Hot Sauce of the Month
Dec. 4th, 2007 10:44 amTall, unbelievably handsome guy returned to the Little Store last night with friends. "I spent all day reading your website," he told me and then announced that he was the first customer for my Hot Sauce of the Month Club.
"But I don't have a Hot Sauce of the Month Club," I said.
"You do now," he said, handing me his credit card. "In fact, I'm more like a member of the Hot Sauce of the Week Club. Here's how it's gonna work: you're gonna ring up [mind-bogglingly large amount of money on credit card] and then I'm gonna email you a list of the things I want. You can send them to me once a month. Deal?"
"Deal," I said.
Of course I made a big to-do about checking his driver's license because I always make a big to-do about checking driver's licenses. He lives in Phoenix.
"Phoenix!" I said. "Isn't sending hot sauce to Phoenix a bit like carrying coals to Newcastle? I mean they already have a lot of hot sauce in Phoenix."
"But no shops like this," he said. "Trust me, if they had, I'd have found it. This place is utterly unique."
Of course if I were twenty years younger I'd be utterly smitten by this guy – he was tall, he was handsome, he was smart, he was financially solvent, and best of all, he was totally insane, had that intense, manic glitter in his eye while he listened to my long, rambling chile raps. Ah, shared obsession – it knows no age boundaries.
In other news, I ran out of cat food last night and so fed the Meezer… Old Roy. She loved it. Maybe that's Sam Walton's true crowning achievement – not the most horrible, soul-sucking, community-destroying retail business model ever created but the world's most perfect pet food.
"But I don't have a Hot Sauce of the Month Club," I said.
"You do now," he said, handing me his credit card. "In fact, I'm more like a member of the Hot Sauce of the Week Club. Here's how it's gonna work: you're gonna ring up [mind-bogglingly large amount of money on credit card] and then I'm gonna email you a list of the things I want. You can send them to me once a month. Deal?"
"Deal," I said.
Of course I made a big to-do about checking his driver's license because I always make a big to-do about checking driver's licenses. He lives in Phoenix.
"Phoenix!" I said. "Isn't sending hot sauce to Phoenix a bit like carrying coals to Newcastle? I mean they already have a lot of hot sauce in Phoenix."
"But no shops like this," he said. "Trust me, if they had, I'd have found it. This place is utterly unique."
Of course if I were twenty years younger I'd be utterly smitten by this guy – he was tall, he was handsome, he was smart, he was financially solvent, and best of all, he was totally insane, had that intense, manic glitter in his eye while he listened to my long, rambling chile raps. Ah, shared obsession – it knows no age boundaries.
In other news, I ran out of cat food last night and so fed the Meezer… Old Roy. She loved it. Maybe that's Sam Walton's true crowning achievement – not the most horrible, soul-sucking, community-destroying retail business model ever created but the world's most perfect pet food.
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Date: 2007-12-04 07:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-05 05:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-04 07:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-05 05:17 pm (UTC)