Jonathan

Random (boring) Thoughts
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2007-07-27 01:52:07 (UTC)

I'm nuts, in case you were wondering

I went to a baseball game the other day. It was nothing
special...just a double-A team in a nowhere town in PA.
When I arrived at the stadium, I engaged in my normal
pregame routine. I bought a hot dog and an adult beverage,
and then I ordered some peanuts.

Now, you must understand that I was looking at an entire
box of peanuts behind the counter when I ordered them.
However, to my surprise, the clerk looked at me and
said, "I can't sell you peanuts. It's Saturday night."

To this, I calmly responded (as any sane human being
would) "What the hell?"

"We don't have a cleaning crew on Saturday nights," he
replied. "So, we don't sell peanuts."

Now, it's just not in my nature to get upset over trivial
matters, but I was indignant. If you think I'm going to let
some pimply-faced minimum wage cashier tell me when I can
and can't eat peanuts, you're out of your damn mind.

It's a baseball game, for crying out loud. I don't like to
quote song lyrics in my journal, but it says "buy me some
PEANUTS and Cracker Jack." It's baseball tradition. Not
selling peanuts at a baseball game is a travesty of epic
proportions.

What really kills me here is that I'm supposed to believe
that in some nowhere town in the middle of PA there's not a
single undocumented Mexican laborer who would be willing to
sweep up my peanut dust at 3am on a Saturday night. There's
practically a migrant laborer on every corner these days,
and they're all begging for work.

So, long story short, I never got my peanuts. But, being
the resourceful, vindictive asshole that I am, I came up
with a plan to get even (a plan that, I admit, came to me
after a few of those adult beverages I mentioned earler).

I quietly took every napkin, hot dog wrapper, and paper cup
I could find, along with my 100 page press guide, and
shredded them all into confetti, which I proceeded to
spread all over the three rows nearest to my position.

When the last pitch was thrown, I had a mess 10 times worse
than all the peanuts I could have ever eaten. That'll teach
those bastards to deny me my salty, crunchy treats next
Saturday.

I mean seriously, no cleaning crew at a baseball stadium?
Now that's just nuts...


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