IRant part 1

As if the Internet needed more rants, I thought I'd take some time and share some delightful thoughts with all of you. This is important stuff, so make sure you take everything seriously and respond accordingly. This is, of course, all true.

Welcome to the Jungle, We've got Fun and Games

My headset broke this weekend, marking the third one to have problems in as many weeks. You'd think I was using them as some sort of advanced torture device or as a facilitator in nightly masturbation. But no, apparently talking into the damn thing is just too much. What a stress test, eh? In response, I head over to the local Tar-Jey to replace it only to find none in stock. The next closest store is a GameSuck(tm), but I'm under blood oath not to shop there. Short on time (and patience), I decide to tempt fate and head into the wilds of the worst retail store imaginable. They were five minutes from closing and had partially put the chain-like gates down on the windows, leaving the door as the only entrance point. Though a security measure to keep people out, the gates made the place look more like a zoo whose only inhabitants were social anxiety affected 20 something males in pithy T-shirts. You know the type. These are the guys that actually *read* Maxim, before promptly cutting out the pictures for a future collage.

So it was in utter surprise that I found a cute 20 something female working behind the counter as I strolled into the store. I at first thought she must have had clubbed feet, but it seemed her gait was unaffected. Naturally, she must be brainwashed then, I thought. Her partner in crime, and I use that term rigidly, based on previous experiences with this retail store, was a late 20s, early 30s white dude with half-dollar spacers in his earlobes. As a side note, who in their right mind finds this sexy? No stranger to admiring ink or piercings, I find this type of body modification unappealing in every sense. Only a dude who has never had his ass rightly kicked (and should) would consider even attempting such nonsense. Or is it some sort of GameSuck(tm) tribal ritual based on pre-orders sold? Twenty gets you quarter sized hole, while fifty gets you half dollar sized!

Anyway, amidst my shock, I did manage to check out Cutie's hands, thus confirming her gender. One can never be too careful when entering the hub of evil. Feeling the filth start to wash over me only seconds after walking in, I head over to the Xbox section to look for a headset. Only wireless on the shelves. How can this be? Resigned, I head to the counter where Spacer Boy is embroiled in deep conversation with another customer. The topic seems to be the finer points, as if there were any, of the new Ninja Gaiden Sigma Collector's Edition for the PS3. Cutie looks incredibly confused and casts furtive glances over towards the door, evidently ready to make a mad dash for it. She must be new, I think. There's hope for her yet.

I ask her about the headset and she looks to Spacer Boy for approval. He's too busy trying to sell the NJGCE (fuck if I type that again) to the poor lost soul still stuck in his web of deceit. Never mind the fact that it isn't even out yet, but that's this company's M.O. I really want to have a T-shirt made up that says "Ask me about pre-orders and you'll get a free ass-whopping," but that's pithy enough that GameSuck(tm) might try to keep me as one of the exhibits. And I cannot live on Mountain Dew alone. I decide instead to let Spacer Boy finish his tirade.

While I wait, I intermittently stare at Cutie's impressive chest and watch some displaced 15 year old fail the easy version of "Cherry Pie" on Guitar Hero 2. (noob) The song appropriately sets the mood for Cutie and I, hence the staring. But honestly, I feel altruistic towards both of them. While I'm sure Cutie gets plenty of attention, it's most likely slight glances and the occasional compliment barely recognizable through a deep stutter. Let's face it, most of the patrons have given up the idea of sex long ago and are likely salivating over the games. I see what I think is a slight approving nod from her regarding our eye to breast contact. She digs me.

The 15 year old certainly isn't going to win over any fans with his performance, but I feel for the kid, so I try and support him. No chuckle escapes me. I fear he's got a long road ahead of him if he can't even fit in with the geek crowd. But for a brief moment in time, plastic guitar in hand, I want him to feel like the animated rock star he's trying to emulate. He then moves on to "Heart Shaped Box" and loses me completely. I resist the urge to throw something at him.

Ten minutes later, I'm starting to get bored. I could ask Cutie out, but that would probably require having to come back to this store. My steely resolve offers the better judgement. I politely, because that's how I do things, breach into the conversation and ask for a standard wired headset. Spacer Boy looks at me in annoyance and says that they have one register down, tells me I'll have to wait. And then continues his now 15 minute conversation about Ninjas. I vow to stop him before pirates are mentioned. It doesn't come to that. My interruption is enough for Lost Soul to make his exit, without buying the game. Great, I think, now he's going to be *real* helpful.

After checking in the back, he tells me that they have none available. Apparently, I am required to wait 20 minutes for this information. While at the counter, the 15 year old kid hands in the guitar. I swear I see a tear stream down his eye as he leaves. I cling to the last hope that he's not a picky eater, thus potentially finding some friendships along what's sure to be a rocky road. Spacer Boy snaps me back to attention with the revelation that he has used headsets available. In desperation, I contemplate the idea. My first thought is of the vicious earwig used to control the mind of Chekov in Wrath of Kahn. It is possible that one could hide in the ample foam provided in the headset's earpiece. My second thought is that if my mind is gravitating towards Star Trek, I've already been here too long. But I really want to get a headset. No, I *need* to get one. I'll risk the earwig. But then I think about the mouthpiece and the possibility of some 13 year old using it to practice his human beat box maneuvers. My mind is not my own anymore.

Spacer Boy tries to up sell me on the wireless headgear. Prepared for such a tactic, I respond that those on my friends' list that have tried it have not had good luck. It seems to often cause feedback and buzzing for the recipients of the voice. He agrees, but responds that incoming is fine. I tell him I'm not the kind of asshole that likes to subject friends to uncomfortable noise, but instead the kind of asshole that likes to argue with GameSuck(tm) employees. He doesn't relent. I then tell him I have an extra thirty dollars if Cutie wants to give me a handjob in the parking lot if you *really* want to up sell. It barely registers, so I ask him where I can buy a can of Lysol, pay for the used headset, and head out the door. As I leave, I see Cutie shoot me a slight smile. There's a sadness to it, not unlike watching your cellmate make parole, forced to wonder when, if, you'll ever get out. In this case, her prison is the Communications degree she thought would be so valuable, only to be let down. Now, forced into retail prostitution, life seems hopeless. And as I walk out the door, having these thoughts, feeling a slight sadness myself I think; I should have asked her out.