Disgraced tampon lies unclaimed on floor next to man's shoes

Uh...



(We considered picking it up, but none of the employees are into girls that need those yet, so we just left it)

Father's Day cards

 "It's not Duck Tape, it's Duct Tape"

Sitting here in the late afternoon in nothing but a bathrobe, window open, with a diminishing concern for what the neighbors think, I can’t help but feel I’m becoming more and more like my father. This is why I decided that for this Father’s Day, to honor the man who made me the socially unacceptable man in his image I am today, I’d start saving early and put a little effort in this year. That’s right, I decided to buy my Dad a Father’s Day card.

To my suprise, when I went the local CVS around 1:30 AM the night before, they did not have the wide selection I usually give them credit for. But what I did find what was a bunch of garbage. There is a serious lack of creativity and originality in the booming industry of greetings and related cards these days, and yet it seems that with the declining quality of cards comes an equal but opposite effect of skyrocketing prices. It looks like gas prices aren’t the only American lifeblood affected by the War in Iraq. The average price for Father’s Day cards in America today? 8 dollars. Well, maybe 3-4 dollars, but my research conflicts with my poor memory and lack of fundamental counting skills, so we’ll stick with my original figures. 8 dollars for a card? Gimme a break.

When does it become inappropriate for a grown man to give a much growner man a card designed for a child? I'd bet between 3 and 8 dollars on never, and I hope I’m right. If, however, my 65 year old father does not appreciate cartoon tigers expressing the many thankless duties of fatherhood in humorous and wacky ways as much as he pretends to, I see only 2 other choices: make my own card, or venture off to the Mahogany section (which, oddly enough, if not so much about furniture as it is stupid marketers targeting African Americans).

Here’s an example of the kinds of cards you’ll find at your average store. This card is for Father’s Day, but any holiday or Hallmark-invented reason for spending money on Hallmark can be easily substituted for it.

 




















Wait, what the duck?.... Oh, I get it! A DUCK! A TAPE! DUCT TAPE! hahahahaha. That stupid duck in glasses and a bowtie, which is already positively absurd, didn't actually get him a tape like a music cassette tape, he got him duct tape! I can only assume they chose that particular kind of tape because he is himself a duck. It's a clever pun and a good laugh had by all!

Do card makers have no shame? Is there anything called integrity or passion left in this field of art? Is that even a joke? It seems like the simple formula is “pick a word, any word at all, and make a bad pun out of it. Once you’ve gotten through the hard part, all you have to do is throw in a cartoon dad or a cartoon animal, or better yet – a cartoon animal dad! And then you’re done!”

So little effort was put into this card, and so little sense can be made of it, that it would be a crime to pay for it. What does a duck have to do with Father’s Day? Is my dad a duck? Am I a duck? Is that little duck supposed to represent me, the son, the card giver? I’ll tell you one thing right now, Hallmark, I may wear glasses and a bowtie, but I ain’t no duck.

I got a little tired of this formula, and the puns are bad even for me. This led me to creating my very own original “Happy _____ Day Card”!

It cuts to the chase and gets the job done without any stupid jokes ruining the fun. The formula is now: Cartoon Animal + Holiday = Card



You can add in any holiday of your choice – Birth Day, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Bastille Day, Boxing Day, Gay Pride Month Day, whatever. I chose to add Father’s for my Father’s Day card, but I was leaning heavily towards Gay Pride Month Day just to throw him off and see if he went along with it.

Check out more "Hey, I'm a dog!" cards at the brand new Hey, I'm A Dog Card Series! home page/superstore.


-Jordan

The future leaders of our nation marching for a better tomorrow

What I'm about to report here is completely true.

I just witnessed a veritable parade of adolescent boys around age 13-14 (yea, it sounds like one of my perverted justice dreams, but read on) marching down Post Road yelling, nay, chanting the words "BITCH!!! HOE!!!!" on the top of their luongs. But they weren't just yelling it in an unorganized fashion - no, they seemed to have appointed a marching leader among them who called out the commands, but instead of yelling "Forward, MARCH!" he literally yelled "SAY IT WITH ME!" and "AGAIN!" and "LOUDER! BITCH, HOE, BITCH, HOE!!" as if it were any ordinary "LEFT, RIGHT" marching chant on an army base (well, for all I know they do chant "bitch, hoe" while marching on Army bases).

What is wrong with the youth today? Seriously. Who raises these little fucking monsters of society? I honestly think that finding out that your kid marched down Post Road in the center of town on a busy afternoon with a group of his demented delinquent friends screaming the words "BITCH" and "HOE" would be enough reason to beat the living hell out of him.

I was about to go yell at them, but then I figured that I would deprive every other business owner/employee and shopper in the greater downtown area from a really good story to tell their friends and co-workers later today. That's just not my right to do, so I just let them keep marching like the army of pathetic brats that they are. It's just unfortunate that kids like that are going to end up impregnating hot chicks at parties, and this is unfortunate for several reasons.
1. that morons are reproducing
2. that assholes get hot chicks
3. that's just one more hot chick off the market because she got knocked up by some little prick who yells "BITCH" and "HOE" while marching through downtown.

Sigh. I wish I was 13 again...

-Jordan

You Don't Know Breasts

So I’m watching an episode of “Angel” in the store tonight (if that’s too geeky replace the word “Angel” with something more universally accepted, like “Full House” or “Golden Girls”)… Anyway… This guy walks into the store, looks up at the screen, sees a curvaceous Italian woman busting out of her shirt (on the television – sadly not in the store) and yells (I kid you not – YELLS) “Nice rack!” Then he asks if it’s Eva Longoria.

His name is Rocco and alcohol is rolling off his breath – enough for me to get contact-drunk.

Now, I don’t know if you keep up with your Us Magazine (or Star Magazine, or People Magazine or ABC’s Sunday night prime time line-up), but Eva Longoria isn’t exactly Chesty Larue. She isn’t even Tits McGee. In fact, in Hollywood’s Silicone-enchanced world of plastic superwomen, she’s positively flat-chested.

Let’s just compare and contrast

Carole Davis (from the episode of “Angel”):


AAAAAAND Now…

Eva Longoria (desperate, house wifey)


I’m not saying Eva isn’t super hot (she is) and that she doesn’t have a nice chest (she does) but thinking these two women are the same person is just kind of stupid.

No, wait, really stupid. REALLY STUPID.

More as it develops... Pun intended...

Drew

WWJD? Acid, probably.

I was alone in the store today, hoping something cool would happen, and then fate walked right through the door in the form of a 20-something scrawny white kid and said, or rather yelled across the store, what I thought at the time was the strangest and most random phrasing of a question ever:
"YOOOOO! Do you have Jesus Christ Superstar???!"

I couldn't help chuckling to myself at the sheer unlikelihood of the word "YO" being paired with the sentence "do you have Jesus Christ Superstar", and that it came out of the mouth of some weird dude acting as if getting this film was extremely crucial to his day.

"Haha.. hah.. Uh, YO! yea, sure, of course" I reply. He may have thought my mild mocking of his question was funny at first, but he didn't really have the patience for it and quickly said
"yea, where? like no one else has it, I gotta get it for today!"

So I say "I don't think we can sell you one today, maybe we can order it. Do you need it today?"
and then he started getting all jumpy and freaking out and went on to prove me wrong in thinking his original question would be the strangest thing I'd hear all day.
He says
"Honestly, me and some friends are trippin' on acid and we gotta watch Jesus Christ Superstar!"

Ah, now it all makes sense. They've probably worn out The Wall, and playing Dark Side of the Moon with The Wizard of Oz can only blow your mind so many times, so they went for the next best thing: The psychedelic, freaky, far out journey of Jesus Christ and his musical crucifixion! There's nothing trippier than dying for the sins of mankind, especially when set to a 70's rock opera. Madonna only wishes she could pull that off.

Needless to say, I went to his house after work and tripped my balls off to the lyrics of Tim Rice. If only that was the first time I could say that...
We tried playing it to the music of Dark Side of the Moon, but even with a whole load of quality acid, it just doesn't work. But that doesn't mean I won't try again next Friday night, and every subsequent Friday night until it does work.

-Jordan

P.S. watching Jesus Christ Superstar on acid is a blast, but watching The Passion of the Christ on acid is an entirely different thing. Not recommended if you don't want nightmares for the rest of your life.

I am immortalized once again - this time in can form

This is the result of Adam's extensive arts & crafts skill having been held back in the first grade 4 times in a row. I think it's a pretty accurate portrayal of me and it's probably the best picture of me that I know of. It really captures many of my qualities: tall, cold, black, boyish good looks, made of tin, no defined nose, filled with orange liquid energy and if you ingest me more than 3 times a day you might suffer a heart attack.

It is fitting, in all seriousness, that my likeness be rendered in the form of a Monster: KHAOS energy drink can because I drink so much of that poison that within the next 2 years doctors have predicted that I will actually transform into the can itself because I will have replaced my body's percentage of water with Monster's glowing neon orange fluid.

Adam made this brilliant tribute/alter to me almost two weeks ago and it has remained next to one of the registers since then, giving each employee good luck and blessings. It's kind of like having a statuette of the Virgin Mary or Ganesha by your side all day at work - and I think the store is better off because of it.
This may be blasphemous idolatry, but it's not different then the other blasphemy commited on a daily basis at The Wave. At least it's waning us off worshiping Satan.

If you want a "Lil' Jordan Tribute Can" (trademark pending) for your work place or personal sexual uses, please comment or email me. Maybe this can turn into a little business. Of course, I will receive the majority of the profits because it's my beautiful image that sells them, but at least 5% will go to Adam for his labor. 50% of the proceeds may or may not go to a fund relating to Katrina or something.

-Jordan, or Khaos (my new nick name/super villain name)

Oh yea, did I mention that this can is also the first character in my upcoming family TV series "The Can-terbury Tales"? Well, it is.

Duh

I think of all many frustrating and stupid questions that we get asked on a daily basis, the stupidest might have to be

"Do you need an account to rent here?"

Maybe I'm just a small town boy living in a lonely world and they do things differently in other parts of the world, but I've never heard of a rental business that does not require you to have an account. Even the library makes you open an account, and the only thing they ask in return for rentals is for you to put up with their bullshit attitudes. (I guess we do the same thing, only we charge you for it. )

In fact, the more I think about the many levels of stupidity that come along with this question, the more I can't understand how someone could possibly ask it. It's the kind of question that you ask in your head and then immediately answer it with the obvious "yes of course! duh! what was I thinking?". But apparently these folks cut out the middle man that is their brain and just go ahead and say any old thing that pops into their head.

Oh well, back to the grind.

-Jordan