JERK OF THE WEEK: Shopping for Bras, Dominatrix Items and Stolen Goods
Remember that horrible Saturday I had when I lost my ID and credit card? Of course you do. This is Jerks of the Week, we're talking about, the most important literature you read, so you've undoubtedly memorized every article I've ever written.
In case your Internet hasn't been working, and you don't feel like clicking the link, I lost my ID and credit card while at Willow Grove Mall. I had to go to the DMV the following Tuesday - because government workers are too lazy to be functional on Mondays - but that experience wasn't as bad as I thought it would be because I was able to obtain plenty of Jerks of the Week material.
Well, guess what? One of the people who works at Willow Grove Mall sent me a letter recently, informing me that they found my ID and credit card! All I had to do was stop by with some other form of identification to pick it up. I had my new ID already, and I already canceled that credit card, so I didn't exactly need these items. However, to prevent some douche from stealing my identity, I decided that I should pick them up.
My girlfriend needed to do some shopping anyway, so we drove over to Willow Grove Mall a few Saturdays ago. The experience didn't disappoint, as I encountered many more jerks worth writing about...
Shopping for Bras:
You learn something new every day, and what I discovered this particular Saturday afternoon was how expensive bras are. My girlfriend was browsing for one in Macy's, which piqued my curiosity.
Me: How much are bras anyway, like $9.99?
Girlfriend: Walt... are you serious?
Me: What, too much? $4.99?
Girlfriend: Try more.
Me: Really? What are they, like $14.99?
My girlfriend just shook her head and showed me one of the price tags. I was so shocked I nearly pissed myself.
What the hell? Why are they so much? I always figured bras came in like packs of five or six for that amount. If they're $40 for just one, I feel like they need to do something extra. I've given it some thought, and I've come up with three extra features bras can provide. At least one of these three needs to be implemented immediately to prevent the bra companies from further gipping women:
1. Movie projector: There should be nobs on bras that allow you to play movies. I suppose there wouldn't be any room for a DVD, but you could always download them to the bra.
2. Food replicator: I have no clue why food replicators haven't been invented yet. Perhaps we can put one in a bra. It'd be nice if you could go, "Bra, I'd like a pack of Cheetos - crunchy," and then a bag of Cheetos materializes. Why isn't anyone working on this?
3. Cell phone: Women tend to wear pants with no pockets, so for their convenience, I feel like bras should double as cell phones. They've already invented those watches that can be used as cell phones, so I feel like transforming bras into cell phones is the next logical step. If they did this, I'd consider wearing a bra. No joke.
My girlfriend eventually found what she was looking for. We went to the cashier, and I was pleased to see that there was only one person in front of us. It was some old Russian lady, who had eight or so ugly dresses on the counter. "Ugly" being an understatement. They looked like some drunken hobo threw up on random fabric. Perhaps he was as disgusted as I was about bra prices.
What initially seemed like a short wait turned into a long, arduous process. For whatever reason, the Russian woman wanted the cashier to ring up one of the dresses at a time. The cashier would then scan the tag, collect money from the Russian woman and give the change back. Then, the cashier scanned the second dress, and so on.
This in itself was frustrating, but what made it worse was that the cashier was the slowest-moving person of all time. A middle-aged black woman with a Justin Bieber lesbian haircut, the cashier literally took minutes to count the Russian woman's money and give back the change each time. I actually whispered to my girlfriend, "I feel like we're in slow motion right now." She nodded, looking like she wanted to fall asleep because she was so bored.
After what seemed like 20 minutes later, the cashier was on the Russian woman's fifth dress. That's when she dropped the change she was about to hand back. "Oops, I'm gonna have ta count that gain," she mumbled. Then, another Russian woman approached the counter with more dresses.
"I find more dress for you buy."
I nearly spazzed out. I was about to yell, "Can you f***ing imbeciles move any faster!? And why are you ringing up one f***ing dress at a time!? You idiots!"
Fortunately, at that moment, a second cashier, a fat, black woman, wobbled to the other counter. "I'll take y'all round hmy'all," she said.
Despite her weight, she moved much more quickly. My sanity greatly appreciated that. I thought we'd be trapped in Macy's for all eternity, and I'd be stuck there forever with bras that don't play movies.
Shopping for Dominatrix Items:
No, not us. Not anyone, actually. No one shopped for any sort of dominatrix items on this particular Saturday.
Someone did at one point though. A woman standing in front of us in line at another clothing store had these dominatrix heels on. I wouldn't have noticed them, but my girlfriend pointed them out. They're hard to describe because I'm a man, and I hate shoes. They had these super long heels, and they came up really high, but they were webby - is that even a word? - so that you could see parts of her leg that were covered up by normal heels.
This in itself would've been worth mentioning in here, but here's the remarkable part: Her daughter, who was about 8 years old, was wearing the same exact dominatrix heels!
My girlfriend was appalled by this. I laughed because I thought about all of the possibilities. You know those families that travel in trailers and sing across the country? Maybe that's what her family does, but except for singing for people, they have sex with paying customers all across the United States. And not just sex - dominatrix sex!
I don't feel bad for making fun of this woman - ah hell, who am I kidding, I never feel bad for making fun of anyone - because she was a complete b***h. Like the Russian woman at Macy's, she was taking forever. The cashier wasn't to blame this time; she was moving as quickly as possible. Dominatrix woman was the one causing all of the problems. After a few minutes, I finally listened in to see what was taking so long.
Dominatrix Woman: This is what I'm getting charged for. Right here!
Cashier: I'm sorry, ma'am, but that's not the case.
Dominatrix Woman: It is the case! Look! Thirty percent off! Where's my 30 percent off!?
Cashier: That's not what's on sale.
Dominatrix Woman: It says it's on sale! I demand my 30 percent!
Cashier: I can't give you 30 percent. That's not what's on sale.
This went on for what seemed like hours. The cashier, a chubby chick wearing some sort of weird blinking technological headset that made her look like a member of the Borg, sighed multiple times as Dominatrix Woman yelled at her. If she wasn't so sullen, I would have been terrified that she would assimilate me.
Dominatrix Woman finally relented and paid. She left, and the blonde chick standing in front of us in line stepped up to the register. Borg Cashier was right in the middle of asking if she found everything OK when Dominatrix Woman and her dominatrix daughter barged back into the store. She basically shoved the blonde chick out of the way and shoved the receipt into Borg Cashier's face.
Dominatrix Woman: Look at the receipt! It says 30 percent off, but I didn't get my 30 percent!
Borg Cashier: Ma'am, I told you already, that's not on sale. And please go to the back of the line. There are other customers.
Dominatrix Woman: I'm still holding this place in line! Look at the receipt! This doesn't add up! Five, right? Five times $12 is $50, so why am I being charged for $60?
Borg Cashier: Ma'am, please. It's not your turn.
Dominatrix Woman: I'm holding this place in line! And your math is wrong! I should not be charged for $60, and that's before the 30-percent off gets factored in!
Borg Cashier: There's no 30 percent, and five times $12 is $60. Ma'am, she wants to pay...
Dominatrix Woman: I'm holding this place in line! I need this corrected!
Borg Cashier looked like she wanted to shoot herself. I felt the same way. It seemingly took hours, but Dominatrix Woman relented, probably because she and her whore daughter had to do some sort of gang bang.
When the blonde chick finished paying, we moved up to the counter. We heard Dominatrix Woman yelling something from outside the store, but fortunately, she didn't go inside again.
Me: What the hell's her problem?
Borg Cashier: I don't know. What a b***h.
That's an understatement. This woman was extremely rude, yelled incoherently at people, demanded things she's not entitled to, butted in front of people in line, sucked at math and whored out her daughter. She's so bad that even the Borg despise her.
Shopping for Stolen Goods:
Our next stop wasn't as eventful, but noteworthy nonetheless. We were in some hippie shop that sold clothes, mugs, signs and other terrible things that hippies like.
I was mindlessly browsing when one of the store clerks, another black woman with a Justin Bieber lesbian haircut, charged toward me. I moved out of the way before she could knock me over. She brushed me aside and yelled at some middle-aged white woman at the back of the store.
Black Woman: Ma'am we don't allow low bags round hmy'all!
White Woman: Oh, I'm sorry!
Black Woman: Mhmm...
I didn't say anything, but I was both confused and irate about this.
Confused: What the hell are low bags? I asked my girlfriend, but she didn't know either. I assume they are bags that hang really low to the ground. If so, what do high bags look like? Are they bags that float above your head, or something? This is way more confusing than that whole bra situation.
Irate: Why are white people, particularly middle-aged women, always accused of stealing? It started as an innocent little stereotype, like black men all sucking at basketball, or Asians all sucking at math, or Mexicans always eating fried chicken and watermelon, but now it has gone too far. When regular white women are being stopped in stores and accused of putting stolen items in low bags, whatever the hell they are, things need to change.
I know what you're thinking. "Oh, Walt, you're just crying racism again because as a white person, you want reparations for what happened in the past." No. This goes beyond what us white people had to go through... though, I'll admit, it was pretty horrible. I still have nightmares about it. Those episodes of Moesha... oh God. No, not Moesha! No! UPN, don't do it! Don't air Moesha for five more seasons! I can't take it anymore! Someone please make it stop! I don't want to watch Moesha after Star Trek TNG reruns! Please don't, UPN, AGGGHHHH!!!
OK, so maybe my anger does have to do with reparations, but the fact remains that middle-aged white women need to stop being accused of stealing - and pronto, because I may just lose my mind.
At any rate, we recovered my ID and credit card, but before that, we stopped by the food court. We were set to have Chinese food that night for my cousin's birthday, but we were both starving and mesmerized by the cheesesteak place they had there. My girlfriend and I agreed to share a cheesesteak and bacon cheese fries.
Once the Mexican guy behind the counter sliced and diced the meat, he put it into a roll and asked us if we wanted some condiments.
Girlfriend: Can we have some lettuce?
Me: LETTUCE!?!?!? NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As every fat man like me knows, lettuce is not something you put on a cheesesteak. Not in a million years, and not for a million dollars. It does not contain Vitamin X like the rest of it, so it doesn't mix well. I freaked out and nearly dived (not dove; incorrect grammar) at the Mexican guy, but he already sprinkled some lettuce on the cheesesteak. My lunch was ruined. I still had the bacon cheddar fries, but they weren't enough.
I was so depressed about this that I suddenly found myself wondering if the bra my girlfriend bought could replicate Cheetos. It doesn't. I checked.