"Judgemental? Me? I don't pass judgement on people. I pass death sentences."--Me
"Death Sentences"...If I were a Goth, that's what I'd call my page.
Where were we? Oh, yes.
Hey, folks! Sick of that same old-same old Service with a Smile? Here's some tips that'll help you get Service with a Snarl!
1) Walk in the door straight to the register. If no one's there the instant you are, get PISSED! Just look at that lazy layabout worker, standing 10 feet away frittering the day away putting bottles on the shelf! Entire SECONDS of your life are passing by, & you're still SOBER! Your brain cells aren't gonna die by themselves, you know! Don't these people know that "Time spent is wasted, if it's not spent being wasted." (Ben Franklin said that!)
2)You could say to the worker as he's 2 seconds into his 10 second trip to the counter, "Excuse me!" but that would give the upstart the idea that he's a human being. Instead, WHISTLE for him like he's a FUCKING DOG. That'll get his attention, believe me! So much so that you could be a STAR on the Internet that same night!
3) Show the worker drone that you are a person worthy of the respect due the Pope by barking (like a DOG): "Gimme a half-pint of peppermint shmops!" (Peppermint--what? The Shmops, wasn't that that crappy 80s cartoon about the lil blue midgets in the floppy white hats? You know, Poppa Shmop, Toothless Shmop, Alky Shmop, Brainy-Damaged Shmop?)
4) Point at the shelf of 5 different kinds of peppermint schnapps as you bark. When the clerk asks, "Which kind?" yelp (like a dog) "PEPPERMINT SHMOPS!!"
5) When the clerk says "All of these are peppermint shmops. What kind of peppermint shmops would you like?" ignore the subtle sarcasm & vaguely point while you politely hack up some chunks & baste your mouth with lung butter. "Which 1?" Point. "This 1?" Nod.
SORRY! You've failed at the very end! You let slip that you're not an obnoxious jerk, but an illiterate obnoxious jerk! Now the clerk's serving you with a SMILE!
SMURFS! That was the crappy cartoon! Man, it must've sucked to be a Smurf. 142 guys & only 1 Smurfette. No wonder they had blue balls.
to say, but the "update every Tues-Sat" pledge I made for this thing
may have to end. Some days nothing happens, like today. Not that I want
to disappoint my loyal audience of, like, 10. I know who some of the 10
are, but I don't have a clue about the rest of you--& I wonder if 1
of you is who I hope she is...
Anyway. Nothing of import happened today. Though I picked up in the impulse rack at the supermarket a potential InExOb, which I'm eating as I type. The contents of it anyway. A tasty cookie with all the nutritive value of plasterboard & named OATMEAL 2000. The name is written in a font best described as "Atari 2600 Italic," meaning it looks futuristic if you're living in 1979. A more modern touch is the inevitable Grey Alien, here done in glowing green, standing on the Moon (here done in glowing spray-cheese orange) looking off into the stellar void with an expression of utter confusion. Perhaps like me he's wondering why "2000" is still supposed to sound all futurey when it's 5 months away, & what we'll use for shorthand for "advanced" next year. Oatmeal 3000, or Oatmeal 2116 or...
See? This isn't even worth reading. If this cookie box becomes an InEx, it'll be in 2000 (this week's InEx, ACTION! Moist Towelette, was picked up in Nov 98, to give you an idea as to how long the creative process takes sometimes). So there may be gaps upcoming in the SHAWT postings.
On the back of the box, the Alien is smiling & holding his hand in the air in a "EUREKA! I've got it!" pose. That's the look I had yesterday when I made the Shmop/Smurf connection. Right now, I envy that alien.
EUREKA! I've got it!
Man, there is no feeling like the feeling for the flavor of a Pringle--no, scratch that. There's no feeling like having the InExOb queue just get longer & longer...Some day the well will go dry, but it's not gonna happen until AT LEAST--uhh, late August. Oatmeal 2000, I love you! Even if 1 of the jokes will be understood by like soooo few people.
The InEx gets bits of fan mail, but I just got the 1st actual submission of an Ob, which I'd share with you, my lil clique of New-readin' pals, except Geocities don't like it. "Invalid Extension." I guess that new-fangled ".jpg" I done heared 'em talking bought down round the pickle barrel at the general store is too much for po' ole Ma Geo. Or because it was sent as a Hotmail attachment, & those that use Hotmaim know how much fun that sucker is. Theories, folks?
SHAWT: Do you take these cards?
RUDY (incredulously): This is a Welfare card!
(cue melodramatic silent-movie piano music) But, please! My babies need beer! Dear sir--You have such a kind face! Surely, you would not let a mere child go without a tiny mouthful of Yukon Jack! My youngest, dear Bartholomew, has the whooping cough, and I cannot afford the patent medicine he so dearly needs! (falls on knees) Please--I beg you--a pint of 100 proof Wild Turkey is all that stands between him & a endless agonizing night of cold, lonely sobriety! I shall do anything! (SWOONS) ANYTHING!
(enter BILL, dressed a la Snidely Whiplash & twirling his moustache) SO! My comely young thing! ANYTHING, you say?! Then, off to my sawmill, & your wretched spawn shall have their fill of Southern Comfort, & *I* shall have my fill of YOU!
SWEET NELL: NO! Anything but my maidenhood! NEVER!
BILL: Cheese Louise, lady, you got 6 kids. It ain't like the UPS guy delivered them in an overnight package.
RUDY (jumping off his white stallion) AWAY, villain! Fear not, delicate flower of womanhood, here is a 40 ounce bottle of King Cobra to tide you through this dark day!
NELL (throws the bottle at his head) I wanted PEPPERMINT SHMOPS!
Questions Must Be Genetic dept: DAUGHTER: (asked while I was opening
boxes & stocking the shelves with gallon wine jugs) Do you work
here? HER MOTHER, seconds later: I noticed there were shopping carts up
in front--are those for customer use?
No, this is a novel new retail concept--the employees are paid to shop & the customers are required to stock the shelves. We expect to go bankrupt by the end of the month.
The daughter was pregnant. When she gives birth, the baby will probably wonder if the obstetrician works there.
Christ, but I'm stupid. Details to follow...& a big backlog of SHAWTS (with me leading the Stupid Parade).
"Duuh, tell me about the Stupid Humans, George!"
Eh heh heh heh. That would be me, folks. Here's the story of my little involuntary sabbatical from this page. Tues I put up the SHAWT, then do other stuff, then go back to fix some busted links --so, Mike, this is indirectly YOUR fault! ;)--& I can't get into 1 of the bulk storage pages. INCORRECT PASSWORD. Since when?! Since a few hours ago, evidentally--I can't get onto this page either! I manage to get in here by clicking on History. I send a message to Yahoo. Next day, I get a botted form letter telling me a bunch of stuff that isn't the problem & a suggestion that I get a new password. Hey, it works! But only for the storage page--I still can't get the main page. So I fight with it for 2 more days, getting form letters with submission boxes that just generate different form letters with submission boxes. Starting to sweat (I never realized just how damn much this page meant to me until now), I spam the Legends of Rock, a group of friends that includes some heavy-hitter Pookie Professionals. Mike & Amy give some suggestions, & both recommend the same thing: Ditch Geo & pay for a page. Then I do what I always do on Sat, check my decrepit ole Juno offline email. And there's the new password for this page...
Eh heh heh heh...(smacks head repeatedly & chants Captain Andyishly: "STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!")
Here, in no real order, are the SHAWTS & random thoughts from last week.
Jason pointed this out Sat: A woman parking outside the store & rolling all her car windows up. She was driving a convertible, &, yes, she left the top down.
Word for the day: Schadenfreude. Last week
Rudy spotted $3 to a customer I lovingly call Dr Death. Not cuz he
looks like Jack Kevorkian, but cuz he looks like 1 of his former
patients, if you catch my drift. He has a walk that's basically an
erect crawl, he always has to lean on the counter gasping &
wheezing for 5 minutes after entering the store to recover from the
exertion of opening the door, & was the inspiration for my Shrine
of Bukoff page. Rudy describes him as "looking like death warmed over,"
but if that's true the microwave must be broken. I think he looks like
a reanimated corpse, but not a very animated 1--Hanna-Barbara
reanimation. He looks about 85, but he might easily be 60--that's what
a pint a day of deadly Bukoff does to you (we have a woman who downs a
1.5 liter bottle of wine a night--Rudy once asked if how old we thought
she was after seeing her license. Jason & I guessed early 50s.
She's 38. Some things can be preserved in alcohol, but humans aren't
1). Back when Jess & Ron worked there, we had a pool on when the
guy just wasn't gonna show up no more--meaning, when he'd drop dead for
So Rudy spots him $3 to help him kill himself. I joke that this'll be the week he dies. He doesn't turn up after that.
We spend the rest of the evening theorizing on what Dr D's doing now--prly in Hell for not repaying Rudy for the pint, trapped in a pool of his own filth with the biggest bottle of Bukoff ever just out of his reach. Or on a treadmill to our store, & every time he pauses to gasp it drags him back to where he started...
Schadenfrede (Ger, SHA den froi dah): Humor at someone else's misery. However, he wasn't dead; just hoping Rudy'd forget he loaned him the cash. Rudy reminded him but didn't collect on the debt. And the good Doctor hasn't been back since...
I had some time to kill before meeting Jessie Baby at the brew pub near the Mall, so I went shopping for KMDS' birthday present at CompUSA. Didn't find it, but spent an old merchandise credit on Civilization II Gold, which BITES (the "go" command makes a unit you want to move 5 spaces east try to do it by circumnavigating the globe westward), & a $4.99 bundle pack of Descent II & Carmageddon I (oh yay, the last freakin PC game in the world that has to be run through DOS! And still don't work!!). With still too much time to spare I went to Toys R Us. For $1.80 each I got these goofy big-ass dolls (sorry, if it's over a foot long, it ain't no action figure) of 1 of my faves of my long-gone comic book buying days, the Silver Surfer & Galactus. No Thanos, dammit!! Galactus is a chatty Godlike Alien Dolly; he has a button that kept going off repeatedly as it tumbled about the back seat of my car..."I HUNGERRRR!!" He's got the fever for the flavor of a planet!
Next week's InExOb should be a hoot. I won't give it
away, but it's titled "Christmas in July." That, combined with the fact
we play the Oldies station at work, rekindled an old music store
memory. 1 Xmas we were required to play the Mariah Carey Xmas CD. Oh
lucky us. Pariah Cavey made the interesting decison to combine the
traditional Xmas hymn "Joy to the World" with the 3 Dog Night
Jeremiah-was-a-bullfrog "Joy to the World." I combined them further:
"Jesus Christ was a messiah!
A real good saviour of mine!
I never understood a single word he preached,
But he turned my water into wine!
While healin' lepers at the very same time!
Singin'--Goy to the World!"
Well, I thought it was funny. I also changed her "hit" from the CD, "All I Want for Christmas is You":
"All I'm really wishing for
Is a great big can of Dinty Moore--
All I want for Christmas is Stew!"
Well, that's all I remember right now. Hopefully I don't forget my new password before the next SHAWT.
And, oh yeah--It took 5 attempts to save this week's InEx before Geo finally took it. I may take those suggestions...
just spent 3 hours trying to get into theis fucking worthless Geocities
file manager, only to discover that they'd changed my log in name from
"thoughtviper" to "thoughtviper.geo." Did they tell me this? No.
I then spent--WASTED--the last 45 minutes before I *have* to go to bed catching up on the SHAWT.
Geo refused to save it.
The End of my Geo days is at hand. More tomorrow, if I'm allowed to save it.
Ever notice how "Yahoo!" & "Fuck You!" sound the same?
That's MY new motto. I know what stinky Yahoo is doing--if you preview a document & then save it, it seems to be saving it but it's really erasing it. What a nice feature. So I'm writing this in Word & then cutting & pasting it into this crappy editor until it does save.
at this point, this is more of a SHAWThis Week. But like last week,
it's been out of my control. Monday was my day off; on my plate: The
Laundry. For some odd reason that didn't seem all that big a thrill. So
I decided to head north to Massachusetts to visit a giant antique store
up there (which, to me, is a thrill). Then I went to a nearby
mega-liquor store to buy some cheese (Yum! Havarti!) & a bottle of
tasty microbrewed Unibroue Maudite (Yum! The Damned!). Just as I got
into my car, a few raindrops hit the windshield. I lucked out! I was
leaving just as the rain was starting.
Yeah. Lucky me.
The 1st 10 miles I didn't even bother to turn the wipers on; at 75MPH it was just blowing off the windshield. Eventually I had to turn the intermittent wipers on at the lowest speed. Then I saw a white cliff of water pounding down the highway towards me...In a matter of seconds, the visibility was 50 feet, assuming you were looking at cars flashing their hazards. These monster summer downpours never last more than 5 minutes, & I was moving into it, so I wasn't worried. But 10 miles later I was.
There were clusters of 5 to a dozen cars pulled over on the shoulder every few miles...Did they all have the same idea to pull over all at the same place, or were these multi-car fender benders? (I found out the next day that there were 55 separate accidents in just 1 town because of this storm) It was a white knuckle ride the whole way home. I've driven this road for--well, if you count driving with my parents, all my life, but eventually I didn't know where I was, as I couldn't make out any landmarks. Finally, I saw "Tunnel Rd Exit 1 Mile." Thank gourd. 1 more mile & I'll be off the highway and...oh, come on.
By the end of that mile I turned the wipers off. Whew! Glad I made it through that with nothing bad happeni--I left the computer on!!
Got home & was greeted by the Blue Screen of Death. I rebooted--& everything was fine. Whew! Glad my computer made it through that t-storm with nothing bad ha--I can't connect to the net!! Power surge through the phone lines. 1 modem, extra crispy style. Want fries with that?
Fortunately, I got New Pookie through Rudy's nephew, who happens to be the VP of the company that built it, so I could've cleaned it with a garden hose & they'd have fixed it. So we drove down to Branford to get it resurrected. They yank these HP Flex modems out of their computers even if the computer's brought in for non-modem problems. Gave me a US Robotics which connects a good 10% faster. Also fixed the awful "vmm32.vxd missing" start-up fuck-me thing (boot, restart, go to Safe Mode, extract vmm files, restart, go into standard mode...My daily routine) but they had to do it by reformatting. So yesterday was supposed to be the Big Downloading Day & instead became 3 hours of me screaming doubts on the parentage of the people who run Yahoo Geo. I wonder how long it'll be before they simply dump my whole page.
(to woman who wants "something special" in the way of a microbrew):
There's Brewery Ommegang--They're in New York, but they brew in the
Belgian style. It even looks cool--they've got the champagne cork. It's
HER (horrified): FERMENTED?!
ME (not missing a beat but confused as to why she's so aghast--I mean, it's beer): --Yes, bottle fermented--
HER (relieved): Oh! Phew!!
& I are cashing out after closing, & I notice someone standing
outside the door. I can't see who (the windows are covered with signs),
but since he hasn't yanked on the door or pounded on the window or
shrieked "They're CLOSED?! NOOOOOOOOO!!!" I assume it's a friend of
Rudy wanting to do something with him after work. When we're ready to
leave, I see it's--DR DEATH!! He hasn't yanked on the door cuz he
doesn't have the strength. I say, "He's going to try & get us to
spot him a pint of Bukoff!" "Fuck that!" says Big Rudy. "He's not
getting anything until he pays me for that pint he already owes me!" I
was wrong. He instead tried to push his way in the door! "Sorry, the
registers are closed, the alarm's set."
He came in today, ignoring Rudy when he said "Where's that money you owe me?" & ignoring me when I tell him "This is why we don't run tabs here. We're not selling to you until you pay up." Seriously, these 2 days Bukoff-free are a favor from him to us. I'm not kidding when I say that cheap vodka's the express lane to death. Rudy figged he pay up & settle for a half-pint with the remainder of his $5. Instead he actually starts arguing with us. "Jesus Christ *wheeeze*! All I got is five bucks*gasp*!!" like that's OUR problem. Hey, I want a house--Is it the real estate agent's fault I don't have the money? Should he spot me a mansion? He went into the parking lot & started cajoling people to go in & buy for him (in plain view of us). In a sense I should feel sorry for him--it IS a disease--but he almost died from Bukoff a year ago & went straight from the hospital to us. 2 nights of sobriety may have pissed him off, but because of us, he's going to die 48 hours later.
Part of the extravaganza that is next week's InExOb is a guest appearance by Jessica. We had our photo shoot today, but to remind her of it, I left a voicemail yesterday. Helpful info: Lake Compounce is a cheesy area amusement park; Paperama is where Jess once worked, but it went bankrupt & has been boarded up for a year.
semi-New York accented voice) Hey, dis is Manny! They call me Manny DA
MAN cuz I'm DA MAN!! An cuz I'm named Manny. I'm the producah,
directah, writah, star, cimenitagraffer--cinumditoguffer--Guy what took
the pictchers for dat award-winning triple-X porno video--I mean, major
mochion pitcher--"Super Sexy Sorority Sluts go to Lake Compounce"! It
was filmed on location wid a budget in the upper hundreds of dollars.
It was a masterpiece! Except 1 scene didn't quite turn out the way I
planned...& so I hadda take my latest up & cumming starlet,
Jette Sabre, to the hospital. She was the 1 with the 2-liter Coke
bottle shoved way up her--ahhhhh, she was the 1 who walked kinda funny.
The goil at the admissions desk was BOOTIEFULL!! I ain't never seed a
goil so full of bootie! I want you to star in my latest triple-X porno
v--major mochion pitcher--"The Inexplicable Object Does Dallas"! Just
come down to my lavish offices in the old Paperama building. There's a
board on the left that's loose; just push it to the side & squeeze
in. Den we'll have us a little "photo shoot"--EEE-hee hee hee hee
heeee!! I'm gonna make you, baby!!
A STAR! I'm gonna make you a star. That's what I meant, yeah.
course, I'm not the only person in the world who has to DWI (Deal With
Idiots). This is a shortened & paraphrased version of what I saw at
the bank today.
SHA Someone Else's WT: I want to know the balance on my wife's account.
TELLER: Are you on the account?
T: I'm sorry, sir, but if it's not a joint account we can't legally show you her balance.
SHAWT: This is bullshit! Just for that, I'm gonna close her account out RIGHT NOW!
T: Umm, only she can do that.
SHAWT: Oh yeah?! I'll come back with her later then!
And she can get her account balance while she's there, too!
picked up today's paper & thought: Did I miss the part where it was
decided that the most important human being in the whole wide world is
I admit ignorance on this subject. I sustained brain damage as a child (my parents took away my favorite toy, the plastic bag, & I thought that Mom's blender would make a nifty GI Joe helmet). It was an injury to my pre-occipital gives-a-shit-about-the-lives-of-celebreties lobe. I'm mentally incapable of naming a single cast member of "Friends" or caring about Callista Flockheart's weight. Here's 100% of what I know of the History of JFK Jr:
1963: Shows respect for the dead by going to the funeral in shorts.
Next 30 years: I guess he must've done some sorta stuff of some kind, though I couldn't say what.
199?: Founds magazine no one reads.
1999: Spends approximately 10 seconds wishing he'd taken a boat instead.
He was famous only for being famous, so we should care that he's dead. Why? I reserve those kind of feelings for people I KNOW. If 3 members of my family were killed, do you think JFK Jr would care? He'd never know--tragedies far worse than Rich Boys Can't Fly happen every day, but those aren't "news." Yer AAA (Average American Asshole) seems to feel some weird bond with the famous little peoples on the TeeVee that I simply can't.
At least this Great National Mourning will prly end soon. Remember when Lady Die did? DAMN, that was still going strong a YEAR later! Mommy Theresa died right at the same time, but where were HER Franklin Mint commemorative plates? And she did more with her life than be professionally Rich & Beautiful.
My ultimate nightmare: Oprah's jet crashes into Rosie's house while Leonardo DiCaprio & Barbra Streisand are visiting. There'd be no other news for 10 years.
of the Dead & this morning's paper, I always read my horoscope. To
laugh at it. How can even stupid people believe this crap? Forget the
actual physics involved in *how* a lump of rock a billion miles out in
space can do anything to my life. Forget that the astronomical "charts"
use the Julian calendar (the Leap Year-free 1) & are so far behind
the actual movements of the constellations that when they say "moon in
Pisces" it's really "moon in Aries" (don't worry, they'll catch up in
about 11,000 years). Forget that those charts have a minor flaw (they
assume the Earth is at the center of the Universe)--There are 6 billion
people on this planet, but they will only have 12 possible days?
Seems...purty demonstrably false thar, Clem. I've never had a single
horoscope be even vaguely near the mark. Sydney Omarr's horoscope for
Aries today sez: "You are especially saddened due to the death of a
great violinist." Whaaaaaat?!?!?! AHH-hahahahaha!! Henny Youngman,
NOOOO! I'm going to check tomorrow's paper to see what "great
violinist" me & 500 million other people born in the same 30 days
got so bummed over today. If 1 does die, I'm alerting the cops to keep
an eye on this Omarr character. He may be fufilling these prophecies by
himself. Yitzhak Perlmann, in the kitchen with a monkey wrench.
I take that back about never having any horoscopes come true. The last time I laughed this hard over a horoscope was the time it truthfully predicted "Expect gifts today." "Today" being December 25th. I guess that between Mar 21 & Apr 19 only Christians were born. A half-billion of them.
Oh yeah, SHAWT. ME: We don't have that wine here, but I can call the other store to see if they have it.
SHAWT: Call the other store? Is that possible?
I wanted to stand on the counter & scream "HEY, OTHER STORE!" This is similiar to something I get at least 3 times a day:
ME (standing behind register holding UPC scanner): Are you all set?
SHAWT: Are you open?
No, I'm Bongo the Are-You-Set Boy. (pulls out big handbell & starts ringing it) HEAR YE, HEAR YE! I DOTH PROCLAIM YON STRUMPET--SET!!!! Now, varlet, thou must wearest this Scarlett A, which shall standeth for "ALL SET" until Great Jehovah calls thee into the Heavenly Drunk Tank!
Chris reported seeing a guy at the same bank I was at yesterday. He couldn't understand why he couldn't cash a check without his resident alien ID. After all, he had the number memorized.
Jason was outside the store smoking a cigarette & nodded "Hey, how are you?" to a woman passing by. She snapped "I'M NOT GOING TO THE MOVIES!!" Ahhh, oookay, perfect stranger. Is our weekend in the Hamptons still on?
Dammit. This is why we need the Preview & Save on Geo back. I was just rereading this & noticed a mispelling & 2 syntax errors. I'm making dinner as I write this--a big calzone with cheese, covered in cheese. Covered with sauce with extra added cheese--parmesan, mozzarella, good ol' Bland O' Lakes American. Oh yeah, some of that garlic/cheddar spread I bought Mon thrown in. I thought adding the Havarti would be overkill. Cheese, cheese, cheese!! I LOVE CHEESE!!! Well, if you've seen the InExOb, you knew that anyway. Man, I eat cheese every chance I get. You know what I want? CHEESE CEREAL. Frosted Cheesy Charms, they're magically fermentented-curd-oriented! Marshmallows?! NO! Yellow Cheddar! Pink American! White Havarti! Blue--uhh, Cheese! How bout some Captain Crunch with CrunchCheesies! UMM. No. That would be Captain Crunch with Cheetos. I'm sorry I started this now.
On Sat a
customer came in looking for boxes. I assumed he was moving, so I said
Go to our main store, they usually have tons, blah blah blah. "No, I
just need 1 big 1--my cat is about to have kittens." I gave him a box
gladly, while thinking, "Should I ask? Should I ask?" I didn't, &
so I spent the next few hours mulling over the should-I-get-a-pet
dilemma, as I have for about 5 years. My decision was "Yes." Then out
of the blue Chris asks, "Bill, do you want a free kitten?" YES.
She isn't here yet; I thought Sat would be best so I'd have time to kitten-proof the condo, buy the stuff I need, & spend all day Sun & Mon with her. She's all white & blue-eyed, & her name'll be Kill Kill (think Russ Meyers' movies). I looked in a pet store nearby work for a cat book, but they only had 1 overpriced & thin 1. Though they did have "Cosmic Cat" brand catnip, featuring a feline staring into space as a wondrous rainbow danced around her. The same company had a catnip kit labeled "Grow Your Own!" Hmm, what demographic are they shooting at? Mine, as I'll prly buy some, for the packaging if nothing else. But, be forewarned--the SHAWT may become WKKWWIWAWT (What Kill Kill Wrecked While I Was At Work Today). Or I may be too busy with my new responsibility to post as frequently.
In the meantime...
Pop-eyed & sweaty guy comes him & stands at the 1st register, which has a big "REGISTER CLOSED" sign on it while I stand 4 feet away at #2. He asks for a pint of Popov, then gets startled when I scan it at #2. "It's like marriage," he says, "it's like marriage." OK, thinks Bill, this conversation can end now. He takes the bottle & says, "I used to throw bottles at your window! Your big pretty pane of glass windows. But I stopped." "Well," say I, "good for you." "Yeah, I threw bottles at it, like...10 years ago." This wasn't our location until 3 years ago, but I hate to spoil his Proustian reverie here. "No, wait--6 or 7 years ago, yeah. But I stopped." Let me point out that this guy was clearly in his late 40s. It's a good thing for all that Popov now comes in plastic bottles.
Well well--a Tuesday & a Weds pass, & Yahoo hasn't screwed with my password! Small miracles...
alone in the store, ringing the register while a woman near the back
sweeps her eyes over the beer cooler. She yells "Where do you have the
Miller Genuine Draft?" "Go into the last door of the cooler, " I yell
back, "it'll be to your left."
By the time I get back there, she'd pushed her shopping cart into our bathroom...
Yep, just lift up the tank cover, they're floating inside. Sorry about the smell.
UnFreakinBelievable. Yahoo changed my password again. What have I done to these people, anyway?
Like it's even worth filling the last few K of this New. Just a couple things that make you go Hmm.
No matter how many Alternative bumper stickers you put on it, nothing can raise the level of coolness of a station wagon. & this is coming from a guy whose last car was a compact hatchback. All the chick-appeal of a station wagon, but none of the actual utility.
Bukoff Zombie was, as every day, in for his pint. He really does look
like a shorter & scarier Boris Karloff, like a guy whose hobby is
filling shallow graves. I was wrong--I was tossing out cardboard into
the recycling dumpster & saw that his hobby's stealing from the
Goodwill drop box. Stealing underwear.
No K left. G'nite.