Post by Hucklebubba on Dec 13, 2003 0:04:50 GMT -5
This thread actually has nothing to do with Great Balls o' Fire, I'm just wondering what sort of ads will result from me using "Balls" in the title.
The true purpose of this thread is me sharing with you about one of our semi-local attractions, (It's in Springfield, actually.) because I can, by golly. The name of said attraction? Battlefield Mall. (Cue dramatic music for no particular reason.)
During the course of our tour, I'll be putting titles on each section, because doing that makes me feel important. Snacks will be served in-flight, assuming you're willing to get up and get them out of your own fridge. Let's get started:
FYE
Ah, the store name that cleverness forgot. (FYI, FYE stands for "For Your Entertainment.") The items in this store fall into one of two categories:
1. Really cheap.
2. Ridiculously expensive.
You can guess which category I like. On an earlier trip, I found a 5 buck copy of Big Trouble in Little China here. On this trip, I picked up a used copy of Def Leppard's "Euphoria" album. Yes, I effectively admitted a fondness for Def Leppard just now, which is not something I'd normally broadcast to other humans, it's just that I can't seem to quit typing, and...(slaps self) Ah...that's better. Where was I?
Oh yeah. FYE. Or as I like to call it, "F'yay." It's a fairly neato store on the inside, but this time around, my most profound discovery came from looking at the movie posters on the outside.
Look at this poster...
Arr!!
And then this poster...
Bub.
Is the similarity some sort of creepy coincidence, or a long-acknowledged easter egg that I'm slow in catching on to? I'm hoping for the former, but am curled up tightly into a ball in case the latter turns out to be true.
Miracle CD Case of Humanity Savioring
I made the name up, based on the salesperson's shpiel.
Features of the MCDCHS include:
--Automatic CD dust removal, by way of tiny janitor sprites.
--Extra-durable construction gleaned from forbidden alien technology. Can survive being dropped and stomped on by a slightly chubby woman, and resist heat up to 400 F. I guess this is good for anyone who's ever had the strange urge to cook their CD case.
Wet Seal
Let me pause here for a moment, and reiterate my strict policy of never entering any store with the word "wet" in its name. (Besides, it's a clothing store, and that's contrary to my manliness.) This rule worked out to my advantage here, as staying outside the store yielded observational material yet again: From what I saw in the windows, it looks as though busty 12-year olds have become commonplace to the point of warranting their own mannequin.
Christian Apparel
It had a more complex name, but I don't rightly recall what it was, I reckon. I'm a cowboy!
Seeing as how I work in a Christian bookstore, I decided to pop in and see how this store compares to mine. (I own it.) I seem to recall catching a glimpse of hideous maroon-purple, which could've only been The Pupose Driven Life, come to haunt my dreams yet again. I'm telling you, it follows me places. It's under my Christmas tree right now.
The DQ Factor is another book that caught my eye. I don't know if that's because it was a big, hefty book, (Big hefty books always catch my attention.) or because I thought it was about ice cream.
Regardless, it caught my eye so much, that I had to borrow a pen from the cashier, and write down the book's title on the back of my F'yay receipt so I wouldn't forget to write about it later. Oddly enough, the cashier seemed reluctant to let me borrow the pen, and kept trying to peek over my shoulder while I was jotting my notes down. I came this close (Which is very close indeed.) to saying, "I'm just cataloguing the points where your store is structurally weakest."
Turns out, DQ stands for "Discipline Quotient," and the DQ Factor is an instructional book that teaches you how to make your children fear and despise you. It comes with a free cat o' nine tails.
Don't get me wrong. Discipline is good, but this book is just scary. (And, from the looks of it, probably wouldn't have been necessary back in that bygone age when parents were competent.) One of the purported benefits of buying the book stands out particularly in my mind: "Guaranteed compliance."
Yowza. Maybe there's a phone number in the book that you can call to order your very own Cyberdyne Systems T-800D Terminanny:
"You must eat ya peas. It ees critical to the fulfillment of my mission paramatuz."
(phone rings.)
"I'll be back."
The true purpose of this thread is me sharing with you about one of our semi-local attractions, (It's in Springfield, actually.) because I can, by golly. The name of said attraction? Battlefield Mall. (Cue dramatic music for no particular reason.)
During the course of our tour, I'll be putting titles on each section, because doing that makes me feel important. Snacks will be served in-flight, assuming you're willing to get up and get them out of your own fridge. Let's get started:
FYE
Ah, the store name that cleverness forgot. (FYI, FYE stands for "For Your Entertainment.") The items in this store fall into one of two categories:
1. Really cheap.
2. Ridiculously expensive.
You can guess which category I like. On an earlier trip, I found a 5 buck copy of Big Trouble in Little China here. On this trip, I picked up a used copy of Def Leppard's "Euphoria" album. Yes, I effectively admitted a fondness for Def Leppard just now, which is not something I'd normally broadcast to other humans, it's just that I can't seem to quit typing, and...(slaps self) Ah...that's better. Where was I?
Oh yeah. FYE. Or as I like to call it, "F'yay." It's a fairly neato store on the inside, but this time around, my most profound discovery came from looking at the movie posters on the outside.
Look at this poster...
Arr!!
And then this poster...
Bub.
Is the similarity some sort of creepy coincidence, or a long-acknowledged easter egg that I'm slow in catching on to? I'm hoping for the former, but am curled up tightly into a ball in case the latter turns out to be true.
Miracle CD Case of Humanity Savioring
I made the name up, based on the salesperson's shpiel.
Features of the MCDCHS include:
--Automatic CD dust removal, by way of tiny janitor sprites.
--Extra-durable construction gleaned from forbidden alien technology. Can survive being dropped and stomped on by a slightly chubby woman, and resist heat up to 400 F. I guess this is good for anyone who's ever had the strange urge to cook their CD case.
Wet Seal
Let me pause here for a moment, and reiterate my strict policy of never entering any store with the word "wet" in its name. (Besides, it's a clothing store, and that's contrary to my manliness.) This rule worked out to my advantage here, as staying outside the store yielded observational material yet again: From what I saw in the windows, it looks as though busty 12-year olds have become commonplace to the point of warranting their own mannequin.
Christian Apparel
It had a more complex name, but I don't rightly recall what it was, I reckon. I'm a cowboy!
Seeing as how I work in a Christian bookstore, I decided to pop in and see how this store compares to mine. (I own it.) I seem to recall catching a glimpse of hideous maroon-purple, which could've only been The Pupose Driven Life, come to haunt my dreams yet again. I'm telling you, it follows me places. It's under my Christmas tree right now.
The DQ Factor is another book that caught my eye. I don't know if that's because it was a big, hefty book, (Big hefty books always catch my attention.) or because I thought it was about ice cream.
Regardless, it caught my eye so much, that I had to borrow a pen from the cashier, and write down the book's title on the back of my F'yay receipt so I wouldn't forget to write about it later. Oddly enough, the cashier seemed reluctant to let me borrow the pen, and kept trying to peek over my shoulder while I was jotting my notes down. I came this close (Which is very close indeed.) to saying, "I'm just cataloguing the points where your store is structurally weakest."
Turns out, DQ stands for "Discipline Quotient," and the DQ Factor is an instructional book that teaches you how to make your children fear and despise you. It comes with a free cat o' nine tails.
Don't get me wrong. Discipline is good, but this book is just scary. (And, from the looks of it, probably wouldn't have been necessary back in that bygone age when parents were competent.) One of the purported benefits of buying the book stands out particularly in my mind: "Guaranteed compliance."
Yowza. Maybe there's a phone number in the book that you can call to order your very own Cyberdyne Systems T-800D Terminanny:
"You must eat ya peas. It ees critical to the fulfillment of my mission paramatuz."
(phone rings.)
"I'll be back."
