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And The People Called it Ragtime...
Written on 2002-11-28, at 12:30 a.m.

dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1 Grande Gingerbread Latté (My new vice)

1 Tuna Sandwich on White

1 Bag Cheetos (Snack Size)

16oz. Chocolate Milk

2 Quarter Pound Double Stacks w/Cheese, Hold The Onions (They held them...between the buns)

1 Five Piece Chicken Nuggets

1 Medium Sprite

John Live*

I found thirty-five bucks in the pockets o' me jeans.

And eleven cents.

Take that, you annoyingly addictive Bennigan's jingle.

*Not at all live...

Yes, that was all really found in the course of going through the pockets of pairs of jeans, which were long forgotten in the chest-high pile of clothing that has erupted from my bedroom closet like a giant haute couture zit, expelling the pus of designer labels onto my floor.

Mmm...obscure imagery.

The other night, while closing at Gap, I heard squeals and screams coming from the girls over at GapBody.

At first I didn't think much of it, because as I've seen at other stores, the girls of GapBody seem to be perky, blonde, and form their own little Gap sorority. 

I call them the Gamma Alpha Pi girls.

Oh, did I mention that they're all named Jennifer?

Because they are...or some derivative.

There's Jen, Jenn, Jennifer 1, Jennifer 2, Jenny...

And Tabitha. The manager.


They're making a lot of noise, so I walked over to see what was going on, partially because I really was curious, and partially because I hate the manager that was in the Adult store that night.

"What's happening?" I asked.

They all looked mortified, faces locked in a horrific expression, like they had just watched Anna Nicole try and count to ten. 

"Ok, what?" I said again.

"Well" said Jen..."This lady, well...in the fitting room, we found this...she sort of had a..."

"Some chick ragged in our merchandise."

Said Jenn, my favorite of the bunch...and not just because she makes statements like that.

Sure enough, as I turned in the direction of their stares, there lay on the floor a pair of striped turquoise panties, with something decidedly un-turquoise on them.

Someone had very definitely been on their cycle in our store.

And I certainly don't mean they were doing wheelies on a Huffy.

"What should we do?" I said...not realizing at that very moment that I said "we", therefore involving myself in this sanguine situation.

"Well, we have to get rid of it." said Tabitha.

Good for you, pumpkin.

It's quick thinking like that that got you a management position.

See...I...as a lowly associate, would not have thought to remove it, and just left it there, in the case that Count Khakula, the Gap vampire, might just want a midnight snack.

We all just stood there, staring at the thing. On the neatly polished hardwood floors it looked like some sort of retail roadkill, just sitting there, waiting to die.

As a gay man, I thought to myself that I wouldn't touch that thing with a ten-foot pole. 

So, logically, I went and got the eleven-foot pole that we use to pull down the gates at night.

Bracing the end under my arm, I maneuvered the hook around the elastic waistline, and lifted it up, high into the air.

Until one of the girls shouted "It's sliding down toward you!"

Screaming, I flailed, and sent the panties crashing back to the terra firma from which they had just been liberated.

Regaining composure, I scooped them up again, and stopped for a moment to frame this scene.

Just like a knight of olde, I stood there with my lance aloft, and my fair maiden's...um...stained panties, err, adorning the tip...

Ok, so not at all like that.

So I stood there, feeling very odd, with the uneasy feeling of questioning eyes set upon me.

Suddenly, I realized that they were waiting for me to do something.

In all my gusto to play "Fishing for Feminine Accidents", I somehow forgot to plan what step two would be.

It's all well and good that I had them, and that they were about a basketball player and a half away from me, but I  couldn't just stay like that forever.

It would be slightly difficult to explain.

Though, I doubt that I'd ever again have to worry about people sitting in front of me at the movies.

"Ok, what now?" I asked, conceding my inability to set a thorough plan into motion.

"Oh! Hold on!" said Jenn, and disappeared into the back.

There was an uncomfortable silence while she was gone, no one really spoke.

Then again, what would one say in a situation like that?

"Yes, lovely weather we've been having, not too warm, not too cold, and...oops, mind those soiled grunties dear."

"Here!" Jenn said, emerging from the stockroom with a bank deposit bag.

You know, the big clear ones that have the super-sticky foldover flap, to seal in the money until it's cut open at the bank?

"I tried to find a Biohazard bag, but there were none back there."

I paused for a moment to ponder just where in the stockroom of Gap #7036 she had searched for a Biohazard Disposal Kit, but was spurred into action as she finished donning her makeshift gloves out of a plastic shopping bag.

She held her arms out at length, and I, with the precision of a surgeon, placed the garment right into the bag, where it was immediately sealed, and set aside to...


...damage out of the store, and send back to the distribution center.

And here I thought I had the crappy job.

Be well...

(And have a Happy Thanksgiving!)


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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