Friday, June 18, 2004

crap-tasm

ever walk into an old navy store and see some dipshit with a head-set on, and wonder what the fuck could possibly be so important in an old navy store, that requires up to the minute communication? its as though theyre all feverishly dedicated to the strategizing of ways to get performance fleece to you, as quickly and conveniently as possible, so as to avert the disaster of your leaving theyre store without buying any crappy, misshapen jeans.

are there old navy elves sweat-shopping in the back of the store? seriously, does some dude squawk into his walky-talkie, 'yeah...um, we're running out of extra small ribbed boatneck cargo pants. could you get the oompa loompas to knit a little faster? m'kay?'

i so totally dont get it.

'dude, code red in area twelve. code red. we have a soccer mom perusing the tank tops with the built in bras that dont do shit for your boobs. we are out of periwinkle. i repeat. we are out of fucking periwinkle.'

je-sus. get over yourselves.

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