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PSA: Clowns are Evil.

Before I write about an assortment of other things, first a public service announcement:

WARNING! CLOWN LURER in the Laurelhurst area!

What child in his or her right mind would follow a CLOWN anywhere? ESPECIALLY if there’s no candy involved? Everyone knows that in order to get children into a van, you need to lure them with candy. Creepy bastards.

Also, who came up with the title ‘clown lurer’? It sounds more like someone who lures clowns away than a clown who is planning to abduct children.

Lastly, I do children’s parties and whatnot. Do you want my card? I’ve got it over here in my warm van. You can take it home and color it, it’s got a picture of a robot pirate on it.

Is this the express bus back to Hyrule?

The week drew to a close with a very special event: a rare ‘Link’ sighting. Also known as ‘Elf Boy’ and (to the less videogame inclined, or shall we say ignorant) ‘Peter Pan,’ Link is a heavyset young man who is often seen between Capitol Hill and lower Queen Anne, always wearing a dark green tunic, a brown WWF-sized leather belt, huge custom-made tan leather boots, and little green cap. Link was last seen on the #7 Metro bus with his older gentleman friend, who spent the entire ride ranting and raving about poor people needing to get jobs. Armed with his shield, and handful of Nerds, as a finale, Link pulled from his backpack what appeared to be a firearm at first but was actually a collapsible metal shovel, unfolded it, and began to wave it around, scaring the living Christ out of fellow passengers. Despite occasional spookiness, Link is still regarded as a sign of good luck, like a rainbow or a UFO: He can often be spotted waiting for a bus on Denny Way, and he’s also frequently found at a local coffee shop, playing chess in full regalia. Keep your eyes peeled.

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Mellzah: 2, Guitar Center : 0

I bought some keyboard benches today from work. For a penny. Actually, I bought four of them. So for less than a nickel, I’ve got seats for people who visit my apartment.

Someone in the keyboard department had mentioned a week or so ago that those particular benches were marked down to a penny (from the 69.99 we normally sell them at). Today I found a nickel on the ground and decided the gods themselves must want me to buy furniture. I set up the sales ticket, and called over a manager to approve the deal. I then immediately stacked up my boxes and brought them out to my car.

A few other employees witnessed my great find, went back to purchase benches for themselves and THEIR apartments, and approximately 30 seconds later, the angry scottsman came out of his cave, angry INDEED.

“Melissa, who are you selling those benches to?”

“…I’m not selling them to anyone. I bought them for myself.”

“Those benches are not for sale! They’re for salesmen to throw in when they sell a keyboard!”

“If they’re not for sale, why are they out and tagged on the sales floor? I bought those fair and square, and they’re out of the store. They belong to me now.”

“Fair and square? Who did you buy them from? Who are you supposed to get employee purchases from?”

“Any assistant manager or above.”

“No, you’re supposed to go through ME.”

“Then you might want to inform your assistant managers and sales staff of that fact.”

He walks off in a huff, and approaches me again in my department five minutes later.

“Look, the cost on those is likely not a penny. The cost listed in the computer on anything is not the REAL cost. We could be losing money on this!”

“Yeah, but it’s not a promo price. I didn’t buy the benches at our ‘cost’. I bought them at the price that pops up when you scan them into the register. It’s the price that any customer off the street could come in and purchase it at. What’s the difference between me doing it and a customer doing it? It’s not like I purchased every single bench in the store, and was planning to re-sell them on ebay. You still have plenty of benches left–you just have four less of them now.”

“I need you to bring those back.”

“No.”

He walked off again, madder than I’ve ever seen him.

I’m not bringing the benches back. He’ll have to pry that four cent’s worth of furniture from my cold, dead fingers.