Curse

I pissed of my sixth person today. Relax! Relax! It’ll rise. I’ve only been at work for two hours.

The sixth person was extremely pissed because I would not do to the letter what she wanted. I did do A through W but X, Y and Z was pushing too far.

She pleaded, growled, tried to get in touch with my humanity (ha! Stupid stranger), attempted to intimidate until she finally figured out she dealing with, to her, nothing but a cold-hearted, dead eyed stone wall so she said,

“You will not do this for me?”

“I would not do this for anyone.”

“Have it your way.” Just like I’d planned to. “You’re forcing me to do this.” What this? Report me to the authorities? Punch me? Storm off never to be seen again? Guess which of those three I’d prefer?

What she does is grab the pen out of my hand and, as if she were a magician, had her ‘TA DA’ expression on.

“The pens are free.” I say pointing to a display filled with free pens.

“No, because of the way you have treated me I am going to put a curse on you.” And you had to take the pen to write yourself a note? I attempt to stifle a chuckle but I guess I failed because her ‘TA DA’ face vanished and became a ‘no you didn’t’ face. “You should not take me lightly. I am very powerful.”

Knowing me as you do you have to realize at that moment I’m wondering how I’m going to get you to believe this is what she said. I thought for a while before figuring it out.

She really fucking said that.

Now that you believe me I’ll carry on.

“Listen lady, I’ve had two Italian curses, one Haitian and one African. On top of that I now have whatever juju you do and look at that, I’m still here.” I pause here while she stews thinking that, because another curse is involved, my boss won’t be too upset with what I’m about to say next. “So, fuck yourself right off.”

I turn and go back to my desk. I do not think I was being impolite. How would you continue a conversation after having a curse cast? I’m sure if Dear Abby was still kicking she’d say,

“Dear Cursed,
This is an extremely charged situation and one that must be dealt with seriously. I would suggest that you take the high road and politely say to her, “Fuck yourself  right off.”

So the lady does as Abby requested and I sit down to write this. I had to get it out of the way quickly, I figured just in case. It would be hard to write at all if, overnight, some of my appendages fell off.

Naughty List

A guy comes up to me and says, “I’m sorry to tell you this but I was talking to Santa and you’re on his naughty list. Mostly for the way you’ve treated me.”

 

I look at him for a second before nodding my head and saying, “Totally worth it.”

Christmas Shopping

I don’t do it.

It’s not that I’m saying I don’t have the Christmas spirit. I leave it to others to say that. It’s just that I don’t shop. Have. Learned my lesson right quick. Didn’t like it, not one bit. And it wasn’t because of crowds or whatever I was buying wouldn’t turn out to be exactly what they wanted (“Oh, so sorry I didn’t know you wanted the off black instead of the midnight black. Will chewing a dozen bulbs from the tree be punishment enough or should I just ram the entire tree up my ass?”).

I don’t enjoy it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy shopping the rest of the year either it just seems that when you say you don’t shop during this season people think you’re committing a felony. I know what you’re saying,

“Come on! No one likes it but it’s the holiday’s what are you gonna do!”

Sucker. That’s just what the Industrial Christmas Complex wants you to believe. You know what beats shopping every single time? That’s right, not shopping. And don’t think people don’t get gifts from me. They do. The best gift. Gift certificates to everywhere (AKA money). Oh sure, my girlfriend has complained,

“But you never surprise me.”

“I’ll surprise to next year.” I say. “I’ll adjust the amount. I don’t want to spoil the surprise but I bet you can guess what direction the amount will go.”

See? Even when I try to surprise her she doesn’t appreciate it

How can I explain my hatred of shopping to you? Ah, here’s one. Let’s say we’re going to chop down your Christmas tree the old fashioned way: with a chain saw and a case of beer. We tromp through the woods with me swinging the chainsaw Leatherface style to warn the woodland creatures of their impending homelessness. We arrive at the tree you find perfect. You are happy. I hold you down at the base of the tree and beginning cutting. At first you think it’s a lark, a little holiday mischief. But then as the saw starts sliding through the bark into the core of the tree and you are getting saturated with wood chips, bark and the overwhelming fear of your own death you begin to become concerned. The deafening roar from the chainsaw, mere inches from your fleshy face, renders your bloodcurdling screams useless. Shards of wood imbed in your face coloring the new fallen snow a festive red just as the tree falls snapping your neck like a twig.

Add Christmas carols to that and you’ll begin to understand how I feel about shopping.

But don’t think my friends and loved ones go without. Oh no, if they request something they’re too lazy to go out and get on their own I have a group of friends who actually call to see if I need anything picked up. Isn’t that the best thing? These minions, as I so condescendingly sounding call them, stop by take an order and off they go. I don’t know how they do it but it wouldn’t be Christmas without them.

And it wouldn’t be Christmas without you folks. Thanks for encouraging my behavior. I hope to continue the tradition of annoying some and entertaining others in the coming year.

Merry Christmas (and all the other holidays I’m too lazy to type out) and Happy New Year.