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not so much well-written as just written

July 23, 2009

He then produced from behind his back what must be the world’s smallest emergency eyewash station and began a deep flush of my stinging orb right there between Christian Dior and the new makeup line from one of the tattoo artists on LA Ink.  Someone was screaming, and only later did I realize that that person was me.

The other day I was looking for some new perfume, and almost immediately managed to spray Lolita Lempicka’s L directly into my right eye.  The second I started pressing down on the top I knew I had made a mistake.  It wasn’t quite Bruce Willis’ life flashing before him in Armageddon right before he sacrifices himself to blow up the asteroid, but as far as cinematic comparisons that one’s pretty close.  It was seriously almost exactly like a scene in an action movie.  And I even started thinking to myself that as soon as I got this baby powder scented alcohol off my eyeball I was going to start thinking about how to turn this experience into a movie, but then I realized they had already made that movie, and it’s called Braveheart.

So there I was howling and clutching my eyeball, while my friend Kerry ran around trying to find an employee who was not applying the new Lorac bronzer to a 15-year-old’s cheekbones.  The first salesgirl who came over looked at me for a moment, then looked at the perfume case, mumbled something that sounded like “shiny” under her breath and walked off in a daze perhaps to find this mysterious shiny.  Next, a man who looked like he was not drunk at all marched up and demanded to know had happened here.  I looked at him through what can only be described as a veil of pain, and told the whole sordid tale.  He nodded knowingly at the little blue bottle on the shelf, and asked if it was the Lolita that had done this.  How did he know I wondered, and then like a telepath he answered, “This happens more than you could imagine.” 

People who work in the service industry’s favorite thing to do is to pretend that they do not work in the service industry.  You walk into a clothing store and they get this expression on their faces like you had just walked into their home at 7am and stapled their hand to their dog’s paw with a staple gun.  They’re all like, “Can I HELP you?”  Just kidding they don’t ever say that, they just look at you with an expression that says, “No one can help you now.”  I was at Urban Outfitters, and was like, “Can I try this neat black dress with cutouts on,” in my meek Urban Outfitters voice, even though I used to work there, and I can assure you was very surly indeed.  The salespeople looked at me like maybe instead of trying that on, I might rather go fuck myself, then someone said “Is this The Sounds?  It sounds like The Sounds.”  Then someone else said, “Why is toast so much better than raw bread?”  And for a moment we are all struck dumb by the total innocence of that question, and then the song changed.

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