Walmart gets iPhoned

I am here to tell you, faithful loving Walmart employee that I am, that we will 100% positively surely will be selling the 8gb iPhone at Walmart. The 16gb version may or may not be reserved for Apple and AT&T, so we're unsure if we're going to land that or not. If Best Buy didn't, we probably won't. They're freaking Best Buy.

Oh, and this is the image on PCWorld, it's not mine. MacRumors also has it as a whole - computer, Wire cardboard prop, and all.

Where's the negative in this? The clothing sections of Walmart have nothing to do with electronics.

Why does that matter? I want to sell people motha' fuckin' iPhones.

Anyway it goes, I will be in the same place that sells iPhones, and that's an awesome idea. I'll be feet away from them 4 or 5 days a week. It's like I just gained custody of my adopted children after never seeing them. Which makes no sense. Which makes me a bit like Brad Pitt.

All the info just appeared on "The Wire". That's the big fancy name for the collection of stupid shitsy computer games we have to play when we're hired or rehired at that joint, and all the info that we could possibly never want as employees of such a fine upstanding redneck establishment.

I'll see what else I get later on this week, and I'll see if I can get pictures. I'll see. You'll see.

Watch there be nothing and it doesn't hit our store. That would be my luck.

Maybe this will finally give me some cred. I finally got some dirt on the truth. When people around the world see that Skippy has done it, I will be able to prove that I am amazing. I'm Skippy.

No money, no iPhone

For some reason I still can't find a job. Nowhere.

This city, is so full of places needing work, and places to spend said cash, that how could I not find work somewhere? Unreal. I can't make donuts for our local officers of the law, I can't make pizzas for our local cheap people, and I also can't even slice deli meats.

I know the knife is sharp, but may I remind you it's attached to a counter.

I can't even stock Wal-Mart trucks. What is that? I'm being shunned by Mr. Sam Walton? The man whom I've been nothing if not loyal to whenever I head off to a store in search of everyday low prices.

Oh, America. Land of the Half-A-Grand-Phone. How I long to operate your touch screen with my tongue. You know Gene Simmons probably thinks of that.

Oh. I'm sorry to report to you all, that Sir Bono on the Fake Steve blog, wasn't even a Fake Bono. As FSJ tells it, it wasn't even him or even still, it wasn't authorized by him. I love Bono as much as the next Irishman, but holy Jesus. Don't be him. There is one Bono. One Oprah, one Tom Cruise, one Dave Thomas, one Bono. Not two, not a mini-Bono, not a Bono-clone, not Bono Jr.

As exciting as a dual-Bono tour may be... Could you imagine that? It's like two Lynyrd Skynyrds going on tour with the same name.

Oops.

Wait. They did that already? Crap.

Double the Fridays?

Wal-Mart is apparently so high and mighty, that they've requested that Black Friday be 2 days long. Meaning Saturday would turn into another Friday.

What?!

Tom Park of Fucillo's Auto Shitplex wants to work his magic too. He's gonna call Friday, Green Friday. Why? Who knows. He doesn't. I don't either. Why not just carry on daily life without trying to change the days of the week just to get off on the "look ma', I played God" feeling. For the life of me, I don't understand.

Wal-Mart, why have you forsaken me? With your mothering employees, high quality products, and every day low prices, all I have to ask you is why? Can't we maybe think of something more important, like the task at hand? Which would be to sell as many Wal-Mart brand deli meats and baked goods as possible.

I'm going to be off on holiday for the Thanksgiving weekend. Thursday is my tryptophan binge, Friday is the day in which I get to wake up at 3 am to go shopping and leagally deck anyone who steps in my path regardless of race, sex or age. Pray to whatever God you see fancy that your first grader doesn't try to snatch up a Taylor Swift cd that happens to be right in my way of Garth Brooks, because so help me, I will roundhouse kick their head from their shoulders.

On that note, enjoy your holiday, and I'll see you bright and early in electronics on Friday! In advance, if I accidentally deck you, keep in mind I know Louis T Brindisi personally, and I'll claim whiplash as I sit in court in my red Budweiser #8 Hoveround.

God's speed to you and yours.

Lack of Traffic

Alright, I'm not doing this for my health. I expect to see people's comments and praise for my work just as I had envisioned after my trip down a flight of stairs. I'm listening to Elvis 30 #1s, and staring at a snow white eMac, with my iBook off to the side, and I'm beginning to wonder where all you aHoles are out on the Interwebz...

I said to myself, "Self... do this for the good of the community, and there's no doubt that you will be showered with much appreciation and affection from the general public, of which you both don't know but know everything about". Fair enough I thought.

Obviously, you've all been off performing your sick boring day in / day out / day old jobs, and not enjoying life as you would if you were sitting at your badass Windows XP machines reading my all powerful blog. That's ok though, I understand. You want Vista. You want 'The Wow', and you want it to 'Start Now'... Let me know which version and I'll let Billy Gates hear your prayers. I can't get you Ultimate though... The folks at Redmond say that the Ultimate Vista would give me too much power and I may ultimately overthrow the leaders at Wal*Mart and turn it into a dark empire or something...

No but seriously, we're hiring for the holiday season. Please send me your applications, social security numbers, substantial amounts of money and / or small children capable of heavy lifting, and I will be sure to get back to you. E-Mail address is provided, um, somewhere. Well it's Skippy.Thorson at-so spammers don't rape my inbox-gmail.com... Seriously, hit me up holmes. We'll spread the love and all that crap like it's the 60's again.