You know what really pisses me off?
Oh, wait.
I'll tell you. Don't wear yourself out making a mental list. You don't have that much time.
I went to the store Thursday (a day early due to the holiday) and loaded up on the usual stuff, counting my pennies as I pushed the cart around looking ever so single in my food choices, and pulled up to the checkout. I was trying to sneak the extra case of beer that I left in my cart through (because sometimes you can and fuck them they shouldn't be charging that much for it anyway) when the manager walks by and reminds the cashier to ring it up. You bastard. Then, as I'm bagging my own groceries (just as well since no one can do it right anymore anyway), the cashier has the gall to ask me if I want to donate a dollar to whatever idiot organization that has the little jugs out at all the registers. For all I know it was send monkey-faced kids to space camp or some shit like that (although that I might actually pay to see) but I didn't hear any of that. All I heard was Rage (that's right, capital R) filling up my head. I'm pretty sure I channeled Carl from Sling Blade at that point. "I just saw red" I kept bagging while looking right at the cashier and said "Why no, I wouldn't. It's bad enough that Food Lion (yes, I'm calling you assholes out) charges me ridiculous prices for the same things I was buying a month ago and can get elsewhere cheaper except I don't want to make a hundred stops on the way home and I'm bagging my own shit, but then you want me to give another dollar for something that I'm pretty sure never gets where it's going? haha! Good luck with that. For all the money I spend in here every week, Food Lion can pony up my dollar's worth and be happy to do it." She just laughed and kept ringing stuff. I hope that prick manager heard too. And, I hope the monkey faced kids don't get to go to space camp because I totally would've given a dollar if they'd have let that beer slide through.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
It's that time again, ain't it Harley?
Today we're going with a bullet list because I don't feel like being coherent.
- The temperatures are back to normal now. This is nice. I did, however, buy an a/c for my bedroom Monday evening. Last night I had to sleep with a blanket on. It seriously feels like a wonderful little motel room in there. Except cleaner. I hope.
- I've been reading more lately. It's nice to get back into it again. I go through spells where I don't pick up a book for awhile and I always wander around bored and grouchy. Then when I start reading again, I feel better. I don't know why I stop. I guess so I can appreciate it more when I start back up. Kind of like a lot of things I guess.
- This weekend is the Huge Community Yard Sale. Let me tell you how bad I hate this thing. It's an entire day (starting Friday evening and/or around 5 a.m. Saturday morning...yes, 5 a.m. ) of people driving, walking, bargaining, stopping in the middle of the road to see if there's anything worth stopping for, and generally being assholes. It's a joy, I tell you. A joy.
- That being said, yours truly will be out there with a little table set up of things I don't need anymore and hate to sell but have to because I need the money for stuff. The first person that tries to haggle me down from my marked price is getting cussed. Really. It's a dollar, numb nuts. Deal with it. I'll throw it right the fuck away before I give it to you for less.
- In that vein, does anyone out there or anyone you know need some motorcycle leathers???? I have everything you need. And, everything must go. The prices are negotiable (honestly) on everything except the leather jacket. I have chaps, leather pants, a leather shirt (great for your inbetween temperature days or a surprising rainstorm), a denim jacket complete with a $30 patch, and a HD jacket that I paid nearly $400 for. The jacket I want $200 for. Everything else we can talk about. Or, we can talk about that too if you want some other stuff. Hell, I just need the money. Everything is an XL. I can't remember what the pants are, but I think I only wore them twice (yes, with longjohns underneath) and they're still as soft as they were when they were new. As is the jacket. It still, in fact, smells new. Email me if you're interested and we'll strike a deal.
- I hate to sell that stuff. Memories, you know. Time, money, experiences invested in it all. An entirely different life, a different lifestyle, now so long gone. It feels like decades ago. And, I kinda miss that guy. He and I would get along famously now, though. But, still. His was a more hectic, simpler world. Mine's simpler, but more hectic if that makes sense. I don't know. I think, though, that I NEED to get rid of it and hopefully that'll help ease some of these lingering ghosts....maybe. If not, at least I have some cash. And I can buy new things to distract myself.
- While you're buying, don't forget to check out my book.....
- And, lastly, a picture of me at the ballgame. I'm not putting this up here so you can marvel at my beauty. I'll wait, though, while you do that. I'm putting it up there to see if you can notice the rare, hardly seen in public thing in the picture.
Yes, that's a FREE BEER I'm holding at the ball park.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
I meant to do that.....
Last weekend, my buddy and I took off to Baltimore to watch the Orioles play the Red Sox. He was the only Oriole fan in our whole hotel I think. And, at the Inner Harbor. But, everyone was really nice to him and didn't throw things at him. In anticipation of both the crowds and our overpowering thirst after having driven for 3 hours in torrential rains and bumper to bumper traffic, we tossed the bags into our room and jumped on the train to head over to the stadium. Score 1 for Baltimore's light rail system. On the way, we encountered a crazy man that was entirely "discombobulated" by "all these white people on my train." For 15 minutes, he went on and on about "what are all these white people on my train? Must be a ballgame today or something." No, really? You're surrounded by a train full of people in Boston apparel. You live in Baltimore, home of the Orioles. How in the hell do you not know that there's a game? I guess, though, if you're discombobulated, the days all run together.
After we left crazy man arguing with the Transit Cop, we herded across the street and headed down to the Harbor to get a cold beer or 12. And when I say herded, I mean it. There must've been a thousand people pushing and grunting across the street. Anyway, we walk like 100 miles or something and we could smell food from all the restaurants we're passing and all I want is a cold beer and possibly some wings and I'm ready to choke the next person that stops in front of me to take a picture of a ship that's been there forever and will still be there in the next 10 seconds, so let me the fuck by lady. Weeding through the crowd like some sort of shape-shifting predators, we made it to the end of the line. My friend thought we'd try the ESPN Zone. Neither of us had ever been in, but we'd seen it on tv, so what the hell, right? I stood in line at the bar for 10 minutes. For my first beer. As a matter of fact, right before I reached over and popped the head off of the bartender, 2 seats at the bar opened up. I yelled his name a couple of times and growled at encroachers, and we were seated. Finally..... And, from then on, the experience improved. Slacky The Bartender left, and Hottie the bartender stepped up. Not only was she cute, she was efficient. I think I fell in love just a little. And, the cheese fries were awesome. Of course, I hadn't eaten since 9 that morning and it was now after 5. A few beers later, we were tired of being jostled around in our seats, so we set off like all great explorers in search of a new bar stool we could call our very own.
I'm a sucker for a pub (shut up, Captain Obvious) and lo and behold (!) there we were right in front of one, up on the second story (up a periously twisty staircase...that was probably 6 feet or more wide and steel, but whatever) with a great view of the harbor when I walked outside to smoke. And ?! 2 seats right at the bar, right in front of the taps, right in front of the television. The bartenders were friendly, it was quiet, and we could watch the evening game right there from our comfortable seats. Rock on! An undetermined amount of time passed, the game ended, and we figured we'd better catch the train before it stopped running. Back up the 100 mile street and we finally caught the third train from the stadium. They may think about maybe adding a couple cars to the train on game days. I'm pretty sure that lady didn't like me rubbing up against her with every bump in the road. Or maybe she did. Hell, I don't know. I think she minded less once the train started moving, though.
Ah, Sunday.......game day. I'm up like a kid at Christmas. This was my first professional game ever. I make noise and flip channels on the tv til my friend gets up and we head out for the train at 10. Um, yeah. It doesn't start running til 11. Fuckers. It's a 1:30 game. The earlier I get there, Baltimore, the more money I'll spend. Trust me. Anyway, 11 comes and we jam on the train so close that I can tell what people had for breakfast. But, we're on the way to the game, right? 2 guys behind us were talking about how they hated these days and if he'd have known there was a game he wouldn't have ridden the train (again, how do you not know?) and how he didn't buy a ticket anyway because they were too expensive. Sorry that $3 is killing you, man.
Pile out at the stadium, wait for the gates to open, hit the first beer stand in sight, and we're underway! My college paid for a picnic for us (the ticketholders/alumni) in the Bullpen area (if you ever get to do this, go for it!) so we went in and got our food and found seat and started looking around. Here's where the story gets good. Beer count = 2. I look up from my seat and what do my eyes see before me? Taps unencumbered by a cash register!!! Were they really giving me free beer for an hour and a half and lunch all for $22?? I may have found heaven right here. Let the day commence, eh? So, we walk around and look around and watch the players warm up from right above the bullpen (see what they did with the name there? ha!) and drank these free beers. It was awesome. I would've loved to have been able to watch the game from there, but that was not to be. 1:15 arrived ....and off to the nosebleed section. Beer count = 9.
We're up in left center, nearly at the top. I can see everything. Well, everything except the players, really, but I can make out the difference between the white dots and the gray dots. Meanwhile, the concession stand is right under our seats...with no line. ha! Here we go again. Manny hits homerun 501 and there are some other good plays and I can't get my camera ready in time to take a picture of this one girl in a really small tank top, but eh, what're you gonna do? The pile of bottles under our seats is growing and it's hot as hell, like Africa hot, up there. The game is fun. I love watching it on tv, but if I had the chance to go to a live game every week, I'd be all over it! Especially if I could sit up close. Beer count = I have no idea. I'm guessing that I'm nearing 15 or 18 by now.
We herd back out of the stadium and in search of food with a million other people. Hey, I said, let's go back to the pub and eat there. We're filing along the street all asshole and elbow with a million people when the sidewalk narrows. (If you made it this far, congratulations. This is the good shit) There's a curb or a flowerbed or something in front of me blocking my way. No problem, I think, because I can jump right up on that and keep walking. I'll wait while you laugh to yourselves. I think it was 6 or 10 inches off the ground. I lifted my foot approximately 1 to 2 inches and went right at it. See, in my mind, it looked good. Smooth. I was gonna kick this curb's ass. Little did I know that the curb was calling in reinforcements from its friends, flowerbed and sidewalk. In reality, it looked like I hit it, rolled on top of it, kept moving, and then rolled off onto the sidewalk effectively blocking the way of all the million people I was walking with. I hit it hard, rolled, and then fell onto the sidewalk and was laughing so hard I couldn't get up. My friend couldn't help me for laughing at me. Finally some nice guy helped me up and we were on our way. Thankfully nothing got broken (either on me or the camera) but I did get a nice scrape on my arm out of it. And everybody in Baltimore got a good laugh. And everybody at work yesterday also got a good laugh. I'm surprised my friend didn't call them right then.
We had dinner at the pub and a couple more beers and managed to make it back to the train without further incident. It's rumoured that I almost stepped on a homeless man that looked eerily like the lead singer of The Spin Doctors, but I don't believe that. I don't remember seeing him. So, obviously, I'm right. Beer count = I can't keep up anymore. I know it's still early and I'm out of money, though.
A free breakfast the next morning, some gas in the car, and we're back home by noon. Oh, what a weekend. I can't wait to do it again! Except maybe this time without all the falling. At least by me.
After we left crazy man arguing with the Transit Cop, we herded across the street and headed down to the Harbor to get a cold beer or 12. And when I say herded, I mean it. There must've been a thousand people pushing and grunting across the street. Anyway, we walk like 100 miles or something and we could smell food from all the restaurants we're passing and all I want is a cold beer and possibly some wings and I'm ready to choke the next person that stops in front of me to take a picture of a ship that's been there forever and will still be there in the next 10 seconds, so let me the fuck by lady. Weeding through the crowd like some sort of shape-shifting predators, we made it to the end of the line. My friend thought we'd try the ESPN Zone. Neither of us had ever been in, but we'd seen it on tv, so what the hell, right? I stood in line at the bar for 10 minutes. For my first beer. As a matter of fact, right before I reached over and popped the head off of the bartender, 2 seats at the bar opened up. I yelled his name a couple of times and growled at encroachers, and we were seated. Finally..... And, from then on, the experience improved. Slacky The Bartender left, and Hottie the bartender stepped up. Not only was she cute, she was efficient. I think I fell in love just a little. And, the cheese fries were awesome. Of course, I hadn't eaten since 9 that morning and it was now after 5. A few beers later, we were tired of being jostled around in our seats, so we set off like all great explorers in search of a new bar stool we could call our very own.
I'm a sucker for a pub (shut up, Captain Obvious) and lo and behold (!) there we were right in front of one, up on the second story (up a periously twisty staircase...that was probably 6 feet or more wide and steel, but whatever) with a great view of the harbor when I walked outside to smoke. And ?! 2 seats right at the bar, right in front of the taps, right in front of the television. The bartenders were friendly, it was quiet, and we could watch the evening game right there from our comfortable seats. Rock on! An undetermined amount of time passed, the game ended, and we figured we'd better catch the train before it stopped running. Back up the 100 mile street and we finally caught the third train from the stadium. They may think about maybe adding a couple cars to the train on game days. I'm pretty sure that lady didn't like me rubbing up against her with every bump in the road. Or maybe she did. Hell, I don't know. I think she minded less once the train started moving, though.
Ah, Sunday.......game day. I'm up like a kid at Christmas. This was my first professional game ever. I make noise and flip channels on the tv til my friend gets up and we head out for the train at 10. Um, yeah. It doesn't start running til 11. Fuckers. It's a 1:30 game. The earlier I get there, Baltimore, the more money I'll spend. Trust me. Anyway, 11 comes and we jam on the train so close that I can tell what people had for breakfast. But, we're on the way to the game, right? 2 guys behind us were talking about how they hated these days and if he'd have known there was a game he wouldn't have ridden the train (again, how do you not know?) and how he didn't buy a ticket anyway because they were too expensive. Sorry that $3 is killing you, man.
Pile out at the stadium, wait for the gates to open, hit the first beer stand in sight, and we're underway! My college paid for a picnic for us (the ticketholders/alumni) in the Bullpen area (if you ever get to do this, go for it!) so we went in and got our food and found seat and started looking around. Here's where the story gets good. Beer count = 2. I look up from my seat and what do my eyes see before me? Taps unencumbered by a cash register!!! Were they really giving me free beer for an hour and a half and lunch all for $22?? I may have found heaven right here. Let the day commence, eh? So, we walk around and look around and watch the players warm up from right above the bullpen (see what they did with the name there? ha!) and drank these free beers. It was awesome. I would've loved to have been able to watch the game from there, but that was not to be. 1:15 arrived ....and off to the nosebleed section. Beer count = 9.
We're up in left center, nearly at the top. I can see everything. Well, everything except the players, really, but I can make out the difference between the white dots and the gray dots. Meanwhile, the concession stand is right under our seats...with no line. ha! Here we go again. Manny hits homerun 501 and there are some other good plays and I can't get my camera ready in time to take a picture of this one girl in a really small tank top, but eh, what're you gonna do? The pile of bottles under our seats is growing and it's hot as hell, like Africa hot, up there. The game is fun. I love watching it on tv, but if I had the chance to go to a live game every week, I'd be all over it! Especially if I could sit up close. Beer count = I have no idea. I'm guessing that I'm nearing 15 or 18 by now.
We herd back out of the stadium and in search of food with a million other people. Hey, I said, let's go back to the pub and eat there. We're filing along the street all asshole and elbow with a million people when the sidewalk narrows. (If you made it this far, congratulations. This is the good shit) There's a curb or a flowerbed or something in front of me blocking my way. No problem, I think, because I can jump right up on that and keep walking. I'll wait while you laugh to yourselves. I think it was 6 or 10 inches off the ground. I lifted my foot approximately 1 to 2 inches and went right at it. See, in my mind, it looked good. Smooth. I was gonna kick this curb's ass. Little did I know that the curb was calling in reinforcements from its friends, flowerbed and sidewalk. In reality, it looked like I hit it, rolled on top of it, kept moving, and then rolled off onto the sidewalk effectively blocking the way of all the million people I was walking with. I hit it hard, rolled, and then fell onto the sidewalk and was laughing so hard I couldn't get up. My friend couldn't help me for laughing at me. Finally some nice guy helped me up and we were on our way. Thankfully nothing got broken (either on me or the camera) but I did get a nice scrape on my arm out of it. And everybody in Baltimore got a good laugh. And everybody at work yesterday also got a good laugh. I'm surprised my friend didn't call them right then.
We had dinner at the pub and a couple more beers and managed to make it back to the train without further incident. It's rumoured that I almost stepped on a homeless man that looked eerily like the lead singer of The Spin Doctors, but I don't believe that. I don't remember seeing him. So, obviously, I'm right. Beer count = I can't keep up anymore. I know it's still early and I'm out of money, though.
A free breakfast the next morning, some gas in the car, and we're back home by noon. Oh, what a weekend. I can't wait to do it again! Except maybe this time without all the falling. At least by me.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Helpful, handy hints from me to you.
1. If you're cutting hot peppers and have to go to the bathroom, wash your hands before you go. Just sayin'. I mean, you know this and I know this and have gone over it a hundred times. But, like with math and sexual harrassment seminars, a refresher course never hurt anyone.
2. That nail that's worked its way up out of the floor? The one that you know where it is so you always avoid it? Yeah, go ahead and take 2 seconds to get the hammer and tap it back down. It's 2 seconds vs. jumping and spilling your beer when you don't avoid it.
3. That neighbor that's a little creepy and wants to talk and sometimes borrow money? Don't. Better he thinks that you're a nutjob that hates people (score!) than for him to be over all the time.
4. When you're drinking, hide your phone and your checkbook/credit cards/check cards. This handy tip could save you making an ass of yourself or spending money you don't need to. That person that you think is just dying to hear from you after you've been drinking all evening and they're just getting home from work couldn't really give a shit about the intricacies of The Andy Griffith Show. And the chip maker from the informercial is a piece of garbage.
5. When someone says "hey, do you mind if I stop by? I've some things I want to talk about." Go ahead here and be busy. Have an excuse or 3 ready. Talking seriously about stuff never got anyone anywhere.
6. Always keep quick meals in your freezer and macaroni and cheese on your shelf.
7. Always keep ice cream in your freezer.
8. Stop on the way home and buy beer whether you think you need it or not. You either do or you will.
9. Just because new people moved in upstairs from you, don't keep the stereo down lower than normal. Break them in right off the bat. Besides, they'll either stomp around half the evening or their kids will run fucking laps in the house for 2 hours straight. Turn it up. If you have a subwoofer, even better.
10. At work, carry stuff around with you all the time and look mad. I think George Costanza said this once. I can't remember now. But, really. It works. It keeps people from bothering you or asking you if you just have one second to look at something.
That's all for now, kids. Feel free to add to the list. Like G.I. Joe said, knowing is half the battle.
2. That nail that's worked its way up out of the floor? The one that you know where it is so you always avoid it? Yeah, go ahead and take 2 seconds to get the hammer and tap it back down. It's 2 seconds vs. jumping and spilling your beer when you don't avoid it.
3. That neighbor that's a little creepy and wants to talk and sometimes borrow money? Don't. Better he thinks that you're a nutjob that hates people (score!) than for him to be over all the time.
4. When you're drinking, hide your phone and your checkbook/credit cards/check cards. This handy tip could save you making an ass of yourself or spending money you don't need to. That person that you think is just dying to hear from you after you've been drinking all evening and they're just getting home from work couldn't really give a shit about the intricacies of The Andy Griffith Show. And the chip maker from the informercial is a piece of garbage.
5. When someone says "hey, do you mind if I stop by? I've some things I want to talk about." Go ahead here and be busy. Have an excuse or 3 ready. Talking seriously about stuff never got anyone anywhere.
6. Always keep quick meals in your freezer and macaroni and cheese on your shelf.
7. Always keep ice cream in your freezer.
8. Stop on the way home and buy beer whether you think you need it or not. You either do or you will.
9. Just because new people moved in upstairs from you, don't keep the stereo down lower than normal. Break them in right off the bat. Besides, they'll either stomp around half the evening or their kids will run fucking laps in the house for 2 hours straight. Turn it up. If you have a subwoofer, even better.
10. At work, carry stuff around with you all the time and look mad. I think George Costanza said this once. I can't remember now. But, really. It works. It keeps people from bothering you or asking you if you just have one second to look at something.
That's all for now, kids. Feel free to add to the list. Like G.I. Joe said, knowing is half the battle.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Ask me if I care....
There's a lady and her family that live across the street from where I work. They work in the yard nearly every day. All day. And have been for the past year or so. Granted, their yard looks wonderful....but, really? I stand outside at break (or at random points throughout the day) and watch in what has to be total amazement. I've had yards. I've worked in them. I've planted trees, mowed, pulled weeds, etc. But, all day? Nearly every day? Is this what normal people do? I wonder what it's like to care about something that much, to be so motivated by something and consumed by an end goal that never really arrives. Some people, I've heard, find yard work relaxing. My dad's one of them. Relaxing to me is not sweating my balls off and swatting gnats and flies and bees all day. Sorry, dad. It's just not. It is also not painting (either inside or out) or *gasp* running/jogging. Give me a cold beer and some good music (company preferred, but optional) and I'm good to go. In light of this revelation, and since the 80s revival is in full swing it seems (I suppose it still is. I also don't Keep Up With Things.) I've developed a new Care Bear concept that I think will sell to adults and be very popular. You know how some of them had hearts and rainbows and all that flowery shit? Well, not this one buddy. This is the beginning of a series I think. We'll call them Don't Care Bears and they'll signify the things that are really on men's minds.
Behold my brilliance.....
Behold my brilliance.....
I think the next few in the series will include strippers, midgets, and balloons....
Friday, May 9, 2008
Love in the checkout line
Today's Friday....the best day all week. Well, except for Saturday. Saturday kicks Friday's ass because I can wake up whenever I want and then go lay on the couch and go back to sleep and not shower til later in the morning and start drinking beer whenever I damn well feel like it. Sidenote: Dear FOX: Put the Saturday baseball games on at 1:00 please. Thank you.
Anyway, back to Friday. Not only is Friday the last day of the workweek, it is also my grocery "shopping" day. Or, as it's otherwise known, "The day I try to get the girl ringing up my purchases to pity me and come over to cook for me and hook up." You see, I'm a simple man. I live alone. I love to cook but don't get too excited about it when it's just me there. So, my staple items are pretty standard stuff. In fact, I don't ever need a list when I go to the store. 2 cases of Miller High Life (or something more expensive if I'm feeling froggy), 2 frozen pizzas, random other frozen stuff, and eggs (sometimes), bread and cheese, and whatever is close to the checkout and is on sale. It's quite the cartload, believe me. I mean, really, I can't believe she's not throwing herself at me in a lusty frenzy over my obvious culinary mastery. But, whatever. She's probably gay.
But, this leads me to another point. (good thing, eh? Because grocery shopping is actually more boring to read about than do. Who would've guessed?)
Prices. Everyone's bitching about gas and all that..... Yeah, yeah. I mean, what can you do about that? Not drive? Ride a bicycle everywhere you go? Stay home from work in protest? Hell yeah. I'd love to do all that. Unfortunately, it's not feasible, so I suck it up at the pump every week.
Nay, nay. I'm talking about something more important. I'm talking about the fact that frozen pizzas have jumped over a dollar in price in the past 2 weeks and a case of cheap beer is now like $12 or more (depending where you go). Now, Mr. President, this is serious shit. I mean, it's one thing that our wonderful economy has taken a huge shit all over us and hours are being cut at work and people are being laid off. It's another thing that we can't afford to drive to work AND eat lunch. But, when you start fucking with a man's staple food items, we've got a serious problem. And, I'm pissed. I mean, even the cardboard cheap pizzas that I wouldn't hit a dog in the ass with are "on sale" for $1 each. $1, really? They surely haven't improved since I used to buy them in college 15 years ago for .50. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're EXACTLY the same. They might even be worse. Screw Exxon and Mobil and all those guys. Let's talk about the Digiorno and Miller Brewing price gouging. That's it. I'm calling a congressional investigation on this fiasco. Thanks for your help.
In other news, we had tornado warnings around here last night. That's just weird considering that I live in a valley in the mountains and not in the midwest. More importantly, however, is that these warnings interruped "My Name Is Earl" (which I normally don't watch on its regular night). The reason I'm mad about that? Alyssa Milano was on there. Dammit! From what I could see, she was looking deliciously trailer-y and hot as all hell. But, did I get to watch it? No! Instead I got to watch the local weather guy trying to figure out how to use his new fancy technology to zoom in on storm areas and then get too close and then fumble fuck around trying to zoom back out. Beautiful, I tell you. NBC, I'm calling you out too.
Despite all this, I'm SO glad it's Friday. Even if I have to forego some usual items. Because I refuse to drink any cheaper than the High Life. In fact, I could be considered a Certified Purveyor of The High Life. That is, if you want to come over and have a beer on the porch. Have a good weekend!
Anyway, back to Friday. Not only is Friday the last day of the workweek, it is also my grocery "shopping" day. Or, as it's otherwise known, "The day I try to get the girl ringing up my purchases to pity me and come over to cook for me and hook up." You see, I'm a simple man. I live alone. I love to cook but don't get too excited about it when it's just me there. So, my staple items are pretty standard stuff. In fact, I don't ever need a list when I go to the store. 2 cases of Miller High Life (or something more expensive if I'm feeling froggy), 2 frozen pizzas, random other frozen stuff, and eggs (sometimes), bread and cheese, and whatever is close to the checkout and is on sale. It's quite the cartload, believe me. I mean, really, I can't believe she's not throwing herself at me in a lusty frenzy over my obvious culinary mastery. But, whatever. She's probably gay.
But, this leads me to another point. (good thing, eh? Because grocery shopping is actually more boring to read about than do. Who would've guessed?)
Prices. Everyone's bitching about gas and all that..... Yeah, yeah. I mean, what can you do about that? Not drive? Ride a bicycle everywhere you go? Stay home from work in protest? Hell yeah. I'd love to do all that. Unfortunately, it's not feasible, so I suck it up at the pump every week.
Nay, nay. I'm talking about something more important. I'm talking about the fact that frozen pizzas have jumped over a dollar in price in the past 2 weeks and a case of cheap beer is now like $12 or more (depending where you go). Now, Mr. President, this is serious shit. I mean, it's one thing that our wonderful economy has taken a huge shit all over us and hours are being cut at work and people are being laid off. It's another thing that we can't afford to drive to work AND eat lunch. But, when you start fucking with a man's staple food items, we've got a serious problem. And, I'm pissed. I mean, even the cardboard cheap pizzas that I wouldn't hit a dog in the ass with are "on sale" for $1 each. $1, really? They surely haven't improved since I used to buy them in college 15 years ago for .50. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're EXACTLY the same. They might even be worse. Screw Exxon and Mobil and all those guys. Let's talk about the Digiorno and Miller Brewing price gouging. That's it. I'm calling a congressional investigation on this fiasco. Thanks for your help.
In other news, we had tornado warnings around here last night. That's just weird considering that I live in a valley in the mountains and not in the midwest. More importantly, however, is that these warnings interruped "My Name Is Earl" (which I normally don't watch on its regular night). The reason I'm mad about that? Alyssa Milano was on there. Dammit! From what I could see, she was looking deliciously trailer-y and hot as all hell. But, did I get to watch it? No! Instead I got to watch the local weather guy trying to figure out how to use his new fancy technology to zoom in on storm areas and then get too close and then fumble fuck around trying to zoom back out. Beautiful, I tell you. NBC, I'm calling you out too.
Despite all this, I'm SO glad it's Friday. Even if I have to forego some usual items. Because I refuse to drink any cheaper than the High Life. In fact, I could be considered a Certified Purveyor of The High Life. That is, if you want to come over and have a beer on the porch. Have a good weekend!
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