Today, rather than have my thorax cracked open like a 1.5lb lobster, I spent the day shopping at various large San Diego-area retailers. I saw my mom slip the young IKEA deckhand a Hamilton for lifting two heavy boxes out of the back of her Volvo. Believe me, those in sales/service LOVE my mom because she tips like a crazy woman. She had me go and get her Apple computer consultant guy a venti latte at *bucks while he was trying to upsell her on .mac.
Bob and I went to Solana Beach for dinner to find some brew pub he got shitfaced at sometimes during the Clinton administration. The place was called Pizza Port, a quotidian pizza and beer joint with three long picnic tables full of pizza-chewing sports fans and squeebler shepherds. We sat next two a pair of Aussie lads who had a good crack-up when I yelled across the noisy restaurant at Bob, who was in the beer line, "Get me a root beer!"
"We thought you were yelling, 'get a root!'"
"No. Root beer." I thought they were mocking my choosing a non-alcoholic beverage.
"Do you know what a root is?" one bloke asked me.
"Uh...that part of a tree that is in the soil?"
(laughs)
"Uh...an Aussie word for sex?"
(laughs more, nods head)
I've been to IKEA four times in the past week.
Posted by Zerd at June 6, 2007 11:45 PM