I laughed out loud- that is great!R-Jack wrote:. As usually the case when I give Dillon a hot chocolate, he fires Tyler Perry's whole family into his Huggies.
Barnes & Noble rant.
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BBMarley
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Re: Barnes & Noble rant.
Yeah fuckers.... I'm back
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indyfrisco
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Jay in Phoenix
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R-Jack, that was freaking hysterical. And you are not alone in your rant. A number of years ago, I worked part-time at a local B&N during the holiday season. Other than getting decent discounts on the merchandise, the gig was a miserable experience. I don't know what the hell it is about bookstores that attracts the freaks like moths to a light, but damned if a single day didn't go by that they flowed in.
The very first "customer" every single effing morning was this ugly as sin he-she that would bounce through the store for its' daily paper and coffee. Never a problem, always chatty and nice, but just frightening in appearance. Picture a black-haired, tiny Dee Snyder with a huge rack and a voice like that bitch on the Nanny.
:shudder:
Then there was FON. Aka, freak of nature. About two or three times each week, this bizarre and mute asian dude would wander through the store and perform his act. Dude always wore the same sweat-salt faded Dominoes pizza shirt and high-water khaki pants. The pants ballooned in the seat in the shape of an adult diaper. This weirdo was only about thirty or so, so what the hell was up with the diaper? Anyway, he would move slowly from section to section, picking up a random book or magazine (usually new age crap -- those customers are another story altogether.) and proceed to fall sound asleep standing up. He would do this for hourse, dozing in place in front of a display stand or shelf, wake up, wander to another section, and proceed to do it all over again. At least until we would suggest he "have a seat to be more comfortable", at which point he would leave. Off he would go to his beat up rust-riddled Ford Pinto, where he would nod off again in the parking lot.
The scene you describe in the bathroom stall is typical. Since bookstores are a like a safe-house for fags, gays and lesbians would also haunt the store and stalls. It wasnt' uncommon to see a couple of used condoms on the ground or yet another toilet clog due to a bunch of rubbers and wads and wads of shit with about a half a roll of soiled tissue. Fucking disgusting. We begged management a number of times to close the bathrooms to the public, but Barnes & Noble refused due to customer relations red tape. Bullshit. Or fagshit. I cannot tell you how many nights at close there would be Playboys and Advocates and teenybopper mags that would be scattered on the piss covered floors or stuffed into the baby changing table.
I could go on and on, but I'll close with Baby Man. I had heard about this thing before and once actually saw him/it walking down 7th Ave near Indian School Road. I thought it was a gag or a prank, and I only caught a passing glimpse. Nope, to my horror, he/it was real. No joke. As I was standing behind the register one night, up walked Baby Man, in living freakshow color. OMFG. This fifty-something-year-old man was dressed head to toe in Shirley Temple style baby doll gear. Bright yellow bonnet and sundress with ruffles. Shiny white plastic doll shoes. Exposed diaper. Miniature clutch purse. And to top it off, a neon pink pacifier which was jammed in it's wrinkled, sun-beaten maw. It plunked a bunch of magazines on the counter in front of me, paused for a beat, then oh-so-dramatically pulled the pacifier out of his mouth with an absolutely grotesque "slurrr-pop!" while a long rope of saliva dangled in a unbreaking rainbow from pacifier nub to rubbery lip. "How muth?" it sputtered, snapping the drool string in the process. I don't remember what the magazines were, or how much it cost the freak. I couldn't stop staring and shaking my head in disgust.
A few weeks later, the local New Times paper came out with a cover story about Baby Man.
These were a couple of the pics they ran. Be grateful I couldn't find the worse ones:
Word had it that the whole thing was a prank by the paper. The New Times is famous for that sort of thing.
Dudes real name is William Windsor and he is the black sheep heir to the 'Popular Mechanics' magazine fortune. This part is true, but so is the act. He lives and functions as a baby, 24/7. While he has inherited at least a million dollars or so, he continues to inhabit this psycho world of baby fetishes, frequenting local bars and strip malls and grocery stores to this day.
Just another in the long litany of Barnes & Noble customers.
The very first "customer" every single effing morning was this ugly as sin he-she that would bounce through the store for its' daily paper and coffee. Never a problem, always chatty and nice, but just frightening in appearance. Picture a black-haired, tiny Dee Snyder with a huge rack and a voice like that bitch on the Nanny.
:shudder:
Then there was FON. Aka, freak of nature. About two or three times each week, this bizarre and mute asian dude would wander through the store and perform his act. Dude always wore the same sweat-salt faded Dominoes pizza shirt and high-water khaki pants. The pants ballooned in the seat in the shape of an adult diaper. This weirdo was only about thirty or so, so what the hell was up with the diaper? Anyway, he would move slowly from section to section, picking up a random book or magazine (usually new age crap -- those customers are another story altogether.) and proceed to fall sound asleep standing up. He would do this for hourse, dozing in place in front of a display stand or shelf, wake up, wander to another section, and proceed to do it all over again. At least until we would suggest he "have a seat to be more comfortable", at which point he would leave. Off he would go to his beat up rust-riddled Ford Pinto, where he would nod off again in the parking lot.
The scene you describe in the bathroom stall is typical. Since bookstores are a like a safe-house for fags, gays and lesbians would also haunt the store and stalls. It wasnt' uncommon to see a couple of used condoms on the ground or yet another toilet clog due to a bunch of rubbers and wads and wads of shit with about a half a roll of soiled tissue. Fucking disgusting. We begged management a number of times to close the bathrooms to the public, but Barnes & Noble refused due to customer relations red tape. Bullshit. Or fagshit. I cannot tell you how many nights at close there would be Playboys and Advocates and teenybopper mags that would be scattered on the piss covered floors or stuffed into the baby changing table.
I could go on and on, but I'll close with Baby Man. I had heard about this thing before and once actually saw him/it walking down 7th Ave near Indian School Road. I thought it was a gag or a prank, and I only caught a passing glimpse. Nope, to my horror, he/it was real. No joke. As I was standing behind the register one night, up walked Baby Man, in living freakshow color. OMFG. This fifty-something-year-old man was dressed head to toe in Shirley Temple style baby doll gear. Bright yellow bonnet and sundress with ruffles. Shiny white plastic doll shoes. Exposed diaper. Miniature clutch purse. And to top it off, a neon pink pacifier which was jammed in it's wrinkled, sun-beaten maw. It plunked a bunch of magazines on the counter in front of me, paused for a beat, then oh-so-dramatically pulled the pacifier out of his mouth with an absolutely grotesque "slurrr-pop!" while a long rope of saliva dangled in a unbreaking rainbow from pacifier nub to rubbery lip. "How muth?" it sputtered, snapping the drool string in the process. I don't remember what the magazines were, or how much it cost the freak. I couldn't stop staring and shaking my head in disgust.
A few weeks later, the local New Times paper came out with a cover story about Baby Man.
These were a couple of the pics they ran. Be grateful I couldn't find the worse ones:
Word had it that the whole thing was a prank by the paper. The New Times is famous for that sort of thing.
Dudes real name is William Windsor and he is the black sheep heir to the 'Popular Mechanics' magazine fortune. This part is true, but so is the act. He lives and functions as a baby, 24/7. While he has inherited at least a million dollars or so, he continues to inhabit this psycho world of baby fetishes, frequenting local bars and strip malls and grocery stores to this day.
Just another in the long litany of Barnes & Noble customers.
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Goober McTuber
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quacker backer
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Re: Barnes & Noble rant.
no freaking doubtBBMarley wrote:I laughed out loud- that is great!R-Jack wrote:. As usually the case when I give Dillon a hot chocolate, he fires Tyler Perry's whole family into his Huggies.
I felt the Pepsi go up my nose
Terry in Crapchester wrote: But this board doesn't exactly represent reality.