archive for February 2007
Driving to work. The radio is playing. As can only happen in the ear-bleeding wasteland that is Halifax radio, Marky Mark started playing. I shook my head in desperation.
Me: Damn. Ossssscar-nominee, Marky Mark. Wow. Did you ever think you’d say that? “Oscar-nominee, Marky Mark”? Or “Oscar winner, Eminem”? Or “Oscar winners, Three…”
Me: Damn. What’s their name?
My Lovely Wife: Who?
Me: You know… “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp”. Three… something Mafia.
My Lovely Wife: Three… Four Mafia? Three… Twenty-Two Mafia?
Me: Three… Alligator Mafia…?
My Lovely Wife: Oh! Three 6 Mafia!
Me: Yes! That’s it!
Me: Yeah. We’re hip.
I was confused — the meeting was going easier than it should.
Our house is about two years overdue for an exterior paint job, so we’ve started getting painting companies to come give us estimates.
Our first appointment was this Saturday. The company rep had just finished doing his detailed examination of the exterior and was now sitting with me in our living room and we were discussing the estimate. (Note: My Lovely Wife had decided that it was far too early in the day to remove her pyjamas and was leaving the meeting to me. It was 2:30 in the afternoon.)
So, the rep was doing his pitch, telling me why his company was the absolutely bestest painting company we could hire… and I could tell — he’s off his game. He was repeating himself. Clearing his throat a lot. Saying “ummm” and “ahhh”. Occasionally his eyes would develop this thousand-yard stare… and then he’d shake himself out of it and flip through his notes, trying to get back on track. I may have been mistaken, but I think I saw his eyelid develop a tremor.
He was — for no discernible reason — hugely uncomfortable.
With absolutely no prompting on my part, he knocked 10% off the price he had just quoted me. He then gave me an extra month to consider the quote.
Then I realised what had been happening next to me on the couch.
The Large One was leaning against me and had been for the whole meeting.
Licking his genitals.
THAT’S FIFTEEN MINUTES OF GENITAL LICKING, PEOPLE.
Yeah. Let’s see how your sales pitch survives that.
It’s cleaning day.
As I type this… I have a broom leaning against my left leg.
The broom — O Lords Above and Below — it hungers.
Someone… save me… I beg of you…
But if I don’t make it, it’s YOUR FAULT.
[Walks off sweeping.]
Jedis are such assholes.