Before I start blathering about what I consider to be important or noteworthy in my life, I would like to take this opportunity to thank the late, great Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr for whom this holiday (and what the hell, blog) are lovingly and affectionately dedicated. Not only did the man make great strides for civil rights and the common good, but he's the likely reason (or at least the holiday named after him) that my place of employment is not a complete and total freakshow today. And for that I thank and love him.
This past Saturday I learned something that I always somehow knew. Or maybe I just forgot it. Maybe learned isn't the right word for what I'm trying to get across. Reinforced might be more accurate. Let's just say the point or points were driven home.
Next to my part-time job at the record store there's an oil change place. It's a chain, not very imaginatively designed and the "waiting area" consists of a shitty TV with shittier reception, 3 chairs that have to make an electric chair seem comfortable and a guy with a lazy, lazy eye behind the counter... sometimes. Fortunately I manage to line things up so I never have to deal with Oil Change Hell.
(You know what I'm talking about. Waiting for at least an hour, The View on a TV with a very poor picture, at least half a dozen genetic defectives watching and one of them always takes themselves way too seriously. And if one of them's got a cell phone--fuuuuuuuuck.)
But part of the reason (and I'm about to reveal my thriftiness here, but I'll openly admit to calling it my cheap bastardness) I got the oil change here, aside from being overdue for one, and the whole escaping from Oil Change Hell was the fact that my job set up some kind of quid pro quo deal where they knock $10 off any oil change and we--actually I don't think any of those guys come into our store, but if they raise a stink I'll knock off 15%. No big deal.
So I got the oil change and the price after was $30 and change. That means it would've been over $40 without that dumbass card! What kind of fucking rapist charges over $40 for an oil change? And when I picked up my car (at my leisure I'd like to add) they tried hard selling me on all of this maintenance shit that I've already had done as various and expensive parts of my car took their respective shits. I would've been okay with an oil change up to like $22-23. It's a fucking oil change! I understand they're so easy that even I could be taught how to do one in an hour and these lazy-eyed freaks have the ass to screw me out of $30? If it had all the bells and whistles, yeah. I can see charging that much if I got all my fluid levels topped off and there was a fresh donut on the dashboard. But this was the low-end, no frills one. On the plus side, he told me there was something loose ("but don't worry--we fixed it and its on there tight!") that I had to make an appointment with a real mechanic to fix. They weren't trying to get more money out of me otherwise they would've tried to make some kind of appointment. So Cliffs Notes Edition: I'm pissed about paying too much for an oil change.
After work I had to pick my daughter up at my in-laws' then swing by my publisher's (from Job #3) house to get some copies of the new issue of the publication for which I write and pick up my long overdue check. But at work the seed was planted for me to go get the new(er) Spider-Man game called Web of Shadows. The trailer online looked sweet and symbiotes were in the process of taking over the world. All the other Spider-Man video games I'd played (granted, they were and still are for PS2) had web-swinging and the fighting were never brought together. I mean they were at one point but it was really lame. But I saw that video online and the game looked awesome.
But I had a $20 Target gift card I got for my birthday and the price of the game online was $30. Not too bad, I had to buy new underwear anyway, but that's another story altogether. The other story about my ATM card getting eaten by the ATM, regurgitated and the most awesome person alive (whose name I never got) who chased me down on a busy road to get it back to me is going to get overlooked here. I'm also going to forget the crappy weather and the fine Buffalo tradition where people who have 4-wheel drive are legally obligated to drive like complete and total assholes.
And I didn't even get to the game that night. When I did crack open Web of Shadows and play it I swear to gahd I thought I was playing a Sega Genesis game from the mid-90s. Oh sure, it's cool because you can switch from the red and blue to the black costume but that's really about it. This game is awful! The game programmers obviously put all their energy into the newer platform versions and probably pulled out some half started shit from years ago just for the PS2 version. I think I'm officially done getting games for the PS2 platform. I should've called it a day with The Force Unleashed.
But there's a reason why I didn't get to the game that I seemingly and intentionally made so hard and challenging to acquire. I've got a(nother) part time gig coming up for Diane* and I had to get some reading material and other job tools from her to get a jump on the job when it starts. So I met her at Denny's after my wife got home from work and went to bed. She gave me the books and a jump/zip drive and I put the books in my car. We proceeded to listen to some jazz, turn ourselves sideways (or get ripped if you prefer) and decided to get some food.
Once inside Denny's we were seated in what was obviously a former smoking section. Being messed up, I did as I usually do whether in this condition. Most of the time it takes the form of an internal monologue but if I'm... twisted enough or if I'm in the company of someone who's on the same wavelength as myself in terms of meanness or just silly, bitchy cattiness that internal monologue becomes external. Never above a whisper mind you, but it does periodically escape.
So Diane and I were being lead to our table. The place was about 2/3 full, mostly late teens and the early 20s crowd that hasn't figured out yet that having bright pink hair and talking loudly for all to hear about you've frequently had trains run on your shoebox of an ass doesn't make you hot or interesting. Having 8 dicks penetrate your battered and chapped orifices doesn't make your face look like less of a war crime. Glazed, yes. Attractive, no.
I'm sure I was ripping on them and made a Step Brothers reference. There was a couple sitting directly across from us and the rarely but existing considerate part of my personality realized that I could in fact be that guy who ruins movies for other people. I asked the couple if they saw the movie, they did and I proceeded with my reference. Or maybe it was Diane's. Being sideways you don't always remember the smaller details. But the couple kind of worked their way into our conversation. Not aggressively, but they mistook a little common courtesy as an invitation to yap, yap, yap away the night. Together.
They were a younger couple. She started wearing pajama pants out in public once they got comfortable together about 5-6 months into the relationship. Or after she gave up her ass cherry to him, I can't figure out which. She was pleasant enough but I'm guessing he doesn't like to speak too much and judging by how little he spoke I'd say they've been together at least 2 years. You can tell that she plans on getting knocked up and turning into her mother by how little she put into her appearance and had no qualms about eating at Denny's at 1AM.
(I know, I know. Diane and I were eating at Denny's at 1AM just like these poor schlubs, but we were f-ed up...)
We left around 3:30AM and both came to the conclusion that we're elitists and wouldn't have it any other way. "Married elitist thirtysomethings blowing off steam..." is how she aptly and brilliantly described our collective situation.
Jesus, I love Saturday nights and drawn out sentences with lost trains of thought that end in the words so yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh. And having the presence of mind to laugh at that shit and how enjoyably stereotypical it is.
* See previous blog
This past Saturday I learned something that I always somehow knew. Or maybe I just forgot it. Maybe learned isn't the right word for what I'm trying to get across. Reinforced might be more accurate. Let's just say the point or points were driven home.
Next to my part-time job at the record store there's an oil change place. It's a chain, not very imaginatively designed and the "waiting area" consists of a shitty TV with shittier reception, 3 chairs that have to make an electric chair seem comfortable and a guy with a lazy, lazy eye behind the counter... sometimes. Fortunately I manage to line things up so I never have to deal with Oil Change Hell.
(You know what I'm talking about. Waiting for at least an hour, The View on a TV with a very poor picture, at least half a dozen genetic defectives watching and one of them always takes themselves way too seriously. And if one of them's got a cell phone--fuuuuuuuuck.)
But part of the reason (and I'm about to reveal my thriftiness here, but I'll openly admit to calling it my cheap bastardness) I got the oil change here, aside from being overdue for one, and the whole escaping from Oil Change Hell was the fact that my job set up some kind of quid pro quo deal where they knock $10 off any oil change and we--actually I don't think any of those guys come into our store, but if they raise a stink I'll knock off 15%. No big deal.
So I got the oil change and the price after was $30 and change. That means it would've been over $40 without that dumbass card! What kind of fucking rapist charges over $40 for an oil change? And when I picked up my car (at my leisure I'd like to add) they tried hard selling me on all of this maintenance shit that I've already had done as various and expensive parts of my car took their respective shits. I would've been okay with an oil change up to like $22-23. It's a fucking oil change! I understand they're so easy that even I could be taught how to do one in an hour and these lazy-eyed freaks have the ass to screw me out of $30? If it had all the bells and whistles, yeah. I can see charging that much if I got all my fluid levels topped off and there was a fresh donut on the dashboard. But this was the low-end, no frills one. On the plus side, he told me there was something loose ("but don't worry--we fixed it and its on there tight!") that I had to make an appointment with a real mechanic to fix. They weren't trying to get more money out of me otherwise they would've tried to make some kind of appointment. So Cliffs Notes Edition: I'm pissed about paying too much for an oil change.
After work I had to pick my daughter up at my in-laws' then swing by my publisher's (from Job #3) house to get some copies of the new issue of the publication for which I write and pick up my long overdue check. But at work the seed was planted for me to go get the new(er) Spider-Man game called Web of Shadows. The trailer online looked sweet and symbiotes were in the process of taking over the world. All the other Spider-Man video games I'd played (granted, they were and still are for PS2) had web-swinging and the fighting were never brought together. I mean they were at one point but it was really lame. But I saw that video online and the game looked awesome.
But I had a $20 Target gift card I got for my birthday and the price of the game online was $30. Not too bad, I had to buy new underwear anyway, but that's another story altogether. The other story about my ATM card getting eaten by the ATM, regurgitated and the most awesome person alive (whose name I never got) who chased me down on a busy road to get it back to me is going to get overlooked here. I'm also going to forget the crappy weather and the fine Buffalo tradition where people who have 4-wheel drive are legally obligated to drive like complete and total assholes.
And I didn't even get to the game that night. When I did crack open Web of Shadows and play it I swear to gahd I thought I was playing a Sega Genesis game from the mid-90s. Oh sure, it's cool because you can switch from the red and blue to the black costume but that's really about it. This game is awful! The game programmers obviously put all their energy into the newer platform versions and probably pulled out some half started shit from years ago just for the PS2 version. I think I'm officially done getting games for the PS2 platform. I should've called it a day with The Force Unleashed.
But there's a reason why I didn't get to the game that I seemingly and intentionally made so hard and challenging to acquire. I've got a(nother) part time gig coming up for Diane* and I had to get some reading material and other job tools from her to get a jump on the job when it starts. So I met her at Denny's after my wife got home from work and went to bed. She gave me the books and a jump/zip drive and I put the books in my car. We proceeded to listen to some jazz, turn ourselves sideways (or get ripped if you prefer) and decided to get some food.
Once inside Denny's we were seated in what was obviously a former smoking section. Being messed up, I did as I usually do whether in this condition. Most of the time it takes the form of an internal monologue but if I'm... twisted enough or if I'm in the company of someone who's on the same wavelength as myself in terms of meanness or just silly, bitchy cattiness that internal monologue becomes external. Never above a whisper mind you, but it does periodically escape.
So Diane and I were being lead to our table. The place was about 2/3 full, mostly late teens and the early 20s crowd that hasn't figured out yet that having bright pink hair and talking loudly for all to hear about you've frequently had trains run on your shoebox of an ass doesn't make you hot or interesting. Having 8 dicks penetrate your battered and chapped orifices doesn't make your face look like less of a war crime. Glazed, yes. Attractive, no.
I'm sure I was ripping on them and made a Step Brothers reference. There was a couple sitting directly across from us and the rarely but existing considerate part of my personality realized that I could in fact be that guy who ruins movies for other people. I asked the couple if they saw the movie, they did and I proceeded with my reference. Or maybe it was Diane's. Being sideways you don't always remember the smaller details. But the couple kind of worked their way into our conversation. Not aggressively, but they mistook a little common courtesy as an invitation to yap, yap, yap away the night. Together.
They were a younger couple. She started wearing pajama pants out in public once they got comfortable together about 5-6 months into the relationship. Or after she gave up her ass cherry to him, I can't figure out which. She was pleasant enough but I'm guessing he doesn't like to speak too much and judging by how little he spoke I'd say they've been together at least 2 years. You can tell that she plans on getting knocked up and turning into her mother by how little she put into her appearance and had no qualms about eating at Denny's at 1AM.
(I know, I know. Diane and I were eating at Denny's at 1AM just like these poor schlubs, but we were f-ed up...)
We left around 3:30AM and both came to the conclusion that we're elitists and wouldn't have it any other way. "Married elitist thirtysomethings blowing off steam..." is how she aptly and brilliantly described our collective situation.
Jesus, I love Saturday nights and drawn out sentences with lost trains of thought that end in the words so yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh. And having the presence of mind to laugh at that shit and how enjoyably stereotypical it is.
* See previous blog
So yeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhh... I hear Burger King has a stellar Angus Burger. To. Die. For.
ReplyDeleteIs that Stepbrothers you're talking about? That Will Ferrell is funny.
You forgot to mention "with the munchies".
I think that dude was too busy obsessing about the fact that he should have dry-cleaned his Phantom of the Opera sweatshirt, you know, so it lasts longer.
So yeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhh...