Thursday, August 12, 2021

Loading the dishwasher....

 

God damn it... Fightbook, I mean Facebook is at it again.  I log on this morning to see who is doing what before I go look for bears and I see this stupid ass picture.  This picture is of a guy, squatted down alongside the dishwasher, holding a fork in one hand and a sign in the other.  The sign says, "up or down" referring to how you are supposed to put the fork in the dishwasher.


This is stupid but it doesn't capture the stupidity in its entirety.  Nope, the ensuing arguments did that.  "Well, you gotta put the fork in tines down so you don't stab yourself when you take the forks out of the dishwasher."  "No, you have to have the tines of the fork up, so they get cleaned."  

Okay dipshits, I have a news flash for you....  Its a fucking dishwasher!  It doesn't give a shit how you do it!!!  There are 2 wrong ways of loading a dishwasher, and only 2 wrong ways... so listen up!  Removing both racks and just tossing all of your dishes in the bottom is "Wrong #1" and taking a shit in the soap tray is "Wrong #2" (literally and figuratively, if you will)!  End of the god damned discussion!

If you're so mindless and frail that a fork tine can cause you damage when accidentally touching them, guess what?  You now only get to use a fucking spoon!  How about that?  The big fucking pokey thingy is dangerous and you can't have one!  I'd tell you to use your hands but you'd probably bite your finger and then try to sue your fucking dentist!  

And "tines down" and "not getting clean".  Let me tell you something.  The water in a dishwasher is so fucking hot, you can cook a chicken with it. Between the hot ass water and the soap, your beloved fork is going to be clean... that's it!  End of the god damned discussion!!!!

What in the fuck is there to fight about?  I know there are assholes out there who have to load the dishwasher a certain way.  I know these people.  These are the most ungrateful shits on the planet.  You go to their house, eat dinner and in an attempt to help clean up, you load the dishwasher....  Nice effort, in my book but not these ungrateful shits... Nope, they dramatically unload the dishwasher and then reload the thing by plate size, color, shape and the spoons go in one little fucking spot, knives in another and folks in another... as if the dishwasher gives a shit!!!  The dishwasher gives NO SHITS WHATSOEVER!  If you do this, you're an asshole.  Post that shit on Facebook!

And while I have your god damned attention, listen to this!  You don't go thrust your face into the silverware holder when emptying the dishwasher because it isn't safe.  That means for once in your stupid life, you paid a little attention.  If you're paying any attention at all, the sharp, pokey thingy won't hurt you.

Put all of your silverware in the little silverware thing, how ever you want.  Be a god damned renegade and go all willy-nilly... because it doesn't matter, then put soap in and then press the go button!  You are now washing dishes correctly!  

We're talking about a fork and the dishwasher and safety issues... how is this shit even a thing?  Were not talking about bullshit 1 ply toilet paper and the adverse affects it can have on your asshole!  By the way, I don't care if you use 20 grit sandpaper on your ass, you masochistic sons-a-bitches.  Its your ass and if you don't care, neither do I.  I also don't care about this... This shit is only a thing in America and America-lite (Canada).  Knock it off, God damn it!

Wednesday, June 30, 2021

Old Dog/New Trix

 

A couple of years back, a friend of mine said that he was going in for a manicure/pedicure.  I chuckled because, well, that shit ain't for me.  I just couldn't see myself having it done.  First off, my hands look like 20 miles of bad road.  Unless you are going to repave them, they aren't worth messing with.  And pedicure?  If my hands are jacked up, you ought to see my feet!  If cave men had hooves...and the hooves had wooden shingles on them.... and they smelled like burned cat hair and garbage truck water, that would be my feet.  I thought about lopping them off and stumbling around on the stumps but my foot model days are long behind me.  I'm not subjecting anyone to that mess!

A couple of weeks later, the same friend told me that he was getting into yoga.  Again, I chuckled.  I'm so damned out of shape and stiff that I would pull a hamstring just thinking about stretching.  My worst fear would naturally be, getting into the group, getting my stretch on and then let go with a monster truck fart.  I can't embarrass myself that bad at this age...

A couple of weeks after that, the same guy told me that he was going to get a massage.  I said, "What in the world is going on with you?  Mani-pedi, yoga, and now massages?"  I thought my buddy either had too much money or too much time on his hands.  He made a very simples statement that I didn't understand.  "It's an investment in myself."  Silly me... that's what I thought beer was for.

Fast forward to this Father's Day.  I'm not big on "gift getting".  My wife and kids know this.  Anything I want or need, I just go get it.  And if my kids know that if they ever get me a fucking tie, I will come back in the after life and teach their kids all kinds of shit that will drive them crazy!  

Anyhow, this Father's Day... the wife and kids got me a massage.  She knew I needed this.  My back, neck and shoulders are tighter than a bulls ass sewed shut with a logging chain!  Me being me, I try to talk her and me out of this.  

"Why did you go and do that?  I ain't taking my clothes off in front of another woman and embarrassing her too.  My back has patchy ass hair all over it.  I look like a bigfoot who got dragged behind the Fed Ex truck, for Christ's sake." 

 Her retort..."You don't take your clothes off in front of her.  You take them off, cover up with a sheet and then lie down on a table.... and you're right about your back.  I should take you to get that waxed!"

  I said, "Well buddy, that shit ain't happening neither, but back to this massage bullshit.  I don't want some shaman healer chanting, casting spells and hitting me in the ass with a dead chicken!" 

 She replies, "Nobody does that.  Where do you come up with this garbage?  You're going to love it and you really need it.  You're stressed from work.  Your neck has been bothering you for months.  It's good for you.  Some people actually cry from it... its a huge release for some people."

I say, "That's another thing.  I heard some guys get an erection during massages and I have had all of the "Happy Endings" I ever needed.  And I'll be damned if I am going to go into this Voo-Doo High Preistesses office and have a good cry.  I do that shit in the garage when I am having a beer and trying to build something.  I don't need this kind of shit on my resume!"

As is with most of our arguments, I was wrong.  She booked that thing and already paid for it.  "Look man,'' she says.  "You've had a hell of a year with injuries and other crap.  First you toppled over and broke my toilet with your head and gave yourself a Grade 3 concussion.  That fired up your old back and neck injuries and you had to go get an injection in your back.  That costed way more than this massage ever will.  Then you go get your wisdom teeth out.  You had one problem after another with that for 7 weeks!  You've felt like shit and this is going to make you feel better, so your ass is going!"

My beloved wife rarely gives me directives.  After nearly 30 years of marriage, I know that when she does, she means business and I am going to be taking my big happy ass to the witch doctor and getting my ass smudged whether I think I need to or not.

So there I am...  Turns out, I know the massage therapist.  I have known her for 25 or so years.  She's good too.  The whole town voted "Best in the Valley" for damned near as long as she's been in business!  She orders me to "get ready" which means strip down, after she steps out.  Reluctantly, I do this and am brutally reminded that I wore my double dutch, stinky ass work boots to this massage....  no frigging way does she not smell this.

Anyhow, she comes in and turns on some music that I would never be caught dead listening to.  I guess that adds to the experience.  She starts in on the old neck with some warm ass oil, and it is.... uhm, FUCKING AWESOME!  Turns out, Trixie is not a Voodoo Priestess or a Witch Doctor... she is a god damned THERAPIST and will now be known as MY MASSAGE THERAPIST!  She finds about 200 knots and kinks in my neck and tells me how its probably related to the shoulders and vice versa.  She moves to the middle of my back and gets to cranking on it.  She finds more knots and lumps in there and stops to get my arms.  She cut loose on my arms and shoulders, y'all.  I was making noises that must have been a little frightening to her.  She kept asking, "Are you all right?"  I said, "Don't mind me.  Act like a regular human is here and just keep going!"

She moves from the arms to the small of my back.  She hit a spot that I didn't know if I was going to fart or faint, but it felt sooooo good!  I think I growled and maybe peed a little.  She goes back up and works more on the neck, then the shoulders and then said, "Take your time getting up.  Take a few deep breaths, this affects everyone a little differently.  Take your time and let me know when you're decent.  

Me being decent is going to take a lot more time on that table.  I've got to tell you, I don't know what that cost, but its happening again.  If you've never had a massage, do it!  Do it tomorrow.  Shit, today if you can get in.  If you want MY MASSAGE THERAPISTS name and number, I can get that to you.  

To my friend Mike... I'll leave your last name out of this since I didn't have your permission to use your name or likeness in this story, you sir were right!  I get it.  This was an investment in myself, but I still ain't getting a mani-pedi and you'll never see me in a yogurt hut or whatever those things are called, but I am all in on the massages!


 

Thursday, April 1, 2021

Oatmilk...



So, there I was enjoying a rare day for me.  Everything was going along just as it should.  My mind was clear and quiet.  It was zen-like.  Then it happens.  My phone chimes to alert me of a new text message.  When it comes to text messages, I often prefer them to a phone call.  You can keep them short and sweet, stick to the topic and then have written proof of the conversation.

The problem with this particular text message was, it was from a 5 digit phone number.  I was afraid to answer it thinking it would be some idiot telling me that my vehicle warranty was about to expire.  Actually, that would have been a blessing.

The text message was a small photo.  The photo was so small that I had to put on my reading glasses to see it, and even that didn't help.  I spent the next 10 minutes trying to figure out how to enlarge the pic in order to see what in the hell it was.  And after 10 minutes, I feel highly invested at this point.  I'm going to follow though.  Finally, I get the pic to open up and this is what it was.....

Oat Milk...  Oat Milk?  First of all, what is it about me that would make anyone feel as if I would even be remotely interested in Oat Milk?  Secondly, oats are cereal.  You put milk on cereal.  You don't get milk from cereal!  Did they not read my dissertation on Soy Milk???  It's rock solid, scientific!

Now I'm spun out.  Right now, stop what you're doing and go to the grocery store.  Purchase the cheapest or most expensive brand of oatmeal. It doesn't matter, because its grain.  It all comes from the same plant. Take it home, open the container, get you a nice handful of of delicious, dry ass oatmeal and just plop that shit in your mouth... DO IT, GOD DAMN IT!!!!  Do you feel refreshed?  Is your god damned thirst quenched?  Fuck no its not!  Do you know why?  Fucking oatmeal has about as much liquid in it as playground sand! You can't do that shit!  Oats have a negative fluid amount!!!  It takes 2 cups of water to make 1/2 cup of oatmeal edible!  

You can't milk a god damned oat either!  Uhm... did you not read my dissertation on Soy Milk?  Okay, well, in order for you to get milk from anything... it has to have a tit and a nipple!  I went and spent $900.00 on a stupid ass microscope that I will probably never use again and I put 200,000 oats, 1 at a time under the scope and guess what?  Not a tit or a nipple to be found....  Not one!  If 200,000 oats don't have a tit between them, where are you going to find an oat tit!  

You just can't make shit up and call it milk!  You're not fooling anyone, unless you're fooling a god damned vegan, and the only way you can fool them is because they don't have the energy to think clearly enough!!!  They would drink a cup of this goofy shit and get drunk enough off of it that you could convince them that a mashed up carrot, tofu, kale and wheat germ bio-enzyme is a vegetarian steak!  And by the way, wheat germ bio-enzyme doesn't exist either.  I consulted with the soy milk dick and he just told me to "Make some shit up.  We did."

Look, you can't catch the fluid dripping out of a garbage truck in a jaunty little box with a spout on it and call it 'BIG GREEN TRUCK MILK"!  If I ran up and smashed you in the head with a brick, I can't call the blood pouring out of your big, dumb ass head "Brick Milk"!  It doesn't make any fucking sense!!!

So while I am walking around the house, going through all of this shit and losing my mind, my beloved wife calmly says, "Honey, why don't you go buy a carton of oat milk and just give it a try?"  I said, "Wait, what?  Why would I do that?  Oatmilk doesn't exist!  It can't exist without oat tits!  I've done the science... go look at my work bench in the garage!  I have oats all over the place and I looked at every damned oat in there.  No tits.  Not a tit to be found.  So riddle me this, Love of My Life... what is that shit they are selling?"

She shrugged her shoulders and said, "You should try it.  You might like it."  I laughed.  "I already know what it tastes like.  It tastes like sadness and broken dreams!  Why don't you go try it?"  She said, "It's kind of good."  Now I am thinking, "Shit, they got to her...  The fucking fake milk illuminati got her, changed her brains to vegan brains and now she is going to run around and play hacky sac with college freshmen....."

If anyone was going to be mad about this lie forced upon us by the fake milk illuminati, it should be her!  I tried to tell her once that midgets really aren't short but the rest of us all just too tall... she almost didn't marry be because of that!!!  And now she is happy to buy into the oatmilk bullshit???  They took her brain... they took her god damned brain....  Now what am I supposed to do?

Now, if you know me, you know I just can't drop things.  I had to take a walk and try to get this shit out of my mind.  I was gone for 2 hours.  When I came home, the wife asked if everything was okay.  I nodded back and said, "I apologize for my behavior.  If I got out of line with you, I apologize for that too.  And I want you to know that I thought of something that is going to make you feel so much better about diarrhea."  She said, "What? What are you talking about and where did that come from.  Diarrhea is disgusting..." to which I replied, "No it's not.  It's fart milk!" 




                                         

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Mistaken Identity

 

How is everyone doing on this fine fall day?  Hope this catches you in a good mood.  If I'm lucky enough, maybe this story will boost your mood.  I think it's hilarious... however I am 53 years old and still think farts are funny.

Let me set this up a little bit.  My friend JJ is Native American.  She works in retail and a lot of times gets to hear some stupid, insensitive shit regarding her ethnicity.  The other day, she posted about one such occasion on social media.  It proved that not only people are insensitive, they really don't think much before shit just goes falling out of their cake holes.  

JJ's brother Nate used to work for me years ago at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar as a doorman.  Nate was awesome at snagging fake ID's, payed attention to what was going on and if there was a fight in the joint, I knew that Nate would be in there with me.  When you run a joint like that, you are lucky if you have a Nate or two on board.  Besides that, the Kascoli's are just top notch folks as far as I am considered.  Their ethnicity doesn't matter to me but it is pertinent to this story.

Here we go.  If you haven't been to the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar on a Friday or Saturday night during the summer time, you're really missing out.  Busiest joint on the block, normally good entertainment back in those days, and it is simply the best place in the world to "people watch".  Nice folks from all over the world show up, get blasted and make asses of themselves... it's a beautiful thing!

The front door ends up looking like a conveyor belt in a factory.  We are turning and burning them as fast as we can. The Doormen are busy working the front door and monitoring the crowd. The Barbacks are doing everything they can to keep the joint going.  The Bartenders and the Waitresses are knee deep in the weeds slinging whiskey and I am there to back them all up.  Once it gets this busy, it doesn't slow down until last call.  Its a hell of a thing to be a part of.  If you haven't worked in a bar, you'll just have to trust me on this.

Right smack-dab in the middle of the evening, a young gal comes up to me and says, "Hey, the big Hawaiian guy at the door told me to come talk to you.  The cigarette machine ate my money and didn't give me any smokes." No big deal.  It happens all of the time and it's just one of the small things I have to do to keep the joint afloat, but the word "Hawaiian" stuck in my head.  I thought for a second, "I have a Hawaiian working here?".  It didn't really matter.  I had a small first world problem that I had to fix so I set path towards the cigarette machine and noticed old Nate at the front door.  "It had to be him that she was talking about", I thought to myself.

For some dumb reason, things like this stuck in my head.  I thought I knew good and well that Nate was Navajo/Apache so I had to go ask.  Normally when I approached a doorman, we had a project to take on.  I walked up and asked Nate, "Hey, are you Hawaiian?"  Nate wrinkled up his forehead, chuckled and said, "No man.  I'm Navajo/Apache."  I nodded and said, "That's what I thought but some chick just said "The big Hawaiian guy told me to come talk to you... she was talking about you, I guess."  We laughed and went about the rest of the evening.

About an hour later, this cowboy comes walking up with a fresh rodeo check in his hands.  (We used to cash rodeo checks for rodeo cowboys and buy them a drink.)  The feller says, "Hey, are you Brice?"  I nod and before I can say anything, the guy says, "The nice Mexican feller at the front door sent me to you to get this check cashed."  I smiled, asked the cowboy what he was drinking and put my initials on the check.  After I got him squared away, I walked up to Nate and said, "Guess what?"  Nate looked at me and I said, "Your Mexican now!"  I told him the story... we had a laugh and again set course on the rest of the evening.

Like I said earlier, this is the type of shit that gets stuck in my head.  Through the course of the evening, the doormen change stations and move between the front door, the back door and the floor.  Each time Nate walked by I would think either "Hawaiian" or "Mexican"?  I mean, he kind of looked Hawaiian and he kind of looked Mexican.  He damned sure looked Native to me, but what in the hell do I know.  

Now here's where the whole thing starts getting wonky in my head.  I look at Nate and think, "I hired a ventriloquist, but he doesn't trick people with his voice... he does it with his ethnicity."  So its a game in my head now and I think of the John Candy movie "Who is Harry Crumb?"  John Candy is a private investigator and he tries to wear different costumes, portray himself as different people...  Ol Nate ain't trying to fool nobody, and I am getting a good laugh out of it all.  I know, I'm easy to entertain....

In my head, everything is all shits and giggles and in the mean time, everyone else is trying to do their job.  The joint is packed!  The music is loud.  Everyone is having a good time and I get just busy enough to stop the comedy playing out in my head until another young lady comes up to me.  She's cute, half cooked and says, "Excuse me, are you Brice?"  I said that I was and I shit you not.... she says, "Oh good, I put some money in the breath-a-lyzer machine and it didn't work.  The Samoan guy at the back stairs said you could help me out."  I laughed and said, "Samoan guy?  Shit, I thought he was French or some shit."  She kind of shook her head and looked at me with a "deer in the headlights" kind of look.  I said, "Give me a minute.  I'll go grab some coins and I'll meet you back down there."

What I wanted more than anything in the world was for this girl to walk up to Nate and say, "You're not Samoan... You're French?" And then I wanted Nate to reply, "Oui, Oui" or some shit.  That would have made my entire career in the bar business worthwhile!!!

I didn't get that.  I did get to walk by Nate with a handful of quarters and say, "Uh, do you know any French?"  He just looked at me and smiled.  I walked down the stairs, showed the girl how the breath-a-lyzer works and prove that she had too much fun.  On the way up the stairs I told Nate, "This chick thinks you're a Samoan.... I told her you were French."  He laughed, I laughed and now I had him set up for the rest of the time he worked for me.

Any time I needed Nate to help a customer, I would tell the customer, "Yeah, if you go up front and talk to the big Puerto Rican gentleman" or some other ridiculous shit, "he can help you out''.  I didn't know who would find the humor in that.  I mean, I knew I would and thought Nate might get a kick out of it too.  

One night a few months later, a young lady that I was not familiar with came up to me and said, "I put some money in the pool table and we didn't get all of the balls."  I thought, "here's my chance".  I said, "Oh man, I hate when that happens.  Go up front and speak to the big Filipino guy.  He will fix you up."

She looks at me dead in the eye and says, "You mean Nate?  He's not Filipino, he's Brazilian!"  I never laughed so hard in all of my life!  I don't know if I ever told Nate about that.  It took months for this to come full circle, but damned if it didn't finally do it!  

Nate, J.J, I love you guys and hope you appreciate the story.  You guys are the best!  Thanks for all of the good times and especially for being my friends.  

Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Karen at the Coffee Shop



None of the following is open for negotiation:  There is no such thing as "almond milk" or "soy milk".  Period, end of discussion.  We've been through this before!  Everyone on the God damned planet knows where milk comes from!  Well, apparently not everyone.  "Karen" at the coffee shop must have missed out on my rant about "soy milk" in the past.  Fortunately enough for her, I was present and available to give her and the others standing around this morning a tutorial.

Coffee is essential.  I have at least one big ass cup of coffee every morning.  Sometimes 1 big ass cup is just not enough for me to be able to face the day, so I have to make a special stop to acquire another cup.  Today was one of those days.

Luckily, there is a handy little coffee shop on my way to work.  Sometimes there is no wait.  Today was a bit different.  There were exactly 4 people in line in front of me.  As usual, there was the trendy hipster guy with the cuffed skinny jeans and the giant beard too big for his small head.  He always gets some Chai bullshit on ice.  I'm pretty sure you could just serve this jackass anything and convince him it is exactly what he ordered.

Then there is the Mexican lady with her daughter.  Cutest kid in the whole world!  Mom just wants a cup of coffee, black and a juice of some sorts for her daughter.  She is on her way to work and doesn't have the time to screw around.  I like this lady!

Then there's "Karen".  Fuckin Karen, standing there with that hideous fucking hair-do, just waiting to unload some bullshit coffee order on an all too suspecting barista.  Then there's me, taking up the end of the line.

Chip the hipster has his shit together.  He orders his double chai iced bullshit latte and steps aside.  The Mexican lady orders her cup of black coffee and an apple juice as expected, and promptly steps aside... again, as expected.  "Karen" is standing there, looking at her finger nails as if she is the only fucking person in the joint standing in line trying to get a cup of coffee.

Just then, her phone rings which further distracts her.  As she answers the phone, the barista tries to take her order.  In typical "Karen" fashion, she holds up 1 finger to the barista which is apparently universal "Karen" sign language for "Hold on, I am getting ready to be a giant pain in your ass."  The barista quickly turns around, grabs the other peoples orders and sends them on their way.

Karen kind of steps aside...  maybe it wasn't really a step.  Maybe she was just switching the way she stands in order to look more like a twat.  I'm not sure, but it fooled both the barista and I.  I tried to step around her to place my order, which was going to be short and sweet, by the way... and then Karen decides it is indeed her turn and she won't be denied!

"Excuse me'' she exclaims, in only a most Karen like fashion.  "I am next."  I calmly nodded and said, "Hang up the phone, keep your ass in line, step up and order your bullshit drink and lets get on with our day, shall we?" 

Naturally this set Karen back on her heels.  (Nobody has ever talked to "Karen" this way....)  "I beg your pardon?" she says.  My reply was about as direct as it could be considering the circumstances.  "Look lady, you stepped aside as the barista motioned for you to step up and place your order.  You decided that your phone call was going to be more important, so you answered it and I tried to step around you.  You then decided to call me on my move and here we both are, still standing in line, waiting to order.  Get your ass up there and order some coffee, pay for that shit and get out of the way.... and so help me God, if you order some shit with "soy milk" or "almond milk", I am going to lose my fucking mind."

Karen is frozen at this point.  Her chin drops and hits her chest.   She hesitantly steps up, looks back at me, I point to the barista and say, "Just order..." 

The barista very politely says, "Can I take your order, ma'am?"  What should have happened in any other circumstance would have been, Karen would have placed her order, paid for that shit and stepped aside.... Nope!  Not Karen!  She's been "wronged" by the big idiot behind her and now she needs to let the world know.  "Who does this guy think he is?" she asked the barista.  Unapologetically the barista says, "I don't know ma'am.  He looks like a guy on a mission to get a cup of coffee and get on his way to work." 

The barista knows whats going on!  She got the memo!  She knows how important this shit is.  She wants to do her job, get this show on the road and make some people happy.  Then Karen's ass shows up and just throws a monkey shit throwing fit, as she usually does, just to ruin everyones day, including her own.  You see... Karen's aren't smart enough to know that it is them that is fucking everything up.

She looks back at me.  I point at the barista.  The barista again says, "Can I help you?"  Then it happens.... Karen orders the most bullshit Karen order of all fucking times!!!!  "I would like to have the turkey bacon and cream cheese sous vide egg bites, the avocado and tomato toast made on a panini rather than the whole wheat or sourdough bread that it is normally made on,  I would like a double chai latte with 2 double shots of lemon grass energy boosts and I need double espresso with half almond milk and half soy milk."  The barista rings up the order and tells her the total.  Karen looks at me and I shake my head.

I know she is going to say something.  She almost has to in order to try to save face.  I wasn't sure what it was going to be, but I knew she would say something.  Then it happened.  "What?  What are you shaking your head about?" 

"Karen, I am shaking my head because your whole life is a sham!  First of all, you ordered some shit that isn't even on the menu.  Look at the menu and find sous vide egg bites... go ahead.  I've got the time.  Let me help you, Karen.  It's not on the menu, and you just aren't that special.  The scrambled egg, bacon and cream cheese sandwich is on the menu and like the barista, I think this is what you wanted to order but you took it one step further by ordering some other shit that doesn't exist.  Turkey bacon.... there's no such thing.  There is turkey breast, turkey legs, turkey thighs, turkey guts, turkey feathers, turkey shit, turkey eggs, turkey guts and turkey coops.  Some dipshit decided he could dye turkey to look like bacon and call it turkey bacon, and that person was likely another Karen.... but the shit doesn't exist Karen.  It's turkey.  Bacon is bacon and you can never, ever fuck bacon up bad enough to taste like turkey.  Consequently Karen, there is nothing you can do to make turkey taste like bacon.  Its impossible.  And Karen, do you know what else is impossible?  Getting milk from a nut or a bean!  You can't do it!  Milk comes from tits.  Beans and nuts don't have tits!  Where is the tit on an almond, Karen?  Where?  Is it the little pointy thing, or is that the almond head?  There is no head on an almond either, Karen.  Its all almond... no tits, no feet, no head... just almond.  Soy is just the same.  Its a god damned bean, precious.  A titless, god damned bean, but some asshole decided to squeeze a bean, put the shit in a carton and call it milk.  Good enough for you and the rest of the frauds in the world, eh Karen?''

I step around Karen, smile and say, "May I have a large cup of coffee please?"  The barista said, "Yes you may.  Should I leave some room for some cream?  We have individual cream containers at the end of the counter."  I smiled again and said, "That would be delightful." 

I paid the young lady and she turned around and poured my cup of coffee.  At this point, my back was towards this woman, but I could feel Karen staring daggers into the back of my skull.  I picked up my coffee and walked down to the end of the counter.  I opened a small individual contain her cream, caught Karen's eye, pointed at my nipple and poured the cream in the coffee. 

I had gone on long enough to where I even made my own self slightly uncomfortable.  As I walked out the door I thought to myself, "I've got to learn to reel this shit in and just not say anything."  As the door opened, Karen said "Good riddance".  I turned around, smiled and said, "Moo."

I am endeavoring to be a better person.  You probably couldn't tell from this encounter... or a few of the other ones I've written about.  Anyhow, I hope everyone has a good day.  Eat real bacon and drink real milk please.

Friday, February 28, 2020

"The Jack-Mormon 500!"




Ladies and Gentleman,

"That was our National Anthem, performed by the Smoot Shiny Kazoo Quartet and brought to you by a half smoked pack of Camel lights!  Thanks for tuning into the Western Wyoming Sports Channel.  My name is Rip Biffler and I'll be calling the race today with my good friend, color commentator and part time Teton County School District Janitor, Chip Randy!"

Chip:  "Thanks Rip, and as usual, I am glad to be here on this beautiful, February morning! I am super excited for what should turn out to be a good race!"

Rip:  "This is indeed a great morning for the daily race from Star Valley Wyoming into Jackson's Hole.  Listen, before we get into today's race line up, we have our man on the track, Lincoln County's own unofficial representative from the DOT, Ed.  Hey Ed, can you give us an update on the track conditions today?"

Ed:  "Yep....."

Rip:  "Ed, are you still with us?"

Ed:  "Yep...."

Rip:  "Are you going to give us an update on the track conditions?"

Ed:  "Yep...."

Rip:  "Go ahead, Ed... we don't have all day..."

Ed:  "Well, its kind of the same thing every day.  Probably some ice in a few spots.  Pot holes are starting to hatch.  Plenty of gravel on the roads to break some windshields.  Probably some elk and or deer available to ruin a few front ends.  The High Way Patrol hasn't been out too much lately, so I expect to see some really shitty driving!"

Rip:  "Thanks Ed.  So Chip, let me ask you a question as a daily racer.  What do you expect to see today?

Chip:  "Well Rip, it's a packed field today with all of the usual suspects.  I expect the Evan's Construction Chevy Pick up truck to make a few aggressive passes just after Alpine Junction to take the early lead headed into the canyon.  I suspect the white late model Toyota 4 Runner to be up to his usual tricks, tail gating, running with his high beams on the entire distance and passing in every no passing zone.  As Ed said, the track is in its usual shape for this time of year so who knows what kind of bullshit high jinx we are in for."

Rip:  "Let's not forget the old white 4 door sedan driven by the lady who has too many dogs!  She is in the mix up every day, Chip.  She hasn't a clue as to what she is doing on the road.  I've never seen such a clueless shitbag trying to drive and feed her 11 dogs a half of a bologna sandwich but she is out there, every day causing grief and dissention.  Let's also not forget the Teton Motors Loaner car.  It's on the track nearly every day driven by a different driver!  You're never quite for sure what kind of a junk show you will run into there!"

Chip:  "Valid point about the dog lady!  She feeds the dogs a sandwich, smokes a cigarette and almost always throws the butt into the back seat and starts some kind of a dumpster fire.  Not sure how she keeps that equipment on the track."

Rip:  "From the looks of her quarter panels, Chip... she doesn't do too good of a job."

Chip: "Touche` my good man!  Touche`!  Well Rip, it looks like we are about ready to race!"

Rip:  "As you know Chip, the field is at least 1,000 drivers strong, so we wont be able to actually name them all but we will do our best to get to the best of them, but first... a word from our sponsor.

EVERY DAY IS RACE DAY, HERE AT KJ'S.  WE'LL SELL YOU SOME DIESEL... WE'LL SELL YOU SOME GAS....  WE'LL SELL YOU SOME PIZZA, CHIPS, A HOT SANDWICH AND SOME CBD GUMMIES!!!  STOP ON IN FOR A COUPLE OF CANS OF 4 LOCO AND SOME FIREWORKS AND DON'T BE AFRAID TO USE OUR FULL SERVICE SHITTER!  RACE DAY AT KJ'S!!!  GET YOU SOME, BITCH!

Rip:  "Thanks to the good folks over at KJ's.  Have you ever tried their coffee?  It's loaded with caffeine and will have you shaking like a cat shitting a peach seed.  Get you a cup before heading up the canyon!  Now, its time for the daily line up.....  Starting in the #1 and #2 positions are the plow trucks.  In the #3 position we have the 35mph Toyota pick up guy.  In the #4 position we have old Ford truck guy who probably needs some kind of a carb adjustment... smells like he is running a little rich every day.  In the #5 position we have the guy who drives the length of the canyon with his blinker on.  In the #6 position we have the lady who used to work at the Dollar Tree.  In the #7 position we have the guy driving the cement pump truck.  In the #8 position we have the Jenkins Lumber delivery truck.  From there back a couple of positions we have a few yahoos, idiots and assholes.  Back in the #25 spot we have the guy who hits his brakes way too often, for no good god damned reason at all followed by the old black dodge flat bed pick up truck.  He'll be followed by some more idiots including the lady with too many dogs, the Century Link truck and the Dudley's.

Chip:  Rip, if I an interrupt for a minute.  The Dudley's are driving the little car today.  It gets better gas mileage and that will allow them to stop in at Hoback Junction so Mr. Dudley can get a can of chew.  Nice little car, I believe its a foreign job and probably gets 30 miles per gallon or so, fully equipped with a tiny 4 cylinder motor and a fucking thing that beeps every time they get too close to the center line.  Totally aggravating when you're behind the wheel!  If Brice is driving today, he will for sure be getting an ear full from the beeper and the misses.... Good luck to them!

Rip:  Great point, Chip.  That beeping thing is aggravating!  You can almost hear the F-Bombs flying out the drivers side window.  The word is, that little car does have seat heaters though and it keeps everyone's ass warm on these cold mornings.  Maybe that will be helpful this morning.

Chip:  Rip, who else do we have in the line up?

Rip:  From this point on Chip, it's a hodge podge mixture of the usual suspects.  Carpenters, teachers, plumbers, HVAC guys, the dude who used to play guitar on the town square that used sticks to dig coins out from between the cracks in the boardwalks during the summer time, a few cops and Teton County Sheriff Deputies will be in the mix, the High Country Linens box truck and the one guy who missed the turn to Idaho Falls!  It's going to be another exciting day of racing, Chip and we are moments away from the starting flag!

Chip:  This is just in, Rip.  Summer residents Tim and Judy Sharp from Valdosta, Florida are in town today but will not be racing.  It appears as if the Sharps either have the Corona virus or got food poisoning from some truck stop sushi in Rock Springs yesterday.  Both folks have a fever, the chills and hostile diarrhea.  Nobody in Lincoln county knows what the Corona virus really is and frankly, nobody gives a shit either.  We all know we don't want it, so keep your asses on lock down, Tim and Judy!

Rip:  Ive just been told that they waved the flag 3 minutes ago when the Evans Construction guy came flying out Star Valley Ranch to take the lead!  He's being followed by the guy who used to stutter that worked at the movie theater!

Chip:  That guy is cool.  Gave me free popcorn once.  He also told me that they used only real sea salt on their popcorn.

Rip:  That's probably why its so addicting!  I always get that big ass bucket of popcorn, myself.

Chip:  Heavy on the butter?

Rip:  I drink that fake butter, Chip.  My colon is cleaner than the Bishops driving record!  It's something else!

Chip:  Well, I'll have to take your word on that.  I will not be doing any kind of an investigation.

Rip:  I appreciate that, Chip.  Hey!  Don't look now but the Pocatello Sod truck just turned into the canyon from the junction!  He's empty.... what in the hell is he doing here this time of year?

Chip:  Great pass move around the 35 mile per hour Toyota truck guy!  of course everyone will be passing that idiot!  But behind him is the guy in the green Subaru with the broken tail light!  He's been racing up the canyon for the last 3 years and has somehow managed to not get popped for that tail light!  That's one of the better stories happening here today, Rip!

Rip:  I agree.  I think I once got a ticket from the highway patrol because I thought I had a broken tail light.  Those troopers are something else, Chip.  Sneaky bastards, using the pull outs as places to hide. 

Chip:  They are... They are...  Rip, it looks like the guy who used to work for the Chamber of Commerce down in Kemmerer is making a few aggressive passes in a no passing zone.  He's not a regular driver but I'd guess his coffee and bran muffin are starting to do their job and he is looking for a little relief!

Rip:  He'll play hell looking for relief there, as he just passed the Wolf Creek Camp Ground!

Chip:  I think you're right, Rip.  The good news is, he has that 87 Jeep Cherokee with the broken ski rack running in top condition.  He'll need that in order to come into Hoback Junction and claim a stall in the Hoback Market bathroom!

Rip:  We now have them running 3 wide at the blue Cliffs!

Chip:  3 wide with the white 4 runner guy trying to take the inside lane!

Rip:  How is he managing to do that there on this track today?

Chip:  I think he is going to try to take advantage of the upcoming potholes at Taco Hole, Rip.  If he plans this right, he can force the rusty 2 door sedan to back off a little and then overtake the guy from the auto parts store on the straight away!

Rip:  Fantastic bullshit driving today so far, Chip!  I've never seen such bullshit!

Chip:  Oh, you need to move down to Alpine, Rip.  Living in that east Jackson condo with 7 room mates has spoiled you on the commute.  What do you guys pay for rent over there, Rip?

Rip:  Each one of us pays $1600 a month and its a bonus for me because I get to sleep in the broken shower stall.  Beats that commute anyday!  This just in... it appears as if there is some kind of quagmire near the Elbow.  Lets go live to Ed at the elbow.  Ed, are you there?

Ed:  Yep....

Rip:  What can you tell us about the quagmire, Ed?

Ed: ..........

Rip:  Ed, are you there?

Ed:  Huh?

Rip:  Are you there at the Elbow?  What's going on?

Ed:  I found a bag of Wendy's trash at the side of the road.  I think everyone thought it was one of those big ass snow clods off of a semi.  Turns out, there is a half eaten chicken nugget in there that looks pretty good.  It does have some ketchup on it and I am kind of impartial to ketchup.

Rip:  Is it really affecting the traffic?

Ed:  The ketchup?

Rip:  No, you fucking idiot!  The trash in the road.

Ed:  Oh, no.  I don't think so.  That was probably me.  I was standing in the road looking for a couple of fries to go with my half eaten chicken nugget.

Rip:  Jesus Christ, Ed.  No wonder why road rage is on the rise!

Chip:  Wendy's isn't an official sponsor.  We probably shouldn't mention their name.

Rip:  I'm good with that.  Can we not mention Ed either?  He must have gotten into the leaded paint chips as a kid, I'd guess.

Chip:  I don't know anything about that, but I do know that Ed was once married to his mothers, sisters, brothers, uncles next door neighbors sisters, brother.... Yeah, I think I got that right.

Rip:  Speaking of sponsors, Chip... I think we need to mention the guy who makes all of the shitty re-tread tires that come apart in the canyon all year long!  He sucks!  And to the guys who keep pissing in milk jugs and throwing them out along the road, nice work!  Nothing like jugs of rancid piss!

Chip:  Well, Rip, its been an exciting race day so far.  Nobody is in the ditch yet.  Most of the commute is over for most people and at least half of the drivers have already punched the time clock at their respective jobs!

Rip:  That's another good point, Chip!  With the roads as dry as they are, speeds are up over the posted limit with the exception of 35 mph guy who just got into the canyon.  Everyone else is working diligently at their respective jobs.  Not that guy, though.

Rip:  Chip, I can't thank you enough for the color commentary.  Your professionalism and knowledge are unsurpassed.  It's always a privilege!

Chip"  Rip, thank you.

Rip:  This concludes our coverage of today's Jack Mormon 500.  We'd like to thank our sponsors... half pack of Camel lights, some jugs of piss, the empty Wendys bag and KJS.  Rip Biffler, signing off from the Teton County Transfer Station.   Thanks for driving like shit!


Thursday, November 28, 2019

Holiday Spirit!!!




So, I'm sitting at work today and realize that I am out of coffee.  As slow and as cold as its been, coffee was going to be a necessity, so I make my happy way on down to the grocery store.

Other than my feet being cold and being out of coffee, my day is going along perfectly!  Not sure I could be a whole lot happier, and at this time, all I want is stuff to make coffee at work.  Nothing else.  I find a spot in the parking lot, put the car in park and reply to a text that a friend sent me.

Another car pulls up alongside of me.  I notice a younger couple hopping out of the car, and the lady who was riding in the passenger side of the vehicle has her face all messed up and she is staring at me like I just tracked cow shit across her new Persian rug.  Big deal, I think to myself and get back to replying to the text.

Just as I shut the truck off, there is a knock on the window.  It's the lady.  The one with the messed up face.  (I'll add that she looks like she smells like pee.)  I roll the window down to find out what's up and before I can say a single word she says in an angry tone, "We don't sit and let our cars idle here in Jackson." 

Now, me being me, I knew where I was going to take this.  When opportunity knocks, you have to take full advantage.  I replied in my kindest voice, "Oh gee, I'm sorry.  I pulled into this spot about 20 seconds before you pulled in and I was responding to a text.  I normally don't make a habit of just sitting around and letting my truck run."

She adds, "We are concerned about the environment.  People like you drive these big ass trucks that suck down so much gas, throw out so much carbon and other pollution.  It's just irresponsible and I wish people like you would be more responsible."

I hop out of the vehicle because I was going to make my way into the store.  The young gentleman said, "Heather, come on.  He doesn't get it.''  She was getting ready to chime in with some more useless gibberish but I cut her and him off at the pass.  "No, no.  I totally get it, and who wouldn't be worried about the environment.  Me, sitting there idling, texting a friend and wasting gas is something that I should not be doing.  It's irresponsible.  Again, I'm sorry."

The girl responds, "Do you even live here?"  I said yes and added, "for longer than you've been alive."  Her response was, "Then how can you just sit there and let your truck idle?"  Her body language made me believe that she was going to sit and continue making her point, even though I didn't give a shit about her, her point, the fact that she looked like she smelled like piss and her boyfriend was wearing pajamas. 

I asked, "Do you actually live here?  Do you actually have a job?"  Now, her skinny assed, pajama wearing boyfriend starts to make his way towards me and his darling little princess.  "I do live here.  I do have a job, but what I do is none of your business."  I nodded and said, "This is an interesting conversation.  You think its none of my business what you do but at the same time, you think its your business to tell me how to conduct my own business?"  She emphatically nodded and said, "Yeah.  You just can't do stupid shit like that."

I grinned.  Some of my friends would have recognized this as me getting ready to lose my shit, stomp the shit out of both of them and then look for a spot for the bodies.  Instead, I said...  "Do you know what?  You're right.  It was stupid and again I apologize.  I can see that this really has you worked up and today of all days is not a day to be all worked up.  This is a day to be grateful and thankful and I also believe that under different circumstances, you and I would probably enjoy each other's company."

Now, she's dumbfounded.  She thought she was going to get a fight out of me.  She was most definitely in the market for one, but my apology must have sounded so sincere.  The look on her face changed.  Her body language changed and she seemed to relax a little bit.  I added, "I have to make my way into the store and grab a few things so I can get back to work, but I want to ask you another question or two before I go.  Is that okay?"

She nodded and said "Yeah, please.  Ask me a question."  I said, "So, you live here and work here, correct?''  She answered yes.  I then asked, "Do you ever, uhm.... go fuck yourself?"  and then I walked around her and her stick figure boyfriend. 

It got awful quiet there in the parking lot.  I'm sure I somehow managed to screw up their all-vegan, no gluten, high fiber, sticks and dirt tofu turkey dinner.  And it's that folks.... That makes me truly thankful.

Enjoy your day, friends.