Dean and I went to Circuit City on Saturday because we were in the neighborhood. I had wanted to buy Elizabeth with Cate Blanchett on DVD in light of my recent interest in Tudor England. Apparently this is much too obscure of a movie for Circuit City. I was so irritated because their organizational method (or lack thereof) is total crap. If you are not going to display the DVDs in an aesthetically pleasing fashion, at least display them spine side out like in a book store so a person doesn't have to flip through every freaking DVD just to realize you don't have what they want.
Dean, a much easier man to please, decided for once in his life to treat himself and buy the next season of Family Guy. The first two volumes were gifts and my jaw about dropped when he brought it up to me saying, "Is it okay if I buy this?"
Dean was as disgusted with Circuit City as I was. Not so much about the lack of organization (maybe I would have forgotten all about it if I had found what I was looking for), but because of the volume of the (crappy) music they were playing. Normally I would tease Dean about being an old man, but he has amazing hearing and the music was even hurting my ears a little. Dean can pick up conversations across a crowded bar. It's a gift.
Anyway, after waiting in line an OBSCENE amount of time, Dean is finally allowed to purchase his DVD. He is paying with cash. The cashier asked him for his phone number. I about went apeshit. Dean without batting an eyelash gave it to her. He's much more forthcoming with personal information, but my feeling is what the hell does Circuit City, this hell hole of a store, want with my phone number? I was about to say this, when a name popped up after she entered Dean's phone number.
"Are you Willie Hernandez?" she asked my obviously non-ethnic fiance nonchalantly.
Dean grinned, "Yep, that's me!"