||[Jun. 3rd, 2009|04:55 pm]
So I did one of my infamous lists! You know…The list where I write down things that I think are really important so’s I can share them with whoever wants to read them. It actually grew out of my not being able to remember things from the previous night’s gin soaked adventures. I started jotting things down on cocktail napkins, trick cards, matchbooks…my hand. Remember, the words that are underlined or capped are what are on my list. So when my friends or coworkers see what they think might be a shopping list, their snoopy asses get all freaked out and they think I am completely mad!
THE BREAKROOM AT THE BREWERY SMELLS LIKE DIRTY PUSSY!
Oh, it is foul! I am not sure what causes the smell (maybe actual dirty pussies?), but it is nasty. It is so awful, I only step in to get some muddy, coffee flavored water, and then I immediately run outside and start inhaling cigarette smoke up my nostrils! Inevitably, someone is reheating some rancid shit they had left over from dinner the night before, so that just adds to the funk.
Pardon me ma’am, what’s that awful stench? Are we standing near an open trench? Must be standing near an open trench…What is this? Looks like piss. Smells like piss. This is piss. Piss with ink!
THE GROCERY STORE
Gawd, y’all, I really need to start grocery shopping in a better part of town! Going into the store, I was harassed by a crazy black woman who was sitting on a folding chair in front of a folding card table, bugging people for dough to “send inner city kids to camp”. I advised her that considering the current economic climate, it was probably not a good time to be bugging people for money. She started to get up in my face and I asked her where her 501c3 permit was hidden. She looked at me funny and went to bother different shoppers. Honestly y’all, since when is it cool to set up a table, throw a jar with some change on it and call yourself a fucking charity? Really. And what the hell is “inner city” about anything in okla-bloody-homo?!
And whycome a grocery store would let someone do that in the first place? People could be spending money inside the damn store! One of the reasons I support TARGET so much is because they totally 86’d the Salvation Army at Christmas time!
Now I will admit that I do love to scare the fuck out of those bitches, and it is even better if it is a legit charity thing. Don’t get me wrong - I totally support certain causes…The ASPCA, the Humane Society, PETA and anything gay or gay-ish. Oh, and the blind charities, but only if they are legit. If your charity does not fall under my list, you better watch the hell out...Especially during a time when my 401k is being flushed down the terlet by idiot financial managers who have no clue!
The last time the boy scouts hit me up for dough, I was at the very same grocery store. I made one of them cry! Terrible! Shame on me. Oh, what the eff ever. I was a damn boy scout, so I know what hypocrites they are. There was more gay sex going on at that “retreat” than my young eyes have ever seen!
I need to print out those ridiculous cards that the fake deaf people throw at you in the parking lot! I shall tailor the cards in a way that will really piss people off. “Hello. My name is (insert name here). I am deaf. Please consider this card with a barely legible sign language chart a gift for your kind donation. Unfortunately, your organization (insert name here), discriminates against (insert race, sex, sexual orientation here), so you need to kindly eff off. Thank you.”
I went inside the store and chatted with this lovely young gal named K’inquita (see Bob, you thought that was a made up name!) about this scary black woman. She said she would take care of it and she did! By the time I left the store, that old hag was carting her chair, table and coin jar down to the Ace hardware store to bilk more ignorant shoppers.
So, this “no animal protein” thing is working out better than I thought. I am discovering all sorts of fun things to do with vegetables. Ok…that sounded kind of naughty! HA! So’s anyhoo, there I was, picking out some nice roma tomatoes and thinking I may treat myself to some cheese that evening, when I saw it. When I say “it”, I really mean IT! This woman was HUGE! AND, she was sitting on the cheese display! You know, that shelf thing that sort of juts out. And it was not the shitty processed cheese product that she was sitting on, it was the real stuff! And she was so large! Y’all, her ass was totally sucking up my provolone, sharp cheddar, jalapeno jack AND the baby swiss! The man she was with was picking up a big bag of potatoes (like they really needed them!) and she looked plumb tuckered! I was livid. I started to say something, then I thought better of it because apparently…
OBESITY IS A DISABILITY?
When the hell did that happen? I started think that she deserved a few kudos for actually TRYING to walk around the grocery store instead of using one of those damn electric, hovaround looking carts. K’inquita later told me the cow had complained about the carts, but I will get to that in a jiff.
So, guess what I found in the produce aisle, right next to the tofu?! A whole shelf lined with those little 6 ounce, plastic deli containers filled with pre-chopped vegetables! You might remember last year, right around the time of gay pride/folk-singing-lesbian drum circle week, I had written about my encounter in the produce section with a very loud, LOUD, white Christmas trash chick who was complaining about not being able to find things that were pre-sliced/chopped and how she was going to have to chop/slice her own “damn fixin’s” for the barbeque she was planning. I had oodles of fun at her expense as I thought that her rants were the most ridiculous things I had heard in a long time. Well, now they have them! And they are some expensive bitches! The cheapest thing was diced white onion for $1.50. They are only fifty cents a pound whole! I wish I had thought of it first! The pre-sliced yellow squash is $2.50!
So, I had already made it through the store for everything I needed (except for the shitty movies at the redbox) when I remembered that I needed some of that brilliant garlic and herb focaccia bread from the bakery. I noticed that the cheese cow lady was (only) on aisle two loading up her cart with those big-ass bottles of soda. What a shock! I realized that she is the reason we probably should implement that soda tax that has been getting so much news coverage lately. Ugh. She is probably also the reason my insurance has gone up and my 401k has gone down. I was totally hating on her by the time I left. Big, old, fat, cheese sitting bitch!
So, I stop at the redbox to pick up a bad movie then over to the…
What a big bucket of fuck that was! It took forever because they were out of everything and after they had stocked what I needed (eggplant tofu and Chinese vegetables), they sort of forgot I was standing there and everyone was helping people at the drive through. Bitches! After we ate, I found their nutrition guide and discovered my eggplant tofu is one of the worst things on the menu! Who knew?! It has more fat, sugar and salt than any of their other food items.
K’INQUITA!...WHO THREW THAT HAM AT ME?!
I was so disturbed about that big ass, cheese sitter, when I got home I called the store to tell Miss K’inquita that she ought to throw out hundreds of dollars of cheese, and why. She said, “Shut up, girl!...that same old cow was seen sitting on the meat too!” I said “That is what they usually say about me! HA!” She said “You crazy!” Then she went on to tell me about how the same lady was cussing her earlier because the two electric carts were being used by a couple of severely old, OLD and feeble women. And how this “cheese sitter” was giving her a speech about disability rights and the law etc. jesus, mary and joseph!
So after all that, I decided to sit on the porch to read, smoke and wait for the stuff I had ordered from barnes and noble! I made sure to sit in a way so’s that the UPS guy could see up my shorts, cause I am filthy rotten like that. I watched him drive up and down our street, so I knew he was a damn hottie. I was getting quite impatient as I knew the poor guy was confused as hell. Whoever designed the streets here must have been smoking black tar heroin! NW 36th street, NW 36th drive, NW 36th terrace, NW 36th circle…You get the picture. Maybe he was lost…Or maybe he was driving back and forth so’s he could look up my shorts as often as he could. Whatever. Blah blah blah.
I AM THE SNATCH!
Last night we met the G and his trick (Benito?) out for a couple of drinks. That couple of drinks turned into a crazy bar crawl, in search of bad scary-oke. Some nice lezbeans bought us shots. We ended up at the COPA, which is my least favorite place, and Binquita bought us a beer bust. Ugh! Anyhoo, they write your name on your glass like you are in kindergarten. My name for the night was ROTTEN SNATCH. Everyone seemed to think it was pretty fitting…jealous bitches! Tuesday is the amateur strip contest and we conned the G into doing it, but by about 1:30 in the ayem, he still had not gone on, so we ditched the place. And, no, I did not…
Like I did on Sunday! AARRGGHH! I find that the vegetarian thing works well, except when one is drinking excessively! Whoops. Poor M. Poor M’s little Mazda! Todd, remember that little incident in your truck a hundred years ago? I did it again!
We had left the PARK to go pick up some booze to take home, so we could be good hosts, y’see. I guess I thought I was Edina Monsoon all night. When we stopped at the Indian shell station (india indians, not native American Indians), they were all inside and when they came out, I was hanging out the passenger side door with my chin on the bottom of the door frame staring at the pavement covered in my sick! When the girls tried to help me up I screamed “I HAVE ARMS”, while waving them erratically. Then on the way home, I had a lovely “projectile” moment that would have made Linda Blair proud!
Yes, I washed the M’s car (a couple of days later!), and scrubbed and vac’d the carpet on the inside of the door for good measure. The next day, on the way to work, I stopped for some cigs at the shell station and the little Indian gal asked me “Are you going to make sick on my parking lot again?” I screamed! It was effing hilarious with the accent! I told her “You must have mistaken me for someone else.” And “What a horrible thing for someone to do…This whole town is filled with insane alcoholics.”…etc.