Tuesday, August 7, 2007


So someone (the Tylester in fact) brought it to my attention that Xerxes in 300 seemed to be getting a little....personal with the protagonist of the film, giving his enemy what looks like a very inappropriate shoulder massage... not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just that if you're going to annihilate some bearded dude's country, at least have the common courtesy to not attempt molesting him first. Maybe I'm wrong but that's just the way I was brought up... anyway that's what prompted my haiku for the day:


Xerxes you sicko
rubbing up on other dudes
next time just shake hands

I guess the movie was good, personally I could have used a little more back story, it kind of felt like a showcase of slow motion movie technology and special effects more than a finished movie... but I know why they focused less on the story and more on the action... not many people like me who will stay up until 3 in the morning watching the History channel during World War 2 month...

Fast Food Shenanigans

So my buddy Marcutio and his wife came by this last weekend, and I noticed something kind of funny, in a weird man-am-I-a-loser kind of way: Everyone who worked at the Burger King during the 2 years I was there has married someone else from that Burger King who worked there at that time... and yet I seemed to remember no chicks liking me at all and not being invited to the many orgies that apparently occurred there during that period. It may have been because I was a fat disgusting oaf but I think it is more likely that they were intimidated by my huge....brain.

Anyway we were reminiscing about the multitude of crappy regular customers we got (you ever notice how someone who comes in every week to buy a 99 cent burger automatically thinks they are a "regular" and own stock in the company?) and I thought I would share some of them with you.

My brother

OK first he is not really a regular customer but for awhile my older brother worked with us, and is sadly the funniest character there. Picture a guy who is about 5'0", 100 pounds, and walks in a weird bobbing fashion that, along with his permed yet receding hair makes him look kind of like a raptor or angry bird of prey (he never cuts his nails so that adds to the image since he likes to hold his hands out in front of him). I think the reason he was working with us was because he wanted to hang out with a younger crowd to prove he still had it since he was over 30 and we were all 18 and 19... but I digress...

Anyway, he also worked days at a nursing home wiping anuses (anus? Anii?) , and would come straight up without changing. He would take his shoes off, put them on the table people ate off of, and lay down like a dead cockroach in the booth... you know, arms on his chest, knees curled up so he really did look just like a dead cockroach. It was also kind of funny because he had this bad gas all the time and if you walked by and listened real close you could hear a constant "phoooooooo" sound coming out of his ass, not unlike what comes out of a lot of politicians' mouths, only more concentrated.

Picture this, but with a human head and smellier farts.
So anyway we have him laying in a booth with his shoes on the table sleeping until we called him on to work, and people would think he was homeless and put change and stuff in his shoes all the time because with his bad gas and the little globules of crap (literally most of the time) on his shirt people assumed he was homeless... the funny thing is he would wake up and not be in the least bit surprised to find money in his shoes, though he never had any idea why it was there or how it got there.. "Hey I have money for some lunch" he would exclaim happily upon waking up to find that no one was sitting within a 10 foot radius of his anus cloud.

I think the funniest thing about him is he would hit on chicks all the time, doo doo on his shirt or not. Sometimes his breath was not the best either and he would be all like "Mmmm girl what you doin' later" to whoever he was lucky enough to corner that day... I remember one girl who actually asked him if he had shit on his shirt, and he was all nonchalant about it like "yeah don't worry about that anyway do you got a man?" Ignoring the fact that she was wearing a wedding ring on her finger completely.

Most of the managers loved him though, because he would happily do the nastiest, dirtiest jobs we had and all but sing while he did it. I know if you work in fast food you know about the grease trap: that sewer-like holding tank thing, smelling like dead skunk and baby shit all the time...well my brother would pester the manager unmercilessly asking if he could clean the trap out. Upon being finally given approval, he would sit down like a kid at Christmass and pull that crap out all day long, sometimes bare handed. He would also enjoy greatly scraping the grease and crap off of the inside of the broiler hoods, cleaning the bathrooms all the time, swapping out urinal cakes, and wonder why no ladies were succumbing to his sexual enticements, sometimes said with grease\shit\bloody tampons sticking to him (I an only kidding about the last one)... hmm go figure.

More later.


wbabbit said...

Dude you are pumping these out, do you ever work?

Stevester said...