BUZZ BUZZ Once There Was...

Okay... I'm gonna subject you all to a little philosophical rant/bitch. if you don't wanna bother with that, skip my entry today. ;)

So.

Christmas. "Come in and KNOW ME BETTER, Man!" The season of sharing and showering others (and ourselves, heck, i'm not foolin' anybody) with the best we have to offer: Food, Gifts, and Company. It's over the top. It's big. It's expensive. But it's also a bunch of people trying to put into physical form the shear IMENSITY of their love for their friends, family, and fellow human beings. There's just not enough money, time, or STUFF in this world to properly express it. And we run around ever year, trying to do exactly that. And Bless Us, whatever big-good-thing* is floating out there watching over us, we try SO damn hard.

For everyone with that motivation behind their piling debt, burnt family dinners, and gift-wrapped fruitcakes...Well, I love you. I'd salute or something, but that's what makes the season awesome--and whether your giving is aimed at me or not--YOU ROCK.



Having said that, I'd like to step back and say that today, I had something hit me like a piledriver to the temple.

At the store, i had just finished helping a Dad and his little girl find a spiderman book, floor-crawling spiderman, a wad of books (also spiderman), and a $16 poster (of spiderman--theme? maybe.) for the little girl's brother. I don't know what the dad's paycheck looks like, but regardless... it was pretty darn excessive. Hopefully, there won't be SO MUCH of it, that the little boy loses track of each individual item. That little sister picked EACH ONE (there was lots of 7 yr-old "hmmm. but... huh." "he'll... THIS one has ... ummm.") And with so MUCH stuff, the brother ... well. I'm hypothesizing at this point. My enter purpose here was to point out that there was excess, but it was FOR SOME ONE ELSE.

The next character in my door... is a living, breathing (with difficulty, but still wheezing along) antithesis of that little girl and her over-eager dad. He's a regular around the store. He didn't have a name for my journal until just now, but he's officially "The Giant Dead-beat Shit-Sack." This guy is MORBIDLY obese. Not "over weight." Not "Fat." MORBIDLY, oh-my-holy-hell-there-are-entire-SQUARE-YARDS-of-your-body-you-cannot-reach-to-clean-even-if-you-had-a-stick-with-scrubby OBESE. This man has a butt on the front AND the back that each reach to the knees. At first i remembered Jimmy. He was a night-watchman back at the Dorm. He was MASSIVE, but had a heart of gold. He ate very little, and was only that overweight b/c of complications with his heart medication and his thyroid problems. So for Jimmy's sake, I thought, "Okay. I'm gonna be nice ta this poor guy. He prolly gets shit all the time. His weight, well, there could be any number of reasons."

So now? I want you to pull out a biiiiig brush and paint me a sign to wear around my neck. It should say "SUCKER."

If The Giant Dead-beat Shit-Sack's eating habits are half as bad as his SPENDING habits? This guy should have ruptured internally like that sad bastard from the movie "SEVEN." The Giant Dead-beat Shit-Sack" is poster child for GLUTTONY.

He doesn't impulse shop--or rather, he does, but that's not the real issue. No, he takes our catalog and orders everything over $50 that we can't POSSIBLY FIND another buyer for and orders them... and puts them on "hold." If he had the $$ to go with his appetites? Sure. I'd baby him. With silk glovies. We here at the Store have a long tradition of humoring even the craziest of wall-eyed pig-stickers when they've got the right cash. (You got $$? Sure! Go right ahead! Smear shit on the walls! Piss on whatever you like! Rack'a baby? We got babies on racks!)

Unfortunately the Giant Dead-beat Shit-sack's not got nearly funds to cover his wants. He's tempermentally replusive; just grabby and whiney and those sweaty rolled fingers paw at everything in the store. We've got a major problem with unpacking special orders shipments when he's in the store--loads of things for paying customers who've waited patiently for their arrival. Yet The Giant Dead-Beat Shit-Sack, with a $200 STANDING PILE OF CUM-PUS that's in our back room that he can't "afford" to get just yet, he'll lean as much of his mammoth bulk over the counter as humanly possible and mush through cheeks like TIRES, "Wha's dat?! Lemme seeee!"

If there was ever a poster boy for "EXCESS" this is him. I've started selling the stuff he orders out from under him. He doesn't seem to give a fuck, like he knew he couldn't afford it anyways, and it was just the ORDERING it that was important. I've cut off his Subscription box. He gets no new books. He's not allowed to place anymore orders til he pays for what he has on hold. He's down to $108. I'm debating charging him interest.

But. I AM DETERMINED NOT TO BECOME THIS MAN. Not physically, but even metaphorically. This guy horrifies me--this personification of INSATIABLE APPETITES. And to that end, I will make it my resolution--well in advance of New Year's and hopefully longer-lasting--to TRY to treat Christmas and it's surrounding season without excess. And to cherish what i DO have and keep things in perspective.




PS. VCHAN!! I MISSED YOUR BIRTHDAY! I AM AS THE SLUGS IN THE RAIN OF SALT! I DO WRITHE WITH GUILT!! ...for the record, i've HAD your b-day gifts here since october (got'em SPECIAL at a convention ;) ) but... yeah. it's gonna be with the Xmas stuff--late. b/c i'm NOT getting in line with those christmas-nut-bars anytime soon. the post office is a madhouse right now.

* Big-good-thing = my personal belief that i've got no fucking clue what's out there, but it's prolly not all bad.