Calle Ocho

Good evening, everyone! My name is Stik, and I'd like to welcome you to the Calle Ocho segment of our "Unusual Miami Hotspots" tour. Tonight we're going to visit one of the city's busiest stores: Home Depot en Calle Ocho, or Eighth Street for the non-bilingual ilk. You have no idea how much this store makes a day. I do, but since I'm currently a Home Depot employee, I'm not permitted to share that information with you. Let's just say it's way more than most of us make in two years' time.

Anyway, now that we've parked, please exit the van without killing each other. Since it's a week night, doing that won't be too hard. I would sympathize if we were here on a Saturday afternoon. Then again, I wouldn't dare offer this tour on a Saturday. People have hit each other in the race for spots. Screw Tony Stewart and NASCAR's outrageous ticket pirces. You can just haul your ass down here and see similar entertainment for free. Of course, you would have to cope with the nauseating stench of arepas. I hear they taste better than they smell. I sure hope so. When they're being made, they smell like dog shit broiling in the oven, but the broiler ovens are for a later part of the tour. Getting back to the smell, the styrofoam plates and other assorted garbage goodies are probably contributing a lot to the unique aroma here along Calle Ocho.

Don't mind the security guard-looking geezer. He's harmless, and I promise he won't swear at you in the crazy Cuban dialect unless you decide to sneak a 36 pack of Energizers out of here. For that matter, even I don't want to know your intentions for stealing 36 size 'C' batteries. Well, I could maybe see it during hurricane season, but otherwise, hell no. Don't even begin to go there! And yes, I hear your smart-ass comments in the back. I know the mascot's name is Homer, but we're right by Little Havana. You think a name like Homey is going to fly in this area with the way the blacks and Hispanics tend to get in each other's shit? No way! You can have your picture taken with Mario the Bulbous later. Then when you can go back home, you can introduce him to Homer the next time you need a miter saw.

Here we are in the nursery, or outside garden as we call it. I'm not sure why they're running soapy glass cleaner through that display fountain. I mean, it's stone painted in verdigris. Seems like the wrong substance for cleaning it, and besides, who wants a foamy fountain with glass cleaner blue water? Not me. That's for sure. Anyway, in case you're wondering, the odor you smell is slug killer. With the arbitrary animal sacrifices in the nearby vicinity, slugs and other such pests enjoy crashing at the nursery for a post-flesh snack of vriesa and red button ginger. I think the gay slugs like the ginger, as the buds look like swollen glans, don't you think? I suppose eating the glans-buds is safer than wandering into the back half of the department. Between the jumbo trash cans and lack of lighting, the only thing preventing this part of the store from being a hangout for the Mark Foley Boys' Club is the presence of insecticides. Yeah, smelling like bug juice when you go to be the boss' bitch probably earns you a few lashings. Be thankful for the lack of light, in that case. And don't worry about the random paper slips strewn all over creation. It's just inventory time. I feel for this receiving crew.

Anyway, now that our tour of bug and plant central is done, we can see electrical stuffs and lights. Speaking of lights, this store really needs to get some more. If a light fixture snapped loose and started to sway, it'd be Halloween in this place 365 days a year. The low roof and the ever unflattering 9000 year old incandescents make things just a tad shady around here. WHen I say a tad, well, hold your hand up to your face. Do you see your hand casting a shadow right in front of your eyes? Judging by all your nods, I figured as much. Well, since we're in the electrical department, you can go ahead and search for flashlights as best you can. Meet me in the appliances area while I tell this couple to step away from the coils of electrical wire. If they're not careful, they'll get caught in the pulley system, and then the store gets shut down. That means we'd all be interrogated since we were the last people to see those customers in one piece. Not a good way to end the tour. In any case, I should be there en quince minutos o menos.

Sorry about the delay there, and I hope you've found the design center at least somewhat entertaining. Judging by the cluster of you around the $500 keg cooler, I'll take that as a yes. Myself, I'm totally down with the LG washers and dryers. Check out the nifty blue set with Steam Fresh, LCD panel and stainless steel drums.

[http://tinyurl.com/njgqq and http://tinyurl.com/gmlwc]

You know you want that set. I know I do. Now that we've all had a chance to gawk over the refrigerators (including the one hanging out on the pallet there), let's head on over to the bath area, and no sex on the display toilets! The little eyeball-like cameras hanging from the ceiling will film you, and I don't want a cut in my wage due to the poor tape reviewers need psychiatric therapy for life. Of course, I'd need the therapy my own damn self. While you're at it, quit playing with the bidet. It's just a visual and is not hooked up for actual demonstartion. Now if you'll just...oooh. Nice tub. I think I'll get it for mi amor. Esculpame, señor. ¿Tiene una pluma? Muchas gracias, señor. Lo necesito por un minuto. Quiero escribir el numero por la tina de baño alla. In case you're wondering, mi amor is a big guy, so most tubs are really too small for him, but 72 inches is the perfect length for him, and it's nice to see it readily available.

Seems like some of you have accumulated quite a few goodies during our tour. That's fine, but if you need carts, it will be too difficult to continue the tour with all the clashing orange plastic carts strewn all over creation. The narrow ass aisles that can barely hold me don't help matters. Believe me. So we'll head on over to the millworks department, where they sell doors, doorknobs, windows and the like. Yes, I said knobs. Take it easy over there, Beavis, Butthead. So while we're waiting for a couple people to bring carts over so they can hold your goods at the front, we can listen to the intercom babble in two languages. Don't worry. They usually play the English version first. And while you're waiting, please resist the urge to sit on the ladders. One thing that annoys Home Depot employees is having to tell the lazy schmuck-customers to get their asses off the ladders so we can use them to help customers get items twenty feet or so up. Que divertido, I know. Actually, I don't mind climbing ladders and all that stuff, but that's for another day.

Since we're running out of time, I'll just quickly show you around hardware and building materials. To your left is what we call the cage, where we store the valuable hardware. I just find it odd that the cage is taking up a whole aisle. Reminds me a bit of a dungeon, except dugeon equipment isn't normally painted in safety orange. It gives away too much. I suppose giving away too much is better than the alternative, the associate in the apron that's so old and worn out it no longer has the Home Depot logo on it. I mean, I'm surprised they haven't harped on him for it. Well, after seeing pallets and carts scattered all over the parking lot, discipline seems to be nothing short of an endangered species around this place. If it wasn't for paint chips all over the floor and the constant beeping of computerized registers, I'd swear this place is a home for the derelict. The blank walls remind me of a padded cell, and the caution tape over there by the foam insulation signals some more serious problems like headless goats on the property.

Oh, that's no joke. In fact, if we had more time, I'd track down the manager and have him show the paperwork from when animal control came over to pick up the livestock corpse. It doesn't help that not long after that discovery they found a plethora of bones by the wrought iron gates between here and the Don Pan bakery-type place next door. The bones were mostly of small animals, and I'm guessing the voodoo sublets in the area are to blame, at least in part. All sorts of strange shit goes down in this county, from flower peddlers rapping on your windows as you slog through rush hour traffic to FHPees (a.k.a. Florida Highway Patrol) chasing red light runners down Eighth Street around 97th Avenue or so. I actually witnessed such a chase last night on my way home from work. I almost followed them to laugh at the busted nutsack, but I determined it wasn't worth my time.

In any case, there are plenty of other scary sights in store...literally. See over there by the entrance? Yup, that's Christmas merchandise. I do know they have some darling snowman window clings, but they have something I've never seen before: a snowing snowman. That's right. You plug the inflatable snowman in, and he's connected to a machine that makes snow out of water, not paper or detergent flakes. Hey, it's under a hundred bucks, so it's not too horrendous. Maybe it'll go on clearance....

Well, folks, it's eight thirty, which means our tour is over. Those of you who are buying stuff should go to the special services desk where they're holding your parcels, including someone's keg cooler, which will have to stay here unless that person would like to ride on the roof of the van or stay at the sleazebag motel across the street for twenty bucks a night. I see some of you ladies groaning from not going to a register where there's chocolate, but never fear. There's a machine right by the exit which dispenses frozen M&M's, so save some of your cash for that. When you're finished with your business, be it paying for phallus plants or buying out the candy machines, please try to adhere to the no dumping signs in the parking lot. I'll meet up with you at the van so we can return to our various lodgings. Try to be there by quarter after.