Showing posts with label mall santa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mall santa. Show all posts

17.12.12

Bad Mall Something Something

The Three-legged Santabot 3000 in all its glory. Give us a kiss.


A long-time reader inquired as to why Da-da was not suffering and insufferable via another cheermageddon stint as Bad Mall Santa Da-da. Alas, this year Da-da had his job outsourced to a creepy robo-santa with three legs and a crushing jolly mecha-hug that no kid has sat for to date, but... well, it does smell minty. Da-da does not smell minty; he's more bean-with-bacon meets some fragrance by Christopher Walken.

Anyway, oddly redolent Da-da wasn't entirely left out this holiday season, as the good management folks at Haughland's Mill's Mall of Feasance created a new "dream" job for Da-da... until they gave it to a manager's girlfriend who's apparently better at positions than Da-da.

Nice boots, Desiree.

However, since the mall powers-that-be did make Da-da a promise, they let Da-da wear the roomier LOBBY TREE costume...

Sure, this costume fits better, but now Da-ds craves sushi all the time.

...which was indeed a radioactive touch more Da-da-esque, if you know what Da-da means and he thinks you do.

21.12.11

Bad Mall Santa Da-da #6


Bad Mall Santa Da-da hasn't been writing much about being Bad Mall Santa Da-da as it went from funny novelty to soul-numbing grind pretty quickly. Forcing yourself to be jolly when you're dead tired and way weary of kiddie materialism -- AND sick as a dog from all the childhood diseases genuflecting through your beard -- not to mention being pooped on and peed on and barfed on and sneezed on, was more than even a veteran Man Called Da-da could bear, but bear it he did. It was terrible UNTIL Santa Da-da suddenly realized that, not only were these not his kids, but Santa Da-da had already turned that parenting corner and never had to go back! No more diapers! No more projectile vomit! No more bodily excretions flying all over the place! Well, unless you sign up to be a Bad Mall Santa Da-da.


[Read Bad Mall Santa Da-da #5, or SING the Bad Mall Santa Da-da theme song!]

25.11.11

Bad Mall Santa Da-da #5



Bad Mall Santa Da-da gets all kinds.
Santa Da-da: Hello! What can Santa do for you?
Kid: I want a jellybean explosion.
Santa Da-da: How big?
Kid: Big as my Da-da. [Kid points at a huge man the size of a vending machine.]
Santa Da-da: Big, then. Anything else?
Kid: A ramp.
Santa Da-da: A ramp?
Kid: Yeah, like a freeway ramp.
Santa Da-da:Where did you want Santa to put that?
Kid: Inside my house.
Santa Da-da: Ok.You like concrete?
Kid: [nods and smiles]

[Read Bad Mall Santa Da-da #4, or go to Bad Mall Santa Da-da #6.]

Gone, freeway, gone.

22.11.11

Bad Mall Santa Da-da #4

No more alien children, please.


Today's featured Santa/kid interaction involves a cute, innocuous looking 7YO blonde girl with Heidi braids across her head, dressed impeccably from some expensive European catalog. Her mom was dressed identically, the same Heidi braid on her head. It was a little odd, but not as odd as the software borh their heads were runing.
Santa Da-da: Hello! What can Santa bring you this year?
Heidi:YOU'RE NOT THE REAL SANTA!
Santa Da-da: I'm not?Heidi: NO! YOU SHOULD BE IN CHAINS!
She then jumped down and high-fived her identically dressed Heidi mom [??], both of them giving Santa Da-da dirty looks as they stomped off. What the hell was that all about? Perhaps it's true that Da-da lives near one of those Displaced Space-alien Enclaves like the ones outside all the Disney properties. Maybe Santa Da-da needs some body armor.

[Go back to Bad Mall Santa Da-da #3, or go to Bad Mall Santa Da-da #5.]

Step back from Santa Da-da, or there will be... trouble.

17.11.11

Bad Mall Santa Da-da #3

I'm Santa, I'm Santa, I'm Santa, I'm Santa, I'm Santa, I'm Santa...
Since Da-da's been wearing Santa's underwear for a week straight -- professionally -- he's been forced into doing some thinking about what makes the big guy tick. Think about it, you've got to be crazy-manic-whacko to make something like six billions toys a year every year FOR FREE. Then there's the little problem of delivering said toys to roughly 3.8 billion targets worldwide in 24 hours (that's 2.65 million homes a minute, or 44148 homes a second). We won't even consider the expense involved, as that's so 2008. This whole enterprise seems impossible until you consider Santa's diet, basically eating cookies and candy and drinking hot chocolate 24/7/365, as well as the fact that Santa doesn't have any kids, AND has free magic elf labor out the wazoo.

For the sake of science, Da-da tried to emulate a scale model of one little facet of the big man, eating a whole plate of Christmas cookies someone brought, and washing 'em down with three large hot chocolates and a few cups of mocha-honka macchiatos. Not surprisingly, Bad Mall Santa Da-da couldn't stop himself from his own manic Batman moment, saying, "I'm Santa, I'm Santa, I'm Santa, I'm Santa, I'm Santa,..." over and over to those assembled mall Santa faithful (um, who all kinda already knew Da-da was Santa; the suit was a bit of a giveaway). The sweat-slicked vaseline hair was a little off-putting, Da-da's guessing. Sure, the entire experience was annoying and painful and borderline dangerous from a health standpoint, but Da-da did successfully crank through about 186,000 kids in a single shift, a world record. Now if everything would stop vibrating and that damn floating glowing donkey would stop following Da-da everywhere, all would be right with the world.

[Read Bad Mall Santa Da-da 2, or go to Bad Mall Santa Da-da #4]

Stalker!

15.11.11

Bad Mall Santa Da-da #2


In case you haven't been following Da-da's every move, this year he's taken on the mantle of Bad Mall Santa Da-da. The most important tactic in successfully portraying Santa is taking everything kids say at face value to discourage conversation and encourage the highest possible kid-santa throughput volume. Only one kid in 1000 is gonna remember your conversation anyway, if you could call it that, so you can pretty much say anything you want, so long as it's passive. Just channel a jolly and agreeable and hideously open-minded YES-MAN and you're golden. These aren't YOUR kids, after all. When they cry on Christmas morning because Santa didn't deliver that thermonuclear device or feline guillotine (sorry Calvin), you can smile and rest as assured as $9/hr can guarantee.

Here was the highlight of today's Bad Mall Santa Da-da interface 3000. The kid looked like Puggsley from The Addams Family.
Santa Da-da: Hi there, sport. What can Santa bring you this year?
Puggsly: A gun. Or a pencil.
Santa: Mmm. Santa can see uses for both.
Puggsly: A pencil. One that transforms into something.
Santa: Like what?
Puggsly: [thinks a long moment] Uh... a 'B.'
Santa: A bee?
Puggsly: No. The letter B.
Santa: A pencil that turns into the letter B?
Puggsly: Yes. A gynormous one.
Santa: Sounds like fun. Anything else?
Puggsly: Coffee.
Santa: Coffee. How would you like that?
Puggsly: Like yours.
Santa: That's not coffee, kid.
Puggsly: Ok, then a pony. With a head-horn.
Santa: You mean a unicorn.
Puggsly: Yeah, a unicorn. Pink! As big as a house!
Santa: Sure, kid. I'll park it next to the gynormous B.

[Read Bad Mall Santa Da-da, Part 1 or go on to Bad Mall Santa Da-da Part 3.]

Santa, can I drink your blood?

14.11.11

Bad Mall Santa Da-da #1


Bad Mall Santa Da-da. Sounds like a cross between a drunken R&B tune and a Grand Mal seizure. A bit o'both, Santa Da-da expects, but since Da-da's a few fries short of salvation, he's forced to go for laughs. (And ok, Da-da's been singing, "Bad Mall Santa Da-da" for a week, now. Sorry for the whammy.)

Anyway, just to prove to Da-da's mother-in-law that Da-da's not just any bum but an ENLIGHTENED BUM (in the American and British senses), this week Da-da's reporting live from the field, having reached a new low high in signing up to be Santa at a local mall -- primarily because he already has the beard (despite being only 30), can automatically reference himself in the Third Person... sometimes even the Fourth Person, and can ramble, RAMBLE LIKE THE WIND. The suit they gave Da-da is GREEN, which Da-da finds oddly appropriate and just a tad literary. If you see Da-da and yell, "TRIUMPH OF A MAN CALLED DA-DA!", Da-da will tear off the costume to reveal his insane mecha-Santa/Brother J tie-dye and then do some breakdancing, some really bad breakdancing. C'mon, it's the holidays... well, almost... the time for really bad breakdancing.

As of this writing, Santa Da-da's already been to, "Santa Kinetics re-Patterning" class, where he was taught how to put on and wear the costume, keep his hands in plain sight, move around like an enormous obese elf, insert a twinkle into his eye (ow), not make any sudden violent movements, laugh like he means it (that was tough), drink Blind Dog bourbon when no one's looking, be brand appropriate to various youth demographics, clandestinely record all shoppers and report nefarious behavior to Mall  Security, clean and remove the Dupont Child Excretion Lap-Shield 3000, shake like a bowl full of.. well, you get the idea. And for whatever reason, the

Da-da's first Yuletime greed victim looked like a miniature Harry Potter, and was equally serious. A little too serious.

"I want Rhodesia," little Harry said.

"What?" Da-da inquired. "You want what?" Santa Da-da looked at the mom in attendance and she just shrugged.

"Rhodesia. I want it."

"Hmm, Rhodesia. Santa's pretty sure it's called, "Zimbabwe" now, which sounds better and is equally unstable..."

"I want it."

"And you shall have it, my little Idi Amin Da-da reincarnation! Merry Chris-Kwanza-ka!"

Da-da gave the tyke a sugar-free, low-residue, high protein kelp "kandy kane" and reached for the bourbon. It's gonna be a long holiday season here in the illusion.

Ok, who lit Santa on fire again?

 [Read Bad Mall Santa Da-da, Part 2.]

Coming Soon to a Ball Park Near You

Another sign of the Cubs decay.
And YES, Da-da's gonna be a mall Santa. More on that after Da-da gets released.
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