Friday, July 13, 2007

More Potty Mouth

Today, I encountered Harry Potter for myself. It tasted terrible.

Odd Encounter of the Week: serial comments

I have had a record number of comments the last two posts. This confirms my theory that Harry Potter is popular, though my readers maintain only a small portion of the larger world population. My biased sample could skew results.

On my end, Harry Potter continues as the most relevant force in my occupational life. He dominates customers and, by extension, Borders. I feel as if I have a front-row seat for perhaps the biggest story of 2007.

This supply-and-demand situation leads us to an inevitable conclusion: another Harry Potter post. More Potty mouth from your humble hack.

So we return to my opening statement. Did he finally read part of a book and hate it? one might ask. Is he proclaiming Optimus Prime's superior existence once again? one could query. Does he now, in fact, hate Harry Potter? a cynic could postulate.

None of the above. In an attempt to open my mind (and let's be honest, be "cool"), I encountered Harry Potter today. I bought the jelly beans which carry his name. All $6.50 of them. Apparently, putting the name "Harry Potter" on anything inflates its value, oh, 6.5/.99 X 100% = 656.56%. The flavors: dirt, soap, rotten egg, pickle, earthworm, vomit, black pepper, sausage, booger, and earwax.

Once again, can anybody explain this to me?

My Harry Potter experience tasted terrible. I thought the flavors were a joke, but the flavors tasted as labeled. I tried them all, and each possessed its own distinct part of bad. All except the booger flavor actually. Man, I had not tasted boogers since I was four, and I had forgotten how delicious they were!

Needless to say, I now have in my possession some great, um, "resources" with which to produce more vomit flavored ones if Jelly Belly feels so inclined. Dear reader, do not buy these. I tried them in your sted. I sat on the grenade. Do not buy the Harry Potter jelly beans. And don't say I never did anything for you.

I tried another experiment at work today. Upon hearing two teenage customers discuss their excitement for July 20, I broke conversation with a nearby co-worker and loudly interjected into our conversation: "I hate Harry Potter!" (remember though that I do not). I pulled a Mrs. Lot just to gage their reactions. In my quick glance, I saw a glare no man should ever see. I turned and sped my way to the sanctuary of the back room. I cannot lie, I smiled.

Speaking of the back room, the books have arrived. Lots of them. I stand under orders not to reveal how many, only say "enough" when customers (and presumably blog readers) ask. In their black, cubed packaging, they remind me of the final destination of the Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca.

On a related note, a co-worker of mine walked into the back room on Wednesday, bowed to the box, and proclaimed: "I am not worthy." I would not kid you about this thing.

The level of security around these things is rather impressive. The books are boxed, boxed again, wrapped in some rubbery stuff, tied with plastic string, and who knows what else. We all had to sign a release form saying we would not open the box or sell any of the books before release day under penalty of receiving a pink slip and presumably a mob hit. 'Tis a shame, in my case. Five of those books on the black market at this very moment could support me for my three year commitment in New Hampshire. Heck, it could support InterVarsity's entire ministry in New Hampshire for three years. Alack and alas, integrity.

Come to think of it, I actually did not read the fine print that I signed. Hopefully, it did not say anything about the taboo nature of talking about the shipments. Or describing them in detail.

Apparently, the in-store policy is only the tip of the wand when it comes to the security measures being taken. Our manager tells a story of a buddy of his who drives a truck. His company loaded him up with a shipment of HP books, then ordered him to take them to "New York."

New York is a big place, he said. Where in New York?

Can't say, they responded. Call when you hit the state line, and we'll guide you from there.

I would love to continue on, but I just popped a rotten egg-flavored jelly bean. My stomach turns. Here I thought I had a Potty mouth simply because I spoke on Harry Potter. Given that these candies taste like poo, perhaps one may say I have a potty mouth on a very, very different level.

Maybe washing it out with a soap flavored jelly bean will do the trick.

2 comments:

Tammy said...

If you had inquired about "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," we could have spared you that experience. These are actually taken directly from the series, where they are sold in a candy store containing magical goodies to share with your friends. Some you share to give your friends pleasure; some you share to give yourself the pleasure of laughing at your friends. The beans you tried fall in the latter category. I believe Jelly Belly decided to market them not only because of the Harry Potter frenzy (which wasn't nearly as big at the time they came out), but also because they know that kids think gross is cool. My cousin Ally ate one and threw up. She still thinks they are cool. And so does her father, who gave it to her knowing she would throw up, because he is basically a big kid and still thinks gross is cool. So now you know, these jelly beans were not meant for you to eat - they were meant for you to give to your unsuspecting friends so that you could laugh hysterically at them as they run to the bathroom.

Brian said...

You ain't real unless you paint a lightning bolt on your forehead for the Hallows Ball.