These posts generally revolve around movies and us in the glorious-stunned aftermath. And dragons. The linkage between dragons and movies--um, well, it's obvious.
Alas, I don't have much material. I saw an An Education. I'm working my way through Mad Men. None of this provides me with any new material. The Red Box has also been devoid of any new material.
*Except that I just remembered that I found this gem called "An American Virgin" or maybe it's "The American Virgin" [except I thought that was Donna from 90210?] or maybe it's "American Virgins" [but I thought those were nuns?]) In any case, the plot: a girl (some actress destined for fame), winner of some sort of scholarship for celibacy, goes off to college, where she encounters her slutty 24 year old roommate (who looks like she is 45). Her roommate engages in things, things like orgies, and feeding our heroine jello laced with booze. One jello shot later and insert ROB SCHNEIDER (his daughter is also in the movie. so. good.), as essentially the guy behind what is the fictional equivalent of Girls Gone Wild. Our girl gets drunk, he gets some footage. The girl, along with her roommate, her love interest (who is secretly ALSO a virgin. TWIST!) and some other dude set off to find the tape. She loses her virginity and we all learn some lessons in the end. Whatever.
The reason why I haven't seen any movies might be because I've been working so much at Target. (And you know, my thesis.) As our loyal reader(s?) know, I am a proud employee of The Targ. As you also might know, yesterday was Black Friday, when hordes of shoppers trample hordes of smaller, weaker, older shoppers, in order to get items entitled "doorbusters." I don't know. Stores say, each year, that they are doing all they can to ensure safety, by doing things like calling these coveted items "doorbusters."
Every year there's a hot item. The one that all the kids want so that they can have real friends instead of imaginary ones. There was Tickle Me Elmo, Furbies, and that's all I can really think of. This year it's a 7.99 fake hamster called a Zhu-Zhu pet. And to this I say: What. The. Fuck.
Allow me to start from the beginning. My relationship with the zhu-zhu wasn't always so complicated. In fact, I was even contemplating letting it take me to the Sock Hop, but only after it let me wear its Varsity letter jacket. I mean, the toy is affordable. It doesn't have guns attached. And while it doesn't have the potential to swear (minus) it also cannot speak in jibberish like a Furby (plus). I even like the way clueless parents refer to them as Ju-Jubes, after that candy that fucks with your teeth. They say it's not the gun, but the person owning the gun that's the problem. What they should have said: it's not the zhu-zhu but the crazy soccer moms/shadesters who want to resell the things on Craigslist that's the problem.
Usually I roam the aisles of Target, lovingly placing gray dots on out of stock items. But now. Suddenly, circa 8:01 a.m., I'm stranded in toys, being berated by really fit moms with blonde highlights in athletic gear (the worst kind of people, asides from the elderly. I'm just sayin.) wondering WHY we didn't get any zhu-zhus, why we limit them when we have them, how it's not fair, how they had to get up and drive for like FIFTEEN! (FIFTEEN!) minutes to come in and check, because the person on the phone said that we might have them. And so on. Basically: why I personally took all of the zhu-zhu pets from these nice consumers who are just trying to please their children and horded them all for my very own personal zhu zhu hamster army.
Sometimes I wish to tell these people to buy their child a real hamster. A real hamster might not last as long, but I'm pretty sure a kid might find a zhu-zhu pet interesting for fifteen minutes max anyway. Or, I wish to say to these zhu zhu seekers, go make your child play outside, because your child is fat. Or, I wish to say, maybe you should give him some wrapping paper to play with. (I will not say plastic bag. I will not say plastic bag.)
I get it: the kid wants a zhu-zhu pet and parents want to make sure their children are happy/get what they want. Fine. Maybe even commendable. Maybe I don't understand it because it's love and I wasn't hugged enough as a child. Or perhaps I don't understand it because it's idiocy. I emblazoned Puppy at the top of my Christmas wish list every year, and I never got one. And as you can totally see, I didn't turn out bitter. (Though I just was asking for a PUPPY. Not a Dragon) Not getting what you want may or may not be healthy, but it's totally screwy to want something because it's something that is wanted.
I've had my fair share of magic moments at The Targ. A woman who enlisted my help for half an hour(!) so she could find the right shade of lipstick for her octomom halloween costume. People who wink at you and say You bet I will when you say have a good night and they are buying condoms, which you know they are really going to be using to make balloon animals. Men who say save one for me when you are on your knees checking a price/counting stock. People who can't remember the name of something and only have words like "big" in their detail toolbox and hand gestures that strike you as unintentionally dirty. When these people get mad at you for not being Miss Cleo for knowing they are talking about some sort of power tool. Do I look like Bob Villa? ( don't answer that.)
My point: if you added all of these magic moments up, they still pale in comparison to my rage over zhu zhu pets (or conversely, to my love of dragons).
And what in the world is a "zhu-zhu"? What?!
