Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride

from May 27, 2007

Dear Sir (or possibly Madam?)

I am writing to clear up a grave misunderstanding which occurred in your store last week. Normally, I would not shop in a store specializing in formal wear for the full figured woman (I usually call them fat, but it’s your store.) but due to certain circumstances beyond my control I found myself browsing through your “mother-of-the-bride boutique” and this is where the incident took place.

I should start from the beginning. I was driving home from the movies. I had read a very strange review online of “Superman Returns” and went to satisfy my curiosity. The reviewer had implied certain things about the Clark-Jimmy-Superman relationship, as well as certain peculiarities between Kevin Spacey and an old woman. (It is a long story, find the review yourself.) All I’ll say is that the reviewer was full of it.

Anyway, it was raining and I decided to pull over and wait it out. I had planned to listen to the radio (the Slappy and Wapppy show on 98.5 WLAZ “Where You Win Stuff By Listening”) when all of a sudden a woman ran smack in front of my car.

Well, since I had already pulled to a stop and parked, it didn’t much matter, but it did distract me from Wappy, who was asking listeners to call in with their favorite breakfast cereal stories. The woman kept going and I never saw her again (too bad- she was cute.) but I did see a man with a gun enter your store.

Like any good citizen, I sat there and took out my camcorder.

Soon, I saw other people enter the store. (And let me say that a store for fat formal women certainly has interesting customers.) People came out and it seemed like nothing was going on. Eventually the man with the gun came out. OK, to be honest, it wasn’t a gun, it was an umbrella. But I thought it was a gun. I already said it was raining pretty hard. It was impossible to tell a gun from an umbrella.

All this is to explain why I was sitting in my car looking at a videotape of people entering and leaving your store.

I was pretty bored. Slappy and Wappy had gone off and The Mike Callous Show had begun. His guest was C. Emory Watson from the Coalition for Taxable Income, so I turned it off and rewound the videotape I had shot and started watching. (I do intend to get a digital video camera soon. That would eliminate all the problems of rewinding, but it didn’t really matter. It was still raining and I was still sitting there waiting it out.)

After a few minutes I thought I recognized one of your customers. I could swear that I had videotaped former First Lady Barbara Bush going in. (Let’s face it. She is a large woman from good-Midwestern stock. Probably grew up punching cows or something.) Who wouldn’t be interested in that?

Well, after the mistake with the man and the gun, I wanted to see if I was right. If I was, maybe I could get an autograph, or maybe even get to party with those drunken Bush twins. If I was wrong all I would see would be another big homely lady wearing pearls and I’d leave.

That’s why I went into your store- to follow Barbara Bush. It was all very logical.

Sir, (or Madam? No offense, but you could go either way.) I didn’t plan on anything that followed. Honestly, who could have foreseen that “Barbara Bush” was really Estelle Gordon from Passaic? Or that her son was working in the stockroom? I didn’t intend to assault his mother, nor did I intend to get assaulted by her son. It was all so innocent.

I do admit that I must have looked really out of place in your store, especially when I went into your “mother-of-the-bride boutique” and browsed through your “Bea Arthur Collection.” I am also sure that I attracted some attention when, to look inconspicuous, I put on a large pink feathered hat featured in your “Boudoir Dreams” display. (And this brings up a good point- what was a large feathered pink hat doing in a boudoir display? I really think you need to do something about that.) I even admit that, with my camcorder stuffed down my pants, I did have a  suspicious silhouette, but c’mon, would you like to be caught with a camcorder stalking Barbara Bush in a women’s clothing store , especially when she was going into the dressing room? I told you this was all very logical.

Please be clear- when I entered the next dressing room and peeked over the wall, I was only peeking far enough to see her face. Believe me- I have no interest in Barbara Bush below the pearls. And when I stretched and the camcorder fell from my pants, how was I to know that her son was standing a few yards away and thought I was videotaping his mother as she changed? It was all so innocent.

Enclosed is a check for the damages to your front window. I really didn’t stop to look where I was going as I fled from the pummeling I was about to get, I just wanted out. (But you have to admit that the silhouette I punched out of the glass as I ran through it was pretty funny.) I have also enclosed a sum to pay for the pink feathery hat I was still wearing at the time. You may like to know that the hat currently sits on the top shelf of my closet- hey, you never know. (I may even come back for the matching garters.)

Lastly, Sir and/or Madam, have it as you will, I would hope that you would see fit to return my camcorder. There is nothing else of interest on the tape, except for some footage of my junior high school reunion and a few minutes of Superman Returns I secretly filmed.

Thank You Very Much

Tags: apologies, bmj2k, complaints, letters, Mr. Blog, Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride