AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR spoiler-free #review

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STANDARD CAVEATS APPLY:  I cannot always be trusted within the first couple of days after seeing a geek movie I really like.  I’m twelve hours out from this motherfucker.

This is the best movie ever made in the history of all the movies ever and if you haven’t seen this movie yet WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN DOING WITH YOUR LIFE JESUS GO SEE INFINITY WAR RIGHT NOW IF YOU CAN EVEN GET TICKETS BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE IT’S SOLD OUT FOR THE NEXT SIX WEEKS OH MY GOD I DON’T EVEN HAVE THE WORDS

 

HOW DID THEY DO THIS

HOW

 

THIS MOVIE SHOULD HAVE BEEN IMPOSSIBLE.  ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE.

 

THEY FUCKING

N

A

I

L

E

D

 

IT

 

OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE GO SEE INFINITY WAR GODDAMMIT

 

NOW

 

NOW

 

NOW

DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD THANK YOU GOODNIGHT

I would say words, but…

…I’m limiting my Internet access as much as I possibly can until I’ve seen Infinity War tonight.  Yes, I know, this is my blog, and it’s difficult to imagine spoiling myself on my own blog, but the tendency is to websurf while I write, or at least monitor Twitter, and I can’t have that.

In particular, I have lots of things to say about the God of War reboot that just came out for PS4, but you’re going to have to wait a bit.

In case you ever thought I was smart, ch. 3987

derpyderp_400x400This was an exceptionally long week at work– it was decided (not by me) that yesterday needed to be a Move Every Single God Damn Thing in the Store day, and I spent the majority of it out of breath and sweating, which are exactly the characteristics you want in a purveyor of fine furniture and furniture-related goods and services.

I am old and fat and out of shape, guys, and I signed up to be a salesman.  If I wanted to work as a mover I would have made sure to be 20 years younger and substantially more svelte.  And yet.

But that’s not the point of this post.  The point of this post is that in addition to being fat and old and out of shape and sweaty and out of breath, attractive characteristics all, I am also an idiot.

So this lady comes in and wants four $75 dining chairs.  She wants to buy one of them from clearance at half off (fine) and order the other three new.  No problem!  She’s already decided on everything before coming in so everything ought to go really fast, right?  I write the ticket, call a manager over to drop the price of the clearance chair, and tell her how much the sale will be.  She is writing a check, and blinks a couple of times and then, visibly embarrassed, asks me the name of the store.

I tell her and her day immediately gets worse as her brainfart continues and I have to spell the name of the store for her.  It is obvious that this woman is not a moron and is just having a bad couple of minutes where the synapses aren’t firing right.  We cool.  I make a joke about having made a stupid math error earlier in the day.  It is worth pointing out that the joke wasn’t true, and I was just trying to make her feel better.

I tell her how much to write the check for.  She pauses, thinking, and comments that the number doesn’t seem right.

“The one chair is half off, remember,” I say.

“Oh,” she says, and writes the check for the agreed-upon amount, takes her clearance chair, and leaves the store.

Two minutes later it occurs to me that $75 times three and a half is not $118, which is what the check she wrote was for, and I look at the invoice and discover that I only sold her two chairs.  She not only noticed the error but pointed it out to me and I still looked at $118 and went “Yeah, that’s definitely the right amount to charge someone for four goddamn chairs.”

I had to call her back and tell her she’d need to either call me with a credit card number or come back to the store and write a second check if she wanted all four chairs.  She was back in ten minutes, having figured out on her own that I wasn’t able to math.  Luckily, both of us blamed ourselves for the mistake getting through.


Earlier today, I sold something to someone who lives on a street very near me.  She asked me what street I lived on and I forgot my address.  I literally could not remember the name of the street I live on.  It took way too long.

I am not having a good week.

Because it’s making me nuts

I will take second to no one in my disgust with the loathsome beast currently shitting up the cushions in the White House, but somehow I’m STILL seeing articles and Tweets criticizing him for not attending Barbara Bush’s funeral and while I would prefer to never have to defend him ever it is starting to affect my calm. Folks, it is settled precedent that sitting Presidents, legitimate or otherwise, do not typically attend the funerals of First Ladies. Obama did not attend Nancy Reagan’s or Betty Ford’s. Clinton skipped a couple. Bush skipped at least one that I recall. They all sent their respective First Ladies. Previous Presidents attend. The current one does not.

I am not terribly interested in dying on the foothills of Mount Whogivesashit over this, and it is also undeniable fact that Barbara Bush openly despised his low-class ass and would surely have risen from her casket to devour the souls of all in attendance had he been there, but the shitgibbon gets a pass on this one.

STATION IDENTIFICATION: Infinitefreetime.com

I’m Luther Siler.  I’m a writer and an editor.  Welcome to my blog, infinitefreetime.com.

I’ve written several books you might be interested in, ranging from short story collections to near-future science fiction to fantasy space opera to nonfiction, all available as ebooks or in print from Amazon.  Autographed books can be ordered straight from me as well.

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Thanks for reading!

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