Saturday, August 19, 2006

old man games

i know for damn sure that i am looking forward to being and old guy. if you think about it, it pretty much gives you the excuse to do whatever the fuck you want in public, and people will just put up with you, and write you off as "just old".

"ah, he just ran three stop signs, made an illegal u-turn at a red light and ran over a fire hydrant....but it's cool, he's just old."

and really, are you going to pick on an old guy? how many times have you proudly extended your middle finger out the window to the a-minor tone of your horn only to see a foam dome hat way too high up on the head of the other driver, or the tuft of blue hair juuuust peeking up over the steering wheel....and then just feel like a complete asshole for doing so. god, i just flipped off an old guy, i'm going to hell.

but what if that's not necesarilly the case? i am convinced that old people, and old guys in particular (since i am a young guy right now and have no doubt about my future conduct as an old guy), are nothing but scammers, and that flipping them off is just calling them the fuck out.

well maybe not a scam, but it is all an act. think about it: you're old, married, lots of your friends are dead, you're sick of the wife, and the kids don't call anymore.....what the fuck are you going to do all day? you're fucking retired, what are you going to go get a job bagging groceries to pass the time before you finally kick the bucket?

fuck that. you are going to do what i am going to do, and what countless old guys do everyday: bug young people. these yungins, they have their whole lives ahead of them, damn it. hair on their heads, the chicks that are into them still have tits above their waistlines, etc. why not do your best to irritate them in whatever way possable? i look forward to it.

i base this theory off of two particular instances, and an overwhelming need to explain why old people behave like frigging aliens. the first was not something i remembered until just recently, and only because the second instance jogged the memory loose. it was a funniest home videos or something, and in the video an old guy was arriving at a relative's house whom he had not seen in quite some time. the reletive being visited had a front stoop that the old fella wasstruggling to get up to the door: being helped, leaning on a cane, taking breaks, etc.

then the old guy makes it to the top of the steps, reares up from his hunched position, grabs the relative in a huge bear hug, and bellowes "happy christmas, you s.o.b.!" it was all an act. an old act, and this was likely the first and only time the act was dropped and caught on camera.

the second instance is an old guy who comes into the store and, no matter what is happening, makes everything grind to an absolute standstill. it's like a frigging superpower. he needs a case of mike's hard berry, which has to be gotten from the cooler, he can't remember what kind of cigarettes he smokes and gets angry when you get him the wrong kind, every other word out of his mouth is "WHAT?!", etc. we take ID's with every credit card purchase, and so it was i came to learn he is only 5 years older than my dad.

so can it be that this one dude managed to age so much fucking faster than my dad (because there's no way my dad will be that bad in 10 years, nevermind the 5 to catch up to this cat), or is it just that he really couldn't wait any longer to start his 'old man games'? i really do believe it is the latter. because i myself, as i have stated endlessly, cannot fucking wait till i get my first set of standard issue old guy-ttire in the mail: one pair pants, brown; one pair pennyloafers, size 8, also brown; goldtoe socks, navy; faded yellow button-down shirt, longsleeve despite the temperature; and the foam dome.

so for now, i flip off old people and don't lose a wink of sleep over it. it's just my way of letting them know that i know, and that i am waiting, just biding my time, like they were once.

the big taste

origionally posted april 29, 2006

i figured out, finally, what my favorite little human moments on television are. though you can most commonly find them on the food network, you can also catch these moments on the travel channel, and sometimes the discovery channel.

it happens after they have been talking about preparing a dish, or discussing where to go for the best this or that, and they finally get down to it, sitting in front of a plate of whateverthefuck it is. they pause, taking in the presentation (which is impeccable), the odor (which must be exquisite), and then finally, grabbing a utensil and spooning up a bit of it, they take a bite. obviously you know it's good.....it's a television show about good food, fer fucksake. but the poor host must convey this to you: they sit there and make an exaggerated 'mmmm' sound, eyes closed, weathering the effects of an apparent micro-orgasm. then follow this quickly with a cute quip about weight gain or not ever leaving the food establisment or something, then endscene.

these moments are so deliciously awkward and forced, that they are easily my favorite momnts in television. the unflappable on-air personality of even the most chipper host/hostess is momentarilly circumvented in the one and a half second reaction to how good the food is. in these moments they are just as human, just as awkward and self-concious as the rest of us. it brings them down a notch, and that comforts me....you know, since i am hopelessly intimidated by the success and charisma of anyone on television....or something.

but anyway, that's it. if you haven't noticed the 'big taste' moment yet, take fifteen seconds and flip to one of these channels to catch one. and really pay attention to it. there's almost no dignifid way to do it, and still convey the absolute delciosity of their meal. totally awesome.

or maybe i need a hobby.

drive-thru ettiquet

origionally posted april 22, 2006

don't mean to be on such a tear, but i just find myself continually at odds with stupid people and their blatant disregard for any kind of basic behavioral protocal. from the clever title of this one, you can probably guess where our tirade of the day begins: drive-thru at dunkins (dunkin donuts, for all you non-massholes out there).

i was there to get my daily iced coffee, and running just about perfect to blast through the drive-thru and get to work on time. up ahead i can see the dunkins, where an enormous green suv has just turned into the drive-thru before me. whatever, this will be quick, it's drive-thru!

i roll down my window and the conversation between the driver of said suv and the squawk-box wafts in with the fine early-spring breeze. and its an order for an army. dozen donuts, coffees, bagles, the whole fucking ball of wax. i squint through the ultra-dark tint on the rear window of the thing and can just make out row after row of people. i mean this large suv is packed.

this is my only point: people, if you are just getting a coffee, by all means use the drive-thru. but if you are taking your daughter and what appears to be her entire eighth grade class to dunkin donuts, then DON'T USE THE DRIVE-THRU. please, just go inside. you'll make everyone's life easier. they have maximum amounts of transactions at bank drive-thrus exactly for meatheads like this woman and her damnable suv of preteens.

the worst part about these people is that they get all pissed off when you call them out out on their boorish behavior. then they get all smug when they spit their "snappy comeback" at you. wich is usually something very fundamentally unclever and moronic and not very snappy at all. i may have tooted my horn in displeasure, i can't be sure. but i did get her snappy comeback: "hold your horses!" believe me, lady, i have no option but to.

okay, thats all for now. sorry for being such a negative nancy, but its either blow off steam here, harmlessly blogging....or road rage. so yeah, i'll take this option, my keyboard can take the punishment.

no-fault livin'

origionally posted april 21, 2006

bitching about customers is actually not something i really do that often...well, in blog format anyway. daily, and in person, i will bitch about one customer to the next, if properly provoked (and okay, only if the next customer initiates said trash talking about said previous customer)....got all that? no? well, the long and the short of it is that i am about to bitch about customers, or the general public...or human beings in general. since thats what customers are....human beings...ahahaha....okay, some of them barely even qualify as human.....but i digress...on to the bitching....

so there are these two customers in particular that i am thinking about as i write this bolg....and both of them happened to rear their ugly, stupid, ignorant, blame displacing heads in the very same past week. funny how things happen in pairs, unless they happen in threes, in which case its funny how things happen in threes....but in this case, there were two of them, so it's funny how things happen....you get it.

customer one:
a little backstory first. children in the retail environment have looong been my pet peeve. which sounds horrible and ogre-like, i know, but i am not alone here. think of how many stores you have seen in your life that have had a sign in it that says something to this extent: "children left unsupervised will be given a free kitten and an espresso." i've seen it, you have too. the message is simple: parents watch your fucking kids. they are young, blameless, endlessly curious souls, and when you aren't watching, they are antagonistic little snots.

in a convenience store, they are way worse than you can imagine....touching everything, pleading for anything, trying to wave a candybar in their parents face only to leave it wherever they get told "no" for the final time, etc.... and noisy. they need mute buttons. no, really.

so here is irritating customer of the week number one:
we have these little pocket knives on the counter that we sell for .99 cents. they sell well, who doesn't need something on the job to cut packing tape or whatnot? so this one mother comes in and plants herself at the counter leaning on her son who is maybe seven. pretty old, but still in constant need of supervision. but like i said, she is in direct physical contact with her son at the counter, and i am doing all the fetching for her cigarettes and lottery tickets and whateverthefuck else habits she is feeding.

nevertheless, i is me who notices her son staring at the knives, attention rapt...not her. and soon enough he starts poiting at them, fingers only milimeters away from them. "what are these?" shit like that. i say very clearly "those are knives." since mom is still without reaction. then he touches them, and is in the process of trying to open one when i point directly at him and say "don't touch those, they are knives!"

finally mom grabs his hand (after he has already put down the knife) and is like "hey, yeah, don't" then, feeling like a complete idiot (which she was), she looks at me and is like
"yeah, i heard on the news that anything in reach of children is impossable for them to not grab." long pause, she is working herself up to something... "in fact, thse shouldn't even be here, they should be there" she moves the knives back a half a foot.
"yeah, probably better that way." i say, i just want her and her idiot children out of my store.
"definately better, you should keep them there." she is heading for the door.
"yeah, either way."
almost out the door, but won't just let it drop. "no, not either way, it's..."
and whatever she was going to say there is lost because i cut her off and say what is on everyone's mind when there is some noisy child meddling in things they shouldn't with the ignorant parent right the fuck there..."ma'am, maybe you should watch your children better." for fuck's sake.

remember this part? she was leaning on her child as he reached for the knives....and suddenly it was my fault because i caught her with her pants down being a bad parent. and then i had to call her out on it because she just wouldn't let it drop. maybe the knives were in a bad spot. maybe i should have them behind the counter or something. but definately she should have been watching her kid! otherwise she shouldn't be allowed to have them out in public. keeping the knives somewhere safer is a fine argument when you have a finger to point somewhere else, like at the clerk behind the counter. but what about when he runs out unexpectedly in traffic? is it the driver's fault for having his car too close to the spot where her kid ran out into the street? or is it COMPLETELY SANE FOR HER TO EXPECT THAT THE ENTIRE WORLD IS TO BE MADE SAFE FOR HER AND HER OFFSPRING BECAUSE SHE CANNOT COMPREHEND THE RESPONSABILITY OF BEING A PARENT??????

unfortunately lawyers have realized that it is profitable to take her, and people like her point of view. now nobody has to take responsability for their own actions anymore. there is always somewhere to point the blame other than on the fucking idiots who hurt themselves in the first place. like the burglar who breaks into your house, cuts his hand on a knife in your kitchen and then SUES YOU. or the fucking woman who buys a hot coffee and puts it between her legs then SUES MCDONALD'S for not warning her it was hot when she burns her gennys. FUCKING HELLO! THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES TO YOUR ACTIONS. we used to know that, i think. they still know that in other parts of the world. here? bureaucracy (even the word itself has too many loopholes to spell correctly) and no-fault existence are king and ruler.

fuck that shit. slip on some ice and blame yourself. yeah, they could have salted, but if they didn't? you should have been prepared for that, the world does suck sometimes. you need a sign telling you not to flip over your lawnmower and poke at the blades while it's running? then good riddance to you, i say...survival of the fittest. if you're too stupid to realize that your hands will go flying off, then you damn well need to lose your hands to learn your lesson. how else can you expect to ever be a better person? how can we then expect to ever be a better society?

whatever. i guess i am done here. and congradulations to anyone who made it this far. im pretty sympathetic to alot of things, but society's coddleing of idiots will never be one of them. oh, and fuck the other customer i never got to bring up too, that's for another blog, i guess.

in which i battle a bird

origionally posted march 28, 2006

so this is some shit i just couldn't make up. to set the scene, i first need to make mention of the fact that my parents are currently remodeling their kitchen...so there is a constant stream of contractors and other construction related personel trucking in and out of my house at all times (between 9-5 on weekdays only). which is the explanation i am going with on the following:

this morning the dog wakes me up at around 9:30 to tell me that he has to go out. he has been sleeping on my bed this past week because my parents are out of town. so me being the primary caregiver in this small, defenseless animal's life, i dutifully throw on some slippers and take the beast out. it is when i head back into the house that things go awry. the dog slithers off to other parts of the house on god knows what agenda, and i find myself catching movement at about eye level on a scaffolding they have set up in the kitchen. my still groggy eyes focus, then refocus on the scaffolding and i realize but slowly that i am looking a medium sized bird in the eyes.

wha....? on cue, an explosion of flapping and feathers....what i can only guess is the bird realizing that he is looking a medium sized fat guy in the eyes. i realize two more things at the same time: 1. i left the door to the basement open (my environs), and 2. bird is heading straight towards it.

gracefully, and in exquisite slow motion he arcs through the doorway, banks right and dives straight down the stairs....hopelessly further away from nearly every door in the house. i stand there stunned for about five minutes, my thoughts just now starting to cut through the sleep-fog. okay, no problem....go downstairs and check out the situation. i creep towards the door and arrive at the landing at the top of the stairs at the same time bird has decided to come back up. we both instantly freak and bolt 180 degrees from each other....he back downstairs, me back into the kitchen.

i have no previous training or life experience to draw on at this point. so i call my dad. see if there's a butterfly net or something in the house that i can use in my upcoming battle with bird. 26 years old, and completely in over my head.....not a very good morning for the self esteem, in retrospect.

"dad, there's a bird in the house."
"a wh..."
"a bird. in the house. it's downstairs now. i need a net or something, how do you catch a bird?"
"i don't think we have any nets, get him to the other side [unfinished] of the basement. then you should be able to get him to go out the bulkhead."
"what, just lure him?"
"yeah, turn off the lights where he is, turn on the lights where you want him to go, he'll follow the light. he just wants to be outside."
"are you sure? it's a bird, not a moth. do birds like light? why do you know that about birds?"
"just try it, call me back."

i try it. i turn off all the lights in the finished part of the basement, open the door to the other side, and turn on the lights over there...within moments he flies through the door. yes! that was wicked easy! i run after him and close the door behind me. i do the same thing with the bulkhead door to the outside, open it up so the daylight comes in, and i shut off the lights in the basement. but i can't spot the bastard anywhere. so i start to poke through the stored lawn furniture, boxes, and contractor equipment very carefully. i kick at things to flush him out. suddenly from behind a table saw, he comes bursting out in a flurry of frantic flaps, buzzes my head by centimeters, and heads straight towards the small window next to the open door. at the last possible second (thank god it was a dirty window) he sees it and pulls up, backs off, and finally blasts out the open bulkhead like the millenium falcon and mos eisley.

"hey dad,"
"yeah?"
"yeah it worked, no problem. i totally manipulated that bird."
"good, he's outside?"
"he's outside. neat trick with the light. i never would have thought of that."
"you just have to think like a bird. i guess you're not such a birbrain after all."

right. i deserved that. i may not be a birdbrain, but my approach would have been drastically different.....something involving a tennis racket, a plastic bag and a few hopes and dreams, no doubt. this way was definately better for all of us.

so how was your morning?

don't read this one

hi! how are you? good, good. soooo...! i've come to a realization. you'll find i'm full of them....cathartic moments where i am so stunned by the clarity of thoughts pouring into my head that i hardly seem to notice how glaringly more obvious it becomes that i am a bag of shit. right...so here's the latest.


i need someone to give me a) a large sum of money...like a vast fortune...so i can do nothing. or b) something to do for the next thirty or forty years of my life.

i'd probably prefer the money, but i am open to careear suggestions as well, you know, and making a good go at things. my requirements are: as little physical exertion as possible, no cubicals, a cactus, and large stipends. my qualifications are: wit, charm, a tremendous immune system, and oodles of sex appeal. that's what you have to work with. now find me a job/life plan/winning lottery ticket.

finnish

origionally posted february 19, 2006

its often the small, unnoticed things in life that amuse me. for example: when you are installing a program on your computer, it always asks you to click on "finish". i read this in my mind as "finnish", as in "of or pertaining to finland". i understand the difference between the two, but i just find it more amusing to read it my way.

now that we've knocked off a couple of those pesky 'ol iq points....

car people...assinine theories

origionally posted january 26, 2006

i am fond of saying that i have assinine theories about everything, which i do....most of these were concocted in various states of.....bakededness....in high school (haha, high school...)....

but anyway, heres one....probably my most famous, which i call

car people -

you've seen them. they are literally everywhere, most noticeably in rush hour traffic. if you are like me at all, then you invariably get stuck in the one lane that will come to a complete and utter standstill even as the other lanes around you pick up and begin to move....this is redundant. look, just pop in 'office space' and watch the opening credits. that's me. hi...that's my life.

but yeah, traffic situation on the interstate: me with a great deal of non-moving freetime. most of which i spend trying to get the girl in the jetta blasting "my humps" to notice that i'm wearing gold aviator sunglasses....and failing. but yeah, people watching in general....and that's where i first saw them. car people. i swear to god, next time you are in traffic, take a look at the lane next to you as yours begins to take off....this is what you will see: guy in extremely large pickup truck picking nose, girl in jetta blasting music, old guy in some sort of buick being old, scared looking middle-aged broad white knuckleing her steering wheel (despite the fact that she is not moving), and the car person. taking up space, filling in an otherwise empty spot in traffic.

there he is....no expression, hands in the 12:00/2:00 position, looking straight ahead. while everyone else in said traffic jam seems to have a personality manifesting itself in what they drive, how they look, what they are listening to, how they curse the traffic, the acidic look they give back to you as your lane begins to move...whatever.

except for the car people. because they are not real people. they exist as extras in the great movie of life. fillers. glitches in the matrix (for you gen y'ers). people that you look at and are just blown away by how incredibly generic they are. from the nondescript gray car, to the nondescript beige tunic, to the stony, unmoving expression...they sit. moving with the flow. unless it's three am....then they are both that set of headlights five miles back in your rearview, and that set of taillights five miles in front of you.

you've seen them! trust me. and if you don't believe, just open your eyes the next time you drive....you will see them. they don't adjust anything in the way they are sitting in their seat...they don't try to coax extra AC out of their shitbox when it's 98 degrees out....they don't get off for gas, they don't need to eat. they aren't even a person in a car....they are merely an entity, a car shaped entity designed to look and feel exactly like a person on the road next to you. a fellow motorist. but he isn't. you'll need to pull over in 30 miles to eat at the roy roger's...he won't. he'll just keep on driving off into infinity.

so take comfort from it. or be perturbed...either way, know that they are out there, doing what they do. getting cut off, not blowing the horn...not doing anything at all that will make them even remotely memorable....just driving. car people. i'm for fucking real, man. these theories aren't asinine because i like the sound of the word. (assinine, but he's.....right! i've totally seen a car people too....!) it's okay. i'll be here. disbelieve for now, but i'll be here for when you all have seen the light and come back to tell me so.

i can't believe it's not bullshit

origionally posted january 20, 2006

okay, so before i get this bloggie under way, i want to state for the record, that i am a liiiiiiitle bit drunk....so don't read this with a 'concernicus' look on your face, read it with....a grain of salt, i suppose....yeah, don't read it seriously.......in fact, you better go to that collection of wierd sunglasses that you have (i know you have it somewhere, everyone does) and grab a whacky pair....then read it thru those. that's how i want this bloggywog read, thru a wacky, wacky pair of sunglasses.....okay.

that being established, i feel that it is my duty as a member of the modern greek nation (though i am but a halfie, i could still be required to serve in the greek army if i were to relocate, so i consider myself legit), and as an unwitting witness to the horror that is daytime television in america to mention this commercial to the roaring, seething masses.

it's for "i can't believe it's not butter" and it is aimed squarely at the bored housewife looking for an escape from a) her household chores, and b) her trashy romance novel designed to give her escape from her household chores...but anyway, heres the scene, let me set it for you:

everywoman walks into diner setting, sits down, contemplates menu. swarthy "ethnic" woman approaches our hero and makes random inquiries to everywoman's desires. everywoman says something about needing a rich buttery taste or some such fucking bullshit. to which the swarthy woman replies: "heeeeey niiiikos! the gold key..."

nikos responds, steppng forward from the seductive mists issued by the fryolator..... holding up a golden key suspended by a thick golden chain draped like lovers arms around his massive tan man shoulders. together bored housewife and mysteriously seductive nikos step thru a door activated by the 'gold key' into a mystical rhealm of swimming pools and evening gowns. she is glowing, being fed a bagle by nikos loaded with a substance that she just can't beieve is not butter, while onlookers observe with knowing smiles in the postively radiant sunshine. housework and greasy spoon diners are mere memories in this wonderous dimension.....fuck!

like i mean......am i not supposed to see these commercials? beacuse i never, ever want to eat i can't believe it's not butter ever again, just based on the lack of respect they aim towards whoever they think is their target demographic with this shit. not only am i appalled that they think that any self respecting human being would so fall for the notion that they could be magically whisked away by a product..... as to remember such a ludicrous notion whilst next ressuplying the weekly family rations....and then slipping a tub of ICBINB (said product) into the cart with a wry and wistful smile, remembering nikos....the greek goon, bane to the rest of his countrymen for his antagonizingly blatant sex appeal.....

wtv, i guess this has gone on long enough......the only thing that gives me any comfort is that chuck norris CAN believe it's not butter.