at me. The “back away slowly” part is kind of cool, though. I hope they keep doing that.

It had rained buckets (it sounded like the rain was still in the buckets from inside the mall) earlier, and Louie had pressed his little stubby “man-like” umbrella into my hands. I was worried that I’d forget it at home tomorrow and was telling Guy-in-my-Ear that I would probably be alright without it, and besides, it’s an expensive umbrella and obviously never yet used, because Louie probably just carries it back and forth from the car, when Louie (who thinks I’m talking to myself) tells me to take it, take it, I gotta car, take it (Louie scared the b’jeezuz out of me when he spoke, because I didn’t see him over the stacks of product shipped today. I’m going to get him one of those flags with the long whip-antenna extension poles that they weld to shopping carts so that the cart-boys can find the strays in the parking lot).

So, I took the stubby man-brelly with me, and yes, I’ll probably forget it, because no, I didn’t need it.

But I did need margarine. Guy-in-My-Ear said so. So I told him to shut up while I went into the Canadian Tire Gas-Bar. He didn’t shut up. He started telling me all the reasons that the Canadian Tire Gas-Bar doesn’t sell margarine.

I practically yelled, “I need cigarettes!”, and a big burly trucker-looking fellow on his way from the pumps stopped dead in his tracks, looked over his shoulder, looked back at me, and grinned. I withered him right where he stood.

Have you ever been in the Canadian Tire Gas-Bar in Sault Ste. Marie? It’s small. It’s about the size of the CityTransit Bus Shelters. And it’s got two aisles! You don’t have to speak above a whisper to have everybody in the “shelter-mart” hear every word (That’s why they don’t sell condoms – actually, they probably offer condoms, but I’ll bet nobody buys them).

When you are wearing a Doohickey in your ear, you speak approximately as loudly as that 11-year-old with the iPod turned up too loud.

The second he heard the little silver bells crashing against the door to the shelter-mart, Guy-in-My-Ear started up again.

“Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

I know why he does this. He does it because on one Walk-About, we went one-after-another into every pawnshop and used-goods and bookstore in Sault Ste. Marie, which are generally small enough that the proprietor can hear our conversation, and as we entered each store, I gripped his wrist tightly and said very slowly, “Now remember! We look with our eyes, not with our hands!”, and all the shopkeepers followed him around and tried to lead him to the toys. Then they wouldn’t let him play with them. He fell for this in every single store, and so did the shopkeepers (someday I’m going to do that in Wendy’s China Cabinet, just to see what they do).

He’s been trying to pay me back ever since, and I think he did it tonight.

Anyway, he wouldn’t be quiet the whole time I was in the shelter-mart, and there was a line-up of at least seven burly trucker-like men in there, taking up one whole aisle, and I bee-lined for the magazine racks and pretended to browse.

I whispered to Guy-in-My-Ear: “Where would the margarine be?”

He replied,”La-la-la-la-LA! La-la-la-la-LA!”

I got a little pissy, and said (think 11-year-old wearing iPod), “Where is it, already?!”, and heard the scraping of seven pairs of steel-toed boots on concrete as the line at the till turned toward me. As I lifted my head, I noticed that I’d been “browsing” in front of the porno rack for 3 and a half minutes of “la-la-la”, and, mortified, I tried to crawl under the coffee station.

Finally, I thought “Screw it, since they already think I’m nuts”, and marched boldly up the second aisle and interrupted the sale of Guy #1.

“Do you sell margarine?”

Seven grown men took a step back, in unison.

The nervous teenaged salesgirl poked her finger toward the fridge beside my head, and I turned my head a fraction of an inch to find about 8 dozen containers of it. Guy-in-My-Ear asked what brand they had, and I forgot where I was again, and answered, “Hmmmm…. Parkay®…!” with a fairly representable “dirty-french-laugh” accent, and two of the guys in line stepped forward again.

To make an already too long story slightly shorter, let me just say that Guy-in-My-Ear kept saying things like, “Lift the lid a little and say ‘Parkay®!’ in an evil little troll voice,” and even weirder things, and I couldn’t understand that the nervous teenaged salesgirl was telling me, “No, don’t swipe the card! Push the buttons, now!”

I finally got out with my margarine and was half-way home when the cell died in my ear, and the La-la-la’s stopped. That’s when I realized I had forgotten to buy cigarettes.

Random Song-for-the-Day: “Eastbourne Ladies” – Kevin Coyne

7 replies on “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter…”

Dennis is alive, well, and kicking (Of course, then he apologises). He’s got a lot of friends in the malls, and renames us all (I imagine there are several more “Suzannes” in the Sault than me, as there seem to be quite a few “Robs” – his name for Guy-in-My-Ear.)

Oh, no. You’ve become one of THOSE? I saw one of your Minnesota counterparts at T.J. Maxx earlier this week.

She was browsing the sweater racks, talking into her earphone telephone thingy. She was giving her poor listener a stream-of-consciousness monologue about each one, “. . .this is cuuuuute, but then again, you know how I sweat. I think it’d be too heavy. Omigod omigod omigod I LOVE this color!” And on and on and on.

My husband just got a little cordless earphone for his cell phone, and he wears it in conjunction with the earpiece in the other ear, which goes to his office phone. He looks pretty. . .handsome. You can imagine.

AAACCKKK!!! NO, I haven’t become “one of those”! (For one thing, I don’t “shop”. I think maybe, I’m not a “real girl”…)

I keep him on the phone for the long lonely DARK walk home – somebody to call 911 and be able to tell the cops where I am, since I have no sense of direction. I’m the one trying not to speak out loud, so as not to look like a lunatic. Doesn’t work. Ah, well; there are worse things to be called, I suppose?

Hey, can you call him on both lines at once? Now that would be worth blogging about! Do it! Do it!

Hey, thanks for those Alice lyrics over at Bonanza’s. Now my life is complete! 🙂

I don’t use the earpiece thingy. But I speak very loudly when I put my cell on speakerphone. I don’t know why, other than I might be an idiot deep down. And I always have a death grip on it too, like I’m a soldier in combat screaming into a
walkie talkie. I probably shouldn’t put it on speakerphone anymore.

I think that might be part of my problem too – the idea deep in one’s head that the other person can’t possibly hear you unless you yell very loudly. My suggestion is to hide behind buildings and bushes when the phone rings (bring your camera).
“Alice” was a favourite of mine. I’d like to say I named the main character of “Alice & Andre” after the Linda Lavin character, but truthfully, both character names came from blindly “dart-fingering” the phone book.

Incidentally, if you like TV Theme Lyrics, there’s a good link in my right side bar under the “Neat Links” heading.

Thanks for visiting. I hope you come back often.

Animalia. Quite an exotic name for a pet store! And based on the lettering on the window, I would half expect an old Asian man like the one from Gremlins to be hanging out in the back room with lots of weird stuff.

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