Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Food for Thought

Chubby Whole Foods Cashier: And would you like to donate a dollar or more to Feed Africa Now.

Me: Look at my face. This is the face of a man who will not be donating a dollar to Feed Africa Now.

Okay Whole Foods, let's cut the shit.

If I wanted to give money to African kids, I'd rewatch movies taped off commercial TV in 1986 and wait for that Sally Struthers infomercial to play every five god damn minutes.

For starter's, don't blindside me like that. It's bad enough I've got the homeless guy with a skin disorder barking at me for change by the carts outside the entrance.

Now you're trying to make me out to be an asshole b/c I don't want to fork over a buck even though I already have to deal with spending half my paycheck on your organic Paul Newman's Own Pretzel Crisps?

And at least tell your cashiers HOW to beg for money. I'm not about to fork over another dollar when the woman at the register, who looks like she eats only non-organic cheetos for three meals a day and speaks with about as much eloquence and coordination as the Elephant Man is the one wheeling and dealing here.

It also doesn't entice me to donate money when the incentive is explained as "you can sign your name on this paper cut out int he shape of Africa and it'll be put up around the store."


You think I want my ex-girlfriend to see that shit? That i donated one fucking dollar?? Have the balls to ask me for some real money.

You won't get it.

But you'll get my respect.

Now where the fuck are the god damn mini brie in filo bread brunch appetizers??

I'm starving!!!

Monday, October 12, 2009

Straight to the Dome

There's a lot of people out there that deserve nothing more than a delicious punch to the face.

It was the one dish that I would have went to see Julie and Julia if they'd shown it being served.

I would do this but there are several things holding me back:
1. Cowardice

2. Imminent Awkward Situation (IAS): Most of my life is about avoiding choices that will somehow lead to an awkward situation between myself and another. My life is guided by doing anything possible to reach as few of these as possible. Needless to say, frequent facial punches will probably start to draw me into a long string of IAS's.

This will be an ongoing entry that I continue to update with more and more people who could a learn a thing or two about the world by getting kicked in the gut by a man with elephantitis.


You know what? Fuck you.

Maybe it was important. Who said it wasn't? Maybe I've got a lot on my mind and whatever it was I had to tell you just isn't my top priority. Doesn't meant it was something menial and irrelevant.

It slipped my mind as well that you've never forgotten anything in your entire life. You're biography is just like that animal that never forgets...the name now escapes me.

People forget important things all the time.
Like your mother and birth control.

I really just can't remember. Back the fuck off.

Or you're really tempting fate for an unforgettable affair between a fist and that pock-marked mess you call a face.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Fly the Friendly w/ Benefits Skies

So I've got an 90 minute layover in the Phoenix airport and grow bored standing in front of the CPK ASAP, pondering just how hungry I am and if 18 dollars for a 4-inch diameter microwaved "lactose-based italian themed bread disc" is worth it...

When I decide to just hang out in one of the stores that sells magazines and books and trinkets with cool tourist spots in Phoenix silk-screened on them, such as...

So anyway, I grow tired of reading the backs of the three new John Grisham thrillers out, or their Christian-themed counterparts...

Who knew International intrique in Morocco is really a metaphor for the quest we all must venture on to find God within ourselves?

When I hit the magazines: GQ, Esquire, Details, Maxim, Penthouse, Black Beauty, Hustler..

Ehhhh, what?

Is this really proper reading material at an airport? It's bad enough I have to sit next to the smelly indian dude with dandruff using up both armrests b/c of his expansive laptop. Now I have to worry about him rubbing one out next to me?

This is a bad combination. There's already women whipping out breasts to milk their babies.

No, seriously, that happened to me. There ARE bathrooms on planes you know? I think you can drop the whole "This is what mothers DO" bullshit and just take it inside.

So i got a woman with an exposed boob on one side, and some dude who's now aroused enough to whip out the copy of Rear Entry he picked up at the terminal store on the other and start pounding his meat.

And thanks, I'm sure the majority of ADULTS on this flight really wants to watch Hotels for Dogs as their in-flight movie.