Aren't you clever

While I awaited what turned out to be the wrong sandwich at my favorite sandwichery, the guy ahead of me decided to order more food on top of what he had already ordered, because God forbid he should go a few hours without shoveling shit down his gullet.

JERK: Give me five spanakopitas, please.

COUNTER GIRL: Huh?

JERK: (pretentiously annoyed) Spanakopitas! You know, spinach pies?

Now, keep in mind that the sign clearly reads "Spinach Pies" on the dish. So, it is clear that the guy was simply trying to impress everyone on the planet with his deep knowledge of Greek cuisine. And this ridiculous asshole wasn't Greek or even marginally Mediterranean at all. He was just some insufferable dildo who couldn't help but educate us all on what the spinach pies were ACTUALLY called, like it's a fucking conspiracy or something. Well, guess what? Knowledge is only useful when it helps you get what you want. When the person behind the counter doesn't know what the fuck you're talking about because she knows an item as "spinach pie" when you're calling it "spanakopita" (which sounds vaguely like Spinal Bifida), what's the point of drawing her attention to it? Not only won't she remember its proper name, she'll actively bury it in her head as the snobbish comment from some pedantic prick it is.

On a lighter note, John Ness reminded me of this scene from They Live:

I hope they like those jokes on the Moon, Alice. 'Cause that's where you're going!

The beautiful Mugwatch and I were delighted to discover that the downtown M31 train was free of charge this wintry morning. Well, I was delighted until I realized that the bus was free because the guy driving it was batshit insane. It seemed like someone had watched one too many Honeymooners episodes and decided that he was, beyond question, Ralph Kramden.

A woman asked the best way to get to Times Square from where we were and the bus driver gave his two cents until some old busybody passenger threw his hat into the ring and offered his advice and then the entire front of the bus was arguing about the best route. The old man got off, firing some parting "I can't help myself when I'm right" apologies to the bus driver. As soon as the bus door closed, the bus driver said, in his working man sarcasm, "Oh, there's always one pain in the ass on every ride. EVERYBODY knows EVERYTHING except me." It was after this incident that I noticed a certain palpable tension in the air.

After letting a few people on near the East Side Tram, the bus began to pull away when a tardy passenger ran up to the closed bus door and pummeled it with his gloved hand. The bus driver opened the door and exclaimed, "Why don't you band a little harder, you might shatter the glass." He further explained that had the man fallen in the stairwell and injured himself, the bus driver would be "up Shit's Creek."

By now, we all knew we were dealing with a loose cannon. The bus driver was being really funny, but there was a slight tinge of Kramden-esque fury to everything he said. At one point, some poor dope had left her gloves behind and was late leaving the rear exit of the bus. Her shrill Eastern European accent kept honking "back door? back door? back door?" almost as if she were wondering where it was rather than asking for it to be open. The bus driver didn't hear her and began to pull away. Now, like a gaggle of tittering Mynah birds, a small collection of voices were popping up from the back of the bus imploring "BACK DOOR! BACK DOOR!" until one particularly douchey looking gentleman yelled "hey, there's a lady tryin' to get off back here!"

The bus driver stopped the bus and scolded, "well, why don't you wake up a little earlier next time!" The European woman said, "I'm sorry, I thought I forgot my gloves." To which the driver, now in love with no single idea in the universe, muttered "yeah, right, gloves..." and a bunch of other hushed insults that made the front of the bus chuckle with delight.

Realizing I was in the window seat, and even though my stop was an entire avenue block away, I turned to Mugwatch and said "I think I'll get up now." I just didn't want to be sent to the Moon, bang zoom.

Finally! Some good news...

Ecstasy finally has the refreshing flavor of Meth.

Ah, school days...

Hail to the chief

In honor of President's Day, my body decided to celebrate our nation's current president by systematically rejecting and jettisoning food from every orifice. A three day weekend wasted waiting out food poisoning allows a fellow to assess his life and his fiber intake. Neither looked good. Still, I watched an awkward guy try to sell an Acer laptop for an hour and a half, saying things with creepy enthusiasm like "Let's say you're in the kitchen! How many of you have gone out and looked at flatscreen TVs for your kitchen and wondered if it's really worth it? Well what if I said that this laptop is ALSO a DVD player? And you stow it anywhere in here! You could put it in a drawer!" In a drawer? Who's putting their laptop in a kitchen drawer? It just seemed silly.

Also, Fidel Castro has stepped down and has said he won't seek "another term." That's hardly shocking seeing as the first one lasted fifty years.

FTD = Fucking Total Disaster

Hey, here's a tip: if you want fresh flowers delivered to the destination of your choice, AVOID USING FTD AT ALL costs. It would be more satisfying (and quicker) to go pick wild flowers in Tuscany and then shove them up your own ass. Ugh, these people DISGUST me. I understand that yesterday was a big holiday for them and they get swamped. Well, so does every other company that delivers flowers on Valentine's Day. DO WHAT FLOWERS.COM DOES AND SIMPLY REJECT ORDERS YOU CAN'T FILL, FTD. FTD has "same day delivery available" all over the fucking place and you pay a king's ransom to have it done. And if you want to check your order status? Simply call 1-800-SEND-FTD and be told that "due to the holiday rush" they're unable to connect you to a customer service representative. Why not try online? Mmmmmmmmok. Simply type in your order number and get ABSOLUTELY NO RESPONSE regardless of how many times you send it. Then, when you've decided that you'd rather see a bouquet of dead children than see a flower again, use the handy "Cancel Order" option on the Customer Service page. Now, you will get a reply INSTANTLY and you will be told that your order CAN'T be canceled because it's on the way to be delivered, even though you are in constant contact with the recipient who assures you that there isn't a fucking flower within a four mile radius of their location.

FTD is a bullshit company chock filled with cowards. Their answer to the holiday rush is completely shutting down customer service? Really? Just ignore the angry callers and bully them into paying for a product that shows up two days late? When I initially tried Flowers.com for my order, they wouldn't let me order anything for the 14th because they knew they couldn't fill the order. BUT, even during the Christmas holiday, when I used Flowers.com they phoned me IMMEDIATELY when there was a problem and we worked it out between us. FTD decides that they can't handle that and that they must throw everybody off the phone and send bullshit automated replies.

I can't remember the name of the movie I just saw that where a character says "if the customer is happy, they'll tell three people. If the customer is unhappy, they'll tell ten." Well, consider this my telling ten people. Don't use these lying cunts for any of your holiday shopping. It'd be easier to buy the flowers and take them to your loved one yourself.

More subtle racism

Just the other day I called Pennsylvania, my home state, the land of subtle racism. And the gods have answered with this gem coming from one of the local papers back home:

More Good Workers Wanted

This article DESPERATELY wants to say "Puerto Ricans" but can't. My favorite lines are:

"They don't want to follow rules, and in a workplace there are certain rules,'' Bunner said. ''It's almost like it's a cultural thing."

Cultural thing? Whose culture? Do tell.

"We've had such poor luck with them, and we've had better success with people over 40,'' he said. ''It takes that long for them to get the wildness out of their system."

The "them" in that last sentence is supposedly referring to people under 30. Knowing the Allentown, Bethlehem, Easton area well, my guess is that there's more to it than that. And hey, I'm sure it's a huge problem, but I just wish this article would be honest and get to the point. Dare I say they're pussyfooting around the real thrust or their article? Dare I?

The real theme of that article is that these employers are trying to fill shitty jobs and to no one's surprise, the young Puerto Ricans don't want to do the shitty jobs anymore. Maybe my dad's or uncle's generation was the last to suck it up and take crap jobs, but I have a feeling that's no longer the case. Young Latino boys and girls are exposed to a constant barrage of media telling them that there's better stuff out there. They're also exposed to cultural role models who glorify the "fuck you" attitude. It just doesn't surprise me that you can't pawn off a job on them that pays $13 an hour.

And believe me, I'm not justifying their behavior. It's just genuinely shocking when you see someone take pride in what they're doing anymore. I understand it may not be what you want to do with your life, but why not take pride in what you do while you're doing it? It would certainly help your self-esteem.

That being said, the salad guy at Pfizer's cafeteria is the most exemplary employee of all time. Seriously, if anybody wants to meet him, I would gladly bring whole tour groups down to watch him.

Kiss my ass, Greenpeace

As I was walking back to the office with my lunch, an insufferable Greenpeace shithead jumped in my path and asked me if I saw the polar bear last night. I didn't know what in the hell he was talking about, so I gave him a look that suggested to him that I might have mistakenly heard him call my mother a whore, and he backed up hastily (presumably to avoid getting stabbed in the eyeball with my meatball wrap).

Also, I've been hearing a lot about McDonald's new coffee and how good it is. I tried it this morning and I have to stamp it with an official "meh." Dunkin Donuts is still chamPEEN in my opinion and McDonald's gourmet bullshit can go pound sand. It's NOT FIT TO TOUCH MY LIPS!!!

A couple of comments on the entry below cited the Tom Cruise Scientology video and yes, I have seen it. I'm happy that this video reminds Anonymous of my podcasts, because there's nothing more flattering than likening one's sense of humor to the babbling of a fucking lunatic. Seriously, I think that's funny.

Which leads me to something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Can actors please stop? Can that be it with actors pretending they're important? Robert De Niro came out in support of Obama. You know what? Who gives a shit? Sean Penn sailed around in a boat handing out supplies to Katrina victims (with a film crew by the way). That's great. No one asked you to, stupid. Doesn't everybody realize that actors are basically in the same category as clowns and mimes? Listening to what an actor has to say about anything is like listening to the opinion of a clown. I don't go to mimes for political commentary, so I don't want to hear from Tom Hanks on the subject either. In fact, I don't even like my own stupid opinion. I should shut my fat trap.

It's a shame, you know?

How unbelievably nuts I am?

I'm paranoid and constantly defending myself against emotional attack where no defense is needed.

I'm such a fucking baby, it's obnoxious.

And the odd part is that all my life I've dealt with my insecurities with humor and I'm only now discovering that that technique isn't always appropriate.

I really need to grow up.

Anyway, on a lighter note, my next door neighbor informed me that there was a fight in the apartment directly above us last night. The apartment in question is incessantly noisy, so I wasn't too surprised, but I was unaware that actual violence broke out. I asked her if the police had come.

"No, I no call the police. Because, you know, they have a student..."

And she kept reiterating that the apartment "had a student" and she didn't want to endanger said student. I'm assuming she meant there was a child involved, but I can't be certain. Still, child or no child, calling the police wouldn't have been the worst idea on the planet.

Oh, and another thing. Today at my audition, I overheard this actor talking to one of the casting people about his tattoo.

TATTOO DUDE: I told the guy, I said, "Look, I'm a tenacious guy..."

You certainly are.

Aw, the cheaters didn't win?

What a goddamned shame.

Still, with plays like this:


...it's easy to start believing in divine intervention.