Great Expectations....of Customers

Recently, I had the glorious opportunity to speak to a customer who was clearly unhappy with the order she had picked up the night before and taken home.  I am going to call her HexNaw, and I am doing this because that was the only thing I could understand in the first 2 minutes of her rambling.

I don't mind customers, I really don't.  I actually enjoy a great majority of my interactions with them, but those rare diamonds in the rough, those exceptionally well-spoken, those outstanding productive members of society who are only looking for free food or a discount....they are the reason so many people detest the service industry.

I'm going to relay the conversation to you and then I'll begin my destruction of her.  HexNaw, very politely and clearly, explains to me that she had picked up her food the previous evening and, upon returning home, discovered that "it jus' wun' right." When asked to elaborate, HexNaw informed me that she likes her food to be extra saucy and well done, "like burnt."  She then said that she would be needing a refund for her food and would like it to be re-made today.  When asked if she had ordered her food with extra sauce and well done, she naturally said "naw, it jus' s'pose to be like dat."  I politely told her that I couldn't do a refund since the food was made the day before, but if she would like to bring it back in, I'd be glad to remake whatever she brought.  She brings me what she had, about 75% of her order.  I remade what was there and upon giving her the bag, I let her know that our food is not automatically cooked well done and that extra sauce was available by request.  I told her that she was welcome to inform us when she places the order how she would like things cooked, but her specific brand of expectation was not "the way it s'pose to be."  HexNaw left, with fresh food, and still looked at me like I was the devil who had pooped in a box and given it to her to take home the night before.

So, here are my issues with this.

First, if you're going to call and bitch about your food, learn to goddamn speak with some sort of clarity.  I shouldn't have to rip out my phone and hold it up to the speaker so I can GoogleTranslate everything you say because I don't speak your adorable brand of mindless babble.  Second, you tell me your food "jus' wun' right."  In what way, shape or form am I to be able to understand what the hell that means?  You wanna know why it wasn't right?  Probably because you waited until late to eat it and the food had gotten cold, which unless you have lived in a damn cave is pretty much common sense.  The longer food sits there, the less "right it gon' be."  Third, you are bringing food back to a restaurant THE DAY AFTER YOU BOUGHT IT and you expect a damn refund?  Do you try this shit in every store you visit?  I got a can of Pringles once from a gas station and the bottom half of the can had primarily broken chips in it, but did I go back and bitch the next day?  No, I sucked it up and said, oh well, life goes on.  Clearly, life in HexNawLand is filled with nickels, dimes, and horseshit because getting money back for food you purchased the day before is just retarded.  Fourth and finally, why is it that so many customers believe that their particular expectation of cooked food is the only one in existence?  I want my food well done...for some that's cooked twice as long, 3 times as long, 2 minutes longer, etc.  And yet, we, the great seers of customer preference are supposed to automatically know what your golden tastebuds expect when you want it well done?  Who the hell do you think you are and do you see a crystal ball in front of me assisting me in determining your blessed expectations?  Here's an idea....drop some of your needs, shut up, and eat the food.  If you want it well done but don't bother to tell us how long, take your food home and stick it in the microwave, nuke it til it smokes, and enjoy.  If you want extra sauce, well, you're gonna have to pony up that sixty cents and pay for it.  I know, I know, that sixty cents was going towards rent for the month or was the last piece of the financial pie for you to finally buy a car that will not break down the second it leaves the car lot.  Sadly, if you want more, its going to cost more...my advice would be to warm up to this realization quickly and use the $500 you were going to spend on your nails to instead keep you living in your adorable shanty behind the gas station washroom in the scary part of town.

I know, I probably shouldn't have, but...

So, a few days ago, I had to run to the bank for work and also stopped to get gas.  Let me tell you something...listening to Barry Manilow's "Copacabana" thru every pump and lobby speaker at Speedway around 9am is in no way festive, pleasant, or entertaining.  It is what I would imagine being waterboarded would be like.  So, that just made for a spiteful me as I went into the bank.

Upon arriving at the bank, I discovered that the customer currently being waited on by Teller #1 was blind.  Other than the sunglasses on an overcast day, the dog in the bank by her side pretty much confirmed it.  I go up to Teller #2 and start my transaction. I was listening to the conversation Blindie was having with the teller and overheard this gem.

Blindie: "So, will this deposit show up on my account today?"
Teller: "I'm sorry, but no, you probably won't be able to see it until tomorrow."

To a blind woman.

My funny fuse was just going crazy because it was very obvious that the teller knew what she had accidentally said, but luckily Blindie didn't take offense.  My teller heard her as well and was clearly also holding back the giggles.  I kept my calm and waited until Blindie left.  Immediately after, I looked over to Teller #1 and said "or, hell, she might not ever see it at all."  Both tellers and the other customer burst into laughter and as I finished my transaction, I let them know, "If any of you are interested in learning how to book first-class passage to and five-star accommodations in hell, just ask."  While I agree that I may not be the most tactful or respectful person, this little experience did make me forget about Barry Manilow for the rest of the day, and you just can't put a price on that.

The Lottery: Play Responsibly and Please Don't Be an Ass.

So, I have a convenience store very close to my place of employment.  I like it because, as one may assume, it is convenient...I get my Rockstars, occasional donette gems, smokes, and other assorted necessities at a convenient location between work and the house.  However, on certain occasions, convenience is quickly replaced with waiting, and waiting, and waiting because some shitbird needs to get his lottery tickets.

In no way am I saying that one should not play the lottery.  It provides added revenue for the state and while the glory of winning an obscene amount of money would be nice, it's probably not gonna happen.  Play the lottery, but play responsibly, and don't be a shithead.  Here's the story.

In my local store, I walk in and grab my two Taurine-filled cans of punchy carbonated happiness.  As I approach the counter, there are four people waiting in front of me.  The first two breeze thru in no time, and the third man walks forward.  I should have known by his appearance that he has been religiously playing the lottery for years, and bingo halls, and the casino, and anything that will get him money quickly without having to expend any effort whatsoever other than money which he should have damn well been saving instead of spending.  He, of course, has four or five $1 scratch-off tickets that were big winners....a whopping $5 in winnings.  Christ knows how many he purchased to get such a large payout, but here we are.  So, instead of taking the money and investing it in, well, anything other than the lottery, he feels the need to buy five more lucky scraps of paper.  Purchase made, one would assume he would get out of the damn way and allow the rest of us (line grew to 5 behind me) to make our convenient purchases and leave.  Nope.  Instead, shitbird looks behind him and gives us a look like, "Golly, I don' wanna havta wait in dis here line to get my winnins fur these here lotto scratchers."  Sure enough, he stood up there, turned around and scratched all 5 of them on the counter.  Bastard.  Dickhole.  I hate you.

God bless the clerk.  He was trying to ask the guy to move over but there was no moving him...he was on a mission to secure the grandiose jackpot from these 5 Wonka Golden Tickets, and nothing was going to prevent him from the chance to bask in the warm glow of financial success in these little scratchy gems.  As I'm sure you have guessed, he didn't win a damn thing, dropped the potentially billion-dollar scratch-off on the floor and walked out (line to 7 people by now).  I mean, seriously, why don't you just find a $5 bill on the ground, rip it into pieces and pee on it?  You won...you won the lottery.  Sure, it was only $5, but shit, it's better than eating peachpits out of the back of a dumpster in a shitty part of town.  Take the $5 and put it towards, I dunno, food?  Or something rewarding?  Instead, you choose to shove it right up your browneye and roll the dice again.  I just don't get it.

I'm fine with you playing the lottery, but God-dammit, why do lottery addicts believe that their purchase of a 1 in 100,000,000 chance for a winning ticket is so detrimental to their well-being that they need to clog a convenience store with pissed off people?  Seriously, if you have been playing the lottery for as long as this guy looks like he has, perhaps you should try another avenue of potential financial prosperity.  Or here is a small list of things more likely to happen.

Becoming President of the US: 1 in 10 million.
Dying from being left-handed and using right-handed products: 1 in 4.4 million.
Dying in a bathtub: 1 in 840,000 (Sorry Whitney, guess you thought you were 839,999).

In closing, if you must play the lottery, turn in your tickets at the counter, quickly decide which tickets you would like in return instead of cash, and get the hell out of the way.  If you don't think this will work out for you, there is an election coming up.  Jasper "Lotto" Shitbird for President has a nice ring to it.

Good Times at the Grocery Store

I have no doubt that someone will say I am making this up, but there are certain things which even I can't fabricate.  I have seen the People of Wal-Mart website...it is entertaining and amusing.  While I have seen some who absolutely should not have gone out in public dressed like that, I can comfortably say that a new website needs to be created: SupermarketOMG.com.  Here's why.

This evening, I went to our local supermarket to try and find something for dinner.  While going thru the aisles looking for something, anything that sounded good, I walk into the chip and soda aisles and stumble across a sight which, at first, was hard to describe.  I found someone who absolutely does not care about their appearance, absolutely does not care what people think and absolutely does not care what it looks like she's doing.  Allow me to share this with you.

This woman was of extremely sizable means.  Motorized wheelchair with the adorable yet completely unrealistic basket attached to the front of it, barely big enough to hold your car keys, let alone groceries.  A daughter along with her, pushing a regular cart loaded with things that do not suggest she is planning on turning her diet around (Imagine shopping in the soda/candy/snack aisle, and only shopping in that aisle for all of your food needs).  The basket had a little something in it, and clearly they had stopped over by the donut display case before throwing entire shelves of Little Debbies in the big cart.  Here was this woman, with a box of fresh donuts, box opened, her grabbing them and eating them while shopping.  Mind you, there was no tag on the box....that's right, hadn't been paid for yet, but here she was, gnawing on these things like she found gold seeping from the side, rich Bavarian-style gold.  I was just awe-struck.

Before you jump all over me and say I am a cruel bastard who doesn't have a heart and makes fun of others because of a poor self-image, I completely agree with you.  I am not making fun of her because of how much she weighs.  I am saying that when one battles the bulge, cramming unpurchased donuts 2 at a time down your gullet in full view of everybody is not necessary.  Wage your battle on the inside, and at least buy the damn donuts before you declare them unfit to be in your presence and snarf them down like you were eating Pez.  And honestly, couldn't this have waited until you got out of the store?  Sure, I've bought myself the occasional bag of M&Ms or candy bar, but I wait until after I have purchased it and usually wait until I get to the car to enjoy my chocolatey happy treat.  All I'm asking is that, before you rip into an unpurchased product, take a moment of silent reflection and ask, "Do I REALLY need this right now, or can it wait 15 minutes so I don't look like I'm cramming stolen goods down my throat?"

Everybody Poops...But I Don't Need to Hear You Doing It

So, I understand that, from time to time, we all have one of those times (see above).  I have subscribed to the theory that everybody does, in fact, poop.  And you know what?  That's just fine.  I support everyone's need to exorcise the brown demons.  In saying this, I also support basic etiquette in the field of waste explusion in public toilets.

I'm not talking about people who don't put the seat down or people who feel the need to wrap the seat with 13 layers of paper like that's going to stop some critter from crawling on your cornshoot.  No, my issue is more auditory than physical.  Let me explain by telling you a little story....or two.

(This story was told to me, so do not think I'm the kind of person who enjoys hanging out near women's public restrooms.  I'm mean but I'm not a pervert.)
A woman approaches the public restroom in a grocery store.  She's the kind of woman that ingests horrible things and really punishes the bowl when it's time for their exit.  Anyway, she goes into the restroom and gets ready to, you know, release.  There are 2 other people in the restroom and sadly both of them are able to tell you exactly what's happening.  Imagine the noise you would have heard if you were on board the Titanic as it scraped against the iceberg...that dull groan of metal being forced open.  Now imagine the Titanic was hit seven or eight times with small breaks between the hits.  That's basically what I heard as the story was told to me.  But Godfather, what if she had kidney stones or something medically wrong with her?  Let me assure you, this was not a medical issue.  Just a bowel movement, no medical issues involved.  Poopin' and groanin'....that's it.

Now another story of auditory fecal funtime from my own personal experiences.  Theme park in Florida.  Hot and humid day.  I had a lot of water that day so obviously it's gotta come out, so I pony up to the urinal.  Mindful not to look to my left or right, the eyes stayed straight ahead on the wall.  But the ears were on full alert...apparently someone should have avoided the park food because what I heard sounded like someone was literally trying to pass a Fiat.  The noises he was making were almost ghostly, no seriously, like a ghost was in there going "booooooooooooooo" and waving its hands trying to frighten a child.  Once again, judging by the splash count, this wasn't a stone giving him fits, but more a cornucopia of solids, liquids and gases which had no problem coming out.  At the end of his aria, a loud and apparently necessary sigh of relief reigned in the end of his battle, almost sounding like you would hear a man sitting down in his favorite chair after a long day of work.

Why am I talking about this?  Simple.  I don't want to hear you taking a dump.  When I use a public restroom, I make it a point to not let anyone know what step I am on in the process.  I don't have a trumpet to signal the march, I don't have to grab the handicapped rail to brace myself for some type of impact, and I don't feel the need to keep everybody in the loop on "how it's going."  Sometimes, the process is unpleasant...it happens.  However, sharing the experience is something which is just unsettling, especially when you're in a room of strangers with 1 inch thick partitions between stalls who honestly don't give a damn about your anus.  At home, do what you have to do...scream, yell, punch walls, make noises that sound like farm animals giving birth.  Extra noises signalling Sherman's march to the sea are better left in the confines of your home.  In public, let's use what I'm going to call "silent but deadiquette."

I Can't Find Anything Good to Watch...

I think that I'm fairly mature about things, but the kid in me comes out and reminds me that stupid things still amuse me.  Case in point, I was flipping thru the DirecTV listings the other day and on almost every screen, I ended up giggling like I just saw my first boob on a late-night Showtime movie.  If it wasn't giggling, it was simply reading the show title and wondering, "How does this sound even remotely entertaining?"

For example, and I am not making these shows up:
1. NatGeo Wild's "American Beaver."  I mean, come on.  In today's age, naming a show American Beaver is just awesomely funny.  What was not funny was when I turned it on and saw rodents, I was displeased.  Of course, that's what I expected, but there's always hope.

2. GEM Network's "Estate Jewelry with Sam."  Listen, I'm all for selling shitty jewelry to unsuspecting people at ridiculous prices, but let's look at this.  When one hears "Estate Jewelry," I think high-priced stones, gold, stuff someone would actually want to buy.  But wouldn't you feel better about buying jewelry from someone if you at least heard their last name?  Sam may be a fine guy but god dammit if I'm going to buy expensive jewelry, it should be by someone with their full name.  I want to hold these bastards accountable when I get my Morganoxitalic Zinkide ring and realize it's petrified dogshit on a Little Orphan Annie decoder ring.

3.  NGW's "Pigeon Genius."  It's a show about pigeons.  They're geniuses.  They also randomly poop on anything they want.  A show about pigeons.  Wow.

4.  Travel Channel's "Extreme Restaurants."  I know I've ranted about this before, but "Extreme" is an overused term.  It's stupid.  I could maybe see the bars made out of ice as "Extreme Restaurants," but other than that, they're just places to sit and eat...nothing extreme.  My idea of an Extreme Restaurant:  a fast-food restaurant that serves live blowfish and  live giant squid with wasabi and gunpowder as a seasoning in Kabul, Afghanistan.

5.  Doc Channel's "Puppet."  It's a show about the history of American puppetry.  Seriously.  That's it.  That's how bad it's gotten.

6.  Bio's "Celebrity Ghost Stories."  Yeah.  See, my problem is not that people believe in ghosts.  You can believe what you want to believe.  My problem is that someone thinks because these people are celebrities, their stories are somehow valid and believable.  Please remember, these people are actors...they are paid to do and say what someone else tells them.  And isn't it amazing that so many celebs have witnessed ghost sightings?  What a load of shit.  Who gives a damn what Gina Gershon or Ernie Hudson felt when they walked into whatever.  Hey, I walked into a deep freezer and felt a chill.....a ghostly chill.  See, I want a show too.

7.  PayPerView...hehehe.  "Mom's DDs Get Used."  I added this for Mother's Day.  I also found "Best of Stolen Ex-Wife Dirty Home Videos."  Has it gotten so bad that we need to go into that kind of depth with a porn title?  Just a simple "Ex-Wife Sex Vol 3" would do I think.

8.  Alyssa Milano Uses Wen Hair.  Real title.  If this were 1988, I think that title may have garnered some attention.  But honestly, do you care?  Other than Alyssa if you know her, do you know anyone who cares?

9. "Juice and Lose".....your testicles.  I really figured this was a PSA about steroid use, but it's for a juicer.  When the next show is titled "Improve Prostate Health," I think my idea made more sense.

When News Breaks, We Report It...Then We Include 75 Articles of Crap as Filler

I've been bad.  I haven't been offending people and insulting others lately, or at least not on this blog.  As it goes, each time I go on my hiatuses (anyone know the plural of hiatus without looking it up? Me either.)  I promise to write more often.  So, I'm really gonna try this time.

I've been flipping thru the exciting world of news website stories this morning and was just amazed at how redundant and dumb the news really is.  That's right...I've brought examples.

"Pakistan Escapes Major Quake Damage"
No shit.  What in the hell could an earthquake in Pakistan damage?  The buildings are made with the same durability one might see in a sandbox or Sauter furniture.  Seriously, what could possibly be damaged in Pakistan that couldn't be fixed in 20 minutes?  Can you even buy steel in Pakistan?  I mean, sure you can import it for weapons and tanks, but would they really allow the people to use it to build buildings?  Hell no.  So, this is not news.  This is just assumed by, well, everyone.  Even Pakistanis.

"U.S.-Mexico Border Fence Climbed in 18 Seconds"
Good, I'm glad we were able to rip out a stopwatch and accurately measure this.  Good productive use of time.  Perhaps maybe we could also have a 40-yard dash event to see if they can outrun the Border Patrol.  You know, I'm expecting to see Mexico do really well in the Track and Field events at the next Olympics.  With all the free training we're offering, the Hurdles and Pole Vault should be easy gold.

"Mom on Facebook as child drowns"
The next line of this should have read, "Mom was taken into custody and there will be a public hanging at the courthouse today around 2pm."  But I'm sure she will receive a light sentence because she was addicted to Facebook and her farm needed watering.  Maybe some counseling will help...after that fails, please hang her and do not allow her to get 3 squares a day on the taxpayer teet.

"Prepping for the Chinese president"
Take shoes off before entering room...Check.
Bow everytime you do anything...Check.
Have chef order rice and dog...Check.
Order giant gong...Check.
Remember that Ming is a dynasty and not the guy from Flash Gordon...Check.

"Big breakfasts won’t help you lose weight, study says"
Yep, apparently breakfast is an important meal, but a breakfast consisting of 71 sausages, 8 pounds of eggs and 15 biscuits is bad.  I'm glad this finally got out....news like this can save lives.

"CNN crew caught in Tunisia tear gas"
Helpful tip of the day...stay out of Tunisia.
 
"'Deliberate' weight gain angers 'Loser' trainer"
1.  This is not news.  2.  She should be thrilled...she wouldn't have a job if everyone were in shape, so this is just like bonus work her her.

"Exercise bikes that get 5 stars"
I didn't know you needed a rating system for a wheel, 2 pedals, handlebars and a seat.  This 5-star bike has a bell and a place to put your baseball cards in the spokes.  This four-star bike over here has a seat that goes from "Hurting the Anus" mode to "Uncomfortable on the Crotch" mode but no bell.  Does a one-star bike have a seat?  Really, we must get these ratings printed up for everyone.

That'll do for now.

Bored...

So, that creepy woman Elena Kagan is going thru her confirmation hearings.  I have tried on more than one occasion to watch and find out if this wee lass is going to be an effective, yet unbiased judge.  Sadly, I haven't been able to get past her appearance.  Is it just me, or does this woman look like the offspring of Rachel Maddow and Miss Piggy?  There's something creepy about her...I don't know if it's the way she smiles like Pennywise from "IT" or if maybe it's the way I can so easily see her in combat pants and a cutoff flannel shirt.  Either way, I don't think putting her on the Supreme Court is a good idea.  Remember the semi from Maximum Overdrive with that giant green face on it?  Now, imagine trying to plead a case and seeing that sitting behind the bench.  Case closed.

I was going to go on an Obama rant, but Jesus, there's just too much to cover.  Hell, even his elitist douchebag media cronies on MSNBC are starting to turn on him.  BP is being raked over the coals for this spill into the Gulf, and if Bush had handled this the way BHO has, he would have been tarred and feathered and thrown into the pit of broken solar power cells that can barely power a toaster.  But that's okay, Barack's not at any fault...it's the failed policies of the Bush Administration, like always.

So, I'm sitting here at the local auto dealership service area waiting on my vehicle to be fixed and I just can't help but to discuss the wonderful array of people sitting around me...a real cross-section of Americana.
1. I know it's mean, but there is something so entertaining about an elderly man walking past me with the walking farts.  How does he time it so perfectly?  Is there a reason why the farts slip out only when his right foot hits the floor?  Sometimes I really do feel like a child when I can't help but to laugh when I see a grown man sawing buttlogs as he gingerly walks to pay for his car repairs.
2. Why is there always the one guy who just can't sit down?  Yes, waiting is boring, but you haven't sat down once and you have been here as long as I have.  It's like if he paces around aimlessly the car repairs will magically fix themselves quicker.  Or perhaps he also has the walking farts and is enjoying crop-dusting the other patrons of this service department.
3. Why do they put pamphlets for new cars in the Service Department lobby?  Isn't that like a smack in the face?  "Hey, your car sucks and while you're sitting here for 7 hours waiting for me to refill your wiper fluid, take a gander at these cars that you obviously will never be able to afford."
4. The business guy.  Always one guy who sits over in the corner with his laptop in a full suit patiently waiting for his car and making important-sounding phone calls.  "Yeah, Tom, make sure we get those T384 reports over to Distribution before the final cut goes thru...the A4150 test sounds positive, but we should run it past R&D again to guarantee the results."  See, I can make up stuff too and sound all smart.
5. The TV.  Every time I have set foot in a service department, there is always a TV and it is always tuned to the most gut-wrenching shows.  I checked it three times thus far.  First, it was one of the morning network news shows, which do not provide any news unless it's about hippie-gothkid-vampire Twilight shitheads.  Second and still on is NBC's coverage of Wimbledon.  You'd think sports would be a good thing, but tennis?  If I wanna see a woman flailing her arms and screaming every time a ball flies at her, I'll watch porn.
6. The angry man.  There's always one person who gets the unfortunate news that the part needed to fix his car "is not available on-site but we can order it and have it here by Thursday."  Man, that sucks.  Service guys are not like doctors and juries...you can't look at them and know it's going to be bad news.  You have to wait til they start speaking, and then it hits you.  You go from hopeful to furious in 5 seconds.  It's better than watching a child drop candy or being the guy at the urinal when the poor bastard in the bathroom stall realizes he has fired out his demons but there's no TP.
7. Lastly, the single 20-ish lady sitting in front of the TV, yet not watching the TV.  Reading, sure enough, Twilight, she sits with her head down like she's some Japanese schoolgirl on a subway in Tokyo afraid to make eye contact because some creepy businessman will take that as an invite to cop a feel.  Just reading that crap will keep the boys away, so she doesn't have a lot to worry about. 

Unimportant Observations #1

While I was driving home, my wife mentioned that Dixie Carter was on an episode of SVU.  Actually, she had said it was the dark-haired lady from Designing Women.  As it did not require a wide-angle lens, I knew it to be Dixie and not Delta Burke.  Anyway, my thought was this...Throughout the entire run of Designing Women, did they ever actually design anything?  I remember Meschach Taylor carrying fabric and them talking about "important meetings," but did they ever actually design something?  Shit, man, even the A-Team made a tank out of a bus, random piles of sheet metal just laying around the almost empty warehouse they were locked in, and the odd arsenal of machine parts used to make guns that shoot heads of lettuce.

UPDATE: So, Dixie Carter apparently passed away yesterday.  Define eerie.  I haven't thought of her or that show until my random thought, and then boom, she's gone.  Maybe I should try writing more about Congress and DC.

So, Uh, Here's One For You.

So, as I sit at the stoplight at 86th and Michigan waiting for my time to turn, I casually glance over at the strip mall sitting at the NE corner of the intersection.  As expected, considering the neighborhood, there is a large liquor store, check cashing place, a tobacco outlet, and a cash-for-gold store.  While I sat there perusing the storefronts, I noticed a man standing near the street holding a sign flagging people into the cash-for-gold store.  While this is not un-common, what I witnessed was, well, jaw-dropping.

The man looked to be 30 years old, was white with a slightly heavy build, but certainly far from Kirstie Alley.  Dressed in what I affectionately call "ass pants" (low-sagging shorts) and a T-shirt last cleaned in November, he waved his sign to and fro, alerting the passers-by that the cash-for-gold store was open and ready to not give you a fair deal for your gold.

Then it happened.

The man hunched over, and without any sign of what was to come, he began puking up what I can only call "orangy-brown liquid with scattered chunks" right there on the street.  Since this light takes a bit longer than some around the city, I stared at him long enough to watch him expel his magical bile 4 separate times.  Mind you, he was using the sign to hold himself up while purging his stomach demons.  Never one to feel the complete and total humiliation of violating the walkway with his vomit, the man wiped his chunk-covered face with his hand and then continued to wave his sign, going so far as to use his chunk-wiping hand to signal people over in the other lanes to come and stop by. 

The light turned green, as did my stomach, and I pulled away, left with only a last fading glance of Chunky holding his stomach while proudly waving the cash-for-gold sign like he was atop a hill during the Battle of Sterling and was signalling the archers.

So, I guess the moral of this story is that vomiting on the sidewalk in open-view of a major intersection while holding a business sign is a good way to draw attention to your business.  I always thought a newspaper or radio ad would suffice, but these cash-for-gold people have a firm grasp on new-age marketing.  Unfortunately, if any of you need to visit a cash-for-gold business, I now happen to know of one.

How Do I Reach These Keeds?????

RIP Jaime Escalante .  You finally reached these keeds!

Spanish 101: Gorditas and You

Thanks to my wife, her Hispanic-speaking crew, and the cooks at my place of business, I have been able to learn some Spanish, or at least enough to hurl insults at people and know when my employees are talking bad about someone.  I have also learned about how Taco Bell has taken Spanish words and pasted them to an item on their menu with little regard as to the meaning of the word.

The next time you go to Tace Bell, order a Gordita.  Sure, go ahead and order a crunchy Gordita.  Don't forget to get plenty of gooey sauce for your Gordita.  Now, take a bite.  Delicious, isn't it?  While you're sitting back enjoying your crunchy Gordita, think about this...."Gordita" in Spanish slang means "little fat girl."  Swear to God, this is true.  You are eating a gooey crunchy little fat girl.  Look it up on Wikipedia...it says the Taco Bell meaning then below that it lists it among American colloquial phrases like "little butterball."  Spanish 101: Here's how it breaks down.  "Gordo" means "fat."  Throwing "ita" or "ito" at the end of a word makes it "little girl" (ita) or "little boy" (ito).  So, you're crunchy taco-like item is actually a little fat girl. 

Upon hearing this, I laughed....a lot.....for awhile.  I laugh because millions of Americans and a stupid little dog have thrown this word around, put it on billboards, menus, TV ads, etc.  It's everywhere and yet no one has ever expalined the meaning of Gordita.  And Mexicans are laughing at you.  And you deserve it because you're ordering a little fat girl like it's some mail-order underage obese sex trade item while you have a smile on your face and and a tongue ready to enjoy the savory flavor of Taco Bell's little fat girl. 

Go to a Taco Bell drive-thru after you read this, and when they ask you what you'd like, say "Yeah, can I get 2 crunchy little fat girls with no lettuce?"  I am going to do this one day, and I look forward to the response, not to mention the long pause after I order.

Santa's Gone Electric....

The Jingle Cats - White Christmas - Awesome video clips here

So, I don't know if you've heard about this, but there's a new Christmas album out this year...an album of classics to be played around the fire as the kids snuggle under the blanket each time the logs crackle. As Dad smokes his pipe looking off into the distance beaming with pride and Mom quietly knits a sweater for little Billy while smiling at the children Santa-gazing thru the window, the warm sounds of pure Christmas cheer ring thru the ears of the each family member.

And then someone actually starts the CD.
Bob Dylan has made a Christmas album. ROBERT ZIMMERMAN pulled a Neil Diamond/Barbra Streisand and made a Christmas album. And my God....it's really, um, something. I was going to put a sample on this post, but I truly do not want to know that I have made any of you cringe like I did. Imagine smoking 8 packs of menthols, then add 80 years, then sprinkle a little tone-deaf...and you've got it. Might I suggest "Do You Hear What I Hear?" from the Amazon.com website. "Oh Come Ah Ye Faithful" is also a true diamond in the rough. Well no, it's just rough.

Please understand, I am not a Bob Dylan hater. I believe he has been an innovator in the classic rock/folk era with his own style and sound. But dammit, this is just cruel and unusual. I think I'd rather hear Snoop Dogg perform opera (O Solo Mio Muthaf&*ka!!!) or maybe just listen to someone take a dump in a Port-O-Let just to hear that distinct splashdown in a sea of greenish eewwwww mere feet away.

Maybe I'm being a bit too harsh on Bob. I mean, the man is 137 years old and he's still making albums, so I suppose that's good for him. Other than a few die-hard Dylan fans who would buy an album of him making gurgling sounds set to the 1812 Overture without blinking an eye, I haven't seen a lot of people saying, "Hey, that vibrant Bob Dylan has finally gone and made us a family Christmas album! Pour the Egg Nog, Muffy-kins!!" I'd say it would be more like, "Hey man, don't snort all the coke bro, I need some for Winter Wonderland."

By the way, as I couldn't find anything amusing enough to post as a pic on this subject, I hope you enjoy Jingle Cats' "White Christmas." Yes, I had free time.

Johnny and I Agree on Twitter.

Twitter. I guess I understand why it's there, but I fail to see the need or worth of it.  Celebrities use Twitter to let their fans know what they're up to and to keep fans informed of their exciting lives of binge-drinking, cocaine usage, and recent conquests like being the most-recent celeb who rode Lindsay Lohan at the Viper Room last night.  Regular people use Twitter because, well, I don't know why regular people use Twitter.  I seriously doubt that anything is that important to regular people from a regular person that I would need to let them know immediately. 

I mean, I guess if you're having a child, you could give a play-by-play but is that necessary?
7:43pm- OMG, her water broke!
7:48pm- OMG, shes so mad because I wanna finish my game of Madden b4 goin to hosp.
7:53pm- Paused game at end of 3rd, she xpects me to carry her to car, haha
7:58pm- She finally got in car, wont shut up about her tummy hurting.
8:10pm- At hospital, now I gotta park...like $20, OMG
8:20pm- Gave her some drugs, finally shes quiet.  Wonder who I'll start at RB in 4th quarter.
8:25pm- Doctor keeps telling her to push...she looks at me like this is my fault.
8:30pm- Shes squeezing my Xbox hand too hard.
And so on and so on.  See, this would be something that, even if I wanted to so, I wouldn't do.  It's none of your damn business what I am doing right this second, and thusly, I would hope you would not feel the need to share the same with me. 

With celebrities, well, celebrities are attention whores.  They need to feel important and must fulfill the constant desire for attention, and so they set up these pages so they can share the juicy nuances of their lives with the common serf.  Why?  So they can share themselves all the time.  Wanna know who Lindsay Lohan was groping in the restroom of the Roosevelt Hotel?  She'll probably tweet it!!  Wanna know if Miley Cyrus wads or folds?  She'll probably tweet it!!
I'mAwesomeMiley 10:30pm- Im prairie-dogging bad!
I'mAwesomeMiley 10:35pm- Whew, just made it.  Bad fart.
I'mAwesomeMiley 10:36pm- Here it comes, feels like I'm crapping a microphone.
I'mAwesomeMiley 10:38pm- Its a hanger...may be a few
I'mAwesomeMiley 10:40pm- Splashdown.  Looks corny
I'mAwesomeMiley 10:42pm- Few goat turds.  No corn.  Maybe I should take a pic.
I'mAwesomeMiley 10:45pm- Just finished wadding up TP.
Haha!!! She's a wadder.  Now, the Earth can continue its rotation, you can go to sleep and get thru the next day with the knowledge that everything will be okay, because Miley wads.  That's important.

I'm sure there is some aspect of Twitter that is good and useful, but I have yet to see it.  Anything worth a damn can be emailed instead of sent thru Twitter.  God, even that word "tweet" is annoying.  If someone ever came up to me and said, "Hey, I tweeted your wife this afternoon!" they are gonna get kicked square in the nuts and beaten.  Someone asks me, "Do you tweet?"  My response will most likely include laughter, a middle finger, and the comment "Here's my bird...tweet this, assface!

And For Your Saturday...Chance of Rane and Shouers.

I am not a super-intelligent person.  I am not well versed in literature or arts.  I do possess 2 college degrees, but neither of them were in Education or Literature.  As my brother was watching the news last night, he stumbled upon this gold brick of poor English.  On an evening newscast, you actually used the word "Trys."  You didn't use "tries," the more commonly-used conjugation of the verb...no, no, no, you chose "Trys."  For future reference, please run a spelling checker, even when the sentence is as simple as "'Rain Trys To Move North."  We could have completely avoided outing you as an idiot if you would just give the graphic a quick once-over before allowing others to see it.

The Hybrid Prius....Runs on Acid, Man!!!!!

What the hell is this? I have seen this commercial a dozen times and I have pretended that it is inventive and interesting. It isn't. It's a pedophile's wet dream or the product of an LSD-fueled binder at the Toyota Marketing Seminar. A car so amazing, so genius, so environmental....it creates "Harmony" between man, nature and machine. So, I guess that's why the grass turns into children, trees turn into children, rivers turn into children, etc. Sounds more like a Neverland slumber party.

Remember the days when ads used to make sense? Remember when the Marlboro Man would ride his horse around cattle and then light one up? The ad was simple..."Smoke one...real men do." Simple and easy, but effective. Or how about a classic liquor ad with a hot chick at a bar. You order a Dewars and soda, she sees it and she smiles. "Dewars....drink it and this woman will have sex with you." Done.

With ads today, there has to be meaning to them, there has to be a catchy tune and bright vivid colors to capture the nano-second attention spans of the American consumer. You can't just put a car on the screen and tell us 3 reasons to buy it. Nope, I have to listen to some hippie sing with the Lonely Hearts Club Band about "letting your love flow." I let my love flow by buying a gaz-guzzler. Then others can enjoy the love that I am letting flow out of the exhaust pipe. Convince me to buy your car, and don't tell me that I can buy this shitty remade song on iTunes. Naturally, I have a few ideas for selling these hybrids that I think would be better than listening to the Suzanne Vega/Arsenic cocktail above.

(Commercial starts with a picture of a Prius on a black background.)

1. The 2010 Toyota Prius....it isn't a SmartCar which is good because if you got in an accident in a SmartCar, your ass would be thru the windshield and laying 50 yards away.

2. The 2010 Toyota Prius...buy this car now and in 5 years trade it in for one that runs on poop, truly giving back to the environment.

3. The 2010 Toyota Prius...Sure, it isn't a truck, but if you need that to feel like a real man, then perhaps the problem is in your pants.

4. The 2010 Toyota Prius...even if your wife makes fun of you for driving one, you can always hold your head high knowing that you're making love to Mother Nature everytime you drive. It's like having "another woman."

5. The 2010 Toyota Prius...it's well insulated, so even when people look at you like you're a sissy, they don't know you're listening to Korn at full volume.

And for the ladies...

6. The 2010 Toyota Prius...people already think you drive recklessly since you won't get off the phone, so at least you won't be hurting the environment.

7. The 2010 Toyota Prius...Bi-curious? Mother Nature loves to scissor.

8. The 2010 Toyota Prius...We left plenty of space so you can tell us how great your kid is in school or how quickly you can go from Zero to Bitch. We'll care more since you care about saving the Earth.

Need to appeal to the young driver?

9. The 2010 Toyota Prius...Lots of extra storage spots to keep your Oxycontin and weed.

How about the young urban driver?

10. The 2010 Toyota Prius...$4000 rims will fit on our cars. Lots of trunk space for extra speakers, and our windows are smaller so it costs less to tint them.

Come to Iraq...Beautiful Hiking Trails!!!

I'm watching CNN (believe it or not) and I am watching the family of one of the hikers that was taken roughly 3 weeks ago. For those of you that do not know, 3 extremely intelligent Americans decided to go hiking on a mountain in northern Iraq and, wait for it, they were (drum roll) taken hostage!!! I know right? Who would have thought that hiking in a country where people can't even stand in a town square without an explosion killing their friend would be so quick to take Americans hostage???

So, the family is saying that they have not heard from the 3 hikers for several weeks. The CNN reporter asks a fair question..."Ummm, maybe you can tell the viewers what they were doing in northern Iraq since I think many of the viewers are extremely confused about this." I know I was. Soooo, the family member basically states that the hikers were in Kurdistan, a "beautiful" part of Iraq which hasn't had the problems so often seen on TV with IEDs everywhere and Green Zones. He stated that they were all very experienced hikers and had done research on the area.

Here we go....

YOU ARE HIKING IN IRAQ!!!!!. I DO NOT CARE IF IT IS A "BEAUTIFUL" PART OR IF YOU WERE SPELUNKING IN THE HOLE WHERE THEY FOUND SADDAM. IT'S IRAQ...AND YOU ARE AMERICAN. You can do all of the research you want on the area and its mountains, but do you know who doesn't care? Terrorists. They don't give a damn if you have researched the GDP of Iraq, how many pets the average family has, or the elevations of the mountains. They care that you are Americans, you are somewhere you shouldn't be, and you are not wearing military fatigues with an assault rifle over your shoulder and 1000 of your buddies wearing the exact same thing standing behind them. Let me guess...you had granola bars, water, a GPS, and a map. You know what terrorists don't often go on TV for? Granola commercials. You know what they tend to broadcast? American hostages in unpleasant situations. And next time the family comes on TV, lie to us. Tell us they were on a mission carrying food to indigenous mountain regions with the support of the local tribes. Tell us they were converting to Islam and wanted to sacrifice a sheep or something on a mountain. Dammit, tell me anything except that they did research and were hiking in a pretty part of Iraq.

For those of you that have never heard the song below the picture...I dunno what to say. You suck, I guess.

Someone Is Gonna Get Fired For This...

I'm no genius, but I am pretty sure that creating a small black doll and putting a hat on it that says "Lil Monkey" is not a good thing. I'm not going to say I didn't chuckle uncontrollably for a few, but then again I'm a horrible person. Link to the article over at KTLA.

The John Hughes Soundtrack

I've been thinking about classic songs from John Hughes movies. I think I have collected a nice assortment but was wanting to see if anyone else had any suggestions. I plan on NOT dowloading these illegally and NOT creating a CD that I will reproduce for friends and others I know. I may also NOT create a picture of several film scenes combined into one and NOT use it for the cover.

The John Hughes Soundtrack:

1. Holiday Road - Lindsay Buckingham - Vacation
2. Turning Japanese - The Vapors - Sixteen Candles (not a great soundtrack)
3. Weird Science - Oingo Boingo - Weird Science
4. Some Like It Hot - Power Station - European Vacation
5. Don't You (Forget About Me) - Simple Minds - The Breakfast Club
6. If You Leave - OMD - Pretty in Pink
7. Oh Yeah - Yello - Ferris Bueller's Day Off
8. March of the Swivelheads - English Beat - Ferris Bueller's Day Off
9. Shyest Time - The Apartments - Some Kind of Wonderful
10. Every Time You Go Away - Paul Young - Planes, Trains and Automobiles
11. Mess Around - Ray Charles - Planes, Trains and Automobiles
12. Yakety Yak - The Coasters - The Great Outdoors
13. Wild Thing - Tone Loc - Uncle Buck
14. Tweedlee Dee - LaVern Baker - Uncle Buck
15. Mele Kalikimaka - Bing Crosby - Christmas Vacation

Another Year, Another Pound...

So, the Indiana State Fair is in town for a newly-created 2+ week run. Well, the wife and I decided to brave the humidity and go today, and thankfully the Peruvian flute band was playing, keeping the guinea pigs at bay for the duration of the fair.

First, Godfather's Critic Corner of Fair Food. All these things were sampled.

1. Footlong Corn Dog- a Fair staple. Tasty pig covered in batter and fried. Simple, horrible for you and excellent.
2. Corn on the Cob- Also a staple (this is Indiana.) This year's selection was not as good as past years (the wife gets it every year), so if you plan on buying it, try the stand by the Horticulture building...I believe it may be better than what we had.
3. Deep-fried Pizza- It wasn't bad, but I would not call it the best of the fair foods as it has been voted. It's an elephant ear sans sugar that has been fried. They then add a crushed tomatoes and parmesan cheese. That's it. I was expecting a calzone or Hot Pockety thing.
4. Angus Burger- greasy, yummy, cheese, meat, bun. Quite good.
5. Pizza Cone- My vote for the best item at the fair. $4.00 gets you a cone shaped crust filled with cheese, light sauce and pepperoni or sausage. Pretty damn good, and definitely worth the 7 minute wait. You'll find it by the entrance to the Midway, an area I always skip as I am not 13 and also do not feel like having my wife eye-humped by the Tilt-A-Whirl operator.
6. Hot Wisconsin Cheese Nuggets- Very nice. Hot, warm and nice to look at, and that was just the guy serving us! Very tasty and the wife found the Jalapeno Ranch sauce to be a nice touch.
7. Deep-fried Cookie Dough- Shit yeah. Cookie dough balls breaded and fried. Shit yeah. Sugary goodness coated in batter and stuck in a fryer. Shit yeah.
8. The Dairy Barn Chocolate Shake- A shake so thick it stayed cold until we got home. I love you Dairy Barn. Your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

And for the other day's events:

Saw the World's Largest Boar. Well, what we actually saw was a large slightly moving lump with testicles the size of a Thanksgiving turkey. While I'm all for raising a pig of that size, what the hell do you do with it after the Fair circuit? I guess you could use his scrotum as a showering cap or perhaps a bowling ball shiner.

Went to the Art Building. It's nice because it's air-conditioned. I apparently do not know what art is because we went to the photography section and I must admit I disagreed with every selection for the top prizes. A picture of a boy with a guitar sitting behind him in an abandoned hallway is poignant, impressive and it speaks to the globalization of the media and the glamorization of the middle-class in 35mm glasses. I have no idea what that means, if anything, but it wasn't that great of a shot. I took a picture of my poop once and waited to snap the shot until the water started to drain out. It was my vision of American materialism and its flagrant waste of resources. Or it was me taking a picture of poop. Either way, no ribbon for me.

Lastly, a visit to the Expo Hall. Spas, rubber brooms, gutter protectors, window panes, food demonstrations, Little Giants, and sheet salesmen. Then, as we rounded the 4th row of wood carvings and car scratch remover, there it was. In all of its glory. Stacks of them. $20 for a deal, but one get one free. So, we purchased what should save us thousands of dollars in our lifetime. Yes, that's right, we are now the proud owners of ShamWows. We look forward to saying "wow" everytime we use them.

Oh, there were sheep, cows, and horses too. I guess they're part of the fair too, or so some 4-H kid said.

The Indiana State Fair, or as I like to call it, The Indiana White Expo.