I Think I Actually Give Up

I took a break from pounding out the outline I'm on right now to go and take care of my carpal tunnel issues. I broke down and bought the Ilap. It was a bit of an odyssey finding one. First, the place I went to pick up my new computer bag was out. For some reason, every time I go to pick up more than one thing from this store, they're out of something. I have bad store mojo. All my life. It's my curse.

So then I trundled off to the Apple Store in the huge tourist trap downtown mall, The Eaton Centre. They didn't even stock it. I called two more stores and they were out and finally took three buses to find an Apple dealer with one in stock. (By now I was committed.) Right now I'm sitting in a lovely, mostly empty bar. The guys from the kitchen are freaking out over the World Cup match on the Telly right now...I'm chortling as I read about England managing to eke out a win through no apparent effort whatsoever, and my laptop is gloriously supported. My posture is much better. This rocks.

So why do I give up?

While I was in the Eaton Centre, I happened to wander into one of our chain bookstores, because someone I know was working there. I browsed the magazines a bit, and noticed that in front of one rack there were women, about a dozen of them, stacked four deep, all reading multiple copies of one magazine. People Magazine.

A dozen women, gathered to see Brad and Angelina and their baby Cletus, or whatever its name is. I watched this for about five minutes. The minute a People went back into the rack, there was another woman to snatch it up, fingers trembling as she flipped to the photos.

Pre-internet, a boy of a certain age could sometimes be caught in a variety store surreptitiously flipping through a Playboy with the exact same expression on his face.

For every woman that bought one of the People magazines, ten more just wanted to browse. Eventually, after a few minutes, the magazines were gone. And so were the women.

But then the stock guy brought out more. And within a minute, there was a whole new crowd of women, five or six, gathered 'round. I can't be sure, but I think a few of them were carrying gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

I give up. I officially do not get it anymore.

Bonus points: At a film industry gathering Monday night, I was talking to a woman and she asked, "You were in South Africa for a while, right?"

"Yes," I said.

"That's near Namibia, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah."

Her eyes glazed over.

Guess what she wanted to talk about next?

I give up.