11.19.2004
i'm small town. i know that.
the majority of my formative years, meaning those years spanning from original nintendo through the salad years of the turbografx-16, were spent getting used to the smell of cow poop, in marshfield, wisconsin.
this is not at all important to you, but vital to this story. so, i now live in new york, a place where, just today (and i swear to you that i am telling the truth) i saw a fully dressed storm trooper order a hot pretzel, "no mustard," outside Madison Square Garden, then 5 minutes later jay-z's maybach park in front of my place of business (he owns an apartment on the block). in marshfield, the biggest news story i can recall off hand from my high school days is some kid tossing a bowling ball into oncoming traffic off of, now that i think about it, the only bridge in town.
all of this, of course, i expected when i moved to new york. i read about this kind of thing. friends tell me these bizarre things all the time, yet years of practice allow them to act casual about it.
Jill: "Last night I ran into Dolph Lundgren, again, and eventually we ran into Baron von Taco at his club. The three of us ended up sailing his catamaran up to the mayor's house and doing rainbow jello shots." Sara: "I knew I forgot to call someone... Baron von Taco and I are supposed to go to the Knicks game tonight with the voice of the Geico lizard."
i'm careful not to be impressed. of course, no one had warned me about the B&H Photo Video Pro Audio Super Store (thenceforth referred to as B&H). my boss ordered me to pick up some video stuff from them, and warned me that, as a small town kid, i was going to either love it or hate it. this sounded strange, because that's generally not a standard description of a purveyor of professional-quality audio/video goods. but they pulled a quick one on me. for easy visual reference:
+ 
= B&H
every employee is an orthodox jew. they're steeped in religion and hot deals on camcorders. i didn't see it coming. this, to a marshfieldian, is equivalent to an Olive Garden being run by the Blue Man Group. which helps explain, i think, what happened next.
i was doing great at first. i only mildly chortled when the guy at the door asked to hold onto my bag [a.k.a. man purse] for me, and said "It's our policy." he meant the store's policy, of course. i pressed on and went about finding whatever it was that my boss was running low on. there's a joke there, but making it would guarantee that he somehow spills a beer on his keyboard and this site's address gets punched in while he's wiping it up. too risky.
anyway, upon checking out, i went to go pick up my bag from the nice gentlemen with the curls at the front of the store. while waiting in line, little number tag in hand, a voice behind me said, "I like your shoes. I almost bought the same ones." now, if i were on my game, i would have turned around and said something like, "You should have, because, frankly, yours look like two jellyfish wearing corsets." when i turned around, though, i saw [almost exactly] this:
at this point, the unholy marriage of earlocks and electronics, combined with the Possible Supermodel Sans Descernable Bra, rendered me legally retarded and I heard myself say, quote: "Rye."
She smiled, clearly out of pity, and before I could think of anything that might cover my tracks, like "Rye... is the name of the Labrador Retriever puppy I will buy for you on our first anniversary," or, better, "Rye... I got these shoes at Rye.com,"
defeated, i picked up my man purse (not helping things either probably) and walked out onto 9th Avenue, a changed man.
what a town.
nathan filibustered at 3:47:00 PM
|
i'm small town. i know that.
the majority of my formative years, meaning those years spanning from original nintendo through the salad years of the turbografx-16, were spent getting used to the smell of cow poop, in marshfield, wisconsin.
this is not at all important to you, but vital to this story. so, i now live in new york, a place where, just today (and i swear to you that i am telling the truth) i saw a fully dressed storm trooper order a hot pretzel, "no mustard," outside Madison Square Garden, then 5 minutes later jay-z's maybach park in front of my place of business (he owns an apartment on the block). in marshfield, the biggest news story i can recall off hand from my high school days is some kid tossing a bowling ball into oncoming traffic off of, now that i think about it, the only bridge in town.
all of this, of course, i expected when i moved to new york. i read about this kind of thing. friends tell me these bizarre things all the time, yet years of practice allow them to act casual about it.
Jill: "Last night I ran into Dolph Lundgren, again, and eventually we ran into Baron von Taco at his club. The three of us ended up sailing his catamaran up to the mayor's house and doing rainbow jello shots." Sara: "I knew I forgot to call someone... Baron von Taco and I are supposed to go to the Knicks game tonight with the voice of the Geico lizard."
i'm careful not to be impressed. of course, no one had warned me about the B&H Photo Video Pro Audio Super Store (thenceforth referred to as B&H). my boss ordered me to pick up some video stuff from them, and warned me that, as a small town kid, i was going to either love it or hate it. this sounded strange, because that's generally not a standard description of a purveyor of professional-quality audio/video goods. but they pulled a quick one on me. for easy visual reference:
+ = B&H
every employee is an orthodox jew. they're steeped in religion and hot deals on camcorders. i didn't see it coming. this, to a marshfieldian, is equivalent to an Olive Garden being run by the Blue Man Group. which helps explain, i think, what happened next.
i was doing great at first. i only mildly chortled when the guy at the door asked to hold onto my bag [a.k.a. man purse] for me, and said "It's our policy." he meant the store's policy, of course. i pressed on and went about finding whatever it was that my boss was running low on. there's a joke there, but making it would guarantee that he somehow spills a beer on his keyboard and this site's address gets punched in while he's wiping it up. too risky.
anyway, upon checking out, i went to go pick up my bag from the nice gentlemen with the curls at the front of the store. while waiting in line, little number tag in hand, a voice behind me said, "I like your shoes. I almost bought the same ones." now, if i were on my game, i would have turned around and said something like, "You should have, because, frankly, yours look like two jellyfish wearing corsets." when i turned around, though, i saw [almost exactly] this:
at this point, the unholy marriage of earlocks and electronics, combined with the Possible Supermodel Sans Descernable Bra, rendered me legally retarded and I heard myself say, quote: "Rye."
She smiled, clearly out of pity, and before I could think of anything that might cover my tracks, like "Rye... is the name of the Labrador Retriever puppy I will buy for you on our first anniversary," or, better, "Rye... I got these shoes at Rye.com,"
defeated, i picked up my man purse (not helping things either probably) and walked out onto 9th Avenue, a changed man.
what a town.
nathan filibustered at 3:47:00 PM
at the podium.
name: ..nathan..
shoes: thin, uncomfortable
sleeping in: queens (the city, not Latifah)
mirror: :rorrim
throws: righty
current crush: young britt eckland
lunch: i'm into brunch now
cohorts.
=audio science=
=LL Robot=
=Hasser Vision=
=Seanbaby=
archives.
11.04 12.04 01.05 02.05 03.05 04.05 05.05 06.05 07.05 08.05 09.05 10.05 11.05 12.05 01.06 06.06 01.07
talk to me Goose.