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Some really "interesting" stuff happened Wednesday.
And This Is Why You're Working a Hot Dog Stand
During my magic shift at the toy store (which I do every Wednesday day), I found myself rather hungry. I don't normally take lunch breaks there, and didn't feel like wandering far afield, but in the mall that the toy store is in, the only two food options are an over-priced hot dog stand and a sweets store that has oversized cookies, fudge, and other yummies. Since I really didn't want to fill up on sweets, and just wanted a bite, I figured I'd grab an overpriced hot dog.
So I'm standing in line behind a woman. The woman gets served, finishes up, and leaves. Before I can even step up to be served, the guy behind the counter turns to another man who has just walked up, after I've been waiting in line, and starts serving him.
Seriously, dude? You can't grasp the concept of "next in line"? Fuck you and your overpriced shitty hot dogs.
I went and got an oversized oatmeal raisin cookie. Asshole.
The Geritol Express
On Wednesday nights, I do magic at a local restaurant, strolling around and performing tableside for those who are interested in such entertainment.
This Wednesday, a bus full of geriatrics pull up to the restaurant. Over 50 blue hairs get out of the bus and fill up a large portion of the restaurant. Background: they had struck a deal with a manager at the restaurant to get a three course meal at a special price of $16.99 per person, including gratuity. Some of the servers were a little concerned about where, exactly, they were going to get the gratuity from, but that's another story (which I may have the answer to next week). It should be noted that the manager who struck this deal a while back no longer works for the company, and doesn't even live in town anymore. (She moved because her husband got a job offer he couldn't refuse.)
So, in addition to the regular chaos that ensued with that large a part walking in, when these seniors (most of whom were VERY cranky, I might add) start getting their bills, they start throwing a fit. Apparently they were under the impression that the $16.99 price included the tax. I'm sorry, but shit like that never includes tax. It's always "X plus tax." Always always always always always. Even an idiot knows that. Even a drunken idiot on Valium with an icepick sticking out of their skull is going to know that.
But no, not these people. They insisted that the tax be removed and that the restaurant "honor" the $16.99 deal. Despite the fact that the tax is mandated by the State of Florida and is not exactly the restaurant trying to gouge these people.
So the manager goes about painstakingly adjusting each and every bill (no easy task), and he's just gripping, because these crotchety Bingo Babies are obnoxious about it and driving him nuts. At one point, near the end, as he's in the back leaning over and clearly stressing about the whole mess, I lean over and say to him, "Dude, I'm gonna make you laugh." He looks up at me with a very doubtful expression on his face. I tell him, "Just remember. In a very short time, all of these people will be fucking dead." At which point he just cracks up. One of the servers standing nearby, while trying to suppress her giggles, says, "That's evil!" I look at her and say, "Yes....but it's true!"
(NOTE: I have nothing against senior citizens. I hate old people. There's a definite difference. For example, my parents are in their late 70's, but they are not old. Why? Because they're pleasant and polite and generally have a good attitude. Then there are people in their 50's, 40's, even their 20's who are old people, because they are bitter, crotchety, and no fun to be around. This tour bus was filled with old people. Fuck old people. Old people suck.)
Bugged
So after work, I go out for a couple cold ones with one of the servers from the restaurant. I figure I'd have one or two beers, unwind, and go home and relax. Call it an early night.
And then my best friend Neets calls me. Being in a loud bar, I ignore call. When she immediately calls me again, I knew something had to be up, because that is not normal. So I answer the call.
Some of you may remember my niece Bug, Neets's daughter, the one who had brain surgery a few years ago. The one who since then (but not due to the brain surgery, mind you) has been a total diva monster. Well, it seems Neets, who is all of 18, is officially pregnant.
Great. Just wonderful. Sadly, not a shock. Not even all that much of a surprise, I'm afraid. Nor the revelation that she's been drinking a lot and smoking a lot of pot. Not that she hid it well, mind you.
Neets is rather distraught, especially since she had been talking to Bug about birth control since forever (actually about first grade). She is going to sit down and talk to Bug about all of Bug's options (even the ones that Neets may not personally agree with herself). She is going to make a few things very clear to Bug, including the fact that Neets and her husband (Bug's stepfather) are NOT going to raise this baby. They have a six year old with somewhat special needs (possibly mildly autistic), and they just don't have it in them to raise another child. Bug did not want Neets to tell anyone about this, but Neets told her, "I'm telling my men." Meaning Neets's husband and me. And Neets is giving Bug one month to tell Bug's father, or else Neets will tell him herself.
My first initial reaction as an Overprotective Uncle is to fly out to Phoenix and beat the crap out of the guy responsible. (Yes, I know that Bug is just as responsible, but I can't exactly beat the crap out of her, no matter how tempting it may be.) Sadly, I can't do that. Not because of the cost of the airfare or the legal ramifications of it, but simply because, according to Bug, there are two different guys it could be. Which gets me wondering. After all, if she's willing to admit to two, there's a good chance there are actually more than two. Cue eye rolls and groans all around.
I sent a text to each of my other older nieces, Princess and Dragon, congratulating them on NOT being my first niece to get pregnant.
This gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "Hump Day." It also resulted in my turning to the bartender and saying, "Shots. Now." And then my getting completely blitzed.
Meh. Double meh.
The next day, though, I did give Neets a much-needed laugh, when I sent her this text: "Forming a posse to ride out West and deal with the varmint...or varmints. Ye ha."
And This Is Why You're Working a Hot Dog Stand
During my magic shift at the toy store (which I do every Wednesday day), I found myself rather hungry. I don't normally take lunch breaks there, and didn't feel like wandering far afield, but in the mall that the toy store is in, the only two food options are an over-priced hot dog stand and a sweets store that has oversized cookies, fudge, and other yummies. Since I really didn't want to fill up on sweets, and just wanted a bite, I figured I'd grab an overpriced hot dog.
So I'm standing in line behind a woman. The woman gets served, finishes up, and leaves. Before I can even step up to be served, the guy behind the counter turns to another man who has just walked up, after I've been waiting in line, and starts serving him.
Seriously, dude? You can't grasp the concept of "next in line"? Fuck you and your overpriced shitty hot dogs.
I went and got an oversized oatmeal raisin cookie. Asshole.
The Geritol Express
On Wednesday nights, I do magic at a local restaurant, strolling around and performing tableside for those who are interested in such entertainment.
This Wednesday, a bus full of geriatrics pull up to the restaurant. Over 50 blue hairs get out of the bus and fill up a large portion of the restaurant. Background: they had struck a deal with a manager at the restaurant to get a three course meal at a special price of $16.99 per person, including gratuity. Some of the servers were a little concerned about where, exactly, they were going to get the gratuity from, but that's another story (which I may have the answer to next week). It should be noted that the manager who struck this deal a while back no longer works for the company, and doesn't even live in town anymore. (She moved because her husband got a job offer he couldn't refuse.)
So, in addition to the regular chaos that ensued with that large a part walking in, when these seniors (most of whom were VERY cranky, I might add) start getting their bills, they start throwing a fit. Apparently they were under the impression that the $16.99 price included the tax. I'm sorry, but shit like that never includes tax. It's always "X plus tax." Always always always always always. Even an idiot knows that. Even a drunken idiot on Valium with an icepick sticking out of their skull is going to know that.
But no, not these people. They insisted that the tax be removed and that the restaurant "honor" the $16.99 deal. Despite the fact that the tax is mandated by the State of Florida and is not exactly the restaurant trying to gouge these people.
So the manager goes about painstakingly adjusting each and every bill (no easy task), and he's just gripping, because these crotchety Bingo Babies are obnoxious about it and driving him nuts. At one point, near the end, as he's in the back leaning over and clearly stressing about the whole mess, I lean over and say to him, "Dude, I'm gonna make you laugh." He looks up at me with a very doubtful expression on his face. I tell him, "Just remember. In a very short time, all of these people will be fucking dead." At which point he just cracks up. One of the servers standing nearby, while trying to suppress her giggles, says, "That's evil!" I look at her and say, "Yes....but it's true!"
(NOTE: I have nothing against senior citizens. I hate old people. There's a definite difference. For example, my parents are in their late 70's, but they are not old. Why? Because they're pleasant and polite and generally have a good attitude. Then there are people in their 50's, 40's, even their 20's who are old people, because they are bitter, crotchety, and no fun to be around. This tour bus was filled with old people. Fuck old people. Old people suck.)
Bugged
So after work, I go out for a couple cold ones with one of the servers from the restaurant. I figure I'd have one or two beers, unwind, and go home and relax. Call it an early night.
And then my best friend Neets calls me. Being in a loud bar, I ignore call. When she immediately calls me again, I knew something had to be up, because that is not normal. So I answer the call.
Some of you may remember my niece Bug, Neets's daughter, the one who had brain surgery a few years ago. The one who since then (but not due to the brain surgery, mind you) has been a total diva monster. Well, it seems Neets, who is all of 18, is officially pregnant.
Great. Just wonderful. Sadly, not a shock. Not even all that much of a surprise, I'm afraid. Nor the revelation that she's been drinking a lot and smoking a lot of pot. Not that she hid it well, mind you.
Neets is rather distraught, especially since she had been talking to Bug about birth control since forever (actually about first grade). She is going to sit down and talk to Bug about all of Bug's options (even the ones that Neets may not personally agree with herself). She is going to make a few things very clear to Bug, including the fact that Neets and her husband (Bug's stepfather) are NOT going to raise this baby. They have a six year old with somewhat special needs (possibly mildly autistic), and they just don't have it in them to raise another child. Bug did not want Neets to tell anyone about this, but Neets told her, "I'm telling my men." Meaning Neets's husband and me. And Neets is giving Bug one month to tell Bug's father, or else Neets will tell him herself.
My first initial reaction as an Overprotective Uncle is to fly out to Phoenix and beat the crap out of the guy responsible. (Yes, I know that Bug is just as responsible, but I can't exactly beat the crap out of her, no matter how tempting it may be.) Sadly, I can't do that. Not because of the cost of the airfare or the legal ramifications of it, but simply because, according to Bug, there are two different guys it could be. Which gets me wondering. After all, if she's willing to admit to two, there's a good chance there are actually more than two. Cue eye rolls and groans all around.
I sent a text to each of my other older nieces, Princess and Dragon, congratulating them on NOT being my first niece to get pregnant.
This gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "Hump Day." It also resulted in my turning to the bartender and saying, "Shots. Now." And then my getting completely blitzed.
Meh. Double meh.
The next day, though, I did give Neets a much-needed laugh, when I sent her this text: "Forming a posse to ride out West and deal with the varmint...or varmints. Ye ha."
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