Dupe Me, and I’ll Break Your Ribs

Posted on March 12, 2009
Filed Under Daily | 15 Comments

Do I have boogers oozing out of my nose with the words Stupid, Idiot, and Moron swirling around inside them?
I’d like to know, because I swear people either think A.) My brain is made of plastic, or B.) The Average Joe on the street has no idea that I invented “The Manic Death Hold” (also known in some states, as “The Rib Crusher.”)
You see, if someone wants to question my intellect, fine, but people have no idea that my pure brute strength has actually made people whimper — and those people include my sister, my best friend, my neighbor, and my very own husband.
Sorry guys, but if you let the beast out of the cage…[insert something witty here.]

The reason for my frustration is because I feel like people are always trying to dupe me – and most times I don’t say anything because I figure as long as I don’t get duped, then things will be okay.
But now, I’ve just about had it.

The other day I went to GNC to buy my multivitamins. I go to GNC, because they have a zillion options for vegetarians, which I’m not, but multivitamins tend to be made with gelatin, which 99.9 percent of the time comes from a pig, which Muslims can’t eat.
But since I didn’t know that there was gelatin in vitamins for like, the longest time, I bought my vitamins from wherever I happened to be when I remembered that I needed more.
So you can imagine my utter delight when I found out that the source of my 24-hour energy was coming from the hair off a pig’s butt.

I’m one of those people that only goes somewhere when I know exactly what I need. I despise window shopping, and I can’t stand going to the mall, so when I walked into GNC, I marched right over to the Women’s Ultra Mega Superhero Vitamins section, and as I reached for the bottle that is so familiar to my senses, I froze.
On the shelf, right next to the bottle I normally pick up, there was another bottle, which looked exactly the same, only at the bottom of all the fancy colors, fonts, and descriptions, it said “Sport,” and it cost $3 more than the stuff I usually get.
And wouldn’t you know that this new bottle totally threw a wrench in my plans of a quick stop at GNC — now I was totally confused and intrigued, and was all, “Well, I am an athlete.”
I picked up both bottles and started examining the ingredients labels.

In the mean time, the guy who had been standing behind the counter walked over to me.

“Hi, can I help you find something?”

I know it’s not nice to judge a book by its cover, but the second I looked at this guy, I knew there was no way he knew anything about this place. Or anything about anything. Like, in the world.
He looked like a total sleaze bag pumped full of creatine. I was tempted to ask him who our vice president was just so I could see him stammer and sweat, and then laugh hysterically when he blurted out “Tom Brady.”
But I didn’t. Not because I had a change of heart, but because the moment he stood next to me, I swear all the oxygen was sucked out of the room, and the foul odor of his imitation “Mommy Hilfiger” cologne rushed straight passed my nose hairs and into my frontal lobe.

“Yeah,” I said, holding up the two bottles. “Can you tell me what the difference is between these two?”

“Yeah, this one’s better,” he said pointing to the one that was more expensive.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is this one better?”

He took the bottle out of my hand, and said, “This one has vitamin B, which is really good for women, and the other one doesn’t.”

I turned over the bottle I was holding, and whaddya know? VITAMIN B.

“This one has vitamin B, too,” I said.

Guy looks at me a little annoyed.

“No, I mean this one has iron, which I know that the other one doesn’t have because this one is the newer version that GNC released because many women are iron deficient.”

I looked at my bottle again, and whaddya know? IRON.

I let out a small chuckle, you know, the involuntary kind that translates to, ‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’

“This one has iron too,” I said.

At this point, the guy looked a little embarrassed, but more annoyed, and I was nervously expecting him to let loose into some sort of Roid Rage.
But instead, he shoved the bottle back into my hand, which I considered Baby Roid Rage.

“Well there are a lot of differences,” he said. “You can get whichever one you want, but I know that this one is a lot better, that’s why GNC decided to come out with it. They’re constantly updating their products because…[wait for it…] we want to make sure that all our clients are at their peek level of performance at all times.”

Great, now you said what you’re paid to say, Idiot, but what the hell is the difference between Women’s Ultra Mega Vitamins, and Women’s Ultra Mega Vitamins SPORT?

Even though he was looking at me like he wanted to slam my head through the wall, well, you know me, and I just wouldn’t let it go.
“So…what’s the difference?” I asked.

He snatched the bottle from my hand one last time and said, “This one gives you more DNA.”
And then he walked back over to the counter.

WHAT?
Did he just say it will GIVE ME MORE DNA?
What does that even mean? Is that even possible?
Now I definitely don’t want it.

That was seriously the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
I took my normal vitamins (you know, the stuff that leaves my DNA alone) up to the counter, paid and left.

When I got home and told The Boss what happened, he was a little disapointed in me.

“He said what? I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

“Well, I think I was just so appalled at his sheer stupidity that it took me a moment to process what he said.”

“What an idiot.”

“Who me?”

“No, him.”

Starting today, I’m just going to start calling people out, even if I’m not in the conversation — and that Person Trying to Dupe Me (PTDM) will have no idea what they’re in for.

PTDM: “I got this at Nordstrom, isn’t it cute? It was like $186, but that’s nothing for a top like this!”
Me: “Liar. Nordstrom Rack. $24.99. I saw it in there last weekend.”

PTDM: “Yeah, my twin brother plays hockey at that college, and he scored the most goals ever in one season.”
Me: “ERRNN! Wrong again. Wallace looked at the school roster and everyone on the team is white. And you’re black.”

PTDM: “Hi, my name is Tim.”
Me: “That’s funny, because I saw your driver’s license, and it says your name is Chris.”

PTDM: “Yeah, the doctor said I needed the surgery because I have a deviated septum.”
Me: “Well if that’s the case, you should probably tell your mom to stop telling everyone that you hate your big, ugly nose.”

Now excuse me while I drive to GNC and put Mr. Steroidal Greaseball, his chest hair and gold chain, in The Manic Death Hold.

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