The Secret is in the Sauce
Apr. 2nd, 2007 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
weaktwosToday, my energy level reached its nadir. 'Round about 3pm I lost my industrious oomph. I finally winded up my tasks by about 5:40pm and went to the Hotel. I got in a little workout. San Antonio's humidity helped with enhancing my moisture emitting experience.
After a little rest, I ventured forth to Barnes and Noble and proceeded to let my eyes wander over the various wares of the purveyor of books.
Most of it was par for the course. Then I came across the display of "The Secret". It's small in size, and presented in blocks of small paragraphs. The paper, like the pitch, is smooth, with the visual effect of parchment paper. Because this secret has been around for centuries, like the Knights Templar, or Plato, or Ben Franklin. I didn't read enough of it, but I'm sure the Illuminati and the Masons were involved. Maybe I'll go back and just read the last page. I think the Secret is "don't be such a frackin' downer". I put the book down.
I moved on to the Biography section. I nabbed a biography on Tesla. Then I sauntered to the cashier, letting my eyes roll over all the shiny book-things with which Barnes and Nobles is amply fortified.
Standing in front of me are two young college students. They gave off the essence of late teen. Their body language was pouty. They were both on their cell phones. The male, thin, short blond spiky hair, red shirt and the loose jeans that say, "I don't have an ass, but if I did, these rear pockets would be higher up." He was asking someone on the phone if he or she would reimburse him for a book if he purchased it. It was for school; for his English course. It was the APA writing handbook.
The female, dressed in a white tank-top, with the underlying bra straps siting idly beside the tank top straps. She had a copy of Orwell's 1984. Something tells me she was bitter because she was purchasing a book she had no desire to read. Both of them reminded me of the SNL skit with the Two Assholes.
So the male, shuffles up to the Cashier, drawing attention to the flip flops he was wearing. The ones you get at Target for 2-3 dollars. True to form, the feet were somewhat half off of the flip flop platform. Yes, I have a thing about the flip flops. If you're not near a pool, or a public shower, you shouldn't have them on. Unless you're broke-ass poor. However, I'd get some decent shoes before I bought a Motorola Razr and designer jeans for flat asses.
The young man makes his purchase and is asked if he's a Barnes and Noble club member. He replies that he is not, but his Grandmother is a member. He whips out his phone and calls his grandmother. Now I realize that he had called her before. He calls her to ask her what her phone number is.
Let me list my annoyances at this juncture:
1. He called his grandmother to get her phone number. Sure, sure, maybe it's not as stupid as he sounds, and he was asking for his grandmother's home number but,
2. Why the fuck don't you know all your darling Grandmother's phone numbers, since you know her well enough for her to pay for your college tuition and textbooks?
3. You're not new to Barnes and Noble. If you know our grandmother's a member, get the required information ahead of time so you don't have to make the rest of us wait.
Continuing onward, it is the aloof female's turn at the register. Her purchase is totalled and she looks at her boyfriend for his grandma's phone number. He forgot it, and calls his grandmother AGAIN.
Now we can add:
4. Dude, the number was just given again, and you forgot it!
5. Your girlfriend is wasting all our time to get a discount she's technically not entitled to (just like her boyfriend) and she's only saving herself 47 cents.
But, I have my book, and I have my evening of relaxation, so all is well.
Goodnight, gentle readers.
After a little rest, I ventured forth to Barnes and Noble and proceeded to let my eyes wander over the various wares of the purveyor of books.
Most of it was par for the course. Then I came across the display of "The Secret". It's small in size, and presented in blocks of small paragraphs. The paper, like the pitch, is smooth, with the visual effect of parchment paper. Because this secret has been around for centuries, like the Knights Templar, or Plato, or Ben Franklin. I didn't read enough of it, but I'm sure the Illuminati and the Masons were involved. Maybe I'll go back and just read the last page. I think the Secret is "don't be such a frackin' downer". I put the book down.
I moved on to the Biography section. I nabbed a biography on Tesla. Then I sauntered to the cashier, letting my eyes roll over all the shiny book-things with which Barnes and Nobles is amply fortified.
Standing in front of me are two young college students. They gave off the essence of late teen. Their body language was pouty. They were both on their cell phones. The male, thin, short blond spiky hair, red shirt and the loose jeans that say, "I don't have an ass, but if I did, these rear pockets would be higher up." He was asking someone on the phone if he or she would reimburse him for a book if he purchased it. It was for school; for his English course. It was the APA writing handbook.
The female, dressed in a white tank-top, with the underlying bra straps siting idly beside the tank top straps. She had a copy of Orwell's 1984. Something tells me she was bitter because she was purchasing a book she had no desire to read. Both of them reminded me of the SNL skit with the Two Assholes.
So the male, shuffles up to the Cashier, drawing attention to the flip flops he was wearing. The ones you get at Target for 2-3 dollars. True to form, the feet were somewhat half off of the flip flop platform. Yes, I have a thing about the flip flops. If you're not near a pool, or a public shower, you shouldn't have them on. Unless you're broke-ass poor. However, I'd get some decent shoes before I bought a Motorola Razr and designer jeans for flat asses.
The young man makes his purchase and is asked if he's a Barnes and Noble club member. He replies that he is not, but his Grandmother is a member. He whips out his phone and calls his grandmother. Now I realize that he had called her before. He calls her to ask her what her phone number is.
Let me list my annoyances at this juncture:
1. He called his grandmother to get her phone number. Sure, sure, maybe it's not as stupid as he sounds, and he was asking for his grandmother's home number but,
2. Why the fuck don't you know all your darling Grandmother's phone numbers, since you know her well enough for her to pay for your college tuition and textbooks?
3. You're not new to Barnes and Noble. If you know our grandmother's a member, get the required information ahead of time so you don't have to make the rest of us wait.
Continuing onward, it is the aloof female's turn at the register. Her purchase is totalled and she looks at her boyfriend for his grandma's phone number. He forgot it, and calls his grandmother AGAIN.
Now we can add:
4. Dude, the number was just given again, and you forgot it!
5. Your girlfriend is wasting all our time to get a discount she's technically not entitled to (just like her boyfriend) and she's only saving herself 47 cents.
But, I have my book, and I have my evening of relaxation, so all is well.
Goodnight, gentle readers.
