COMIC RELIEF
When I am not dealing with cocky adolescents [excluding myself], or tour-guiding overweight Americans up Masada, or when I feel like taking a breather off my studies, I help my niece run her store.
Mainly, we sell maternity clothes and lingerie. And yes, we cater for the darker side of the White Jerusalem Ghetto, those of the mythical hole-in-a-sheet, them who sport the monochrome. Actually, within the given limits, I was surprised Sara ordered pretty chic granny panties, lacy.
Claire and I were sitting by the cashier desk, discussing our dead buddy Harry. Ever since his overdose, our kids have been unsettled. Well, there was drama prior to the tragedy, and ensuing, since as the law states: crises must come in pairs and trios. Nonetheless, Harry drew the line somewhere, reeking of crystal meth and fear.
Claire, 17, former Aussie, can compile an entire thesis about life's state of suckdom. I try to sympathize, attend to customers and write my own report on the vocalizations of a solitary subterranean rodent. And not Kafka. I am near the edge of my sanity.
Then a stout man rushes in, races up the stairs to our lingerie department, and when I yell after him, 'Can I help you?' he shouts back, 'No, thanks!'
Mainly, we sell maternity clothes and lingerie. And yes, we cater for the darker side of the White Jerusalem Ghetto, those of the mythical hole-in-a-sheet, them who sport the monochrome. Actually, within the given limits, I was surprised Sara ordered pretty chic granny panties, lacy.
Claire and I were sitting by the cashier desk, discussing our dead buddy Harry. Ever since his overdose, our kids have been unsettled. Well, there was drama prior to the tragedy, and ensuing, since as the law states: crises must come in pairs and trios. Nonetheless, Harry drew the line somewhere, reeking of crystal meth and fear.
Claire, 17, former Aussie, can compile an entire thesis about life's state of suckdom. I try to sympathize, attend to customers and write my own report on the vocalizations of a solitary subterranean rodent. And not Kafka. I am near the edge of my sanity.
Then a stout man rushes in, races up the stairs to our lingerie department, and when I yell after him, 'Can I help you?' he shouts back, 'No, thanks!'
'Hey,' notes Claire out of her misery. 'There's a guy up there.' We do not supply men's.
'Yep,' I giggle. 'Maybe he's looking into some fishnets.'
'You sell fishnets?' her attention sparks up.
'Dream on, punk.'
'Oh my God, you're gonna go up there and find him in a bra and knickers!' she exclaims, followed immediately by his call, 'Could you help me?'
Claire snorts, and I push her away. 'No, you can't come upstairs,' I seethe between sniggers, and race up. She shoots me a death-look of been-everywhere-done-everything-what-the-hell-I-should-see-this-too.
No, he wasn't in transgender underthings. However, he did ask for the biggest-sized panties we offer, black, five packets, please.
'It's for my wife,' he explains when I can't help tittering. 'She's pregnant. Very pregnant.'
I believe him, because it is known that I'm a difficult one to lie to. I just happen to decipher breathing patterns.
He pays and leaves, and Claire and I spend the rest of my shift chuckling, trying on nursing bras and house robes.
Thank God for comic relief.
'Yep,' I giggle. 'Maybe he's looking into some fishnets.'
'You sell fishnets?' her attention sparks up.
'Dream on, punk.'
'Oh my God, you're gonna go up there and find him in a bra and knickers!' she exclaims, followed immediately by his call, 'Could you help me?'
Claire snorts, and I push her away. 'No, you can't come upstairs,' I seethe between sniggers, and race up. She shoots me a death-look of been-everywhere-done-everything-what-the-hell-I-should-see-this-too.
No, he wasn't in transgender underthings. However, he did ask for the biggest-sized panties we offer, black, five packets, please.
'It's for my wife,' he explains when I can't help tittering. 'She's pregnant. Very pregnant.'
I believe him, because it is known that I'm a difficult one to lie to. I just happen to decipher breathing patterns.
He pays and leaves, and Claire and I spend the rest of my shift chuckling, trying on nursing bras and house robes.
Thank God for comic relief.
posted by Tomboy @ 2:51 AM
8 comments
8 Comments:
Welcome back.
Finally, a tribal blog that I can stomach.
It's a good thing I trained myself not to laugh out loud at work. :)
Welcome back. You were missed.
Hey! I was too lazy to climb masada. Leave us overweight Americans alone.
huuey
(dank memories of the 'underwear store' on king george..or was it yirmiyahu..)
hehe
Não percebi se eras da America Latina ou se só falas espanhol.
And yes if you see a man running to the women's section without looking at you, don't worry, we will not wear bras, believe me.
HI, you did a nice job with your blog! Also visit this new site that tells us about Sports Bra just browse through it if you have the chance.
Post a Comment
<< Home