Archive for the ‘ I Hate Me ’ Category

I Hate Me, part 620,916

 

Large disheveled guy and his wife lurched into the store with a big misshapen box of records that was more duct tape than box. As he was elaborately taking the tape off of the box to get at the records within…
I got a lot of great records here…A LOT!…and they’re all in great shape…I looked at ‘em myself…so I know……(still wrestling with the tape, instead of just cutting it off)GODDAMN BOX!!…Yeah! They’re alllll good….
He finally opened the box and it was full of LP’s, solid 60’s-70’s rock titles. A bunch of Grateful Dead and Dead related, a lot with no sleeves or covers.
Yeah…there’s no covers on those
You mean the ones with no covers?
Yeah, them
I start to go through the albums that still had covers, they were a bit beat up but still very playable. The couple stood there staring at each album as I looked at it. I got to a copy of The Beatles-Hey Jude. The wife piped up
Is that Abbey Road?
It’s not a crazy question for somebody who doesn’t know much about music, the album title isn’t on the cover. The husband did an exaggerated eye roll
Noooooooo!….it’s the….the…..it’s the goddamn…White Album
Ohhhh…The White Album
Yeah…yeah…sometin like that.
Oh… I wanna see it
We’re Sellin’ IT!
I KNOW WE’RE SELLIN’ IT!
I KNOW YOU KNOW! (to me) The White Album..You don’t see a lot of those do ya?
Not that version of it.
We settled on a price and as I was paying him he tried to sell me a handmade Grateful Dead belt, which he unfortunately didn’t have with him.

Rare copy of the White Album

Rare copy of the White Album

I Hate Me, part 671,914

 

Late afternoon at work. Large guy, kind of a mess lugged in a large garbage bag of records. I have found that the majority of the time somebody drags in a large garbage of records that’s usually where they belong but like Charlie Brown and the football I’m always hopeful.
Hey Dude, I gotta lot a great records that I gotta sell…they’re takin’ up space.
Ok, let me take a look at them. Please take ‘em out of the bag
He takes them out and they’re mostly shitty and moldy and a lot of them are stuck together from water damage. They are on the far side of unsellable. The record on top was Phil Collins-No Jacket Required.
They’re all good right? Dude, I hate to sell ‘em, I love ‘em…but…ahhh you know…
Man, these records are….terrible…man…they’re moldy and stuck together. Jesus, man….Christ…look at ‘em…they’re shot.
No….dude…no..you don’t want…uh..(looks at the Phil Collins record)…you don’t want…Phil…Phil Wilson?…Dude, Phil Wilson…You can’t sell that?
Nahhhh…sorry man there’s not much call for Phil Wilson these days…sorry..These records are in terrible shape.
(heavy sigh)…Alright dude.
and he lugged them back out

Dude, you can't sell Phil Wilson?

Dude, you can’t sell Phil Wilson?

I Hate Me, pt 639,153

Jack’s Music on a Sunday has a fair amount of people who don’t usually go to record stores and it’s a bit like a curio shop, there are also non traditional customers. This was one who was observed by Jon. A younger guy had a couple of cd’s and he had them lying flat on a counter, he looked like he was trying to decide between them. He finally decided by taking a crystal on a string which he held above them and let the crystal determine which one to purchase. The winner was a Steve Vai cd, I’m not sure who the loser was.

A favorite of man and crystal alike

A favorite of man and crystal alike

I Hate Me, part 628,004

Guy comes in, he’s been in before a few times, kind of buzzed
Hey, how you doin’ tonight?
He stops looks slowly at me
NEVER…FELT…BETTER
well, that’s great.
Yeah, I’m 35 and my knee, like this (reaches down to his knee mimes throbbing pain)..my hip…my GROIN…MY FUCKING BALLSACK…killin’ me…I thought I had testosterone cancer ya know..so I go to a chiropractor, I don’t fuckin’ know, right? I tell him, my knees, my back, my balls, my hip. He says, I can take care a that…four fuckin’ treatments! and I’m great…He told me, you’re good, don’t come back for a month…fuckin’ chiropractors…he said it’s all in your fuckin’ back

One fuckin' back at a time

One fuckin’ back at a time

 

I Hate Me, part 641,544

 

Late Friday, small, drunkish middle aged guy who resembled Billy Joel, looking at a bunch of rock t-shirts hanging on the wall. All mainstream rock bands the most “out there” artist was Joy Division.
Jeeesus…these kids and their music…I never heard uh none those bands…not one of ‘em…
I glanced back to see if somebody switched out the t-shirts, nope.
..am I right…huh?
Well you know these kids are all about the Beatles these days… I think they might be something.
Well…yeah, I heardah them…. but you know…..yeah….yeah the others…ok… Bruce, I know about him…alright…alright….I know who the fuck Pink Floyd is…and ok….ok Ramones….yeah…and I heard about The Velvet Undergrounds…ok…alright I guess I know most of this stuff….but you know….what are these fuckin’ kids listening to…right?
shirts jacks

 

 

I Hate Me, part 629,109

 

Older couple came in with a bag of records
Careful they’re a little wet
Oh…I didn’t know it was raining
It’s not………
…….oh……….what happened to them?
(shoulder shrug)…..
I didn’t buy any of them

 

I Hate Me, part 618,900

My hair is a double edged sword. I’m happy I still have it to cover my giant square head but as I get older my hair has become more unruly or as it has been described by more than one person, “bum like”. So when I comb my hair sometimes the combing doesn’t take and it looks like I did nothing. Carrie is usually there to give me a “what the fuck is up up with your hair” look and hand me a comb. We keep one by the front door for just this reason.
It was Saturday, Carrie got to sleep in, I was heading to work and running late. I looked at the mirror by the front door to give myself a once over “do I pass for human” test and GAHH!! I looked like Beetlejuice on a bad hair day. So I had to re-comb my hair but I couldn’t find the comb, it was nowhere. The only thing there was the dog’s brush. I stared at it. It was made to comb hair, it doesn’t differentiate between dog and human hair. Nobody would ever know, ever, never… Kept staring at it, it wasn’t a line I was willing to cross. Yet. So I ran back upstairs and combed my hair again, which somehow made it look worse. Like a really terrible hairpiece, one so bad that people would think that nobody would buy a hairpiece that bad, it must be his real hair.

it doesn't differentiate between people hair and dog hair

it doesn’t differentiate between people hair and dog hair

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 132 other followers