The whole canned air shopping spree was coming to a close. I had my air and a Daft Punk video, that I couldn?t afford but grabbed cause you only live once, and I was ready to get out of Best Buy. I brought my goods to the checkout counter. The cashier gave me the obligatory greeting. She also began to push some magazine bullshit on me. Eight free issues of Entertainment Weekly or eight issues of Sports Illustrated. Entertainment is my raison d?etre, so the choice was obvious.
The Great Maker only knows why I relented and signed up for those Weeklys. Maybe it was because I was in a damn good mood that day. It’s even possible there was a song in my heart at the time. Or maybe I felt the need to be snail mailed to death by a magazine corporation. It?s been about 10 years since I?ve had battle with one of those.
?Huh.? she says.
?What?? I say.
She proceeds to tell me that all the guys she?s asked picked the Entertainment Weekly and all the girls picked Sports Illustrated. I made the comment that most guys who come in here (Best Buy) more than likely aren?t big into The Sports. She didn?t seem to catch my drift but that was ok.
I quickly began to wonder what type of girls were grabbing the sports magazines. Are the rags for their husbands as 7d suggests or are they sporty girls with tanned legs and sweatbands and short shorts. Maybe they?re business ladies. By day they?re power brokers who close multi million dollar deals with breathy but sure confidence. By night they lounge in La-Z-Boys wearing sweats and eating wings in front of a TV forever stuck on ESPN.
I snapped out of that weird place, the chat wound down and I returned to finishing that day?s errands.
