Saturday, January 31, 2004
Quiet Storm
So I'm in blockbuster yesterday blowing off some of those giftcards you get for x-mas on candy and a few classics. The Full Monty, Big Lebowski, Office Space and Bordello of Blood. (No not actually). And I'm looking at the shelves wondering what I feel like watching when I make the mistake of glancing around the store. Oh Man. Rookie mistake Milhouse. I look around and bam! It hits me like a two by four in a dimly lit hallway. It hits me like an h2 lumbering down whyte while I cross on the "don't walk" light. It hits... sorry. Ok I was hit with the inspiration of the blog and I swear to God I wish I owned a voice recorder right then and there to describe the people I found around me. The same people who you can find at every movie store, on any given friday night.
That guy who just doesn't leave.
He's the tall white guy with an oversized Gore-Tex coat on. You notice him when you walk in, and you notice him as you walk out. He's there the entire time you're picking up your movies and he lumbers around the aisles looking at every detail in the ceiling. No crack goes unnoticed under his developed glare. Occasionally, he can also be seen rooting through the discount bins of previously viewed vhs tapes and dvds. He has no intention of buying anything, but you do get the impression that he's a touchy-feely kind of guy. He's got the "hands on" personality and is probably working the trades. This is the guy who will never succeed in finding what he "came in for".
That guy who just won't move.
This guy is quite possibly less polite than the nerd clerk who lords his knowledge of all things "system" over you when you ask a simple question. This is the bulky guy, who periodically makes his appearance in a seemingly female form, who will stare at the wall of movies blissfully unaware of your presence. It's either he doesn't care enough to shove his ass, or he's just renowned as being an asshole amongst his few friends and feels he needs to radiate it. You walk up with the hopes of passing him in those tiny aisles but he won't budge. He won't even look at you or aknowledge your presence with a low burp. The kind that erupts directly from your belly after a few colts early on saturday morning. The guy just stands there, and you have no hope of getting by. So, you decide to ask politely if he can stand aside. He does so, but not without a sigh of extreme difficulty. He feels like you just mugged him and fucked his father's asshole all on the same wednesday's evening. Venue : let's say... streets of New York and/or Compton.
The female nerd clerk.
It's unvarying. You'll almost always get her as your clerk and her breathing problems will make it difficult for you to hear what she has to say about your "membership". Hopefully it's nothing bad. I hear that they send the BlockCops after "frequent offenders". This is also the girl who tries to upsell you into things you don't want/need. Things like an extra movie, because it would only be .99$ more. Unfortunately, it works and you go grab the first pile of shit you see and don't end up watching it, return it late and when you come in to pay the late fee guess who's till your headed to? That's right. Weeezee Weeezzzzee.
The guy with a crew cut.
This one is less obvious and requires some elaboration. This guy could be a vietvet for all we know. Thus the crew cut, strange vein popping out of his forehead, and ak-47 on hand. He needs no second thoughts before drawing a hand gun as the door clicks shut. He wheels around at an alarming rate yelling things like "Hill 365!" and (roughly translated from english) "Escht crecht byir finfed". He dives behind the counter as he cocks the loader and swipes a members card. In the end it's all for show of course, and to bring the boys home.
The guy with a braid/pony tail/mullet/skullet/chinese mullet
This is the guy who is generally covered in an oily cologne, probably English Leather. (we're talking a hefty 16$ a bottle). Most of the time this sickly excuse for a human being will be found trailing you around the store. You'll find him hawking you from behind "Drama" as you look in "Action". When he gathers enough courage he'll stroll over to you as you browse in piece and ask loudly. "Can I help you find anything?". Your eardrums boom and it takes a few minutes before you fully recover from your short seizure. You answer him with a polite "no" and moments later, after he's walked around the store once, he comes back. He sidles up to you and you feel his leathery breath slide down your throat. Your hairs rise. And he asks in his hoarse, whiny voice, "Can I help you find anything?". Amazingly enough, you answer with a polite "no". And so we dance.
The posse of nerds
These are the guys who stand behind you in line and rave about how cool it was to have Tron on Betamax. These are the guys who stand behind you and talk really loudly as they try their hardest to sound cool. From time to time the conversation topic between them (there are usually two or more) ranges from which type of candy is the best, to which brand of cables are best to hook up your ps2. You can guarantee that they will also pepper the conversation with which supermodel needs breast implants and how the weather is at any skatepark in california. This leads back to a conversation about video games. Last night, this group, although there was only two, divulged in a heated conversation about how much punishment their blockbuster cards could take. One reasoned that, "But dude, what would happen? 'Cause come on, what are they gonna do? What, man, what? Because without a card, what are they gonna do?" The second countered with his two-cents. "Yeah bro". Strange to us, but nonetheless it was a point strong enough to make the first continue. "Cause like I'm walking down whyte being thrown into lightpoles and stuff, man. I wonder how much pain it can take!"These quotes are left unchanged. I have no idea why he used the word "pain".
In the spirit of the essay : In conclusion, Fuck the essay format. Blockbuster is a socially inept pothole just waiting for you to get stuck in.
That guy who just doesn't leave.
He's the tall white guy with an oversized Gore-Tex coat on. You notice him when you walk in, and you notice him as you walk out. He's there the entire time you're picking up your movies and he lumbers around the aisles looking at every detail in the ceiling. No crack goes unnoticed under his developed glare. Occasionally, he can also be seen rooting through the discount bins of previously viewed vhs tapes and dvds. He has no intention of buying anything, but you do get the impression that he's a touchy-feely kind of guy. He's got the "hands on" personality and is probably working the trades. This is the guy who will never succeed in finding what he "came in for".
That guy who just won't move.
This guy is quite possibly less polite than the nerd clerk who lords his knowledge of all things "system" over you when you ask a simple question. This is the bulky guy, who periodically makes his appearance in a seemingly female form, who will stare at the wall of movies blissfully unaware of your presence. It's either he doesn't care enough to shove his ass, or he's just renowned as being an asshole amongst his few friends and feels he needs to radiate it. You walk up with the hopes of passing him in those tiny aisles but he won't budge. He won't even look at you or aknowledge your presence with a low burp. The kind that erupts directly from your belly after a few colts early on saturday morning. The guy just stands there, and you have no hope of getting by. So, you decide to ask politely if he can stand aside. He does so, but not without a sigh of extreme difficulty. He feels like you just mugged him and fucked his father's asshole all on the same wednesday's evening. Venue : let's say... streets of New York and/or Compton.
The female nerd clerk.
It's unvarying. You'll almost always get her as your clerk and her breathing problems will make it difficult for you to hear what she has to say about your "membership". Hopefully it's nothing bad. I hear that they send the BlockCops after "frequent offenders". This is also the girl who tries to upsell you into things you don't want/need. Things like an extra movie, because it would only be .99$ more. Unfortunately, it works and you go grab the first pile of shit you see and don't end up watching it, return it late and when you come in to pay the late fee guess who's till your headed to? That's right. Weeezee Weeezzzzee.
The guy with a crew cut.
This one is less obvious and requires some elaboration. This guy could be a vietvet for all we know. Thus the crew cut, strange vein popping out of his forehead, and ak-47 on hand. He needs no second thoughts before drawing a hand gun as the door clicks shut. He wheels around at an alarming rate yelling things like "Hill 365!" and (roughly translated from english) "Escht crecht byir finfed". He dives behind the counter as he cocks the loader and swipes a members card. In the end it's all for show of course, and to bring the boys home.
The guy with a braid/pony tail/mullet/skullet/chinese mullet
This is the guy who is generally covered in an oily cologne, probably English Leather. (we're talking a hefty 16$ a bottle). Most of the time this sickly excuse for a human being will be found trailing you around the store. You'll find him hawking you from behind "Drama" as you look in "Action". When he gathers enough courage he'll stroll over to you as you browse in piece and ask loudly. "Can I help you find anything?". Your eardrums boom and it takes a few minutes before you fully recover from your short seizure. You answer him with a polite "no" and moments later, after he's walked around the store once, he comes back. He sidles up to you and you feel his leathery breath slide down your throat. Your hairs rise. And he asks in his hoarse, whiny voice, "Can I help you find anything?". Amazingly enough, you answer with a polite "no". And so we dance.
The posse of nerds
These are the guys who stand behind you in line and rave about how cool it was to have Tron on Betamax. These are the guys who stand behind you and talk really loudly as they try their hardest to sound cool. From time to time the conversation topic between them (there are usually two or more) ranges from which type of candy is the best, to which brand of cables are best to hook up your ps2. You can guarantee that they will also pepper the conversation with which supermodel needs breast implants and how the weather is at any skatepark in california. This leads back to a conversation about video games. Last night, this group, although there was only two, divulged in a heated conversation about how much punishment their blockbuster cards could take. One reasoned that, "But dude, what would happen? 'Cause come on, what are they gonna do? What, man, what? Because without a card, what are they gonna do?" The second countered with his two-cents. "Yeah bro". Strange to us, but nonetheless it was a point strong enough to make the first continue. "Cause like I'm walking down whyte being thrown into lightpoles and stuff, man. I wonder how much pain it can take!"These quotes are left unchanged. I have no idea why he used the word "pain".
In the spirit of the essay : In conclusion, Fuck the essay format. Blockbuster is a socially inept pothole just waiting for you to get stuck in.
