Is that it’s really hard to hate them when they’re actually nice people. It turns out with that Super Chamois guy is actually a nice guy.
I was telling him today about how tired I was of people telling me my sponges look like cheese. He told me this story today about how one Christmas he was selling some sort of snack-maker at the mall. The demo involved making a little snack out of raw pie dough and a mixture of moldy potatoes and Tang. Apparently the Tang looked really cheesy, and you couldn’t tell the potatoes were moldy. He would make piles of these little treat things as the day went on and as the pile grew, kids became more and more likely to just run up and take a bite. It turns out that not only were the snack things not tasty, but that the whole situation turned out to be really bad for business.
So yesterday this couple comes up to me and says, “The Super Chamois Guy wants to go on a date with you!”
I can’t really process this; I’m in the middle of the beginning of my demo, and I have a good four or five onlookers. I keep going with the demo.
By the end, I know what to say. “The Super Chamois Guy is married!” I protest. Besides being at least forty-five. Forty’s my limit.
The husband looks shocked. “You know him?!”
Duh. “Yeah. We were just having a conversation about camping in Ventura.”
That shut them up for a good eight or nine hours. Then they were back. They had to pick up a lamp from the vendor across the way.
“You really should go on a date with the Super Chamois Guy. You’d have so much to talk about!”
“Like what?! Like absorption!” He suggested how one such conversation might go. “Have you tried apple juice? Yeah, I’ve tried apple juice!”
They really thought that was funny. I guess I do too, in retrospect. What isn’t funny is that women actually wear those bras with plastic straps. Especially with tube tops.