Me vs. the guy at Dietrick and later on the bathroom stall.
One of the few things that I enjoy on Monday mornings are
the chicken-fried steaks at Dietrick....okay so when I
say "enjoy" I mean not enjoy. Still it's nice to sit with
dave and just stare ahead of me and survey my mountain of
tater tots. But today my fragile, innocent tater tot
observing world came crashing to a halt in an attack of
sheer terrorism. As I sit down (and I sit down quite
laboriously....I unzip my jacket, and lower my obese ass as
slowly as possible into the seat so that my anus doesn't go
crashing into the hard cushion), I look up or rather i
GLANCE up. As I'm glancing I notice a black guy (i'm gonna
say black guy cos it's easy and blah blah blah) stare at me
and slowly extend his middle finger in my direction. AT
first i was shocked. being the non-confrontational person
that i am i decided that it oculdn't have been intended for
me. basically he could have come up and waved it in my
face and i would have been like "oh i'll let the guy know
behind me that it's intended for him". anyhow i continue
to observe this fine fellow as he argues with the three
white guys at his table (see there. i said white guys
too.) at the "end" of the argument, he gets up in a huff
and pours a full glass of milk all over one of the guys'
trays. then he turns around to an innocent bystander (also
a white guy) sitting at a table near his and asks him if
he "wants a piece". apparently the argument was a racial
one and this crazy guy had a problem with caucasians
observing their mounds of tater tots. All i have to say to
that guy is chill out, don't worry bout all the racial
issues, and if you flick me off at any other time of the
day I will be forced to move my seat so that I can not see
you, then you'll be sorry.
Now the only thing worse than a surly chap at dietrick for
breakfast is the confrontation with the stall. I like to
get my reading done on the shitter because let's face it
there's nothing else to do. However, I encountered a
monumental problem today. As I sit reading "Woyzeck" by
Georg Buechner, I decide that my 45 minutes are up and that
i will "clean" myself. I place the book on the inside of
my pants so that it doesn't touch the dirty floor. however
as i stand up, it slips and hits the side of the seat and
hovers above the pit of death. now picture me toilet paper
in hand not daring to breath as my beloved german
literature hangs on the brink of a watery feces covered
tomb. i was on the verge of calling the swat special
forces to alleviate my problem as it slowly topples to the
ground. phew....i've learned my lesson, only mad magazine
on the shitter.
-- this is a conversation i had with my dog and cat last
night on the phone.
Me : What's up?
Toby (my dog): Nothing much....what's up wit you?
Me : Not too much.........are you high?
Toby : heheheehehehehe.......shit, hey pete you gotta take
Pete (my cat) : (munching and talking into the phone)Sup,
awww shit, my furs all orange!
Me : .....are you eating doritoes?
Pete : (hesitation) ummmmmmmmm, (police sirens in the
background) WHAT THE CHRIST IS THAT!!!! God damn dawg, you
gonna give me a heart attack.
Toby : hahahaha, i knew that police siren would have been a
good investment........pete?...... hey nick can i call you
Me : is pete okay?
Toby : hhhhmmmmm, well let's just say that it's a good
thing that we spread kitty litter all over the kitchen, or
else mom would be coming home to a very unpleaseant
sight ....call ya in 5?
Me : cool.