Retailitically Correct
Help me out here folks. As the advent of gift cards has extended the holiday shopping season far into the month of January, I am perplexed by a particular issue.
Is the proper pronunciation ee-Zod or eye-Zod? I see these commercials for the line of clothing. You know, the ones where the good looking couple are sailing...in the Arctic. And later they're skiing...on a beach. But as visually stimulating as the commercial might be, the actual brand name of the clothing line is never spoken aloud.
I actually have fear of trying to say the name aloud, certain I'll get it wrong and subject to ridicule. It's the same reason why I can't bring myself to shop in the store Aeropostale. How the fuck do you say that word? If the keyboard I'm using were more helpful, I'd add the maddening accent that is part of the name as well.
So I was in this public restroom the other day. Now..okay, some info for the ladies. I'm sure you've all heard of urinals...they're the toilet that allows us menly men to pee standing up without having to worry about the bothersome toilet seat. Well, in most public restrooms you'll find that at least one urinal rests a foot or so lower on the wall than its brethren. I'm not entirely sure if this is for smaller children, or just short men. The point is, the pisser is lower.
Now I'm of average height. Five foot ten, maybe a little taller. So I'm not so tall that I can't use this lower urinal, I just don't like to.
So I'm in this bar and nature says....hello. I make my way to the facilities and discover two things. One, the restroom is empty. Now this is beneficial to me on another level, as I have a fairly serious case of Peeshy, but that is another story for another day.
Incidentally, I once met a band named Peeshy. I've worked for 3 different hotels in the Columbia, MO area and have had the chance to meet several bands, but none with a name that hit so close to home.
Okay, so the bathroom is empty. I also notice it is what you might call a two-holer. That is there were two urinals. One of normal height, the other the standard short pisser.
I, of course, choose to pee in the normal one. I hate using the short urinal when it's the only option so I'm certainly not going to use it by choice.
I assume the position in front of normal urinal and begin to see a man about a dog when the bathroom door opens.
Now I don't follow Mizzou basketball with regularity anymore, but I don't think this guy was a player. He was, however, about six and a half feet tall. I'm not a mind reader, but I can't imagine he was pleased with the prospect of the short urinal. However, he does step into formation alongside me to transact his business for the day.
At this point I am naturally struck by my nervous kidneys and rendered unable to squeeze a drop. It's like the scene with Morgan Freeman in "The Shawshank Redemption." You know, he's just been paroled and given a job as bagger at that grocery store. He wants a restroom break and the manager tells him he doesn't need to ask permission to take a piss. Of course ol' Red has been in prison for half a hundred years and so accustomed to asking permission for everything he is incapable of squeezing even one drop without someone's say so.
It's just like that only I can't pee unless I'm alone.
If you're finding yourself lost in the story here's what it boils down to. I force this offspring of the Amazon to pee in the midget urinal, and it turns out to have been done needlessly as I can't even make proper use of the "normally" placed urinal.
I know you're probably laughing at me right now, but this was a dilemma. It's like when the Lovely Brook and I were driving to Springfield to celebrate Christmas in the actual hometown of your Lord God Jesus Christ. I could think of the names of seven of Santa's reindeer, but I couldn't come up with the third. This drove me nuts from about Maryland Heights to Pilot Grove.
Ooh, that reminds me. If you ever find yourself traveling on I-44 from St. Louis to Springfield, there is a sight that can only be found in middle America. Right around mile marker 153, turn your gaze to the north side of the highway and you'll see a large billboard that reads "Pornorgraphy Destroys Everybody."
Now as a former employee of a store specializing in adult entertainment, I found this sign on its own amusing enough. However, about 50 feet past the billboard is a large store proclaiming itself to be an....Adult Superstore.
Ah...only in the Bible Belt. Actually to make the scene more surreal, between the signs arguing the relative merits of anal beads and blow up dolls of pregnant chicks there was a sign/sculpture advertising for the local bowling alley. It was genius in its simplicity as the sculpture was just a large bowling pin.
This made the panorama a sign railing against pornography, a huge bowling pin and an adult superstore. I love the midwest.
Okay, I know it's been awhile bloggers and I apologize. I promise you the wait for my next installment of musings on life will be much shorter.
JeffRey
Is the proper pronunciation ee-Zod or eye-Zod? I see these commercials for the line of clothing. You know, the ones where the good looking couple are sailing...in the Arctic. And later they're skiing...on a beach. But as visually stimulating as the commercial might be, the actual brand name of the clothing line is never spoken aloud.
I actually have fear of trying to say the name aloud, certain I'll get it wrong and subject to ridicule. It's the same reason why I can't bring myself to shop in the store Aeropostale. How the fuck do you say that word? If the keyboard I'm using were more helpful, I'd add the maddening accent that is part of the name as well.
So I was in this public restroom the other day. Now..okay, some info for the ladies. I'm sure you've all heard of urinals...they're the toilet that allows us menly men to pee standing up without having to worry about the bothersome toilet seat. Well, in most public restrooms you'll find that at least one urinal rests a foot or so lower on the wall than its brethren. I'm not entirely sure if this is for smaller children, or just short men. The point is, the pisser is lower.
Now I'm of average height. Five foot ten, maybe a little taller. So I'm not so tall that I can't use this lower urinal, I just don't like to.
So I'm in this bar and nature says....hello. I make my way to the facilities and discover two things. One, the restroom is empty. Now this is beneficial to me on another level, as I have a fairly serious case of Peeshy, but that is another story for another day.
Incidentally, I once met a band named Peeshy. I've worked for 3 different hotels in the Columbia, MO area and have had the chance to meet several bands, but none with a name that hit so close to home.
Okay, so the bathroom is empty. I also notice it is what you might call a two-holer. That is there were two urinals. One of normal height, the other the standard short pisser.
I, of course, choose to pee in the normal one. I hate using the short urinal when it's the only option so I'm certainly not going to use it by choice.
I assume the position in front of normal urinal and begin to see a man about a dog when the bathroom door opens.
Now I don't follow Mizzou basketball with regularity anymore, but I don't think this guy was a player. He was, however, about six and a half feet tall. I'm not a mind reader, but I can't imagine he was pleased with the prospect of the short urinal. However, he does step into formation alongside me to transact his business for the day.
At this point I am naturally struck by my nervous kidneys and rendered unable to squeeze a drop. It's like the scene with Morgan Freeman in "The Shawshank Redemption." You know, he's just been paroled and given a job as bagger at that grocery store. He wants a restroom break and the manager tells him he doesn't need to ask permission to take a piss. Of course ol' Red has been in prison for half a hundred years and so accustomed to asking permission for everything he is incapable of squeezing even one drop without someone's say so.
It's just like that only I can't pee unless I'm alone.
If you're finding yourself lost in the story here's what it boils down to. I force this offspring of the Amazon to pee in the midget urinal, and it turns out to have been done needlessly as I can't even make proper use of the "normally" placed urinal.
I know you're probably laughing at me right now, but this was a dilemma. It's like when the Lovely Brook and I were driving to Springfield to celebrate Christmas in the actual hometown of your Lord God Jesus Christ. I could think of the names of seven of Santa's reindeer, but I couldn't come up with the third. This drove me nuts from about Maryland Heights to Pilot Grove.
Ooh, that reminds me. If you ever find yourself traveling on I-44 from St. Louis to Springfield, there is a sight that can only be found in middle America. Right around mile marker 153, turn your gaze to the north side of the highway and you'll see a large billboard that reads "Pornorgraphy Destroys Everybody."
Now as a former employee of a store specializing in adult entertainment, I found this sign on its own amusing enough. However, about 50 feet past the billboard is a large store proclaiming itself to be an....Adult Superstore.
Ah...only in the Bible Belt. Actually to make the scene more surreal, between the signs arguing the relative merits of anal beads and blow up dolls of pregnant chicks there was a sign/sculpture advertising for the local bowling alley. It was genius in its simplicity as the sculpture was just a large bowling pin.
This made the panorama a sign railing against pornography, a huge bowling pin and an adult superstore. I love the midwest.
Okay, I know it's been awhile bloggers and I apologize. I promise you the wait for my next installment of musings on life will be much shorter.
JeffRey
posted by The Crazy Leftist at 12:08 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home