Quiet Saturday Afternoons

Me: "What the hell do you have on?"

Fella: "Safety goggles, hockey mask. You know, for safety."

Me: "And what exactly is all this safety for?"

Fella: "Cutting down the tree out back."

Me: "So you'll have a chainsaw?"

Fella: "Yup."

Me: "And a hockey mask with safety goggles?"

Fella: "Yup"

Me: "You look like a special needs serial killer."

Fella: "You know what would be funny, if I was naked."

Me: "Yeah because I think most men believe the safest thing to do is have wood shrapnel and a chainsaw near their exposed man parts."

Fella: (totally ignoring me) "Oh man, then all the neighborhood kids would be totally afraid of playing on our lawn."

Me: "Yeah and that whole 'Meghan's Law' thing will make it even scarier."

At Least Now You Know What Happened to All the Singles from the Monopoly Game

Okay so there is some chatter on the internets about this pole dancing doll and whether or not its real.

Either way, welcome to the apocalypse.

(image from www.gizmodo.com)

What's Italian For Duck?

It's been hot as hell and there was no way that I was cooking. I ran out to the local pizza joint to get dinner because apparently some people are too good for cereal. I place my order and sit down to wait for my food. Then I heard a SMACK.

I naturally assumed it was part of good-natured teasing amongst the teenage staff. You know how it goes. Two teenagers work together and flirt by throwing shit at one another. Ah, young love. So I ignore the smack and go about my business. A minute later I hear it again, only this time louder. I look up.

What the crap?

A duck.

A DUCK.

A motherfucking duck.

A duck had somehow wondered his duck ass into the back door of the pizza parlor, marched his ass through the kitchen and was now attempting to fly out of the glass window.

This attempt to fly through glass happened not once, not twice but three times.

On the duck's third attempt to fly to freedom through the glass the crazy, ass, old Italian guy who owns the place starts trying to get the duck with a pizza paddle. Oh, right so on the third attempt the duck actually falls behind the "pizza assembly station" and is no stuck. So the crazy old Italian guy is attempting to get the duck out from behind the station with a pizza paddle. And yes, it is the exact same paddle they normally use to extract delicious cheesy pizza from the oven.

Finally the duck comes out from behind the station and the COIG starts doing what could best be described as spanking the duck (and no that's not a euphemism). The whole time he is spanking the duck he is yelling at it in both English and Italian (because I guess some ducks are bilingual.) It goes something like this:

COIG: (Unintelligable Italian - potentially cursing)

Duck :

COIG: Hey ya! Stupid duck!

(Paddle smack)

COIG: Hey-a duck! Why you NO MOVE?

(Paddle smack)

COIG: (More unintelligable Italian - definitely cursing)

While this is all taking place the young Italian guy continues to make pizzas. I shit you not. He just keeps flipping out dough, spinning it out, dumping on sauce and toppings and throwing them in the oven. The best part? The young Italian guy does not even acknowledge what is going on right behind him. Like this is total old hat. As if everyday he watched some old guy spank a duck and curse at it in Italian. And if thats the case we are so NEVER getting pizza from this place again because I highly doubt they have a pizza paddle exclusively devoted to duck spanking. Even if they do chances are high they could get those paddles mixed up. It's not like one says "duck spanker."

I digress.

After about five minutes the COIG realizes that spanking the duck is doing nothing. In all the time the duck has maybe walked five inches. As if a lightbulb has gone off in this guys head. He starts screaming for a broom. Then he basically plays shuffleboard with the duck. He would sit the broom right behind the ducks butt and just slide the duck across the floor. I'm guessing the duck was okay with it because it never moved or quacked or anything.

Finally the COIG gets the duck out the front door. He walks back in and looks at me and goes "You see that duck?" and makes a shrugging motion with his shoulders and walks away. I then watch him take the broom that was just maybe raping that duck and puts it back in its place. Uh? Shouldn't that be thrown out or disinfected or something? And I'm fairly certain no one has removed the duck spanking paddle.

So basically there is a 50/50 chance we may have gotten botulism from the duck spanking paddle. And you can bet that I didn't eat a slice of that.

Conversations with Fella #436

Me: "Did the job end today?"

Fella: "Yup. Laid off. I have to go to the union hall to see what's available now."

Me: "Oh I'm sure something will come up."

Fella: "Yeah or else I'm going to have to take a side job like that guy in Hung. You know, hook."

Me: "Okay. Well, if you start hooking than so will I. Then we'll see who is a better whore."

Fella: ....

Me: "What? You think you'd be a better whore than me?"

Fella: "No, naturally you'd be the better whore."

Me: "WHAT?"

Fella: "You know, guys will sleep with anyone."

Me: "What? Oh so I'd be a charity fuck as a whore. Is that what you're saying?"

Fella: "No, I just mean its easier for girls. You know, you guys can sleep with anyone."

Me: "Uh-huh. Interesting hole for you to dig yourself out of here."

Fella: "You know, I don't think I'd be a very good hooker. I have to be attracted to someone to sleep with them. Like remember Leona Helmsley? I don't know how guys did her."

Me: "So basically you're giving up because you already know I'd win our hooker competition?"

Fella: "If that's what you need to believe."

I would just like to say that I would totally be the better whore. And I'm not sure if thats a win but let's just call it that, okay? I mean Fella is handsome and ladies check him out all the time. But I mean really? Let's think about the kind of woman who can't get laid on her own and a requires a hooker.

Exactly.

Plus dudes solicit male hookers and I just don't see Fella working with that.

Analysis?

I win.

How Hard Is Hygiene?

So, um. Yeah. Am I missing something?

I understand the economy has fallen on hard times but are soap and water in desperate short supply? Is it impossible to find laundry detergent?

I only ask because based on my experiences today I would say yes, yes it is in fact all in short supply.

I mean, I know I showered, applied deodorant, and even wore freshly laundered clothes. I was JUST at Target and they still had aisles FULL of the stuff. I mean it was right there all on the shelves. Anyone could have just walked into the store, put some in their cart, paid for and it went on their merry way.

Maybe for some this is a highly guarded secret. I don't know. I'm not God. But when you come into an enclosed space you must know that you reek? Apparently for this guy. No clue. Just sitting there on his happy ass stinking like a donkey after a days work. Except, hi, it was morning.

I wish social decorum was such that I could have turned to him and ask him to vacate the car wash waiting area due to his unholy stench. I could have asked if he ever considered running himself through the car wash but that might have been too rude.

And on a side note. You don't wash your own ass BUT you are washing your car? COME ON.

Some of you might be thinking "Oh Jane, he just came from the gym or something. Stop being a judgmental bitch." Well, hookers you're wrong. The dude was in business attire meaning he was planning on taking his stench and accosting people with it in a workplace environment.

While it did feel like my olfactory senses were raped it did give me an idea.

I could help these rank individuals. I will begin to carry with me (at all times) travel sized soaps and deodorants. After all, if we learned anything from my hobo ninja post it's this - Be The Change! See a need and fill it!

I'm Back Bitches

Fella was saying he wasn't sure if I should write anything about Miss. Sassafras. I calmly explained to him that it didn't matter since its not like anyone knows who the hell we are anyway (which didn't stop Fella from requesting me to stop writing about him since I was, and I quote, "making him look retarded.") I reiterated that hello? People we know SO don't read this blog. People we don't even know barely read this blog.

Then Fella pulled out his trump card and slammed it on the table. So, I got drunk once (shut it) and bragged to everyone at an intimate get together about how hilarious I am on my blog. Of course, in my recollection I was simply defending myself since I was, in fact, being hilarious but no one seemed to agree. Of course people we knew THEN started reading the blog and apparently some of Fella's friends made fun of him. Which led to the request that I "stop posting our conversations verbatim." Which was confusing to me because I wasn't sure if that meant I was now able to take artistic license or just start making shit up.

Anyway. I told Fella that it was good for me to post stuff because people always look at us as a couple all side eyed since I'm usual drunk and blabbering on the outside but they NEVER realize that HE is drunk and blabbering on the inside.

Fellas response?

"That doesn't make ANY sense."

Me: "Pretty sure it does."

Fella: "Whatever. Maybe you should start taking meds."

Regardless of whether or not I should be on meds I will cease writing about Miss. Sassafras but I REFUSE to stop writing about Fella. He is just too damn hilarious to not share with the world.

Happy Easter!