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The Five People You Meet in a Fast-Food Restaurant

The Five People You Meet in a Fast-Food Restaurant.


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Acquired Taste

Celebrating America this past week has been pretty fun.  I have eaten tremendous amounts of grilled food and watched a ton of fireworks illuminate the sky.  However, as with every holiday, one thing continues to piss me off like none other.

“Hey, try this!”

“O, did you have a chance to taste that yet?”

“O my gosh, I thought of you when I made this, I am sure you will love it!”

Okay, now, I am sure that many of you have heard these phrases uttered all too often on days like today.  Your Aunt makes some new concoction that she is just dying to have everyone try, or you friend thinks that the beer he brewed in his own basement will somehow be better than the delicious American Beer that is already in your hands.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I love to try new things, but I like to do it at my own pace and according to my own rules.  Yes, I have rules for eating food, for example, I do not consider fruit worthy of being in a dessert (especially strawberries, the devil created that vile poison).

But let me get back to the point.  The worst thing I have ever heard is the following:

“O it’s an acquired taste, it takes awhile before you get used to it!”

Screw that nonsense.  Why should I sit through a thousand trials before something begins to taste good.  No thanks, I will stick with the food and drink that tasted amazing the first time I tried it (thanks Hostess cupcakes, you have yet to fail me).  There is a reason that I have not had a strawberry since the 3rd grade.  It tasted like the most worst evilest venomous thing in the world.  And guess what?  I have not tasted one since.  I am not going to acquire that taste.  Yet people continue to think that things will change for me.  Please, I beg you all to stop forcing people to acquire a taste.  Just because you got hood-winked into forcing down some gross food, does not mean that I should have to suffer that same fate.  No thanks, I will stick to the brownies, steaks, Cokes, and apples (yes, I threw in a fruit just so you don’t think I am some grossly unhealthy person, which I can be but that’s besides the point).  You acquirers of taste, you keep you rice cakes, your home-brewed beer, and all other crap tasting food and drinks.  Go ahead, you acquired it, so keep it for yourself and never make me try that crap.

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Death of Lifetime

I enjoy messing with people.  It is humorous and enjoyable.  I like to play pranks or make jokes at other’s expense.  Comedic timing is everything in order for a joke to be well appreciated.  However, I have had my fair share of ill-timed jokes.  I have had many of those “too soon” jokes that were definitely too soon.  For example, I make fun of Michael Jackson any opportunity that I get, and his whole death did not and will never stop me from cashing in on jokes at his expense.  I’m like a kid in a candy shop, and I have a hard time from holding myself back from a comment that is all too inappropriate for the situation.  I see an opportunity and just want to pounce on it.  With this, I feel that I have come up with the ultimate prank that will be remembered by my family and friends for many years to come.

            It has to do with my future funeral (hopefully that is like 9 million years away!).  I plan on being put in the casket with my eyes WIDE OPEN.  That’s right, no closed eyes for this guy.  Every funeral I have heard about always has the eyes of the dead closed.  And I see no reason for this. 


***Okay, I will let some biology nerd go check their textbook and find some reason why this would not work.  I am thinking that perhaps the eyes would dry out and not have the lively, glassy feeling that we have all come to know and love in each other?  But if you do have your bio book out, please do some fact checking for me (check chapter 7).  If that is what truly happens, then I will just hire Ben Stein to stand next to my casket and pore some Clear Eyes liquid (how about that for free advertising?) in every so often to keep them in good shape.***


You finished checking?  Good, I can continue now.  So why do I want my eyes open?  I want to freak people out, simple as that.  I even want my eyes tilted so it looks as if I am looking at people out of the corner of my eye.  They can then think to themselves as they pay their respects, “Is he still alive?  Is this some big joke?  When will he pop up and say ‘Gotcha ya’?”


It will be awesome and then when they put me in the ground for the final time, I hope that people are still wondering if I am still alive, “Did they just bury him alive?  Wow, he is committed to that joke.  Good for him.”


So there is my reasoning for being buried with my eyes open.  It will be nothing more than a great big joke!  Let me know if you have any weird plans to freak people out at your funeral, I would love to hear them.  Maybe one of you will keep your hand in the air so all your friends can give you one last high-five?  Maybe you will have an urn tucked under your arm?  People will freak out over that one, thinking “What did he burn?  Check for his legs, maybe he didn’t want to burn his whole body, Joe could never make up his mind.”


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Old People

Old people have the good life.  They can get away with pretty much anything I have decided.  If an old guy lifts his leg and lets out a loud fart directed at his grandchild, the only thing anyone could say is, “Well, at least his bowels are still working.” If an old lady steals a movie from the video store, she may get a warning at best, but they will most likely just say “Aw, she doesn’t know any better. She’s just confused.”  We all know they aren’t going to be around forever, so we feel the need to let a lot of stuff slide.  They could say the meanest things about someone and all anyone could say is, “Oh don’t worry about it, he’s just a product of his generation.”  But I am on to their little sympathy game.  They do all these crazy things just to see how much they can get away with.  If I were old enough to get away with stuff, I would obviously do some crazy and obnoxious things as well, no matter how crude they may be.  I would be peeing on random things and taking whatever I pleased from people. ” Oh no, grandpa just has urinary incontinence and he forgets what is his and what isn’t.”  So if you’re old and you’re reading this, I know what you’re up to.  You aren’t fooling me.  Enjoy easy street while it lasts.

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The Husky Shorts

Growing up, I went to a private Catholic grade school.  It was a great school, but they made each kid wear the same uniform.  Girls wore skirts while boys wore blue shorts, and everyone either wore a white or blue collared shirt.  I dreaded the day that my mom would take my siblings and I clothes shopping.  All my friends were at the same store vying for the best pair of shorts.  Well, I didn’t have to worry about any competition, I had to shop in the “Husky Section.”  Oh how embarrassing that was.  I knew I was a little chubby but I resented everything about that store referring to those clothes as “Husky.”  Why didn’t they just call them fat kid shorts?  They were not fooling anyone, especially me.  I knew that they were trying to call me fat, but those were the only shorts that fit, so I had to suck it up and wear them. 

My mom seemed to always downplay it by quietly asking the sales clerks where the husky section was.

“pssst, Miss, where is the (my mom looks around to make sure I am not paying attention, and usually I wasn’t because I think a Burger King was across the street, so I was paying attention to that) husky section” 

Those italics mean that she said it barely above a whisper, and by about the third year of this, she didn’t have to ask anymore and knew exactly where to go.  Of course, I hadn’t lost any weight and only kept getting larger but to this day I have vivid memories of the “Husky Section.”  And for that, I blame my weight problem on that store.  It is not because I love to eat and hate to work out, but the fact that I was labeled at such an early age and just accepted the fact that I would always be husky.

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One of those people…


Ughhh, we have all heard this term uttered in our lives before.  Usually, and hopefully, it is aimed at some loser of a person that we would never want to associate ourselves with anyways.  However, every once in a while, I end as “one of those people.”  It is not a badge that I wear proudly or try and shrug off either.  See, by being “one of those people,” we, as a person, already accept the shame and ridicule that goes along with it.  On the plus side, we are okay with it.  We know how to have those witty comebacks that spark a little debate or at the very least provoke a thought or two in the person challenging us.  Some of the times we just do not care at all about the outside world, because gosh dang it, we don’t want to be “one of those people” that constantly complains about “one of those people” types of people.  It’s like the deal that George Costanza had with the birds.  They get out of our way when we drive by and we look the other way when they crap on the statue. 

            Now, I will admit, that there are plenty of people out there that will never be one of those people.  We can call them sophisticated.  But for the most part, almost everyone one of us has a little “one of those people” sides to us.  Here are just a few of my special attributes that I am neither proud of nor ashamed of.

1.  I like to eat the free continental breakfast offered at the hotel I am not staying at

2.  I take a few extra napkins every time I eat fast food, just because I am too lazy to buy my own

3.  I complain when the vending machine eats my dollar, but run off as fast as possible when the machine accidentally drops 2 Snicker’s bars instead of the 1 that I paid for (I deserved it, right?)

4.  (Insert condiment name here) packets, yeah I stuff my pockets with those as well

5.  I refuse to use arm signals when I know that my blinker light is out (I don’t remember them anyways, thanks Driver’s Ed.)

6.  I keep my phone on Level 8 in church, and justify it by thinking, “Hey, what if it’s an emergency?”

7.  I give people angry glares when their phone goes off in church, “Really? Who would call you in an emergency?”

8.  Crop dusting…

9.  I take the last two mini-sandwiches on a platter, I assume more is coming

Those are just a few of my habits.  Please share yours!  So we can add to this list!

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A Sphincter’s Memoir

Who the fuck decided that it would be a great idea to make printed toilet paper? I mean, do the printed lines make the toilet paper more streamlined so that when people go to wipe their ass they will meet little wind resistance. If people are meeting a strong headwind down there then they better go see a doctor or make sure they haven’t mistaken a possible poop for nothing more than an airy fart. And what is up with these cute little shapes they are putting on them now? I just recently took a poop and used some TP that had little printed hearts on them. I’m pretty sure when I went to wipe my ass my anal sphincter wasn’t thinking, “Boy, I hope he’s got those cute hearts today, or else I’m not giving up this shit. It is way too hard to make these days.”
These companies are better off just making toilet paper that does nothing more than remove poop. I feel bad for those artists that were given the task of designing the poop-bound material. What did they do in art class to deserve this job? Did some recruiter take a look at their resume and think to themselves, “You know, he may not be fit for painting the windows at Burger King, but I think Charmin needs a new artist.” They should not feel honored. They better take a good look at themselves when they go home tonight. They did not benefit society in any way. It is a useless concept, and we should go back to the good old days of white toilet paper. We should be excited about 2-ply and not about the useless drawings that are headed into the darkest of all places: the anal sphincter.

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