Max Moon

Being mildly famous isn't as fun as it sounds. You pick up baggage along the way. Fer instance, there is a community of wrasslting enthusiasts that I wadled away from years ago. Every time I look into what they are up to they are there mocking me. They say mean and hurtful things such as "stop stalking us" and "leave us along". Well I never! I gave them legal notice on a wall that has them blocked that if they keep up such annoyances they will be dealt with by muh team of attorneys. And to all muh freinds and fambily, happy Father's day.

Today was a bad day. I got a flat tire on muh car so I had to go to the tire store. Waiting in line patiently is something I rarely have to do, as most local small business establishments know who I am and give me the wink wink nod nod and I can go right up to the counter and get service. This is one of the perks of being mildly famous. Well the tire store was all out of budget donut tires so I had to dip into the family vacation account to buy a full size regular tire.

This deeply hurt. I had promised to take the step kids to 6 flags and then Ho***rs, looks like now all I can afford is the ho***rs.

This here photo memorializes the time I was asked to leave a local thrift store and never come back because I dared to do the unthinkable: I asked the store clerk to provide better service. Look. I am a regular. They know me. I always make a point of stopping in at their location 15 minutes before opening time. Why? So I can get their business off to a fresh start. I look for precious gems and offer them a reasonable offer.

But this one time a new employee that I never saw before was taking his time getting the doors opened so I politely berated them and explained that I have a busy day and to please get on with it.

How was I supposed to know this was the silent partner of said thrift store? It isn't like they wear name tags.

The loss is all theirs. I did 47% of my morning shopping at their location but will no longer be doing so.