SHAZZAM
Friday, September 30, 2005
Can't Get Right
No matter the year, month or day, something fucks up when it comes to my stomach or my food. Today was alright until about 1pm. Then all shit broke loose. I need to stop eating so late. And when I do eat late, having fools put like three cups of cheese on my quesadilla ain’t so hot. It tastes so good, though! I just gotta say no. That mess tasted good, but didn’t feel so good. Anyway.
Tonight, I was just trying to get my meal on. I wanted a sandwich, but the voice of reason called to my attention that even if I got the sandwich I wanted (gotta love anything called the Italian) it would be about the same as some damn pizza in terms of healthyness. This is true. However, I wanted a sandwich. Then, a stroke of brilliance hit me and was like, “Yo, you want to go to that place that serves that real good pizza that we gotta drive to and shit?” And he was like, “Oooh yeah!”.
So we hustle to my car. Ok, it wasn’t fast at all but thinking about the hot pizza we were going to be having made my step a little bit lighter. No time for the ipod, we were on a mission. So we navigate through campus, down the street and pull on into the parking lot. Normally, there are about fifty-eleven cars in the lot. Today, there were like only eleven. So I thinking and wondering, “What’s the deal!?” We get out, saw some folks standing in front of the doorway when we pulled in. We knew this place was open. So we go up to the door. No lights on. No people. No pizza. And a giant ass industrial size sink sitting in the middle of the floor. Either they’re closed, or their shit for real includes the kitchen sink.
There was a sign on the door. Something in a mix of gibberish, Spanish and something I think might have been English. Needless to say, we could not decipher what had happened to the Mecca of pizza (I can’t currently think of any better pizza place, but this one’s pretty close). That mess sucked. I had been thinking the entire car ride over there about what I was gonna get. You don’t play with me and my food! If you like your eyes or your fingers, you better come correct. By the way, this includes not serving me mustard-and-ham sandwiches at a party after you asked me what I wanted. I said chicken fingers and other fried shit cot damn it, not sandwiches. I’m not on some country club shit, get me food that will make me fat! Anyway, so we struggled to figure out where we would go. It’s like in that movie “AI” where Haley “I see dead people” Joel Osment (whatever it is) was looking for that city of the blue queen or something. He gets all the way there to find out it doesn’t exist. That’s what this is like. Except we didn’t sit in our car for seven-hundred years and freeze. And we left to go find other food. Anyway, got in the car and went to the main road with food.
So there is like zero parking on this street unless you got mad quarters. Being the baller that I am, I only deal in Benjamins (or Washingtons…but who’s keeping score?), so I had no change. They need to install like cash or debit card machines on those things. They would get much more business. Anyway, so we went and tried to find a spot in some of those overpriced pay lots. The one I always use was full. You just let one person in and two people out, give me a spot! The red full sign said, “No fool!” so we had to go somewhere else. So five feet down the street, I see a parking deck with the gates all up. Free, free, free. Sounds hot to me. So I roll up, park the car and we walk to the second rate pizza place we still eat at despite all the shit we talk about it each time we leave. So some stupid shit went down, and made it one of the most uncomfortable and not fun meals in history. Not to mention the pizza was shit. Left the bitch in a hurry, with a not fly tip on the table. Those people are always so angry. Improve your food and maybe I’ll improve my tip and then maybe you can improve your smile. That is, of course, if you have teeth. The people that work at this place are mad sketchy, so no teeth wouldn’t surprise me. This might explain why they never look nice. Anyway.
So dinner was dookie, meaning it’s really [the] shit. We head back to the free parking deck. All the gates are down and someone who I will refer to as Small Red was occupying the gate box. So I roll all the way up to the gate, expecting it to open, cause you know I didn’t pay. Then I look at Small Red like, you got to be kidding me. I roll down the window and say, “Uh, I didn’t pay anything to park. All the gates were up.”
“That’ll be three dollars,” Small Red said as he dug that number out of his ass. Not even knowing how much their for real hourly charge is, I hand that fool my three dollars. So then I’m like, “Motherfucker, don’t be fucking with me. The gates were up. You wanna get cut!?”
Ok, not actually what I said, but kinda funny. But I did ask why the gates were up and nobody was there to take my money. He said he was in the bathroom. Now that I think about it, I can sympathize. My life goes on hold every time I gotta go. But dammmmmmnnnnnn (like Smokey from “Friday”), why you gonna charge me now? I still paid that fool. But don’t let me see you in the streets! I honestly do not ever remember what this man looks like other than small with red hair. Oh well. Turns out the damn pizza place moved. To an entirely different city. Oh well. They always took too damn long anyway.
I am mad ridiculous sometimes. Other folks (no names, but if you think this is you, it probably is) are ridiculous, too. I feel like admitting my ridiculousness is a good thing (but knowing you act ridiculously is not so good). Anyway, I’m trying to work on that. So we talked about the shit that was bothering a fool. Then I went and saw “Fever Pitch”. At best, it was okay. I really like Drew Barrymore. I really do. But something about this movie made me feel like I was watching a live-action cartoon (instead of the other way around like “The Flintstones” or some shit). Those SNL folks need to stop thinking they can carry movies alone. The thought behind this was nice: love and baseball. In theory it works, in for realness, not so much. It could’ve been better. Oh well, it was free!
So that’s been the night so far. I think a trek to a mysterious convenience store is forthcoming, but only time will tell. You know it’s bad when you’re jonesin for juice. Sobe is the shit, for real. Power is the one. Anyway, I hope to see that and something Mexican tonight. So a hootie hoo and peace out. You ain’t got to go home, but you better get the hell out of here! ¶ 11:15 PM 0 comments
Tonight, I was just trying to get my meal on. I wanted a sandwich, but the voice of reason called to my attention that even if I got the sandwich I wanted (gotta love anything called the Italian) it would be about the same as some damn pizza in terms of healthyness. This is true. However, I wanted a sandwich. Then, a stroke of brilliance hit me and was like, “Yo, you want to go to that place that serves that real good pizza that we gotta drive to and shit?” And he was like, “Oooh yeah!”.
So we hustle to my car. Ok, it wasn’t fast at all but thinking about the hot pizza we were going to be having made my step a little bit lighter. No time for the ipod, we were on a mission. So we navigate through campus, down the street and pull on into the parking lot. Normally, there are about fifty-eleven cars in the lot. Today, there were like only eleven. So I thinking and wondering, “What’s the deal!?” We get out, saw some folks standing in front of the doorway when we pulled in. We knew this place was open. So we go up to the door. No lights on. No people. No pizza. And a giant ass industrial size sink sitting in the middle of the floor. Either they’re closed, or their shit for real includes the kitchen sink.
There was a sign on the door. Something in a mix of gibberish, Spanish and something I think might have been English. Needless to say, we could not decipher what had happened to the Mecca of pizza (I can’t currently think of any better pizza place, but this one’s pretty close). That mess sucked. I had been thinking the entire car ride over there about what I was gonna get. You don’t play with me and my food! If you like your eyes or your fingers, you better come correct. By the way, this includes not serving me mustard-and-ham sandwiches at a party after you asked me what I wanted. I said chicken fingers and other fried shit cot damn it, not sandwiches. I’m not on some country club shit, get me food that will make me fat! Anyway, so we struggled to figure out where we would go. It’s like in that movie “AI” where Haley “I see dead people” Joel Osment (whatever it is) was looking for that city of the blue queen or something. He gets all the way there to find out it doesn’t exist. That’s what this is like. Except we didn’t sit in our car for seven-hundred years and freeze. And we left to go find other food. Anyway, got in the car and went to the main road with food.
So there is like zero parking on this street unless you got mad quarters. Being the baller that I am, I only deal in Benjamins (or Washingtons…but who’s keeping score?), so I had no change. They need to install like cash or debit card machines on those things. They would get much more business. Anyway, so we went and tried to find a spot in some of those overpriced pay lots. The one I always use was full. You just let one person in and two people out, give me a spot! The red full sign said, “No fool!” so we had to go somewhere else. So five feet down the street, I see a parking deck with the gates all up. Free, free, free. Sounds hot to me. So I roll up, park the car and we walk to the second rate pizza place we still eat at despite all the shit we talk about it each time we leave. So some stupid shit went down, and made it one of the most uncomfortable and not fun meals in history. Not to mention the pizza was shit. Left the bitch in a hurry, with a not fly tip on the table. Those people are always so angry. Improve your food and maybe I’ll improve my tip and then maybe you can improve your smile. That is, of course, if you have teeth. The people that work at this place are mad sketchy, so no teeth wouldn’t surprise me. This might explain why they never look nice. Anyway.
So dinner was dookie, meaning it’s really [the] shit. We head back to the free parking deck. All the gates are down and someone who I will refer to as Small Red was occupying the gate box. So I roll all the way up to the gate, expecting it to open, cause you know I didn’t pay. Then I look at Small Red like, you got to be kidding me. I roll down the window and say, “Uh, I didn’t pay anything to park. All the gates were up.”
“That’ll be three dollars,” Small Red said as he dug that number out of his ass. Not even knowing how much their for real hourly charge is, I hand that fool my three dollars. So then I’m like, “Motherfucker, don’t be fucking with me. The gates were up. You wanna get cut!?”
Ok, not actually what I said, but kinda funny. But I did ask why the gates were up and nobody was there to take my money. He said he was in the bathroom. Now that I think about it, I can sympathize. My life goes on hold every time I gotta go. But dammmmmmnnnnnn (like Smokey from “Friday”), why you gonna charge me now? I still paid that fool. But don’t let me see you in the streets! I honestly do not ever remember what this man looks like other than small with red hair. Oh well. Turns out the damn pizza place moved. To an entirely different city. Oh well. They always took too damn long anyway.
I am mad ridiculous sometimes. Other folks (no names, but if you think this is you, it probably is) are ridiculous, too. I feel like admitting my ridiculousness is a good thing (but knowing you act ridiculously is not so good). Anyway, I’m trying to work on that. So we talked about the shit that was bothering a fool. Then I went and saw “Fever Pitch”. At best, it was okay. I really like Drew Barrymore. I really do. But something about this movie made me feel like I was watching a live-action cartoon (instead of the other way around like “The Flintstones” or some shit). Those SNL folks need to stop thinking they can carry movies alone. The thought behind this was nice: love and baseball. In theory it works, in for realness, not so much. It could’ve been better. Oh well, it was free!
So that’s been the night so far. I think a trek to a mysterious convenience store is forthcoming, but only time will tell. You know it’s bad when you’re jonesin for juice. Sobe is the shit, for real. Power is the one. Anyway, I hope to see that and something Mexican tonight. So a hootie hoo and peace out. You ain’t got to go home, but you better get the hell out of here! ¶ 11:15 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Random + a blast from the past
So because I can’t think of anything else and I feel like I should post something, here is a list of the shit I am currently enjoying.
Diet Mountain Dew. I have a huge problem staying awake in the evening, which makes it a real bad time for any attempt at anything resembling reading getting done. So I’ve been drinking this for like two days. I drank it during the summer and it never seemed to affect my sleep or anything. But then again, I would go to sleep at like 2am. But now, I’m like rolling around, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, then my sheets, then the window, then the door. Lots of staring going down. Now that I think of it, I don’t know how much I am actually enjoying Diet Mountain Dew. But it will keep a fool awake!
Coldplay. Yes, I am still addicted. I listened to them a lot over the summer, which forced me to listen to other stuff. But now it’s like Coldplay all day, every day. I think I need help. Or something.
Chocolate-chocolate chip cookies. These things are THE bomb. They don’t taste like anything else. Like all good things I love, I didn’t like them too much at first. I didn’t think they could ever compare to the deliciousness of regular chocolate chip cookies. Good lord, I was so wrong! But I am going to try and limit myself in how many I eat (like none…but I think I’m going through withdrawal; I also broke down yesterday and ate two). I’ve got to do something. I haven’t ballooned like Courtney Love, but I’m mad self-conscious. I should probably also give up all things fried or hamburger-related. But it all tastes so good! I think Willy Wonka had the right idea with that gum that tasted like whole meals. Sometimes, I just want the taste in my mouth!
Funny people. The more things change, the more they stay the same. People never cease to crack me up.
Laguna Beach. Why do I watch this mess? It is not compelling. It is not riveting. And yet I watch. Last season kicked major ass compared to this new mess. It’s all about the previews for the next week’s episode! You wait the entire half hour to see the previews. The drama and shit this year just does not compare. It bores me. Fat Alex is no fun. Why are fools afraid of her? She’s not scary. Give her a little Gwen Stefani or some Krispy Kreme and she’ll be your dog for life, despite whatever may or may not be her hygiene problem. Goofy ass Jessica. I think out of everybody, she needs the most psychological help. “Please, someone throw me against the wall again! I love pain!” And that other ho, Alex H. or something, the one who lives in Kristin’s purse. Is her purpose in life to say things like, “So what about you and Stephen?” My question to you Alex, “What about you? Do you know ANYBODY else?” She is sad, too, but not as sad as Jessica. Can you please just bring back LC, Lo or even Morgan. Something must be done! And yet, I continue to watch.
Ok, something has got me kind of pissed off now, so I don’t much feel like writing more. But I am reading old posts from the ghetto days of sub-journal. Dated 4.13.2003:
Tonight's the last night of Real World Las Vegas, and that's a good thing. Not for me, but for them. They can now stop the insane spread of STDs in their house. Ugh. I swear just about everyone in that house has got with somebody else. Although it has made for good TV (got me addicted!), it is not quality television. Can't we have a good fight over racism (Real World NY) or kick somebody out because they pulled the girl out of the bed, when she was naked under the blanket (Real World LA)? I miss those old ones. Kick somebody off already! I hope the Paris one has a crackhead. If Whitney Houston was on this show, it would not only be entertaining and just plain hilarious, but we could see what she really does. Crack or weed, which is it Whitney? A reality show of her and Bobby would be such a huge hit. I'd watch it! They are so mysterious, yet we all know what they do. But with a camera following them around, we'll get to see what they do. And if she's so addicted as people make her out to be, we are bound to see her do some drugs. And not that I want to see her do drugs, but just to know if she really does. This is getting weird. No more of this haha.
I called it on the Whitney Houston/Bobby Brown reality show. That cracks me up. Have a good one fools. ¶ 2:41 PM 0 comments
Diet Mountain Dew. I have a huge problem staying awake in the evening, which makes it a real bad time for any attempt at anything resembling reading getting done. So I’ve been drinking this for like two days. I drank it during the summer and it never seemed to affect my sleep or anything. But then again, I would go to sleep at like 2am. But now, I’m like rolling around, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, then my sheets, then the window, then the door. Lots of staring going down. Now that I think of it, I don’t know how much I am actually enjoying Diet Mountain Dew. But it will keep a fool awake!
Coldplay. Yes, I am still addicted. I listened to them a lot over the summer, which forced me to listen to other stuff. But now it’s like Coldplay all day, every day. I think I need help. Or something.
Chocolate-chocolate chip cookies. These things are THE bomb. They don’t taste like anything else. Like all good things I love, I didn’t like them too much at first. I didn’t think they could ever compare to the deliciousness of regular chocolate chip cookies. Good lord, I was so wrong! But I am going to try and limit myself in how many I eat (like none…but I think I’m going through withdrawal; I also broke down yesterday and ate two). I’ve got to do something. I haven’t ballooned like Courtney Love, but I’m mad self-conscious. I should probably also give up all things fried or hamburger-related. But it all tastes so good! I think Willy Wonka had the right idea with that gum that tasted like whole meals. Sometimes, I just want the taste in my mouth!
Funny people. The more things change, the more they stay the same. People never cease to crack me up.
Laguna Beach. Why do I watch this mess? It is not compelling. It is not riveting. And yet I watch. Last season kicked major ass compared to this new mess. It’s all about the previews for the next week’s episode! You wait the entire half hour to see the previews. The drama and shit this year just does not compare. It bores me. Fat Alex is no fun. Why are fools afraid of her? She’s not scary. Give her a little Gwen Stefani or some Krispy Kreme and she’ll be your dog for life, despite whatever may or may not be her hygiene problem. Goofy ass Jessica. I think out of everybody, she needs the most psychological help. “Please, someone throw me against the wall again! I love pain!” And that other ho, Alex H. or something, the one who lives in Kristin’s purse. Is her purpose in life to say things like, “So what about you and Stephen?” My question to you Alex, “What about you? Do you know ANYBODY else?” She is sad, too, but not as sad as Jessica. Can you please just bring back LC, Lo or even Morgan. Something must be done! And yet, I continue to watch.
Ok, something has got me kind of pissed off now, so I don’t much feel like writing more. But I am reading old posts from the ghetto days of sub-journal. Dated 4.13.2003:
Tonight's the last night of Real World Las Vegas, and that's a good thing. Not for me, but for them. They can now stop the insane spread of STDs in their house. Ugh. I swear just about everyone in that house has got with somebody else. Although it has made for good TV (got me addicted!), it is not quality television. Can't we have a good fight over racism (Real World NY) or kick somebody out because they pulled the girl out of the bed, when she was naked under the blanket (Real World LA)? I miss those old ones. Kick somebody off already! I hope the Paris one has a crackhead. If Whitney Houston was on this show, it would not only be entertaining and just plain hilarious, but we could see what she really does. Crack or weed, which is it Whitney? A reality show of her and Bobby would be such a huge hit. I'd watch it! They are so mysterious, yet we all know what they do. But with a camera following them around, we'll get to see what they do. And if she's so addicted as people make her out to be, we are bound to see her do some drugs. And not that I want to see her do drugs, but just to know if she really does. This is getting weird. No more of this haha.
I called it on the Whitney Houston/Bobby Brown reality show. That cracks me up. Have a good one fools. ¶ 2:41 PM 0 comments
Sunday, September 18, 2005
My hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps
Ok, we all know the Black Eyed Peas didn't sell any records until they added Fergie. Anyone else remember "The Request Line" with Macy Gray? Probably not. But since the addition of Fergie, the Peas have garnered radio success and lots of records sold. My question: why!? Does anyone really listen to the words in their songs? I don't think people really do. There is someone telling these fools, "Yo, that shit is hot! Say that right there!" I think they must hang with Whitney Houston because this is crack-headed.
Their newest single is the prime example of their goofiness. "My Humps" is an ode to any kind of female protrusion, from the ass to the breasts, they got them all covered. Ok, say out loud what I am about to type out, "My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps." And now say it to the person nearest you. Did they look at you like you are out of your damn mind? There is nothing at all cool about this song. Yes, it's catchy but it's catchy like syphilis. One of the rapper dudes talks about some cocoa puffs after Fergie's moans about her lovely lady lumps. Cocoa puffs? Is that a metaphor for something? I am convinced I am missing something. Nothing sexy about any cocoa puffs. Afro puffs, yes. Cocoa puffs, not so much. I do not understand how or why people take these people at all seriously. I foresee their obliteration from the musical landscape as soon as Fergie figures out to do what to do with the "junk in her trunk". Oops, she says she will get you drunk of her hump. Does that make any sense to anybody out there!?
Do not buy this shit on iTunes. Do not download this for free. If it comes on your radio, I say give it on listen. Laugh out loud and listen to the words. And never listen to this song ever again. Tell your friends, tell your family. We must put an end to the insanity that is pervading the American music scene. Their albums since Fergie came on board are called "Elephunk" and "Monkey Business". I think the next one will be "Zoobaleezoo" (does anyone else remember that show?). Crack is wack! You know, these fools are going on tour with Gwen Stefani. She is also known for her lyrical prowess (see "Hollaback Girl"). They all do kind of dress alike. ¶ 11:32 PM 0 comments
Their newest single is the prime example of their goofiness. "My Humps" is an ode to any kind of female protrusion, from the ass to the breasts, they got them all covered. Ok, say out loud what I am about to type out, "My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps." And now say it to the person nearest you. Did they look at you like you are out of your damn mind? There is nothing at all cool about this song. Yes, it's catchy but it's catchy like syphilis. One of the rapper dudes talks about some cocoa puffs after Fergie's moans about her lovely lady lumps. Cocoa puffs? Is that a metaphor for something? I am convinced I am missing something. Nothing sexy about any cocoa puffs. Afro puffs, yes. Cocoa puffs, not so much. I do not understand how or why people take these people at all seriously. I foresee their obliteration from the musical landscape as soon as Fergie figures out to do what to do with the "junk in her trunk". Oops, she says she will get you drunk of her hump. Does that make any sense to anybody out there!?
Do not buy this shit on iTunes. Do not download this for free. If it comes on your radio, I say give it on listen. Laugh out loud and listen to the words. And never listen to this song ever again. Tell your friends, tell your family. We must put an end to the insanity that is pervading the American music scene. Their albums since Fergie came on board are called "Elephunk" and "Monkey Business". I think the next one will be "Zoobaleezoo" (does anyone else remember that show?). Crack is wack! You know, these fools are going on tour with Gwen Stefani. She is also known for her lyrical prowess (see "Hollaback Girl"). They all do kind of dress alike. ¶ 11:32 PM 0 comments
Friday, September 16, 2005
An open letter to Truett Cathy and Chick-fil-a (inter alia)
Dear Truett Cathy and everybody who works at Chick-fil-a,
I have a bone to pick with you. I love Chick-fil-a, I sincerely do. I love everything you guys have (ok, except for the coleslaw, wraps and that raisin and carrot salad…ok, really only the chicken sandwiches, brownies, nuggets and strips). It’s all so good. And every time I go to one of the free-standing restaurants, I am greeted with friendly people who expertly feign their concern for my happiness. Fools have me convinced that I am their number one priority! Within minutes of my ordering, I am given my food. So speedy and quick, always with the right amount of cooking done. So why would any other Chick-fil-a be different? That is my question to you. All of you.
There is something off about Chick-fil-a restaurants on college campuses. Something is missing. The food tastes different. I waited ten minutes today for a twelve pack of nuggets. Ten minutes, Truett! You guys pride yourselves on fast food. That is slow food. I want my nuggets sooner, rather than later. Later should never be an option. If I wanted to wait, I would have gone to Subway! There were five people standing behind the counter. No sandwiches, nuggets or fries available. Your business is cooking food. There should never be a short supply. Ever. However, at this particular outlet, there is consistently a shortage of fried goodness. Why? That is your job. When you see the nuggets getting low, throw some in the fryer. It’s all automated homie; you don’t have to do shit except take them out when the buzzer goes off. It is not hard. Why, oh why, must I wait for food when it should be sitting there waiting on me? There is no excuse. This is making me heated. This particular place wouldn’t know what heated means, as sometimes they like to serve cold waffle fries.
I am a fried food connoisseur. I know what is good and what is not. This particular Chick-fil-a does not know correct frying procedures. Sometimes, it’s over-fried to the point of disgusting. And then other times Truett, it’s under-fried, as in not cooked. Do the fools you let act as ambassadors of Chick-fil-a-ness know what standards you need to be holding sacred!? I don’t think they do. And that upsets me. I have been a fan of Chick-fil-a for forever, as long as I can remember. I don’t want to not give you my money, but these folks are asking for it. I was this __ close to asking for the manager. I don’t care how well you can sing or if you can’t speak English, I want my damn chicken nuggets! And folks were trying to twist it on me, like I was acting too good for a chicken sandwich. I had wanted nuggets for like half an hour and I wanted them then. Nothing else would do. I wasn’t going to settle just because these fools couldn’t get their mess together. Nope, not today. And then this guy who worked there asked me if I needed anything. Nope, I like to stand in front of food for fun, don’t mind me. No, cot damn it, I want a twelve pack of nuggets! This is your job, get to frying!
So as I step down of my soap box of waffle fries and ice dream cones, I beg of you Truett, get your act together. Don’t let these people carry on like this. Something must be done. I don’t expect a revolution. I simply expect to get nuggets when I walk up to the counter. That’s all that I ask. Next time when you’re counting up all your money one of those Sunday mornings (cause you know no Chick-fil-a fool works on Sunday), think of the people who want and value the fried deliciousness you provide and know that they deserve more than what you have been giving them. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Concerned, hungry fried chicken fan
In other news, I’m on this medicine that dries out like every part of my body. I’m sitting in class thinking my nose is running like a mother. Nope, it was straight-up bleeding. Not cool. It was kind of hard to play off, but I think it worked, other than the bloody crust on my nostril. Who looks at those anyway? My doctor told me to buy some kind of something to put up in there. I now have no clue what it’s called. I also think he talked about Vaseline. So I bought some and put in my nose. We’ll see how it goes.
Oh, and I’m in total obsession with Coldplay right now. I have been liking them for a while (since their second, and may I say classic, album). I look at websites man. This is bad. I want to own every song they’ve ever made. Is that bad? Like, I feel it’s better than crack or something. They’re such a good band. I believe they are my favorite. I don’t care if they sing a bunch of slow, “I want to slit my wrists” songs. Shit is hot. ¶ 3:03 PM 0 comments
I have a bone to pick with you. I love Chick-fil-a, I sincerely do. I love everything you guys have (ok, except for the coleslaw, wraps and that raisin and carrot salad…ok, really only the chicken sandwiches, brownies, nuggets and strips). It’s all so good. And every time I go to one of the free-standing restaurants, I am greeted with friendly people who expertly feign their concern for my happiness. Fools have me convinced that I am their number one priority! Within minutes of my ordering, I am given my food. So speedy and quick, always with the right amount of cooking done. So why would any other Chick-fil-a be different? That is my question to you. All of you.
There is something off about Chick-fil-a restaurants on college campuses. Something is missing. The food tastes different. I waited ten minutes today for a twelve pack of nuggets. Ten minutes, Truett! You guys pride yourselves on fast food. That is slow food. I want my nuggets sooner, rather than later. Later should never be an option. If I wanted to wait, I would have gone to Subway! There were five people standing behind the counter. No sandwiches, nuggets or fries available. Your business is cooking food. There should never be a short supply. Ever. However, at this particular outlet, there is consistently a shortage of fried goodness. Why? That is your job. When you see the nuggets getting low, throw some in the fryer. It’s all automated homie; you don’t have to do shit except take them out when the buzzer goes off. It is not hard. Why, oh why, must I wait for food when it should be sitting there waiting on me? There is no excuse. This is making me heated. This particular place wouldn’t know what heated means, as sometimes they like to serve cold waffle fries.
I am a fried food connoisseur. I know what is good and what is not. This particular Chick-fil-a does not know correct frying procedures. Sometimes, it’s over-fried to the point of disgusting. And then other times Truett, it’s under-fried, as in not cooked. Do the fools you let act as ambassadors of Chick-fil-a-ness know what standards you need to be holding sacred!? I don’t think they do. And that upsets me. I have been a fan of Chick-fil-a for forever, as long as I can remember. I don’t want to not give you my money, but these folks are asking for it. I was this __ close to asking for the manager. I don’t care how well you can sing or if you can’t speak English, I want my damn chicken nuggets! And folks were trying to twist it on me, like I was acting too good for a chicken sandwich. I had wanted nuggets for like half an hour and I wanted them then. Nothing else would do. I wasn’t going to settle just because these fools couldn’t get their mess together. Nope, not today. And then this guy who worked there asked me if I needed anything. Nope, I like to stand in front of food for fun, don’t mind me. No, cot damn it, I want a twelve pack of nuggets! This is your job, get to frying!
So as I step down of my soap box of waffle fries and ice dream cones, I beg of you Truett, get your act together. Don’t let these people carry on like this. Something must be done. I don’t expect a revolution. I simply expect to get nuggets when I walk up to the counter. That’s all that I ask. Next time when you’re counting up all your money one of those Sunday mornings (cause you know no Chick-fil-a fool works on Sunday), think of the people who want and value the fried deliciousness you provide and know that they deserve more than what you have been giving them. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Concerned, hungry fried chicken fan
In other news, I’m on this medicine that dries out like every part of my body. I’m sitting in class thinking my nose is running like a mother. Nope, it was straight-up bleeding. Not cool. It was kind of hard to play off, but I think it worked, other than the bloody crust on my nostril. Who looks at those anyway? My doctor told me to buy some kind of something to put up in there. I now have no clue what it’s called. I also think he talked about Vaseline. So I bought some and put in my nose. We’ll see how it goes.
Oh, and I’m in total obsession with Coldplay right now. I have been liking them for a while (since their second, and may I say classic, album). I look at websites man. This is bad. I want to own every song they’ve ever made. Is that bad? Like, I feel it’s better than crack or something. They’re such a good band. I believe they are my favorite. I don’t care if they sing a bunch of slow, “I want to slit my wrists” songs. Shit is hot. ¶ 3:03 PM 0 comments
Friday, September 09, 2005
Shit and run
As many of you folks who have been reading my shit for a minute know, I have issues with the bathroom. Be it my own undiagnosed gastrointestinal disorder or the damn fools that like to create chaos up in there, something always seems to be going down involving the bathroom and myself. It has been the story of my college experience. Why should this year be any different?
So this freshman fool took it upon himself to police the bathrooms. And not in any kind of way you might think. He wasn't stopping pissing on the toilet seat, using too much toilet paper or people taking showers without any kind of shoe on (folks pee in the shower, bathing barefoot is disgusting). He apparently had been observing nearly everyone since he moved in. And he noticed that people did not wash their hands after shitting. Ok, may be kind of gross, but that is not my business. If you want to not wash your hands, be my guest. I don't do it sometimes because the soap doesn't lather and it feels like no cleaning is being done (not to say I am a person who does nasty things like pee or shit on their hands). Anyway, this fella decided it was his duty to step it up and lay down the law.
So he outlined his plan for assuring clean hands and banning, as he phrased it, "Shit and runs". I misread it as like people who have shits and/or runs. Anyway. Apparently, it is our mama's duty to make sure we wash our hands after shitting and girls would be notified. If you are in fact friends with girls, my friend, I'm not worried about them. They're friends with Mr. Clean. You make me look like Jude Law or something. My only qualm, "Do you shit on your hands!?" I don't. It has never been a problem. And I certainly do not watch for other people with poop hands to see if they are washing their's. I find this so odd. I use the bathroom and leave. I'm not looking at what other folks are doing or not doing. That's their thing. If I want to shit on my hands, is not on me to decide? This guy decided it would be his call to save the world of shitty hands. There's all kinds of catastrophe going down in the Gulf, and he's worried about folks shitting on their hands. Good god.
Today, someone was royally stinking up the bathroom. I understand this; it's a bathroom not a flower shop. Homie with the shit hand sign went in and sprayed air freshener. That's cool man. Are you a grandma or something? It's a bathroom. You don't live up in there. If it smells up in my room, spray all the air freshener you want. But the bathroom is a generally stinky place. Let it go!
I guess I should take my own advice and let this mess go. It just pisses me off that I had to look at this sign for like five days. And now I'm anal (haha) about being conspicuous when washing my hands. I will not be known as Shitty Hands, even if I never shit on them. Ugh. I don't think President Bush likes shitty hands, either.
P.S.
This does not mean I don't wash my hands! I just have trouble with someone else policing the bathroom behaviors of others. Go in, do your thing, get out. Don't talk to folks, don't be watching me to see how many paper towels I use. It is just the bathroom. ¶ 12:38 PM 0 comments
So this freshman fool took it upon himself to police the bathrooms. And not in any kind of way you might think. He wasn't stopping pissing on the toilet seat, using too much toilet paper or people taking showers without any kind of shoe on (folks pee in the shower, bathing barefoot is disgusting). He apparently had been observing nearly everyone since he moved in. And he noticed that people did not wash their hands after shitting. Ok, may be kind of gross, but that is not my business. If you want to not wash your hands, be my guest. I don't do it sometimes because the soap doesn't lather and it feels like no cleaning is being done (not to say I am a person who does nasty things like pee or shit on their hands). Anyway, this fella decided it was his duty to step it up and lay down the law.
So he outlined his plan for assuring clean hands and banning, as he phrased it, "Shit and runs". I misread it as like people who have shits and/or runs. Anyway. Apparently, it is our mama's duty to make sure we wash our hands after shitting and girls would be notified. If you are in fact friends with girls, my friend, I'm not worried about them. They're friends with Mr. Clean. You make me look like Jude Law or something. My only qualm, "Do you shit on your hands!?" I don't. It has never been a problem. And I certainly do not watch for other people with poop hands to see if they are washing their's. I find this so odd. I use the bathroom and leave. I'm not looking at what other folks are doing or not doing. That's their thing. If I want to shit on my hands, is not on me to decide? This guy decided it would be his call to save the world of shitty hands. There's all kinds of catastrophe going down in the Gulf, and he's worried about folks shitting on their hands. Good god.
Today, someone was royally stinking up the bathroom. I understand this; it's a bathroom not a flower shop. Homie with the shit hand sign went in and sprayed air freshener. That's cool man. Are you a grandma or something? It's a bathroom. You don't live up in there. If it smells up in my room, spray all the air freshener you want. But the bathroom is a generally stinky place. Let it go!
I guess I should take my own advice and let this mess go. It just pisses me off that I had to look at this sign for like five days. And now I'm anal (haha) about being conspicuous when washing my hands. I will not be known as Shitty Hands, even if I never shit on them. Ugh. I don't think President Bush likes shitty hands, either.
P.S.
This does not mean I don't wash my hands! I just have trouble with someone else policing the bathroom behaviors of others. Go in, do your thing, get out. Don't talk to folks, don't be watching me to see how many paper towels I use. It is just the bathroom. ¶ 12:38 PM 0 comments
