“How much are your new used books?”

Rapid-fire questions from a tipsy cougar on a bookstore date:

“Can I use your phone?”

“Can I use your washroom?”

“Can I have those two posters from the washroom?”

“If there’s no price in the book, is it free?”

“Do you know Salman Rushdie?”

“Is he Persian or Indian?”

Batman: Arkham Asylum (PS3)

I picked this up on Boxing Day and man, is it ever good. There’s been more than a couple of nights now where I’m still up until 2am playing this because I can’t stop beating the crap out of bad guys.

That first Scarecrow encounter was chilling.

I will say that I’m kind of a shit Batman. There are parts of the game where you’re supposed to take out a group of thugs armed with machine guns, using stealth and gadgets, and I keep jumping in the middle of them and shouting “I’M BATMAN!” and then getting shot to fuck.

It’s awesome to hear Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill do the voices of Batman & Joker like they did back in the days of Batman the Animated Series, despite the minor disconnect at not seeing their animated, square-jawed selves.

The Unreal Engine still makes people seem kind of stiff. I do love Carlos D’Anda’s designs, though.

I am very much a retro/casual gamer these days, I don’t have the thumbs to handle complex inputs (I suck so hard at first person shooters), so it’s huge for me that a game can be this much fun and so easy to play.

The whole game just seems so… expertly CRAFTED instead of just a bunch of cool features slapped together. I haven’t enjoyed playing anything this much since Super Mario Galaxy, and that was probably my favourite gaming experience of 2009.

Little blonde girl peeks up over the desk, past my shoulders, and spies my oversized slipcased The Completely Mad Don Martin hardcovers.

LITTLE BLONDE GIRL: Is that a book?

JNADIGER: It’s two books!

LBG: What is it?

JNADIGER: It’s a book of cartoons from Mad Magazine.

LBG: Cartoons?

JNADIGER: Yeah, that’s a lot of cartoons, right?

LBG: Yeah.

JNADIGER: It would take you a thousand years to read all those cartoons!

LBG: …is there a movie?

So this bald fucker was lurching around the bookstore, coughing. Not just a polite, “I seem to have a bit of dust in my throat” cough, muffled into his fist, no.

This was a full-on, “I have a cough engineered by bacteria to create sticky projectiles and launch them into the breathing air of unsuspecting victims all around me.” Every orifice on his face was leaking.

So of course he needed to go up and down every aisle in the bookstore.

Finally, my hypochondriac manager broke down and had to say something.

MANAGER: That’s a nasty cough. Are you okay?

PATIENT ZERO: No! I got the flu!

Ten minutes later, my neighbour who works at the comic store down the road stormed in, and asked if we had a dripping weirdo come through.

Yeah, we said.

NEIGHBOUR: He’s coughing all over the place, and finally a customer says to me, “I think he’s dripping snot on the kids books,” and he WAS! I had to break out the fucking disinfectant!”

These are the people I have to deal with every day. The ones who gleefully inflict their ballistic flu-payloads into the books you read in bed.

I forgot my earphones at home, and so I was unable to ignore the wet, shambling masses packed into my SkyTrain home.

I had hoped to lose myself in some writing, attacking some notes for this pilot I’m trying to break, but the drunk in front of me kepts grabbing for my pen, mumbling “lemme write, man. Lemme WRITE.” I swatted his hand away and he puffed out his Tapout-emblazoned chest and leaned into my face (“Oh, what? You don’t feel me?”) before his neck lost all muscle mass and his head flopped neatly onto the breasts of the horrified woman sitting beside him.

Meanwhile, this kid behind me tried his best to get whoever was on the other end of his cellphone to commit suicide by going on, at length, about his ex-girlfriend, using every relationship cliche you could think of, from “you know, for a few weeks there, I… I was happy, you know? Just really, really happy…” to “yeah, she tried to make love to me then, but I… I just couldn’t do it, you know? It didn’t feel right…but now I’m so alone… I just miss her so bad…”

There is a school of thought that writers should go out into the world and observe, so that your stories can come from real life and you can gain insight and authenticity. Twenty minutes spent on a SkyTrain in the company of future Darwin Award winners and I’m reminded why people would rather page-fuck sparkly Mormon vampires.

This, coupled with Balloon Boy, made today a real milestone for human intelligence.

Two nights ago, this thin, soft-spoken little man was in the store, sneaking around with his Mr. Spock-like bowl cut. At the “ten-minutes before we close” warning, he was sniffing my classic pocket books. He took one book after another, opened it up, and gently sniffed it. Which, to be honest, I could understand. Old books get pretty rank sometimes. But closing time is not Leisurely Smell Time, it’s Huff It Like It’s Glue So I Can Go Home Time.

Mr. Sniff brought a stack of books up to the counter. These were the books that had survived the olfactory gauntlet. He held up a Trollope.

MR. SNIFF: I want to buy this book, because it’s in much nicer condition than the one I have at home. Can I bring you the one I have at home?

JNADIGER: I don’t really want something that’s in worse shape than the one I’ve already got, thanks.

MR. SNIFF: How much would you give me for this book if I brought it in?

JNADIGER: The trashed version of that book? Nothing.

MR. SNIFF: No, this exact book.

JNADIGER: I don’t know, I’d have to see it first, before I can give you any rates.

MR. SNIFF: But, it’s THIS EXACT BOOK.

JNADIGER: I don’t know. Like I said, I’d have to see it. A few bucks in credit. MAYBE. Maybe nothing.

MR. SNIFF: Well, I’ll buy these books.

JNADIGER: Okay, thanks. You get 20% off for buying a big stack of them, so it’s $XX.YY please.

MR. SNIFF: Can I pay with pennies?

JNADIGER: I’d rather not have $XX.YY in pennies.

MR. SNIFF: Well, why not?

JNADIGER: They’re hard to get rid off, and I just don’t want them.

MR. SNIFF: Here’s $XX. Can I pay$0.YY in pennies?

JNADIGER: No.

MR. SNIFF: How about $0.0Y in pennies.

JNADIGER: Fine.

MR. SNIFF: Do all bookstore people have the same attitude as you?

(Which, you know, is such a difficult question to answer. Probably not, really.)

JNADIGER: I’m sorry, what’s your question?

MR. SNIFF: Does everything have to be an argument? About bringing books in? And payment?

JNADIGER: With respect, there’s no argument. The rules of the store are the rules of the store. I’m happy to take a look at anything you bring through that door, but until you do, there’s no books, no rates, no discussion.

MR. SNIFF: In Paris, I find the book stores there have unpleasant sellers, like you. But in New York, they are happy just to get anything. Any kind of money.

JNADIGER: Well, book store in Vancouver is closed. Thanks for dropping by.

And then, mercifully, I went to the bar. I figured that would be the end of it, and that I’d have one more Story of Human Failure to add to my already impressive repertoire, and that would be that. It’s not even that great of a story, really.

Except he just walked through the door.

And I don’t close for another three hours.

“Where are your non-fiction Sherlock Holmes books?”

A young black lady carrying two heavy backpacks came up to the front desk and tried running some weak game. Weak game almost always opens with the following line:

WEAK GAME: Where’s the boss? I am his friend.

JNADIGER: Boss isn’t here.

WEAK GAME: What is your favourite book?

JNADIGER: If I had to pick just one, at this very moment, I guess I’d say 1984 by George Orwell.

WEAK GAME: Can you lend me a copy of this book?

JNADIGER: No.

WEAK GAME: You can lend it to me. I am a friend of the boss. The old man and I, we are friends.

JNADIGER: He’s not that old, and I don’t have a copy of 1984 anyways.

WEAK GAME: But if you did, would you lend it to me?

JNADIGER: No. I’d happily sell you one.

WEAK GAME: Sell me one? I love books. I am from South Africa. If I had a copy of my favourite book, The Moor’s Last Sigh by Salman Rushdie, I would give it to you. Not sell it to you. And if you think this way, then you do not love books.

JNADIGER: I might not love books, but I love my job, so…

WEAK GAME: I forgive you for thinking in this manner.

JNADIGER: That’s a relief. Have a nice day.

***

While we’re talking about books, if I don’t want your books because they’re too common and too beat up, unclench, okay? I’m not talking about you. I’m not saying YOU’RE too common and beat up. Stop identifying so hard with your trashed copies of Danielle Steele, okay? Empathy is the enemy.

***

This heat, man, it does things to people. It makes the stupid and it makes us cruel. Witness:

Earlier today, we had another Average Frustrated Chump (AFC) try to buy a used copy of The Game: A Guide to Douchebaggery and Daterape. He picked it up off the shelf, cut in front of three cute girls in line at the register and thrust it in my manager’s face.

AFC: How much?

MANAGER: Should say on the inside.

AFC: There’s no price. That means it’s free right?

MANAGER: Hey James! There’s no price in this book! That means it’s free right?

JNADIGER: I’ve never heard that one before! That’s the most hilarious thing ever!

AFC got sad face after that. He bought another book, though, to show us that he was a man, and immune to our mockery. Is there a lesson here? I don’t know. I only know that if I can make fun of someone buying NLP date books, I will. Even if they really need the help.

There isn’t going to be much going on here for the next few weeks, as I’m struggling to get a draft of something written.

However, I’m happily Tumblr’ing away, so if you can’t live without my online presence, feel free to click through to my Tumblr page and watch me be vapid and childish in near-real time. I’m using Tumblr as a bit of an online notepad, catching things that tickle my interest.

You’ll see me here again the next time I have a spare minute to compose a coherent thought or when a customer is an asshole to me. One will probably happen sooner than the other.