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Random Videos
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This is a duplication of the incredibly disturbing bathroom at the Border Café in Saugus, which is just north of Boston. I’m not exactly sure what the message here is. I’m thinking it’s some sort of urinal race war, but that’s just a guess. I think the only fair thing to do would be to stand in between the two urinals and share the stream between both amigos. Like my great, great grandmother used to tell me… If you can have racial unity, if even for a moment, a little pee on the wall is a small price to pay. I think I made her proud.
The cashier at Stop and Shop today told the lady in front of me that her charge was $41.06. She handed him the cash and mentioned that it was exact change. He stopped, money in hand, and confirmed with her that it was, in fact, exact change. She didn’t hear him, so he repeated himself, not wanting to complete the transaction before he had his answer.
Did this young man, who at the tender young age of 28 had worked his way up the supermarket ladder to a middle register cashier position, have possibly not realized that the simple act of counting the money as he placed it into the register would yield the answer to this very question. Not only would it be much quicker, but it would be a tad bit more official than taking the costumer’s word for it.
I was certainly eager to get out of there after being asked twice by some lady if I worked there. I guess my initial “no” wasn’t emphatic enough, so the second time I said “NO!” and threw the 20 pound bag of cat litter I was holding into her ankles, knocking her right into her basket. I’m not sure that was the appropriate course of action. I’m sure many people will say that instead of throwing cat litter into her ankles and knocking her into the basket, I should have just kicked her in the nuts. I know, that was my first thought but stupid me has to always do things the difficult way. Maybe next time I’ll compromise and throw the cat litter into her nuts. But in my defense, she fell into a bag of almonds, so I ended up kicking her into nuts.
I had to send a Money Gram payment to take care of a bill today, which meant having to deal with both Wal-Mart and my auto insurance phone douchebags at the same time.
About 14 seconds after entering the store I got a real bad case of the vertigo, and my stomach starting hurting like after you eat Mouse and Hamster Poison. And I’m not talking about good, pure Mouse and Hamster Poison. I’m talking about Mouse and Hamster Poison that you’d get at Wal-Mart, mixed and diluted with oatmeal, cough syrup, gunpowder, and Tang, which creates a gumbo-like constancy requiring you to serve the Mouse and Hamster Poison in proper soup bowls.
I felt like I was being eaten alive from the inside out by a rabid Wolverine while having to watch a live web-cam with sound transmitting from the lunchroom of a suburban police department, with my eyeball propped open forcing me to watch them eat their roast beef on white bread sandwiches while they talked about a broad assortment of topics, ranging from baseball and football, to pulling over hot chicks and making them show their boobs to get out of a ticket.
I’m giving myself a root canal right now with 2 pencils and a hammer and all I can think about is how ecstatic I am that I’m not in Wal-Mart.
Moving to the side of the road, I made room for a passing fire engine in New Haven earlier today. A White fire engine. That was my first run in with non-red fire engines. I’m fairly certain it’s one of a few things:
It may be for putting out fires started by an Albino Arsonist. They could just blend in with the glare from the fire. It’s possible, but not as probable that the occupants of the house on fire are all or partially albino. Maybe it’s a Ku Klux Klan run fire department that specializes in out of control burning cross fires. It also could be for wedding fires and/or firefighters who are getting married.
Why not fire engines in many different message-laced colors.
Pink fire engines for fashion fires or for when someone has been declared “flaming”.
Green fire engines for people who’ve donated large sums of money to the firefighters private fund, which is used to pay for monthly Jaeger/Coke/Stripper parties. Police invited too.
Yellow fire engines would signify a fire at a Chinese Resaurant, or a Laundry Mat.
Forest fires would be fought using Brown engines.
Purple engines driving by means there’s a Crack House a-blazin. If you frequented this particular Crack House, you might want to go ahead and find an alternate locale to satisfy your voracious Crack Smoking needs. No need to apologize, just turn off the stolen monitor and go to work investigating new Crack Houses if I’m talking about you. Purple and Crack Houses don’t really share any special significance, but Crack House fires deserve their own color, and there aren’t many colors left.
The Pepsi Blue and Red colored engine exists to fight fires in Michael Jackson’s afro.
Today was a pretty typical day, other than while I was out of town and a pair of Pakistani fellers approached me asking if I knew who owned the goats in a nearby yard. I replied that no, in fact I did not know who was the owner of said goats. They told me that they wanted to buy a goat. Not wanting to leave anything out, they concluded by revealing to me that they wanted to eat the goat. They looked really anxious and hungry as if they weren’t going to be able to withstand a search for the owner while they could be enjoying a Mai Tai and a Sweet and Sour Goat combo with boneless spare ribs and pork fried rice.
Sweden relaxes rules on giving kids unusual names
STOCKHOLM, Sweden (AP) — Swedish authorities say parents can now name their newborns “Budweiser” or “Metallica” if they so wish.
I guess it makes sense, being that both would be instrumental in the making of the tiny little future serial killer/church arsonist.
For decades, Swedish tax authorities had banned parents from naming their children after fast food chains, rock bands or their favorite brand of beer.
Those laws were created after the country’s embarrassment in the 1976 Olympics after the Swede’s silver medal volleyball duo of Schlitz Koontz and AC/DC Baarg showed up to the finals absolutely trashed and they both were wearing overalls and spitting chew all over the sandy court.
But tax authority spokesman Lars Tegenfeldt says the guidelines have been relaxed. He says “there is nothing negative about a name like Coca-Cola or McDonald’s today. In the 1970s, maybe it was.”
There wasn’t much of a stigma with Coke during the 70s, but people apparently weren’t as open to soft drinks and clowns.
Still, authorities are drawing the line at giving children swear words for names. And forget about naming your child God, Allah or Devil.
What about douchebag? Is that a swear word? What’s the actual cut-off? Would they actually make a distinction between bitch and beeyatch? Maybe we’ll never know. Either way, I still like hot cocoa.
