The other day I was doing a little grocery shopping at the local Kroger’s. I was meandering up and down the aisles minding my own business, loading up my cart with normal food.
You know.
The food that isn’t "Lite", "Low Carb" "High Carb" of "Fat Free".
Guy food.
I had just picked up a few cans of tuna and tossed them into my cart when a woman who was next to me in the aisle "Tsked" at me.
"What?" I asked.
"You’re really not going to buy that tuna, are you?"
"What’s wrong with ‘that tuna’?" I asked.
"Well, that’s the wrong tuna!"
Ok. Here we go. The wrong tuna...
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Don’t you know, that that tuna isn’t dolphin-friendly!"
Dolphin-friendly?
"What, if I may dare to ask, is ‘dolphin-friendly’ tuna?"
I should have seen it coming. She wound up for her big lecture by taking a deep breath and putting on a "I’m an intellectually deep thinker" look and began...
For five minutes she harangued me about how the Japanese tuna fishermen catch dolphins in their nets and kill them, whereas the ‘dolphin-friendly’ fishermen don’t do that. So, in buying only dolphin-friendly tuna, I’m saving the dolphins.
Heh?
She finished her little speech and looked at me with a self-satisfied little smirk on her puffy face. I took a deep breath and let it out.
"Gee. I never knew that." I said.
"See, you have to be more socially aware!" She beamed.
"I do have one question though." I said, and she nodded her head and smiled expectantly just waiting to spew out more of her little nuggets of wisdom on me, this poor, uneducated part of the unwashed masses.
"What about the tuna?" I asked.
"What?"
"You heard me. What about the tuna? Don’t you care about them? They’re caught in the nets too. Don’t you want to save them?"
"I, I, I," Was all she could utter with a slightly stunned look on her rapidly reddening face.
"Oh, I see. Denis Leary was right. You guys only want to save the cute animals. I guess Charley the Tuna never had his own show on TV in the 60’s, so fuck him, right?" I asked.
No reply, just a shocked and blank stare.
"Lady, if I really wanted your advice, I’d have asked for it."
I then grabbed four more cans of the evil non-dolphin friendly tuna and tossed them into my cart to go along with the two cans already there and walked away, leaving her standing in the middle of the aisle staring at me in amazement. Opinions are like assholes, everybody has them.
So what.
I killed Flipper for a tuna sandwich.
Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden
Friday, June 03, 2005
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Things that make you want to say...
What the fuck!
I notice stuff.
Most would say it's just stupid stuff.
And this stupid stuff always seems to happen to me.
Stuff that most people tend to chalk up as every day occurrences, but to me these events follow me around like a black cloud of desolation, bent on destroying whatever thin, tenuous thread of sanity I have left.
It leaves me feeling a little like Michael Douglas' character in the movie "Falling Down".
No, I'm not going to go on a murderous rampage though southern West Virginia, it just has me wondering if anyone else notices this shit too, or am I the only sane person left on the planet.
Shit that seems to always happen to me.
Like this for instance.
Every stinking time I go to a fast food place, I can never get a fresh order of fries. I'll order a number three from McDonald's, get my order, go and sit down to eat and the damn fries will be stone cold.
Every time.
I could understand if I had ordered my meal close to closing, but when I order at say 10:05 AM right after they've stop serving breakfast and started serving lunch or right at 5:00 PM, and my fries are cold and hard as a rock that I begin to wonder.
Three times this weekend I went to McDonald's for dinner and all three times my fries were hard, cold and stale. I even varied my times I'd go, as to ensure I had fresh food.
Still, the fuckers were as cold as a frozen walleye in Minnesota in February.
So the last time it happened, I complained to the manager, a pimple-faced seventeen year-old. I was told he'd bring me out a fresh order. So after about five minutes the manager comes over to my table and gives me a fresh order of fries, full of apologies.
You know what?
They were stone fucking cold too.
I just can't win.
It's like some great karmic aura is surrounding me ensuring I don't get hot and fresh fries with my order.
What the fuck...
Here's another one.
I find myself in the grocery store checkout line.
I'm in the express lane as I only have a few items. The person in front of me always has a problem. It's either his debit card won't work. There's a problem with his check. Or if miracles of miracles he actually has cash, he insists on finding the exact change, down to taking off his shoe to get the "lucky penny" he's been keeping there since 1973 all while he banters with the checkout chick about cousin Bobby or aunt Janis' run-in with the law... Then they decide to pull out the pictures of their yard apes to show each other. Then there's a problem with the register. Or the scanner wont work. Price check! Manager needed!
All this as the porcine housewife who would have been behind me if I had just gone to the regular checkout lane looks over with her smart-assed grin, pushing her two overloaded carts out of the store.
What the fuck!
Or I'm on the Turnpike.
It's a busy day. Just let me try to get though the toll lanes in a timely manner. The bastard in front of me will always have a problem he just has to complain about, or has to ask directions... Or it's that guy who just has to give the toll-taker the exact change...
In pennies.
That are in the trunk.
Under the spare tire.
What the fuck!
Or I'm late for work.
I'm tooling along down the road, doing the speed limit and I come upon someone who insists on going twenty miles an hour under the speed limit.
In a twelve-mile long no-passing zone.
This, by the way is the same person who just has to race you out of the turnpike toll lane to get in front of you in heavy traffic, cutting off several tractor-trailers in the process, only to slow immediately to the speed of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.
These are the same assholes that appointed themselves private speed-control enforcers. They have the mindset that everyone on the road is driving far to fast so they've decided to take it upon themselves to go on some self-righteous crusade to slow down all the reckless speeders. They look at you in contempt in their rear-view mirrors and wag their finger at you like you're a bad dog who's pissed on the couch.
I just want to weld a huge piece of steel diamond plate to the front bumper of my truck to ram these assholes off the road, break that little wagging finger off and shove it right up their prissy little ass.
You are not a fucking cop, and I don't want to speed.
Mind your own damn business and let me drive the damn speed limit already.
What the fuck!
This next one is the biggest fucking Karmic Joke on the planet.
Is this just me, or does this happen to other guys too?
Now that I'm single, I can't get a date to save my life.
The minute I do meet someone and start to seriously date them, women will be crawling out of the damn woodwork hitting on me. When I was married I was literally tripping over women slipping me their numbers...
Know what I think? God has a warped sense of humor and loves irony. He also has impeccable timing. He's also laughing his ass off at me, along with that other jokester, Murphy.
Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden
I notice stuff.
Most would say it's just stupid stuff.
And this stupid stuff always seems to happen to me.
Stuff that most people tend to chalk up as every day occurrences, but to me these events follow me around like a black cloud of desolation, bent on destroying whatever thin, tenuous thread of sanity I have left.
It leaves me feeling a little like Michael Douglas' character in the movie "Falling Down".
No, I'm not going to go on a murderous rampage though southern West Virginia, it just has me wondering if anyone else notices this shit too, or am I the only sane person left on the planet.
Shit that seems to always happen to me.
Like this for instance.
Every stinking time I go to a fast food place, I can never get a fresh order of fries. I'll order a number three from McDonald's, get my order, go and sit down to eat and the damn fries will be stone cold.
Every time.
I could understand if I had ordered my meal close to closing, but when I order at say 10:05 AM right after they've stop serving breakfast and started serving lunch or right at 5:00 PM, and my fries are cold and hard as a rock that I begin to wonder.
Three times this weekend I went to McDonald's for dinner and all three times my fries were hard, cold and stale. I even varied my times I'd go, as to ensure I had fresh food.
Still, the fuckers were as cold as a frozen walleye in Minnesota in February.
So the last time it happened, I complained to the manager, a pimple-faced seventeen year-old. I was told he'd bring me out a fresh order. So after about five minutes the manager comes over to my table and gives me a fresh order of fries, full of apologies.
You know what?
They were stone fucking cold too.
I just can't win.
It's like some great karmic aura is surrounding me ensuring I don't get hot and fresh fries with my order.
What the fuck...
Here's another one.
I find myself in the grocery store checkout line.
I'm in the express lane as I only have a few items. The person in front of me always has a problem. It's either his debit card won't work. There's a problem with his check. Or if miracles of miracles he actually has cash, he insists on finding the exact change, down to taking off his shoe to get the "lucky penny" he's been keeping there since 1973 all while he banters with the checkout chick about cousin Bobby or aunt Janis' run-in with the law... Then they decide to pull out the pictures of their yard apes to show each other. Then there's a problem with the register. Or the scanner wont work. Price check! Manager needed!
All this as the porcine housewife who would have been behind me if I had just gone to the regular checkout lane looks over with her smart-assed grin, pushing her two overloaded carts out of the store.
What the fuck!
Or I'm on the Turnpike.
It's a busy day. Just let me try to get though the toll lanes in a timely manner. The bastard in front of me will always have a problem he just has to complain about, or has to ask directions... Or it's that guy who just has to give the toll-taker the exact change...
In pennies.
That are in the trunk.
Under the spare tire.
What the fuck!
Or I'm late for work.
I'm tooling along down the road, doing the speed limit and I come upon someone who insists on going twenty miles an hour under the speed limit.
In a twelve-mile long no-passing zone.
This, by the way is the same person who just has to race you out of the turnpike toll lane to get in front of you in heavy traffic, cutting off several tractor-trailers in the process, only to slow immediately to the speed of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.
These are the same assholes that appointed themselves private speed-control enforcers. They have the mindset that everyone on the road is driving far to fast so they've decided to take it upon themselves to go on some self-righteous crusade to slow down all the reckless speeders. They look at you in contempt in their rear-view mirrors and wag their finger at you like you're a bad dog who's pissed on the couch.
I just want to weld a huge piece of steel diamond plate to the front bumper of my truck to ram these assholes off the road, break that little wagging finger off and shove it right up their prissy little ass.
You are not a fucking cop, and I don't want to speed.
Mind your own damn business and let me drive the damn speed limit already.
What the fuck!
This next one is the biggest fucking Karmic Joke on the planet.
Is this just me, or does this happen to other guys too?
Now that I'm single, I can't get a date to save my life.
The minute I do meet someone and start to seriously date them, women will be crawling out of the damn woodwork hitting on me. When I was married I was literally tripping over women slipping me their numbers...
Know what I think? God has a warped sense of humor and loves irony. He also has impeccable timing. He's also laughing his ass off at me, along with that other jokester, Murphy.
Copyright 2005 Thomas J Wolfenden
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