Numb

My time at Numbtindoughland is drawing to a rapid close. Friday is the last day. And even though I suspected they would ask us to stay on after the 26th, well--I was wrong. Dead wrong. We had our exit interviews and everything. All that's left is for us to be given the boot.

In many ways, I'm not sorry to see it go. For one thing, I'm ready to like people again. Honestly, after working here, I wouldn't trust any clergy or preacher who hadn't done at least one Christmas in the trenches, that is, working retail at a toy store. We talk about how children are sweet and pure and all, but when you get down and dirty with them at the Gii Sports station, you quickly learn that most of them are clenching little beasts with high potential for calculated, remorseless murder.

And their mothers are no better! But we already did a post on them...

Another thing I won't be sad to leave is how much I repeat myself. I could explain the instructions for the game in eight different languages (nine if you count sign language) and people STILL wouldn't listen to me. I tell them. I show them. I place my hand on theirs and do the movement with them. Still...STILL they turn to me three minutes later and ask, "What am I supposed to do?"

What do you THINK you're supposed to do, kiddo? Do you think when you buy this thing that I'm going to be included? That I'm going to appear in your bedroom and tell you, "Don't forget to point the gii-mote at the sensor bar! LOL!"

The Numbtindough Gii! Now with 90% more Fork!

At the same time, it wasn't all bad. For all the Roller Moms and the Rhoda Penmarks, seeing the Crockosmeller Center Tree lighting was cool. Walking through Crimes Square to get to work every day was something else. The whole Noo Yuck Christmas THING was something else. It was all...so...

Wait a minute...it's all finally starting to hit me. I just survived a Christmas in Noo Yuck working in a high-profile store in the most fashionable shopping area in the country.

Do I get a medal?


In other news, I had another audition for the Crimerican Snakespeare Festival yesterday, at which I was almost completely ignored, thanks to the two auditioners who had worked with them in the past and made NO small show of their being all chummy with the casting directors.

"OH! I'll do THIS monologue. You guys haven't seen me do THIS monologue, even after two summers ago when I was in your company, I didn't do THIS monologue.

Maybe they asked me to leave because they could HEAR my eyes rolling. Good grief, people. Have a little dignity. Your incessant name-dropping isn't scaring the competition, it's just making them hate you.


And finally, a little beam of sunshine...

My twin sister is great with child. My mother says she looks 40 weeks pregnant, whatever that means. I think it means it looks like she's about to explode. They're taking her to the hospital early tomorrow morning and inducing labor since this baby is apparently not in any kind of mood to vacate the premises. By this time tomorrow, I'll be an uncle.

I know it's a special time for the new mother and father. The new grandparents. The first child. The first grandchild. All that.

But who is the one person who gets left out whenever a child is born?

The new uncle.

Seriously, the new uncle is the worst person to be when a baby is born. There's a reason Dr. Spock doesn't have a chapter about the new uncle in his hit book. There's a reason why Rick Warren doesn't go into detail about purpose driven uncles.

That's because the new uncle is the saddest person of all when a baby is born. There's even a name for the condition. New Uncle Syndrome. Of course, it's never really talked about except in whispers in deserted bathrooms or private corners at lavish parties. It's shameful. Tom Cruise recently denounced it as psychological doo-doo. But it's time to address this crippling condition.

You're not a girl so you're not invited to the parties or the baby's shower. You're not a parent or grandparent so you're about the twelfth person who gets the phone call saying that the kid came out okay. And odds are, as this IS the first child/grandchild, the poor thing is going to be spoiled rotten, so the kid is only going to like you if you can lavish upon it gold-plated dollies and lollies whenever you come to visit. I suppose a well-read bedtime story wouldn't be enough.

Thinking about new babies makes me wonder...why aren't my married friends (like the Cachinnator, Bibb Leo File, and ADub) having children? And how is it some of my friends (like Queen 3) HAVEN'T had children? Seriously, folks. N.U.S. is setting in. Help me stave it off by naming me SOME kid's godfather.