Gilheney - the worst a hemophiliac can get

The thought of buying a replacement mattress for the one destroyed by the Mangler was so undesirable that these little Pyggies opted to repeatedly leave the state in search for a more pleasurable and sandy circumstance. Unfortunately, the time has arrived (summer) where guests have begun inviting themselves to come to Washington, see the Ronald Reagan building, go on unlicensed Segway tours, and beg their crooked congresswomen to expedite their passport applications since that Hantavirus isn’t gonna spread itself. I guess we can’t ask them to sleep in the bath tub any more - I am almost 40, for fraternity’s sake.

Sigh.

In the same vein, mattresses are no longer things you just sort of inherent from your cousin when she graduates from college. It’s one of those annoying purchases that require you to talk to a salesman while he makes you sit there at his desk since he still writes the receipt out by hand, for some reason. There’s also the repeated insistence that seriously, dude, we just need your cheapest mattress and no bedspring and we don’t want an upgrade to the newest Swedish bed technology you guys are pushing. Or maybe NASA’s.

That’s why I whole heartedly endorse whatever the Mattress place is that we went to in Bailey’s Crossroads. The salesman wasn’t aggressive. He gave us what seemed to be a good deal. And he smiled the whole time, even though it was clear he wasn't having a good day.

Case in point:

• Our mattress was at the bottom of a big stack that he had to move by himself.
• He ran out of string for car roof tying.
• While we were maneuvering the mattress out of the backdoor, it slammed closed and locked us out. Our salesman just stood there and stared hound-doggedly until I volunteered to run around the mall to the front and open the door.

While I was gone, the G reports that when she told the salesman that this was a “comedy of errors” he laughed so hard and enthusiastically, she got nervous.

The fact that he was out of rope was also a little suspicious since he instantly suggested we try the Dollar Store next door. Even more so, when the lol-Dollar Store!!1! guy was all, “O hai! You need has rope now? One dollar k bye,” as soon as we walked in the door. But if there was some strip mall collusion going on, it was a pretty sad scam. One dollar for every mattress sold is not going to keep 1,2,3 Dollar! in business.

But maybe this will.



I can’t find any record of Gilheny brand razors anywhere except for an example of their availability in the Guangdong province. There were no instructions on the back but I imagine they would just show a happy man with a beard on his face followed by a sad man with blood, tetanus and lockjaw on his face. Also, the aloe strip was replaced with lemon juice strip.