Stupid is as stupid does...

So at the video store you'll find that the new release wall consists of very thin display boxes picturing the movie on the front cover. There's a sticker in the right corner that says in fat red lettering: DISPLAY BOX ONLY. If the movie is in the store (not checked out) it will be placed in front of this thin display box.

You can imagine how many people bring the empty display boxes up to the counter. It's understandable: they may not be familiar with the way it works at our store. I usually point to the flashy sticker in the corner and say in a non-sarcastic voice, "This is actually the display box...the movie will be in a regular DVD case. You know, the thicker ones on the wall with the little locks on the spine."

The customer often blushes but it's an honest mistake. I can forgive them. What I can't forgive is the customer that insists on arguing with you.

"Well I always bring up the display box!"

"Um...the DVD isn't actually in this box, sir."

"It is all the other times I rent from you guys."

Holding up the three correct DVDs he brought up in one hand and the empty display box in the other, I say, "Can you see the difference between the cases you brought up? You see how one has a sticker that says DISPLAY BOX ONLY? Well, that means that it should stay on the wall."

Huffing and puffing. "Why do you have those on the wall if they don't have DVDs in them?"

"So customers know what movies we have, even if they're not currently checked in."

"That doesn't make much sense."

"What doesn't?"

"To have an empty box up on the wall. It's misleading."

"If we didn't have something up there we'd have a bunch of blank spaces and no one would know where to return the movies."

"Well I want to rent that movie."

"Okay...let me just make sure we have it in stock."

"Well you should--you had the box on the wall."

"Which box?"

"The one in your hand!"

"But sir...oh, never mind."

Some people just don't get it...

P is for Perfectionist...

Standing in line at the grocery store a complete stranger pegged me as a perfectionist.

All I did was put my hand basket away. But when I looked back I noticed it was slightly askew. A black woman moved in front of the baskets and I reached around her to straighten my basket out so it fit snug with the others.

The black woman beamed at me and said, "Honey, you just gave yourself away. You a perfectionist!"

I felt my ears heat up instantly (and I still don't know why). I just chuckled and awkwardly stepped in front of the cashier to pay.

"Listen, honey," the black woman went on. "Why don't you go on home and mess some things up." She laughed a jolly laugh.

I laughed with her and hated the fact that I was embarrassed.

Why be embarrassed? Maybe it's embarrassing when you realize how transparent you are. Or maybe it's embarrassing to discover you have a nerdy compulsion to straighten things. Or maybe it was because the black woman had her hand on my ass.

Just kidding. Though that would've been embarrassing too.

Portland Pics Coming Soon...

My DM visited my store yesterday and said he was astonished at how awesome the store looks. He even said that he'd never seen it so organized and clean, even when Bill, the guy who trained me and who is now a DM, ran the store. I was happy indeed.

Prepare for abrupt subject change...

I finally bought a digital camera. I hate spending money (accept on trips!). I don't drive a fancy car. I don't have a thumping stereo. I just like things simple. And I'd rather spend my money on a new experience rather than a fancy gadget.

But I decided a digital camera was okay. Portland is so beautiful and my camera phone doesn't do the city justice. Also I should probably take pictures in France this September. I didn't even bother bringing a camera the last couple of times I went to Europe. Even my pics from Texas and Louisiana are from Petra's camera.

So UPS delivered yesterday. And I love the little snapper. It's ultra thin, sleek, silver, and has the largest LCD screen of any digital camera. And I have today off so I plan to stroll around and take some awesome pictures. These I will share soon.

I bet you're just trembling with anticipation.

Useless Babble...

So it's been way too hot to blog. Yeah, that's my excuse this week. But, really, the temp has been ridiculous to the umpteenth power this past week--more than 100 degrees! The hottest week since 1980 something.

The last couple of nights have been pure hell. The thermometer in my bathroom has been flashing 93 degrees. By about 3am it was down to 91. No AC in my apartment. Why? Because it doesn't get hot in Portland.

HAH! Could've fooled me!!

So right now I'm sitting in a chilly 24 hour Starbucks with my laptop on my...well, lap. Two yuppie ladies are nesting across from me pawing each other's clothing and laying out the compliments.

"Oh, sweety, you have the most adorable hand purse."

"Well, you know, I was strolling through Nordstroms and..."

Yada, yada, yada.

A couple of nerdy computer dudes are tapping away in dark corners, scanning chicks as they slip in and out with café lattes. An old man with a beret is standing in the center of the café--I think he's lost--that happens a lot here.

The other day at the video store an old woman with squinty eyes was yelling at me to show her where we kept our whole milk.

"I can't find it nowheres!"

"Ma'am, this is a video store."

"Oh, dear!"

Today an old man came looking for springs. I listened to a lengthy tale of how he pried apart a VHS tape and the springs sprung. He turned off the lights in his apartment and waved his flashlight around until he spotted them glinting from between carpet fibers (He was really proud to share this.).

"But two's lost for good," he grumbled. "Can you spare a couple springs?"

"Sure. You can find them down the milk aisle."

Wink.

Why are yawns contagious?

Who knows? My biology teacher told me that when we were monkeys we displayed our teeth to frighten away predators. And that when someone yawns we see their teeth and instinctively yawn back to protect ourselves.

What do you think?

Euthanasia: a crime or a right?

I'm not going to present a nice story for everyone to relate to in order to see my point of view more clearly. I'm too lazy right now. So I'm just going to come out with my opinion on this subject. If yours is different, shout it out. I'd love to hear why.

There's nothing wrong with euthanasia. If someone is suffering miserably, and the doctors say there's nothing they can do, it's a crime to refuse assisted suicide. It's inhumane to allow someone to suffer until they die naturally. It should always be up to the terminally ill individual to decide whether and when to permanently check out. We wouldn't allow an animal to suffer such pain so why allow a human being?

To Raft Or Not To Raft...

Remember the rafting trip that I wanted so badly to get out of? Well I got out of it. Instead of making up an exhausted excuse (like some managers) I just told the truth. I didn't feel like it was my time to die, simple as that.

A few days before the trip there was news about a girl who got thrown from her raft and swept downriver. The day of the district trip park rangers found her tattered body wedged between some boulders.

Today I learned that one of the store managers scraped up his knee on some rocks and broke his toe. You see, that's why I didn't go. That would've been me. Except instead of a simple scrape it would've been a broken nose, or a gauged out eye, or my neck would've attempted a 360 degree revolution.

Don't give in to peer pressure. And that would've been the ONLY reason I would've gone. And what a STUPID reason that would've been.

The Evil That Men Do...

That's twice I've turned a blind eye to blatant thievery. The first incident occurred in Paris. I was on the Metro and spied this black gentleman--nicely dressed (though even the skankiest French usually are) with gold rings and a huge toothy smile.

The Metro car was packed as we headed toward the suburbs during rush hour. And a packed subway in Paris means that you've got about four or five strangers' asses pressed against your body and your hand is one of many gripping the "oh shit" pole. It's gross because everyone's sweaty and so hands are slipping up and down the pole and it looks quite disgusting--I'll say no more on that.

Several Japanese tourists were scrunched together against the door. I watched the nicely dressed black man weasel his way closer to an unsuspecting Japanese tourist. Through a crack between various limbs I spied the black man's large hand do a steady nose dive and in a flash he had the Japanese tourist's wallet. Voilá! The crime committed.

Several minutes later the very same black man was cordially giving the Japanese directions in Paris wearing the same flashy smile. A smile that I now equate to evil.

The second incident occurred yesterday. This time I was waiting for the MAX--Portland's answer to the Metro. An old woman got up from the bench and left her gaudy jeweled hand purse behind. I was going to say something when I noticed a twenty something white kid--dressed yuppyish with white cap set at the "cool" angle--discreetly observe the neglected purse.

Was he going to tell the old woman she'd left her purse?

He moseyed over very casually and sat down on the bench--right beside the bejeweled purse.

He's going to snag it. I couldn't believe it. The kid did not look like he needed the money. Are people really this evil? I must be so completely naïve. I remembered the black man in Paris. To steal from a tourist. And now this kid was going to steal from an old woman--probably on a fixed income.

The kid stood and then sat down again, only this time the little purse was directly behind him. Everything was done in a sly manner. My observations were discreet as well and when I turned back the purse was gone and the kid was standing up. He'd snagged it and stowed it in his backpack.

I thought: any moment the police are going to jump out of the bushes and arrest this kid. It had to be a setup. It was too easy for this kid. But nothing happened. The MAX came. I got on, the kid got on, and the old lady was nowhere to be seen.

Across from me, the kid glanced my way and I shook my head in that shame-on-you fashion. He knew now that I'd seen his dirty deed. He turned away. And I thought: What a bastard I am! I should've said something. But sometimes the urge to observe someone doing the unthinkable is just too great. I really didn't think he would do it. My benefit-of-the-doubt bubble has burst. And I probably collected a lot of negative Karma.

The Good, the Bad, and the Stinky...

I interviewed four people, back to back, yesterday and loved every one of them. An extremely rare occurrence. The unfortunate part is that I'm only looking to fill three slots. But I can't just let good people slip by so I'm hiring all of them.

It's funny how that works. I've done interviews where every applicant was a complete bloke. One guy was so high that in between answers he'd stare at my forehead for a long time and I could see his consciousness slipping away. When he did manage to put a sentence together it was accompanied by the snap, crackle, pop of the obvious dry mouth.

Another girl was a complete rattle of nerves. Her lip twitched incessantly and I swore she was speaking another language. I caught myself leaning forward and concentrating on her every syllable. Which probably didn't help her nerves much. But, come on, I'm not that imposing. My advice: If you know you're going to be nervous for a job interview, pound a couple of tequila shots first.

But the most memorable applicant who got a speedy pass was this guy who--to my horror--had irritable bowel syndrome. I never did hear the toots...but they hung in the air like heavy drapery. I stayed out of my office for a good hour after that interview. How horrible. The poor bastard. Next time he should consider shoving a Glade Plug-In up his ass before sitting down to an interview.

The Mosquito on the Moon...

Okay I'm ready to move to the moon. Somewhere where idiots aren't killing each other over petty religious differences. Over IDEAS! The earth has basically become an overcrowded sandbox, only the weapons aren't plastic shovels and buckets but bombs that reduce living breathing human beings to the equivalent of fish flakes.

And I thought religions were supposed to be peaceful. Accepting of others. What good does it do to pray 5 times a day and then strap on a bomb-jacket and blow up innocent civilians trying to have a fricken cup of coffee after a long day at work? Why can't these idiots, you know, cherish their shared history in the Holy Lands?

Okay, I understand it's not that simple. The hatred runs deep between the Palestinians and the Israelis. Yadda, yadda, yadda. But when you really stop and think about it, they're not that different. Both religions trace their beginnings to Abraham. The Jews and Christians consider him the father of Israel through his son Isaac while Muslims consider him the father of Islam through his other son Ishmael.

But both religions share the SAME God! Allah, Jehovah, whatever! It's the same being. Christ, you'd think they'd rejoice in their similarities. They're basically brothers!

So, I invite you to join me on the moon. But here there is no arguing. No lashing out. No vindictiveness. No my god is bigger than your god. Only peaceful stargazing. And coffee. And the occasional American Idol episode. That's it. One small step for Mosquito Grant, one giant leap for religious fanatics.

HILARIOUS!

Watch the whole thing. This is too funny. Thanks KEP!

Toilet Trickery.

Free trip to the 16th century...

I've got the next two days off! And I was thinking about going to Seattle--it's only a few hours north by train and I've never been. But I can't bring myself to pay $100 for a lousy hotel room for one night.

Unlike Mosquito Grant, who could simply find a decent twig (or Space Needle) to cling to, I require a comfortable spot to lay my head at night. But not for $100. Uh-uh...no way, José.

So it looks like instead I'll be hanging around Portland, enjoying this beautiful 85 degree weather. Sorry for all my loved ones out there in California where it's been an insane 100+ degrees for the last week. Just think of me when you poke your head into the cool refrigerator.

Meanwhile I've got a couple of short story ideas rattling around my brain. I think I've found my niche. A blend of history and fantasy, aptly termed fantahistorical.

The story I sold is about a guy who feels where people have died--he experiences their death as they did and can point out the spot where it happened and what was going through the deceased's mind during their final moments. The Vatican hires him to search out the exact spot of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. You'll have to read the story to know what he discovered.

Right now I'm fixated on Nostradamus and how he supposedly predicted the future by witnessing events in a mirror that he'd stare at for hours. In my mind it wasn't a mirror but a flat screen hi-def television that a time traveler had conveniently left in his care.

So rather than taking a costly trip to Seattle I'll be tripping out for free on some hardcore 16th century Nostradamus. Yeah, man. Way cool...

Boo for France!

I was so looking forward to watching the World Cup on Sunday. I didn't have to work til 1pm and the game started at 11am and it was only supposed to last for 90 minutes. Well, it went into overtime and so I had to record the finale. Dumb luck.

It's too depressing to talk about. All I have to say is that if Zidane--France's superstar player--hadn't headbutted his opponent and gotten himself redcarded and tossed out of the game in overtime, France would've won. What's heartbreaking is that it was Zidane's last game--ever. He's retiring. Oh well.

As the game was getting underway I received a text message from Marc in France. He wrote that his heart was pounding really hard and that it was going to be a tough game but he thought France would win. I didn't have the heart to text him back at the end of the game. He's probably lying drunk beneath the Eiffel Tower by now.

I guess I should send a congratulatory e-mail to my friend Alessio in Italy. Though he's probably lying drunk in the Coliseum right now. That's the cool thing about watching the World Cup: You get drunk whether your team wins or loses.

Oh, by the way, it looks like Mosquito Grant is hanging out at the carnival. But I seemed to have lost him...

The Hunt Is On...

It's difficult balancing writing with agent-hunting with story-submitting with reading to stay on top of the game. And to do all that while still working 40 plus hours per week. But it's also a lot of fun. I love being busy! And I love writing this blog!

As far as the agent hunt, I've been averaging two queries per day. You'd think you could just look up an agent and hit send, but it's not that easy. Each agent has slightly different submission requirements.


For example:

Agent A wants a query (basically a cover letter asking for representation, a brief description of your book, as well as a paragraph highlighting your qualifications and why the agent should represent you), a three to four page synopsis (a summary of the novel), and the first three chapters (50 pages).

Agent B wants a query (and specifies that it's a good idea to mention another author whom your style resembles), a ONE page synopsis (any more than that and the agent will toss the whole submission), and the first five pages of the novel.

Agent C wants a query (and gives a caveat: Please don't say my book is similar to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter, or any other established author, for that matter!), a chapter by chapter outline--no more than ten pages, and no request for pages.

Other agents want you to include what sort of marketing plan you have for your novel. Others require that you be an already published author before submitting.

Can you see the dilemma?

And I won't even get into the whole "is your novel marketable" crap. For those thinking of writing a book (I know KTS and Rooney mentioned the possibility) it's a wise idea to research what's hot before you dive in.

For example, right now paranormal romance is selling like hotcakes. But, in all likelihood, by the time you finish your novel something else will be hot. So I guess my advice is to write what you like to read. And write what you know. And read a lot so you don't end up thinking you have this GREAT idea that--unbeknownst to you--a million people have already done.

The Mosquito Has Landed...

I should be writing fiction right now, but instead I'm dawdling. You fellow writers understand what I'm talking about. You know you should be writing--you're excited about writing--but you procrastinate and do anything BUT writing. Though, technically, I'm writing right now.

Before I get too convoluted (oops, too late) I'll move on.

I found out today that my store is ranked 141st in the company. The criteria used for the ranking is more convoluted than the above paragraph so I'll skip that part. But that's 141 out of 3,000 stores!

So what. Big Deal. What does that mean?

Bonus baby! Should be around 3 Gs from what other store managers are saying. The news put me in an exceptionally fantastic mood, naturally.

Hmmm...

Maybe I'll stay a bit longer in Europe. You know, rent a garret overlooking the Seine. Fresh croissants and Nutella delivered every morning. Foot massages by French goddesses.

"Yeah, honey, lick them toes!"

"Oui, oui, monsignor Mosquito. I am trés infatuated with dees beautiful tosies..."

"Did I ask you to talk?"

"Pardon moi,"--slurp--"I will keep my mouth--"

"NEXT!"

Happy 4th of July!!

I worked today but I get to take an extra day off next week! I'm excited. I'm going to stroll drown to the waterfront and watch the cool fireworks over the river. I can't wait! Finally I live in a city that celebrates the 4th with style and pizzazz!!

Today a lot of weirdoes came in. What am I saying?--everyday weirdoes come in. I guess they were just coming in droves today.

--Snot man #2. Not the same guy, so obviously there's some major mucous malfunctions here in Portland. It looked like this guy had forced a lime colored balloon up one nostril and was attempting to blow it up as he spoke to me. The entire conversation I was flinching and preparing to duck should the thing go airborne. And he was so flustered too which made the situation all the more precarious.

--Talk a lot guy from Czechoslovakia. This guy would not leave my employee alone. Talk talk talk talk talk! Can you get this for me? Can you get that? Can you clean this disk? Have you seen this movie? I finally said, "What are we, dating here?" Don't worry. He didn't get my sarcasm. He's from Czech, remember?

--Sweaty Sasquatch guy. It doesn't matter if it's ten below outside, you're guaranteed to have a pool of sweat on your counter with this guy. To make matters worse, he wipes his face with the back of his thumb and then slings the sour sweat on the ground. And that's before he hands you his--slightly damp--wad of cash.

Modern Day Slavery...

I'm all for bonding with coworkers, to a certain degree. But when it includes participating in activities that under normal circumstances I would never do, then I get all antsy and bent out of shape. It's bad enough that I'm being forced to hang out with people who are going to talk shop the entire time, but to mix that with a dull activity--well that's just unbearable.

Nevertheless, I didn't freak out or go ballistic when my boss scheduled a mandatory bowling meet-up--even though I despise the sport and the danger it poses on my troubled lower back. I showed up and modeled my best civil behavior. I mingled and cheered and taunted and teased with the best of them. But deep inside, I couldn't wait to escape.

Well now the latest obligatory excursion involves a three hour trip to eastern Oregon where the store managers in my district are planning to go river rafting. Uh, no thank you. C'mon, haven't they seen the River Wild? I don't wanna die before my book gets published!

What happened to the simple potluck dinner? What's worse: I have to pay $85 to go on this trip. I have to shell out a huge chunk of precious doe to travel somewhere, and do something, I wouldn't do if someone paid ME!

ACCEPTED!

In an amazing turn of events, I was on my way to work and stopped by the mailbox per the normal routine, and guess what I found? An acceptance form from a magazine that wants to publish one of my short stories!!! This is going to be my first sale!!

And, of course, it royally sucked having to go straight to work and be there until 1am. I was even tempted to write this post late last night, but then I admonished myself for acting like a child at Christmas time. Though it really was the best present I could've ever hoped for on an otherwise disappointing day.

The news really tickled the shit out of Mosquito-Grant!