I really don't know what's been going on with my countenance lately. Clearly, the expression on my face as I meander through these janked-out businesses in Phoenix is one that seems to scream out that I'm some kind of dumbass with a big, Santa-sized sack of cash that I just can't wait to get rid of. It's not just this place either, I somehow have had the same annoyance at a few different stores lately. I don't really understand when the word "No" ceased to mean, well NO, and started instead to mean "Keep talking because I am just as moronic as you and might buy into your bullshit." THREE times I had to say NO to this buffoon who tried to sell me a warranty for a pair of shoes so that they would last me a year in the Arizona sun. He was quite authoritative on his weather report and science project explaining me how the glue on the sole would separate. Really? Because I actually use my RUNNING shoes for - guess what - RUNNING, and as such, I replace them every six months - at the most. Furthermore, if the blast of heat when it really starts to get going out there was enough to melt a pair of shoes as I wear them, then wouldn't the world be coming to a nuclear end? Three times I said no. THREE.
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