Half-Assed Weekender Edition!

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Remember these half-assed things? They're fun! Just like jiffy popcorn, as much fun to make as it is to eat! Ah, Jiffy Pop. Where have you been? I miss you...  I love me some half-assed weekend postings. Thanks Simple Dude for coming up with the notion!

Remember the "Reader's Choice" where I slapped up 5 story ideas and asked you to select the next post? I know, not very many people read that post, so don't feel bad that you missed it. These were the hot topic choices and votes they got (by the way, those who said write all of them I've simply put in a vote on each story, yeah I am regular old statistician like that):

1. The time a walkman almost got me killed - 3 votes
2. The time I escaped a psychopath - 4 votes
3. The time an unknown biker saved me - 2 votes
4. The time I played a game I called "I'm in jail"- 4 votes
5. The time a salesman told me to tan and shave my legs - 5 (five, five aw, aw, awwww votes) (OK, so I'm not only a total geeky statistician but I'm also the Count from Sesame Street, I've got my reasons!)

Now I don't have the faintest idea why the hell I would have put that last topic in there. It may not be that great of a story after all but here goes: The time a salesman told me to tan and shave my legs was...

♬ When you hear Tinkerbell's magical little tinkering, it's time to turn the page ♬

High School was finally over. Finally. 

It was the summer of freedom. (Can you just hear Steppenwolf and see the breeze blowing in my free flowing uncombed hair?) The summer that was to define me as my own self individual person. That zone between when you go through the motions of what life dictates and when you start choosing to do what you want even if life will STILL be dictating what you do, at least get the feeling you're controlling the reigns. I was accepted in college, a Recreation degree was awaiting me. A life of fun was to follow! (Bwahahahaha, yeah me too I'm still laughing at myself and my hopes and my wonderful capacity at maintaining a high level of lucid denial!)

And to celebrate my successful career as a Recreationologist I had been hired as a Summer Camp Counselor.

♬ When you hear Tinkerbell's magical little tinkering, it's time to turn the page ♬

My friend, the sophisticated Drama student of Ottawa U, told me about her older cool brother opening up a über cool clothing store in Ottawa's funky Market district. It was called (no translation needed I'm sure) Bleu en ville. And the logo, which I've masterfully recreated here just for you is what drew me in:

A full moon, a city scape, and the name in blue. Oh so cool... The image itself promised just what this newly freed from high school chick needed. Some cool threads to be the coolest camp counselor at lake Teety Kaka Ooompah. Ding a ling, ding a ling, I opened the door and was greeted by Ray. My friend's cool older brother. Proud owner, or Clothier (pronounced clotheeyay) of Ottawa's newest funky store. Nothing screams "jazz-me-up-fucker" like piles and piles of brand new Levi's and their red tabs.

And then I see them. Dark blue cotton pants with side pockets, suspenders, baggy, and it's own belt. Ray follows my gaze: "I see you like the clam diggers! Yeah, they'd be totally your style... Wanna try them on?" Clam diggers. My eyes popped out of my head. The name itself, the fuckin' pants were called clam diggers, I had no idea clams were dug, but I totally digged the pants, the name, and I couldn't get to the dressing room fast enough! The pants were pre hip-hop baggy style and they barely hung on my scrawny frame. And I LOVED them!

♬ When you hear Tinkerbell's magical little tinkering, it's time to turn the page ♬

"Well, are you going to let me see them?" I open the door and waltz out. They're huge on me, but being that they're the smallest size in the store I struggle to not trip over the length of the pants. Giggling, I ask him if all his customers are giraffes.

Standing in front of the 3-way mirror he bends down to roll the pants up. Inside my stupid little head I picture him being turned on by me, and already try to find ways out of the date he's about to ask me out on. He's too old. And too much of my friend's brother... Oh how wrong I can be at times. "Clam diggers always roll their pants as they wade in the ocean. They're meant to be that way!" And then it happens. He stands up faster than Elle Woods doing the bend and snap in Legally Blond! "Are you ok? Did you hurt your back?" Oh my god, my friend will kill me if I broke her brother's back.

He backs up. Stares at me. Blinks his eyes over and over. "I know my kid sister is a freak, but..." Whoa. Whoa. Whooooooaaaaaa. First of all my friend is a sophisticated drama student. At the university. And what's all this? He's looking at ME like I've got sea monkeys dropping out of my ears (when everybody knows sea monkeys only exist in the back of Archie comic books). "Your legs!" Now he's pointing at my feet. Or around my feet. I'm numb. I've got this nagging feeling that for some reason I should be ashamed of myself but don't know what I did wrong.

♬ When you hear Tinkerbell's magical little tinkering, it's time to turn the page ♬

DISCLAIMER: Click here to get an idea...  Only MY version had less muscle, more whiteness and dare I say more hair. If legs were let alone, and never shaved: they'd be fine. But once you start to shave a leg, you must continue to shave the leg. All the time. Yes, all the fucking time. Now back to the story.

"Go outside. Get a tan. Let the sun see those legs AFTER you shave them! That's disgusting!" That nagging feeling was right. I was so ashamed. I apologized! I told him I was sorry. I felt bad to shock him!

Sigh... If that were to happen today? I'd tell him to fuck off while feeling ashamed and wanting to say I'm sorry I horrify you...  I want need to eat, Jiffy Pop anybody? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone?