Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Happy birthday to someone

Hey there, friend living south of the (WI) border, happy birthday to you!

I hope you appreciate the great trouble I went to, to send you a present. When I figured out I was not going to see you in the week of your birthday, I was determined to go out after work yesterday to search out some gifts for you, so that you would have stuff to open today.

First I went to Borders. There were two items there I knew you’d like. I bribed Mr. B to serve me well and we pedalled over.

I made my purchases and proceeded out the door. The alarm sounded. I went back in. The sales clerk again demagnetized my purchases. I went out again. The alarm went off again. I was asked if I had some culpable stuff on me. I was coming from the office! No heavy metal, no chainsaw, nothing!

Still, I handed over my briefcase, I handed over my purse, I handed over my bike helmet. And the alarm sounded nonetheless.

I was determined to figure out why. I took off my jacket, my glasses, all of it. By now EVERYONE in the store was watching. And still the alarm went off.

The store manager said it surely had something to do with the shoes. I reassured him that these were ancient shoes, with the tell-tale paint mark from when I proceeded to spontaneously repaint my older daughter’s dorm room when she was a sophomore. That was over four years ago. I had worn these shoes to Borders many a time without problem.

When the clerk suggested that it may be something about Victoria’s Secret underwear (I could not tell if she was joking), I decided to fight the impulse to explore further and just go through to the sound of alarms wailing and people laughing.

My next stop was at Banana Republic. I went in, just to add something to the package that I then overnighted to you, and the alarm went off. I raised my hands and said – shoot me if you will, I appear to have a magnetic personality, or charged Victoria’s Secret panties (fyi, it’s the yellow pair, with bright oranges, so avoid them to be on the safe side).

They waved me through, I did my purchases and prepared to leave. All clerks were warned that the damsel who sets alarms off is about to exit and all should pay her no heed. So everyone stared as I exited.

No alarm sounded. At all.

I lost my magnetic personality somewhere amidst the racks of the Banana Republic store. But I remain a good, albeit demagnetized, friend.

So happy birthday to you!

From the ninny-of-the year.