I don't know how many more years I can keep this up. I'm talking about Christmas, of course, and in particular, Christmas shopping. I feel like it's rotting my brain every time I go to the mall and buy gifts for people. Ten years from now, I'll be sitting in a wheelchair in the social room of a mental ward, continuously muttering random gift ideas to myself as drool drips out of my mouth and onto the floor.
All I can say is, thank God Christmas is only once a year. I don't think I could handle it again without an 11-month reprieve. Thinking about what to get everyone is taxing enough; going to the mall and actually getting the gifts just makes everything more difficult.
I discussed my recent Jerks of Christmas Shopping where I bought a giant Philadelphia Flyers' panorama for my dad, and I had to lug the heavy picture all over the place, which caused me to get harassed by this annoying guy trying to give away a free car. The whole ordeal was painful - I'm shuddering just thinking about it - but the worst part was when I walked into my house. I carried the panorama into the basement and rested it against the wall, and that's when it hit me: I got this for my dad last Christmas!
I was so pissed. I wanted to pick up the panorama and hurl it into the street. Unfortunately, it cost $125, so I had to get a refund. I had to make a return trip to the mall, so I told my girlfriend what happened. She had to go as well to buy stuff for her family, so we drove back to Neshaminy Mall the following Friday night...
I suppose there was benefit to going back to the mall again: I got to see Santa Claus.
I kicked myself for not doing that the first time. Not that I enjoy the prospect of man having little boys sit on his lap - I'm a Penn State alumnus, so I've had enough of that with Jerry Sandusky - but there is always plenty of Jerks of the Week material found around Santa's setup. From whiny, spoiled brats, to stressed-out parents, to Santa and his helpers themselves, I always find someone worthy of writing about.
Here's what the jolly fat man looked like this year:
There things stood out about Santa and his setup this time:
1. Why is Santa wearing a gold championship wrestling belt? That's literally what it was, and you can't see it because it's too blurry, but it actually had the word "Santa" on it.
Santa, in almost every picture on Google Images, has a black belt with a gold buckle; not a gold belt. And it sure as hell doesn't say "Santa" on it. Do parents in our current society need to know this is Santa? Are they scared of putting their child on some creepy old guy's lap before realizing, "Oh, that's Santa, it's OK, he definitely won't pull a Sandusky and molest my child!?"
2. They're not pictured here, but all of Santa's helpers were fat chicks. Not that I was surprised, or anything, given that fat girls are always Santa's helpers. This used to disappoint me all the time in the past. One of the reasons I would go to see Santa, beyond finding Jerks material, was to scope out any potential hot girls helping out Santa. I could then rent a kid and have him sit on Santa's lap, and then when the hot helpers would say, "Aww, you have such a cute son!" I could have him say, "Would you be my new mommy!? I miss mommy, she died in the war!"
Is that a foolproof plan, or what?
That never happened, however, because of the fat chick phenomenon. Like I said, I used to be disappointed, but then I realized that there will never, ever be hot girls helping out Santa. Why? Because it's the ultimate job for fat chicks. Not only do they not have to move around that much; they also get to eat all of Santa's cookies. I'm almost certain there's a fat girl Web site where they list all of the Santa's helper jobs so that they can get first dibs on all of the cookies. That's why there are never any hot Santa's helpers.
3. Check out the bottom-right corner of the picture. What the f*** is an ADT sign doing there? This is freaking Neshaminy Mall; not Florida State...
This had me befuddled for a couple of weeks, but I finally understood it as I typed the previous paragraph. The fat chicks put it there so no one would steal their cookies. Who would steal the cookies, you ask? Ha, what a stupid question! Other fat chicks, of course!
FYE Serial Killer
One of our first stops was FYE. I actually still needed to get some gifts for my mom, so I bought a few TV show DVDs. As I was wandering aimlessly through the store, I overheard a conversation a grown man in his 30s was having with his mom, as they were perusing the movie section.
Man: Can we get this, mother?
Mother: No, you've had enough already!
Man: Please, mother!?
Mother: No, I said you've had enough already!
Man: Come on, mother!
Mother: If you don't stop complaining, I'm going to drive you home and come back here without you!
The ultimate threat silenced the grown man. I, meanwhile, was in complete disbelief. How could a grown man both act this way and get treated like this by his mom? If you're a grown man, you should be able to pay for a DVD you want with your own money.
More importantly, I could see this dude turning into a serial killer. He probably talks to his dog each night...
"Mother wouldn't let me have the Ace Ventura: Pet Detective DVD at FYE today, so I will kill the next person who walks down the street. I will chop off their head and present it to mother so that she allows me to purchase the Ace Ventura: Pet Detective DVD the next time we go to FYE."
I guess it's a good thing Santa has ADT security; otherwise, his life - and his cookies - would be in jeopardy.
We had a few items to buy at Macy's. The first thing we wanted to purchase were this hat-and-scarf set. We couldn't find the section, however, so we waited on this employee, who was talking to another customer. My girlfriend and I were pretty oblivious to our surroundings when we were startled by this little boy of about five years old, who approached us. The little boy tugged on my girlfriend's sweater and asked her the following...
"Are you my mommy?"
Wow. I didn't know whether to laugh or be concerned. Sure, this kid was missing, and his parents were probably worried sick, but how could he be so stupid that he didn't know who his mother was?
My girlfriend told him she wasn't his mom, but if she would've lied to him, I feel like he would've followed us out of the store. I suppose the good news is that because he doesn't know who is mother is, he doesn't love her enough to kill for her in the future.
The kid wandered away, and just in time too because the employee was freed up. This particular employee was a middle-aged, bespectacled black woman, and she quickly led us to the hat-and-scarf section. On the way, she engaged my girlfriend in conversation...
Macy's Employee: I love Christmas time, but I still need to do my holiday shopping for my two little boys.
Girlfriend: I have a baby niece and nephew, and I just bought some stuff for them.
Macy's Employee: You should get them some books for Christmas!
Girlfriend: Yeah, I got them a couple of Dr. Seuss books!
Macy's Employee: No, not those kinds of books, honey. You should buy the Bible for them!
Girlfriend: Ehh, maybe!
What a great idea! The Bible! Why didn't my girlfriend think of that? She could even get her niece and nephew matching exciting things that kids enjoy like a root canal and a Calculus textbook. These are the types of things children want, after all.
Seriously, how terrible of a mother is this woman? The Bible isn't even a fancy gift anyway, since you can find one in every hotel room. On top of cheating her kids out of a PlayStation or Xbox, she's making sure she brainwashes her children to enter her Christian cult, and then those children will give Bibles to their kids in 20 or so years, and the cycle will continue until all of the children in the world receive boring gifts every Christmas.
In short, this woman is single-handedly ruining Christmas with her damn Bibles. She's like the Grinch; except she's black and more boring.
The Food Court
After all that shopping, my girlfriend and I worked up quite the appetite. I had no idea what I wanted; I couldn't decide between a cheesesteak from Charley's, which is quite good, or some pizza, which I was in the mood for. I looked at my cell phone to see what time it was. I cursed loudly upon seeing that it was 9:48.
Why? Because Neshaminy Mall, in its infinite wisdom, doesn't extend its hours during the holiday season, closing at 10 on weekends regardless of what time of year it is.
I never understood this. Every single time I've been there during the holidays, it's been packed around 9:45, yet they usher everyone out of the mall. Don't they want to make as much money as possible? Why would they bone themselves from profiting as much as possible when people are eager to buy anything they can get their hands on? Neshaminy should close at 11, at the very earliest. It even makes more sense to close at midnight rather than 10.
My girlfriend and I rushed over to the food court. I had an important decision to make: Cheesesteak, pizza... pizza, cheesesteak... and then it hit me - why not both!? I could get a cheesesteak, fries and a slice of pizza!
My dreams were crushed, however, when I walked up to order a cheesesteak from Charley's, and this shady-looking Mexican teenager broke the news to me.
Shady Mexican: We close, mang.
Me: Really? I can't order anything?
Shady Mexican: No, mang. We close, mang.
Me: But it's 9:52 - it's not even 10 yet!
Shady Mexican: Too bad, mang.
Me: F*** YOU A**HOLE MEXICAN PIECE OF S***!!!
I wish I would've yelled that out because it was such a dick move to shut down their place 10 minutes early. Again, don't they want to make as much money as possible? There were still plenty of people at the food court, so they were missing out on profit, all while dicking fat people like me over in the process.
Fortunately, the pizza place was still open. There were two ditzy brunette teenage girls behind the counter, and I told them I wanted four slices of pizza.
Ditzy Girl: Are you going to like need a box for that lol?
Me: What? Why?
Ditzy Girl: That's like a lot of pizza and stuff lol!
Me: Do you see how fat I am?
Ditzy Girl: Good point lololololol.
As I waited, this teenage guy with a peach-fuzz mustache approached the counter. He was wearing a Verizon polo, so he obviously worked at the Verizon store at the mall. He tried to game the ditzy girl, but failed miserably.
Verizon Guy: So how did it go today?
Ditzy Girl: Went OK lol!
Verizon Guy: So what are you up to this weekend?
Ditzy Girl: I dunno probably have to wash my hair lol!
Verizon Guy: A bunch of us are going to the movies...
Ditzy Girl: Oh, hahahahhahaa!
Verizon Guy: Maybe, I don't know, you wanna come with?
Ditzy Girl: Oh I don't like going to the movies lol!
Poor guy. I even felt sorrier for him when he asked Ditzy Girl for a slice of pepperoni. He clearly pointed to this giant pepperoni slice. However, she scooped up this pepperoni-and-sausage piece and put it into the oven. The guy looked like he wanted to cry, yet he didn't say anything.
I felt his pain. As a fat man, I'm well aware that there's a major difference between pepperoni pizza and pepperoni-and-sausage pizza. Stupid ditzy girls don't - especially those who work at a dumb mall that closes at 10.
At any rate, my girlfriend and I sat down to eat. I took one bite of my pizza when the announcer on the loudspeaker yelled that the mall is closing. At the very instance, this black janitor came by and began placing the chairs on top of each table. I was content to keep eating while most of the other people cleared out, but the janitor gave us a look and muttered to himself, "Folk eatin' late, round hmyall."
My girlfriend took that as a cue to pack up our stuff. "Get a box for the pizza," she said. Disgruntled, I went back to the pizza place.
Me: Hey, I'm going to need a box after all.
Ditzy Girl: I told you that you'd need a box lolololol!