small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: can I help you?

Tuesday, February 7

can I help you?




Saturday morning I got up early and decided to hop up out of the house and get some shit done. I really needed to get off the pot and pick out an exercise bike or it just wouldn’t happen. I headed to a place out in the burbs called Dick’s Sporting Goods that I came across on the internet. They along with Sears were my two local choices for the kind of recumbent bike that I wanted. Dick’s had one for around three fifty and Sears had one for around four hundred. So since Dick’s was closer I stopped there first, plus my sister’s part time job was in the same mall and she wanted to meet me there.

I find my sister and we walk into this place and it’s fuckin huge and full of nothing but sporting shit. You gots your hunting shit, your camping shit, golfing shit, football and soccer shit, some canoeing and rafting shit, your running shit and baseball shit, plus your shit that I didn’t even know what kind of shit it was. I think I even saw a couple of stuffed bears off in the corner.

I’m standing there whilst my sister wondered off when this salesman walked up and asked if he could help me. Now with it being understandable that I’m not new at this shit, I’d think that when I told the cat I wanted to BUY a fuckin recumbent bike he might come off his ass wanting to help. But all he did was point to the other side of the building. What a fuckin dick.

I walk over to the other side of the building and there’s all the workout equipment in a neat row along with the one I saw on the internet. And true to form it wasn’t till I hopped on it and started pedaling that a fuckin salesman shows up. I kept it short and sweet. “Yeah I want to buy this one and I need to see one in a box to check wither it’ll fit in my car or not. And oh yeah, what’s your bottom price?”

The funny part actually came at the checkout counter whilst they were ringing me up. The checkout chick asked me if I want a Dick’s Sporting Goods shopper card. The salesman must’a seen the look of what the fuck on my face cause he told me that the cards for when I come back, the more shit I buy the more I get off shit. I really wanted to go “hey fella look at me, do I look like a frequent customer”? But I kept it to myself and got the hell out. Oh and on a side note it took me over two hours to put that muthafucker together. I did so much fuckin wrenching and shit that I should have a stinkin union card.



"and the monkey flipped the switch"

4 Comments:

Blogger Ole Blue The Heretic said...

You take it apart and put it back together again which makes for a great workout!

12:45 PM  
Blogger Creature in Boston said...

Yahoo Greg. Maybe when I make it back to KC we can catch up over a drink or a work out...

1:25 PM  
Blogger satyavati said...

I think you ought to do DDR like I'm doing... it's so much more fun than that other stuff. And by the time I've danced enough to get skinny I ought to be good enough for a pole...

2:48 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

DDR?

--so asks the sister

9:04 PM  

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