Saturday, July 16
I finally got my iPod yesterday at P.C. Richard & Son since they sold it for the least George Washingtons. While my dad was at the computer with the employee paying for it, I was watching this superbly fascinating documentary on insects with some old guy wearing a safari hat and gay safari vest that was being aired on all the TV's that were on display. Then it started showing those giant spiders (not tarantulas, dumbshit) in Fear Factor when the contestants played craps and depending on how they played depended on how many giant spiders they had to eat. The blonde chick kept gagging and choking.
But anyway, back to P.C. Richard. On about forty or fifty television sets in the electronic superstore that it was, the documentary started showing two spiders mating. Fifty television sets showing a male spider inserting his garbage into the female spider's can. I'm fucking serious, I saw that black spider inserting and secreting its giant white pleasure(?) stick into the chick spider.I started lean-back laughing so hard inside my head and tried to keep it from showing, in order to keep myself from looking like a total fucktard. I almost wanted to get my mom who was looking at barbecue grills and point it out to her, but I thought again and knew she would hit me on the back of the head for being an asshole.
Turns out that that certain store ran out of the lower-priced iPods that we wanted so they faxed a receipt over to the store in Wayne, and we would go there to pick it up. On the way there, we passed a drive-thru Dunkin' Donuts. Drive-thru Dunkin' Donuts? Have americans grown that fucking fat and grease-stuffed that they can't even get up out of their fucking cars, give the cars a fucking break from trying not to sag, and buy a fucking donut and a fucking coffee? My god.
We also passed the fountain store that the shitty band Fountains of Wayne was named after, after that store that was called Fountains of Wayne. Nice fountains, horrible band. Horrible looking guys in the band also.
Once at the store, I entered a realm of assholes as opposed to the kind people in wherever that last store was. I was uncomfortable waiting for the stupid loser to go get my iPod and when he got back to the customer service counter he flirts with the girl who works there and therefore waisted a shitload of my time - my young, precious sixteen year old time; and taking away the time that I had to go to the restaurant afterwards for dinner. But before that, the girl couldn't work the computer right so that was another ten minutes adding to my lateness to eating dinner, and it was about 7:30 or 8:00 already.
In the car about to turn into the plaza where the restaurant was located, we had to stop by this black truck. Right under its model name, Jeep Something Something or maybe it was another model but it was one hell of a fine looking black truck, there were more silver embroidered letters that read: Porn Star. And guess who was driving that truck. An ugly asian dipshit. A young, stupid, overly tan bald one wearing a red cap and white t-shirt. And he was looking at me. I don't think in a good way and I'm glad about that. If he had been checking me out, I probably would've opened my door and shaved his balls off with a cheese grater.
Dinner the family and I ate at was called Noodle Chu. I seriously wasn't in the mood for asian cuisine but it was the sibling's birthday, therefore her choice. For some reason I really wanted some garlic bread. I ate like a warthog nonetheless. I was pretty fucking hungry and ate an entire other dish all by myself - of dumplings. The main dish we ordered was softshell crab that was battered and deep fried. And looking back on it, the crabs remind me of those horny spiders back at the electronics store. If I had thought of that while eating those, I probably wouldn't have eaten a single goddamn one. Because I would've been laughing my fucking asian pussy off.
Today my mom and sister wanted to wake up early and get to Target early in the morning to buy the latest Harry Potter book on its first day of release as my sister's birthday present. I decided to wake up early and tag along with them so that I could purchase a special magazine at the nearby Borders. Turns out there was absolutely no fanatical screaming midget kid crowd. Not a single one. The shelves were full of mint condition Harry Potter books that probably smelled really good too.
In Borders it took me forever to find the August issue of In Style. They put the same magazine and type of magazine in different categories all over the racks so I didn't know which one to look at. Lo and behold, it was in the place that I least expected: the magazine rack all the way in the back. And it was only four dollars compared to my usual reading of Classic Rock, which sells for about ten dollars; approximately eleven dollars with tax.
You're probably asking, "Why, Christina reads chick fashion magazines?" Only when I'm at the doctor's or I'm bored at some store that my mother dragged me to. But my point is, Denis Leary was featured in the "At Home With.." article. The article showed his country home in Connecticut along with his family. And his gorgeous fifteen year old son. I could totally hit that. I want to go to Kinko's and print a poster of the picture of father and son with irish wolfhound named Clancy. But of course my mom would call me crazy and when I start begging her to take me to Kinko's, she would hit me on the back of the head for being a numb nut.
