Friday, January 12, 2007

Diamonds are a….

Girls best friend. I know the saying; but every time I see a brotha with gianormous kidney stones hanging from his ears I can't help but think how tarnished the mantra is. (Gee I've digressed a bit already….) The point here is within the last month I was lucky enough to receive a pair of these little rocks myself. Even watched as some giddy 19 year old wearing the "I can see your ass" carpenter pants pierce my other ear so I could wear the set. The mall is really good for one thing anymore, but I have a phallus, so what do I know (digression two).

I received these little buggers on the 1st day of the great 2006 power outage. For whatever reason the better half decided this was the day she HAD to go to the mall and get her shopping done. I'm not going to fault her. I just thought she was nuts. I don't think she was home 10 minutes before I was handed this little box with me thinking WTF did you buy? I'd been wearing this TINY diamond in my left ear for 15 years. Just big enough to be considered a diamond. I liked it that way. Guess she wanted me to upgrade.

Well now I felt like shit. I'd already been done shopping for two weeks (long live the internets). Someone was already getting exactly what she asked for. Doesn't matter what it was; not the point. I couldn't live with myself if my better half had smaller rocks in her ears than I did. I'd gotten her a set way back at the beginning of time when I think I was pulling down $7.50 hour at some shitass job and the diamonds were only twice as big as my tiny spec. It was time to play one-up.

This brings us to mall-shopping for diamonds. I was good. Went on a weekday. Got there before lunch. On my drive there I debated on going to Jared's Galleria of shitholiness. I'm not swayed by TV advertising by any means, but I knew I'd drive right by it. I figured if I entertain myself watching bad B horror flicks this couldn't be any worse and boy I was right. I walk in, I'm dressed in pullover coat and jeans. I'm not two steps in the door and some olderish balding dood with a loud tie accosts me and asks me if he could help me in any way or if I was there looking for something in particular. First word out of my mouth is, "Aloha!" Almost immediately the armed guard goes from looking bored and leaning on the counter to "WTF did he just say!?" What a tool. I was better armed than he was. Whatever.

I mention I'm looking for diamond studs. Olderish, loud-tie dood whisks me over to the diamond studs and hands me off to Stephen. Not Steve. Not Steven. Stephen. I'm asked if I want coffee, cappuccino, tea, soda, croissant, etc. No, no, and no. Stephen is wearing a lovely black silk shirt with a smashing, light-blue tie. His gold chain just popped around his neck and his diamond earrings were to die for. Ok I'll stop; but you get the picture. I don't think my hair ever looks that good. Stopping now. He starts to feel me (NOW YOU STOP) out on what I'm looking for and my almighty price point. To be honest I didn’t want to spend more than about $800 but quickly found I'd not shopped for diamonds in 10 years. Stephen shows me yellow gold earrings, white gold earrings, platinum "LEO" earrings. Ok the Leo shit was very nice and VERY expensive. We're talking diamond earrings people. The crappy zales earrings in MY ears look good. At about this time I notice some young, enlisted guy get waltzed over to the diamond counter. Does he get a fag to help him? OH NO, he gets the leggy blonde. I remember him saying he bought all is girl's jewelry at Jared's. 1. I'm thinking, dood, you can't afford this stuff. 2. She must really fuck like a monkey while you're deployed. 3. What a poor sap (I'm not considering this a digression and it's part of the Jared saga).

At the same time I was hemming, hawing, and reading the certification sheets (yes, I even deciphered quicker than fag-boy), Stephen mentions that any purchase over $1000 can be financed through Jared. I looked at him square in his tanned face and said, "Do I look like I can't afford this?" He didn't know what to say. I loved it. I told him I just didn't feel like parting with >$1500 for earrings I didn't think were worth it. About then I told him thank you for his time. He asked me my name. I faked it. He again told me his name was Stephen, no shit. That was that, but damn did I have fun.


Now THIS mall, which shall remain nameless (think near Seattle, had the lunatic shoot it up a year ago, and had the sista's throw down not a week after this saga took place), is run amok with gang bangers mixed in with slow-shuffling families. It's more fun than the zoo if you enjoy watching life go by and packing heat (THIS is digression three). Now I'd made up my mind that I was going to Gordon's Jewelers first. I've gotten other jewelry there and never came away unhappy. What a fucking mistake. I pony up to the diamond studs and the most hideous old bag decides to help me. I could tell the moment she came over she 'knew' I was a waste of time. Well honey if your diamonds weren't shit I might have made your day. Whatever. She's pulling out the crap and the not so crappy certified crap one set at a time. I'm looking, holding things up to the light, comparing sizes, etc. Then I FREAKED her out. I went to twist out my new diamond to compare sizes. I thought she was going to call the mall police. Needless to say, my crappy zales diamond was nicer than anything they had at the bigger size I wanted. Well that sucked, but the look on her face was priceless.

I wandered the mall watching all the pimps and hos while trying to find a not-so-mallish jewelry store. You have to realize there must be 15 of these deathtraps in the place not including the crap they sell in the department stores. I'm getting to the point that I must head back south and start this hunt over when I stroll past Whitehall Co. I think the only reason I stopped was because they had the 20% off sign where you could see it by walking by and not have to be conned into it. Their studs are right on the outer edge so I don't have to walk in. It must have taken a good MINUTE before anyone bothered (helped) me. I like that. Some non-assuming, this-is-the-only-job-I-can-get-as-I-have-ZERO-skills, 20-something gal asks if I need any help. Well I'm looking closely at the diamond studs darling, what do you think? I didn't, but you get the picture. I start small, working my way up from mid-crap to big crap then onto mid-cert to big-cert. Then I see a pair in the next counter. They looked HUGE, but we're only 3/4 T.W. I love it when I find diamonds cut wide and not tall. I looked at these for over 5 minutes. I compared them to the others I'd been looking at. They weren't 'cheap' but on par with about everything else at 3.4 T.W. I'd looked at that day. She calculates the sale price off the sticker, not "bad", then says she'll take another $100 off. Sold. I know it's a game. She was the first to play it with me, she wins. I just couldn't believe I found certified, 3/4 carat diamonds cut that way. I politely decline their credit and she's off to pack everything up for me.

You'd think this little ditty was over, but NOOOOO. She fucking drops one of the backs onto the carpet behind the counter and can't find it!! She get's help. Can't find it. I finally stretch over the swinging door, scan the floor and find the damn thing in 10 seconds. I'll be damned if she was going to replace the platinum backing with something else. She must have been too busy calculating her commission. Did I mention the no skills part?

Needless to say someone was VERY happy and I just had to share the story.

And I only said "For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge" three times :)


Blogger Lisa said...

LMAO! Who wouldn't be happy?

1/12/07, 9:34 PM  
Blogger Stacie said...

LMAO, sounds like a fun adventure. I'm sure she was very happy, and I'm sure they were a beaut.

1/14/07, 5:08 PM  
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