It’s funny you ask. As a matter of fact, yes. I did get this pair of slacks at “The Maxx,” as you so wittily deemed it. And I suppose that since I was there a week ago and this pair of slacks was not there, and when I went this week it was, it’s possible that this is from “The Maxx’s spring line.” And I guess that since they do get seconds and didn’t-sells from larger chains and department stores, it’s not unlikely that you’re right on the money with the observation that “The Maxx’s spring collection is JC Penney’s fall collection.”
Man, did our coworkers laugh about that.
You wouldn’t imagine–couldn’t, probably–just how deeply and for how long I will be in debt behind some educational choices I made. And yet here we both are: me with my advanced degree in useless shit and you with your Associate’s in criminal justice. Contract labor in the throes of a recession: the great equalizer.
Maybe there’s no justice in this world. That would explain a lot. But if there is, when this short-term contract we all got hired on runs out, I’m going to take my buying-clothes-at-The-Maxx-windfall and purchase your sister a Sam’s Club-size box of Trojans and a handle of Tanqueray on the condition that she can only use one or the other. The box or the bottle, that is.
Next, I’m going to buy a hundred-dollar bag of crack rock. And give it to your little brother on the condition that he spray paint “Douchebag” on the side of your souped-up Honda Accord.
Then I’m going to buy your mom a carton of cigarettes to punch you in the dick.
