A 1982 Camaro Berlinetta. Cherry to the Maxx!!!

Ask Texas : Advice with a SMYLE...Written by Jhyanathan R. Dellaira

Dear Texas,

I recently had a bad experience at one of those "chain" drug stores, do you
have any advice for dealing with them? - Brett Doanufrett, Walla Walla, Washington

Dear Brett and butter,

I don't have any advice for you on how to deal with them but I can commiserate with you - I too have had some problems at my local drug store (which I will cleverly refer to as the "Civil Voter Service"). You see, it all starts like this - I can pretty much tell how my shopping excursion will turn out just by seeing who's manning the cash register. If it's the incredibly inept, dumb as a stump, God I hope for the sake of all humanity she was dropped off at work because they won't let her drive anymore, forgets how much
money she's counting back to you at two dollars even though the machine is blaring it at her in all its liquid crystal glory, has to call "Elaine, please come to the register, I've forgotten how to breathe", senior citizen who we'll call "Pearl", - I just turn around and walk out - no harm no foul.

But sometimes, the bastards will see me coming, lure me in with a decent soul at the register, let me get my stuff and walk back up to the register, only to find to my amazement Pearl sitting there trying to get her fingers unstuck out of the cigarette case. Another problem I run into at the "Cervical Variation Syndrome" (there's that mysterious acronym again) is the 1 Hour Photo. The trick here the bastards play on me (and the unsuspecting public) is to miraculously somehow know I was coming in with film only to find they have closed the processing down for the day 5 minutes before I got there - It doesn't matter if I stop in half an hour after they've opened, it'll be closed. One day, though, I beat the bastards at their own game. I came in to have pictures developed when, low and behold, the photomat was closed for the day. Well, I started joking loudly with my buddy who came along for the ride, "Man, see what I was telling you, the damn 1-hour photo is closed. You know what? I really doubt if anyone has ever gotten their pictures back in an hour... what a laugh!". 

Well, it was all the short 19 year old little pimply faced king asshole-bastard manager type had to hear. " Is there a problem sir?" he bravely stuttered in his best stern voice. "Oh no man, I was just telling my buddy about your little photo scam you've got going on here, pretty clever stuff, if I must say so. You must derive much enjoyment out of watching all those stupid people have their hearts broken when they know their pictures won't be back 'till tomorrow." Asshole-bastard then responded, " You know what, I'll get your pictures back to you in an hour, we can do it in half an hour, maybe then you'll change your mind about us" - you see this little prick thought he was going to teach me a lesson by getting my photos back to me quickly but what he failed to realize is that that's all I really wanted anyway - Take that, bastards. 

The "Cyclical Vagina Slipstream" has one more feature that is almost unbearable - the greeting card aisle. * Warning to the general public at large: if you see me enter this aisle, extricate yourselves from it immediately or I will kill every last one of you! God forbid I need to get a card for anyone within 4 months of Valentine's Day because, no matter when I choose to pick one up, the f'n "Hallmark Park" is set up. Everybody and their mother is in that aisle with their snot-nosed kids and senile grandfathers. I swear, there was a circus clown with an organ grinder and monkey selling hotdogs last year. They're always out of good cards. If I should manage to even get close to anything resembling a decent one, I don't need you looking over my shoulder at what I'm reading or even worse commenting to me that "she'll love that one", "What the fuck do you know?!? You're in on it with the bastards, aren't you?!?" I snap back - they usually leave me alone after that. Look, I may seem harsh but here's the facts: The whole idea of a greeting card is to share it with the person you're sending it to - a personal message between that person and you. If you wanted the whole world to read it, you would have hired a goddamned sky writer. With that said, I take the card up to the counter only to find Pearl there, who immediately opens the card and reads it out loud to me, Elaine, the circus clown, Fred the parttime cop and everyone else in the damn county. Brett, I'll leave you with this thought - find yourself one of the last few Mom & Pop candy/drugstores in your town, approach the owner, hug him and swear your allegiance to him and his business. He'll thank you- trust me.  - Tex

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