c. December 26, 2007 Anno Domini
I went into work today more piratically attired than yesterday and got totally dissed. Very shortly after my arrival a small child in a Captain Jack Sparrow hat appearing to be no more than three or four years of age pointed to me and said "look, a pirate! Arrrrrrr!," so I said "avast, matey! How arrrrrre ye?," and his father asked if I would pose for a picture with the kid and I agreed to do so but the kid said to me "I'm not taking a picture with you! I don't know you!," and refused to have his picture taken with me.
Another insolent whelp who was probably closed to the age of five brazenly walked up and drew my sword from my belt and threatened me with it and there wasn't much I could do because I think my employer's corporate regulations have a specific prohibition against slapping little brats even if they totally deserve it. I did manage to confiscate the contraband Coca-Cola he was trying to sneak in.
c. June 7, 2008 Anno Domini
On July 2, 2008, Melanie, Bella and I went to a sorry excuse for a restaurant known as Ming Fu, in Cureton Town Center, on NC Highway 16, in Waxhaw, NC for lunch. We're not in the habit of eating lunch at sorry excuses for restaurants, but in our defense we were unaware of Ming Fu's place atop the pantheon of sorry excuses for restaurants.
I ordered the pineapple chicken, and the waiter mistakenly served me pineapple shrimp. I detest shrimp for some reason, but as a reasonable man I realize no one is perfect and one incorrect order is hardly sufficient cause to wish immolation on an eatery and it's entire staff so I started eating the rice, carrots and pineapple sauce without wasting any time lamenting the chicken. To be honest, what I really wanted was pineapple beef, but that wasn't even on the menu.
Melanie knows how much I loathe shrimp, and very politely pointed out the mistake to the waiter. He responded by asking her "what? Is he allergic to shrimp?," and stormed off. I continued eating around the vile sea-creatures for about five minutes, at which point the villain of this tale returned and whisked away the mildly offending dish, with a highly offending glance in my direction and nary a word.
Eventually the fiend returned, and bestowed upon me what appeared to be a run of the mill plate of pineapple chicken. I wasn't privy to exactly what happened between, but based on the direction things were heading until the point at which he took the shrimp away, and the direction things headed after he brought me the chicken, and the fact that Ming Fu is still in business, I think its safe to assume the Union County Department of Health wasn't privy to it either, and not entirely outside the realm of possibility that the chicken was in the privies.
I was feeling ravenous by the time the chicken arrived at my table, and unsuspectingly devoured the majority of it in short order, only to find a tag floating inconspicuously in a puddle of pineapple sauce, as if had every right to be there... as if pineapples naturally grew tags inside of them, except this tag looked more like the sort found in the middle of the elastic waistband on a pair of men's briefs. I plucked the tag out of its unnatural habitat, and upon closer inspection I determined it actually came from a 100% cotton mop head. Finding the tag from a mop head in one's food is certainly not as bad as finding an underwear tag in one's food, but its still just cause to righteously wish immolation on an eatery and it's entire staff.
I excused myself to the privies, ostensibly to rinse the sticky pineapple sauce and mop bucket water cocktail off my hands but also to count to ten lest I do something completely morally justified yet prohibited by law such as arson. Meanwhile, Melanie pointed out the tag to the waiter and explained where I found it, and he asked her "what do you want me to do about it?" I wasn't there, but I suspect Melanie exercised more self-control than the cumulative total possessed by the combined brethren of a decently-sized monastic order by not telling him exactly what she'd like him to do with it. If I had been there I would have most likely told him I had a fatal allergy to tags, and requested emergency medical attention but I wasn't there, which is a shame because I would have really enjoyed saying that.
c. September 23, 2006 Anno Domini
We have company/family visiting from Connecticut this weekend and my mother is planning some sort of french toast extravaganza for the morning but we didn't have enough bread. We didn't have any sugar-free syrup either and since I'm a freak with both a defective pancreas and a distinct preference for syrup on my french toast I went on a late-night trip to a local grocery store.
Upon my entrance into the store a middle-aged woman exclaimed "What the hell? That boy is wearing a red hat and red shoes!," with a tone of voice and volume level indicating that she was disturbed by such a thing as if red hats, red shoes and the combination of the above were some sort of heinously inappropriate taboo. I don't know what culture she identifies with but its obviously vastly different from mine, in which wearing a red hat with red shoes is almost literally an everyday occurrence. If the hat and shoes provoked that reaction its probably a good thing I wasn't wearing my red belt at the time too or else she quite possibly might have exclaimed "What the f-ck? That boy is wearing a red hat, red shoes and a red belt!," and that would have been a bit extreme. Never mind the fact that in my culture I came of age and crossed the threshold from boyhood into manhood many moons ago.
c. October 8, 2006 Anno Domini
A little boy sitting in front of me in church this morning spent the entirety of mass drawing a picture of a luchalibre wrestler with spiderwebs, a lightning bolt and the letter S on his mask, horns growing out of his head, the fiercest of scowls upon his face, spikes growing out of his arms, legs and fists, spikes growing out of some of the other spikes and some sort of crest or insignia emblazoned upon his chest. After he finished the drawing he proudly named his character "Mr. Devle." Children are so dog gone adorably sacrilegious.
c. January 31, 2007 Anno Domini
We had a sneak preview at the theater tonight at 7:30 PM EST. Passes were distributed by Universal Studios through whatever channels they distribute such things through without involving the theater at all. All we do is play the bloody movie. As it was, people started lining up around 6:00 PM EST, seeing as how the screening was free and there were probably an obscene number of passes distributed and we only had 370 seats available. It ended up being completely full and we had to turn about forty people away because there was nowhere to seat them but I digress.
Almost immediately after we allowed people to begin taking their seats some lady heard a bit of squeaking off to the side of her seat so she quite naturally looked down and saw a mouse trap with two baby mice stuck in it but still alive, squealing in the midst of their death throes as they hopelessly tried to escape so she quite naturally told everyone she could find except me and only then informed me after everyone else had already been made aware and I kindly removed both the trap and the baby mice who squeaked and squealed and fought courageously but in vain to escape and that was the end of that.
I went into work today more piratically attired than yesterday and got totally dissed. Very shortly after my arrival a small child in a Captain Jack Sparrow hat appearing to be no more than three or four years of age pointed to me and said "look, a pirate! Arrrrrrr!," so I said "avast, matey! How arrrrrre ye?," and his father asked if I would pose for a picture with the kid and I agreed to do so but the kid said to me "I'm not taking a picture with you! I don't know you!," and refused to have his picture taken with me.
Another insolent whelp who was probably closed to the age of five brazenly walked up and drew my sword from my belt and threatened me with it and there wasn't much I could do because I think my employer's corporate regulations have a specific prohibition against slapping little brats even if they totally deserve it. I did manage to confiscate the contraband Coca-Cola he was trying to sneak in.
c. June 7, 2008 Anno Domini
On July 2, 2008, Melanie, Bella and I went to a sorry excuse for a restaurant known as Ming Fu, in Cureton Town Center, on NC Highway 16, in Waxhaw, NC for lunch. We're not in the habit of eating lunch at sorry excuses for restaurants, but in our defense we were unaware of Ming Fu's place atop the pantheon of sorry excuses for restaurants.
I ordered the pineapple chicken, and the waiter mistakenly served me pineapple shrimp. I detest shrimp for some reason, but as a reasonable man I realize no one is perfect and one incorrect order is hardly sufficient cause to wish immolation on an eatery and it's entire staff so I started eating the rice, carrots and pineapple sauce without wasting any time lamenting the chicken. To be honest, what I really wanted was pineapple beef, but that wasn't even on the menu.
Melanie knows how much I loathe shrimp, and very politely pointed out the mistake to the waiter. He responded by asking her "what? Is he allergic to shrimp?," and stormed off. I continued eating around the vile sea-creatures for about five minutes, at which point the villain of this tale returned and whisked away the mildly offending dish, with a highly offending glance in my direction and nary a word.
Eventually the fiend returned, and bestowed upon me what appeared to be a run of the mill plate of pineapple chicken. I wasn't privy to exactly what happened between, but based on the direction things were heading until the point at which he took the shrimp away, and the direction things headed after he brought me the chicken, and the fact that Ming Fu is still in business, I think its safe to assume the Union County Department of Health wasn't privy to it either, and not entirely outside the realm of possibility that the chicken was in the privies.
I was feeling ravenous by the time the chicken arrived at my table, and unsuspectingly devoured the majority of it in short order, only to find a tag floating inconspicuously in a puddle of pineapple sauce, as if had every right to be there... as if pineapples naturally grew tags inside of them, except this tag looked more like the sort found in the middle of the elastic waistband on a pair of men's briefs. I plucked the tag out of its unnatural habitat, and upon closer inspection I determined it actually came from a 100% cotton mop head. Finding the tag from a mop head in one's food is certainly not as bad as finding an underwear tag in one's food, but its still just cause to righteously wish immolation on an eatery and it's entire staff.
I excused myself to the privies, ostensibly to rinse the sticky pineapple sauce and mop bucket water cocktail off my hands but also to count to ten lest I do something completely morally justified yet prohibited by law such as arson. Meanwhile, Melanie pointed out the tag to the waiter and explained where I found it, and he asked her "what do you want me to do about it?" I wasn't there, but I suspect Melanie exercised more self-control than the cumulative total possessed by the combined brethren of a decently-sized monastic order by not telling him exactly what she'd like him to do with it. If I had been there I would have most likely told him I had a fatal allergy to tags, and requested emergency medical attention but I wasn't there, which is a shame because I would have really enjoyed saying that.
c. September 23, 2006 Anno Domini
We have company/family visiting from Connecticut this weekend and my mother is planning some sort of french toast extravaganza for the morning but we didn't have enough bread. We didn't have any sugar-free syrup either and since I'm a freak with both a defective pancreas and a distinct preference for syrup on my french toast I went on a late-night trip to a local grocery store.
Upon my entrance into the store a middle-aged woman exclaimed "What the hell? That boy is wearing a red hat and red shoes!," with a tone of voice and volume level indicating that she was disturbed by such a thing as if red hats, red shoes and the combination of the above were some sort of heinously inappropriate taboo. I don't know what culture she identifies with but its obviously vastly different from mine, in which wearing a red hat with red shoes is almost literally an everyday occurrence. If the hat and shoes provoked that reaction its probably a good thing I wasn't wearing my red belt at the time too or else she quite possibly might have exclaimed "What the f-ck? That boy is wearing a red hat, red shoes and a red belt!," and that would have been a bit extreme. Never mind the fact that in my culture I came of age and crossed the threshold from boyhood into manhood many moons ago.
c. October 8, 2006 Anno Domini
A little boy sitting in front of me in church this morning spent the entirety of mass drawing a picture of a luchalibre wrestler with spiderwebs, a lightning bolt and the letter S on his mask, horns growing out of his head, the fiercest of scowls upon his face, spikes growing out of his arms, legs and fists, spikes growing out of some of the other spikes and some sort of crest or insignia emblazoned upon his chest. After he finished the drawing he proudly named his character "Mr. Devle." Children are so dog gone adorably sacrilegious.
c. January 31, 2007 Anno Domini
We had a sneak preview at the theater tonight at 7:30 PM EST. Passes were distributed by Universal Studios through whatever channels they distribute such things through without involving the theater at all. All we do is play the bloody movie. As it was, people started lining up around 6:00 PM EST, seeing as how the screening was free and there were probably an obscene number of passes distributed and we only had 370 seats available. It ended up being completely full and we had to turn about forty people away because there was nowhere to seat them but I digress.
Almost immediately after we allowed people to begin taking their seats some lady heard a bit of squeaking off to the side of her seat so she quite naturally looked down and saw a mouse trap with two baby mice stuck in it but still alive, squealing in the midst of their death throes as they hopelessly tried to escape so she quite naturally told everyone she could find except me and only then informed me after everyone else had already been made aware and I kindly removed both the trap and the baby mice who squeaked and squealed and fought courageously but in vain to escape and that was the end of that.
Much later, around 7:40 PM EST a couple of little old ladies showed up with passes for the sneak and wanted to let me in so I explained to them that the theater was already full and that in any event the studios tell us that they don't want anyone coming in after the movie has been started (which holds true in any and all circumstances, even the unlikely event that the auditorium is completely empty of both humans and mice). She told me that no one told her she would have to arrive early and then proceeded to go on and on about my obligation to allow her free admission into any movie of her choosing as compensation for her troubles of driving to the theater only to be refused admission but my hands were tied by corporate policy which prohibits free passes being given in precisely that sort of situation. I politely (despite her general demeanor) showed her that on her ticked it said "Please arrive early. Seating is limited and is available on a first-come, first-serve basis," explained to her that people had been lined up as early as 6 PM and offered to put her in contact with a representative from Universal Studios who was on the premises at the time but her reply was:
Little Old Lady: Well you're a bitch storms out furiously
I expect that sort of thing from teenagers since they're mostly rude, angsty, rebellious and ill-mannered and seem to have a certain devil-may-care attitude about propriety and civil behaviour but coming from a woman in her 60s it really took me aback.
c. March 14, 2007 Anno Domini
Which customer is more stupid?
Customer 1: If I saw a movie and I want to stay to watch another one can I just watch it or do I have to buy another ticket?
or
Customer 2: pointing at the front doors to the main lobby Can I leave through those doors?
I think Customer 2 is more stupid. I was very highly tempted to say "No, those doors are for entrance only. To exit you must leave through the back of the building."
c. March 14, 2007 Anno Domini
A girl with the surname Collins filled out an application to work at the theater last night so I asked her if she had any relation to The Esteemed Mr. Jacob Collins and her reply was to say "who?" Blimey. Its plausible, I admit, that she wouldn't be related to him but to have never heard of him? What the blazes? The man is a freaking legend. I should have said to her "You'll find out who Jacob Collins is soon enough if we hire you," but she appeared to still be in high school so I just told her he was one of the managers of the theater and wished her a nice rest of the evening.
I was introduced to another gentleman as "Mr. Roberts" and he told me that my surname was very common and that there were a lot of other people named Roberts in this area. I said "I had nothing to do with that!!!" which in retrospect I suppose was a little uncouth. Why don't any ladies ever tell me that there are a lot of people with the surname Roberts in this area so I can deadpan a pickup line such as "I know. Would you like to assist me in the making of a few more?," just so I could enjoy watching a combination of shock and horror creep across her face?
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