With tons of good intent and some heavy chrome clankers, I am attempting to pull off a sort of a coup on behalf of HAX TV. Fingers crossed, and more to come on that whole deal.
I have had the last two days off of work in order to get my life together after the move and painting and unpacking and what-not. It's a pile right now. I feel like I packed up some of my friend's crap, as if they brought their troll dolls and half-bottles of Pert over to screw with my inventory and thin theirs. I am going to simplify my life quickly, or go crazy trying. Either way, I'm getting a nap and some Tylenol PM.
I found myself today accepting, again, my penchant for internalized judgment. Guilt would, in the past, wash over me when I had a negative thought about someone in particular. But I'm finding that the detractions are held in check until somebody does something truly dumb, selfish, blind, or Republican, which includes but is not limited to: Wearing sunglasses inside, not saying "Thanks" when the door is held open for them because they're on the Nokia, taking an already-crying child into a grocery store, telling me that marriage is the best thing that ever happened to them, dressing poorly, and withholding cleavage.
Today I was at a local bodega-type joint, 5th of 7 in line, and some moustachio'ed RX-7 jockey was trying to warm the plugs of the chica working the 10-3 shift. He's talking, and talking, taking longer than he needs. He's holding up 6 people's lives in an attempt to become the next guy that girl thinks is either "creepy," or at best,"nice, like Uncle Bert without the fanny grabs." Hey, God bless the guy's attempts to liven up the day, but his Yang to Richard Simmons's Yin was just too much. I couldn't decide what was funnier, him standing to the side to continue the forced conversation after his transaction, or my asking the girl behind the counter "Does he work here?" while he stood not 3 feet from me.
I really only feel bad about not yelling from the line "Hey Magnum, I have 75 square feet of low-pile, high-density olefin that has a better chance of getting laid this weekend than you do. Hit your PIN and get back to bending metal. Please. Thanks." If nothing else, we all walk with a story to share.
"Hey honey, this cockholster in line at the Buy&Fly yelled at some Sam Elliott-lookin' fruit who was ..."
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
3 comments:
Yeah, I get those too, usually at the ol' 'Gas 'n' Brap'. I just want to get the change from my gas fillup. They already have it where you can put your cash/card in at the pump. If they discovered a way to spit your change back out, I wouldn't have to go into the Quiznos-Restrooms-Overpriced Beer & Smokes-Mart to interact with the local 'ho-tard at all. It seems wherever a young girl works at a job that deals with the public, some chump is going to look at it as a pickup bar.
It also happens a lot at the local espresso/ caffeinated crack hut. How long does it take some testosterone laden dolt to realize she's not really into your Trans Am? Some uber-prick is talking all playa at 7:00 in the freakin' morning. Hey, she calls everyone "Honey" and wears a skimpy lace top with cavernous cleavage to get an extra buck in tips out of you to make up for the lack of child support from the last guy who promised he could get her into 'modeling'. But in my case, I know that little smile and "How are you doing today?" means "I want to have raw sex with you". I can just tell, because my Trans Am is bitchin'.
Geoff has internet lovers, in a different way though,
That was a funny blog...for a change. Just kidding.
I couldn't figure out if anonymous was male or female or not. Then the last part said something about a trans am so must be a guy. I was going to ask for nude pics and try to get into a long cyber chat with her. Anyway very funny post.
Finally.
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