Yknow, Old Saint Nick was a bit of a dick...

As some of you know, I work part-time at a store that shills theatrical make-up/supplies and also formal wear. 12-15 hours a week. Chump change, but when you buy a house and plan on getting married, well... poppa gotta pay the bills. So it pains me to say this, but during the holidays (Halloween and X-mas respectively) we get some, how do you say? Ah yes...characters.

Take this Joe Rogan, Fear-Factor looking guy that comes in tonight looking for a Santy-suit. Normally, no big whoop- But when you come in 5 MINUTES BEFORE CLOSING (hint: Don't EVER go into a store right before they close. I now sympathize with those poor souls who only want to go home. If you know when they close, go WELL in advance. Trust me, you'll make someones day without realizing it) I start to shut down my normal customer oriented facade, and turn into an uber-snoot. (Remember, our costume rental portion closes at 6pm. This is almost 3 hours later) He whiiiiiines to me about how he is almost outta gas and was told (By a day-worker, I'm guessing) that our store is open late. I think, "I'll be this guys hero and sell him his festive suit, and get to the gym in time to burn the chubs and some frustration." Look on the bright side, I say!

Well, he balks at the purchase price, and wants to rent. While financially this is a better choice, it means trying on stuff. And try on he did. For 30 minutes. And he bitched. Vocally, so that I could be his audience.

Folks, this is the 16th Santa I've put out the door. Every one had a different gripe regarding the suit, whether it be the quality, the beard, the faux-boot covers. Every-single-one. I eat spoonfuls of ka-ka every day at my big-kid job. I don't need Kris Kringle here giving me my after dinner palate cleanser.

I finally got rid of him...along with my sugar plum dreams of "wailing on my pecs & lats". I think, the stars willing, if I get into the Chan, that it would be a significantly better 2nd job than the shite I have to wade through there. Spirit of giving my ass. When you are 5' 6" ( I saw your drivers license you lying midget...trying to pass for 5'10"? I AM 5' 10"!!!! Peter Parker's Height, dammit!!!) Do not expect to fit into a big man's fat suit. It isn't "fitted" douchebag. It's meant for a right jolly old elf. Hell, even I bought a Santy Suit. (For my winter tours. "Atkins Clause". Get it? An excuse for a "skinny Santa". Eat, poppa, eat...No one likes a skinny Santa. )

Someday I'll rail on about the tux rentals and the type of clientele. But not today.

G- Thank you for the Turkey Day invite again. It made me feel really good. Really.
Raven- I need a tree made of Brooks Brothers Ties.
Portland- This too shall pass.
Jabas- If I win the lottery, we're going to Disney World. I need a vacation.
Molly Molly Buck Buck- Thanks for reading my crap.
Tallen- Fixing up my house sucks. I know it's worth it...but it sucks
Kaiser- Thank YOU for inviting me to the Vikes. I haven't seen a game since '95 (vs. the Bucs...we lost) but I was gussy-ing up said house when you called.