We have two sets of customers that we like, each of whom have kids. And the kids, like all kids, are complicated genetic hormone puzzles. They're often great but sometimes get sad and unruly.
Today, while they were both in the store, one of the kids wanted a toy that the parent wasn't going to get, and the kid went from reasonable to a screaming mess of emotions in less than three seconds.
I mention this, not to shame the usually awesome kid, but because of how hard I laughed when, after the screaming child left, the other unrelated parent pumped his fist in the air and went "Not mine! This time."
As fist pumping parent left, he bought his child, and his neices/nephews each a book. As they were leaving, his child shouted "I WANT TO READ MY BOOK."
"Why did you shout that?" He asked. "We were the good ones. Don't you want to be the good ones?"
And his child whispered. "Sorry. I want to read my book. I'm very excited."
Person standing next to a very nice bicycle: "He went over the handlebars and everything. It was awful. Blood everywhere. He's crying. But now I got a new bike. Hope somebody called an ambulance for him."
My dad asked me what I was listening to on my headphones last night while he and my stepbrother were watching Hogan's Heroes.
"Oh, I'm editing some Prince albums."
"I never liked Prince," my dad, who doesn't listen to many artists whose careers started after the early 1970s, says. "He didn't look right .. too many hats ... too much purple ... flamboyant. He was too flamboyant looking."
"But he's an amazing musician."
My dad makes a stink face.
"Have you seen his guitar solo for 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps' at the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame?"
He had not.
Now he has.
Verdict? "Ho shit. Does he always play like that?"
Me: "Not always. But often. And when he did, it was magic."
I just saw a Pepsi at the 7-11 that read "Summer Now, Adult Later", and I almost pulled the entire display out, and threw them out the summery windows. But I had to be an adult, so I didn't.
Sometimes someone expresses an opinion so pretentious that I have to do research to find out why I disagree with them.
When I say a name three times, and that person appears, it's called Beetlejuicing.
When I talk about how people who order Coronas from me have not tipped all night, and then three people in a row order Coronas from me, and only one tips, that's called Beetledouching.
One of the places I get lunch has two people working behind the counter. One has been there for years. The second is different every time I go in. Usual Person always remembers my order but never my name. But New Person Of The Day is always the one who makes my sandwich, so it ends up being different every time.
Today, while I waited to pay for my sandwich, New Person came up to the register with a ticket order and announced "I am The Shit."
The Register Person sighed and said "No. He's not The Shit. He's just Shit."
The sandwich was good, though.
Your 2020 campaign slogan is: Your last name + 2020 + the last text you sent.
Stone 2020: I'm not as violent as people assume.
Comic fan prejudices come and go, as series evolve, are cancelled, change writers or artists. There is no one type of Thor fan, or one type of Giant Days or Steven Universe fan.
Even at the apex of Bronyism, there were wonderful people and children who enjoyed reading "My Little Pony" comics. And while there are some people who read a bunch of comics, which also include "Buffy The Vampire Slayer", Buffy comic fans have been consistently The Worst for over a decade now. (Buffy TV fans are a wide spectrum, and I don't see them as One Type Of Person, whereas "I only read Buffy" comics fans have all been Exactly The Same.)
Today a woman came in making a face like she farted but really wanted you to believe that it wasn't her.
Buffy Fan: "You don't have Buffy comics."
Me: "We do. Are you looking for issues or collections?"
BF: "I'M LOOKING FOR BUFFY."
Me: "Yes. Ok. Well, we have issues over here, and then some collections over there."
I walk away. Quickly.
BF makes a ton of faces at the books, and then says "Do you sell plastic things to put books in?"
Me: "We sure do." I lift one out of the drawer in front of me to show her.
BF: "I need them because everyone in LA always touches all of your stuff."
BF: "They stole my cell phone once, and I never got it back. And once, they touched all of my Diet Cokes! All of them! And then they PUT THEM BACK."
BF: "And my bananas. MY BANANAS."
Me: "You're bananas."
BF: "I'll be back."
Me: "I don't doubt it."
Then she left. Without buying anything.
Selina: I HAVE AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT.
Me: Ugh. What do you want?
Selina: SOMETIMES THERE IS SOMETHING ON THE FLOOR AND I THINK IT'S ONE THING BUT THEN IT TURNS OUT TO BE SOMETHING ELSE AND I'M LIKE WOAAAAAAH WHAT IS THAT. BUT SOMETIMES THERE IS SOMETHING ON THE FLOOR AND IT'S EXACTLY WHAT I THINK IT IS, AND I'M LIKE DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG I'M SMART.
Selina: MORE NEWS WILL FOLLOW!
She runs out of the room at full speed.
A minute passes.
Motherfucker enters. Grumbles.
Me: "What's up?"
Motherfucker sighs and lays down.
Selina enters with a ball in her mouth: "WWK WHT I FND N TH FLR!!!! T STL WRKS!"
Motherfucker hops off bed and chases Selina out of the room.
I pack the last of my stuff for work. A different ball flies into the room, pursued by Selina. She still has the first ball in her mouth. "M S GD T THS!"
From the other room, Motherfucker grumbles.
A third ball slowly rolls into view.