Some People Shouldn't be Allowed to Own Dogs

Photo courtesy of a friend, taken on a bus in New York City, September 2008.

Can you see that little purple thing sticking out toward the left of the photo?  It's not a purse.  It's not a stuffed toy.  No, it's a freaking dog, man!

What the hell is it with people who are so obsessed with their favorite colors that they need to subject their animals to this hell?  WTF?  If you want a purple animal, go get a fucking octopus or something.  Dogs don't come in purple.  Dogs don't have social issues where peer pressure compels them to punk-out their coats.  If anything, the other dogs at the park are going to piss on Fifi for looking like a fucking grape with feet!

I guess some dogs just have stupid, dipfuck owners who think the world must see little purple Fifi, because she is so cute, and Oh My God, so PURPLE!  Damn asshats!

I Guess They Figure That People Who Buy Jewelry Can't Spell

This post's featured Asshats are the employees of Macy's in Danbury, CT.  Not just the idiot who put the sign there in the first place, but the rest of them for being too stupid to notice.

Note to guys buying your women jewelry and asking the Macy's sales chicks for advice:  These are the same people who can't spell rubies, but would love you to buy them some - prefereably set into palattinum.  That may not be the perspective you want when looking for the perfect gift for your sweetie, without going into overdraft.

Well, at least they spelled gowld, cilver and dymands correctly.....

Macy's Jewelry Counter, Danbury, CT

Photo Taken August 2008

One of the sales girls said she had noticed years before, but didn't say anything.  The other said she didn't realize that it wasn't spelled correctly.

So for those of you too stupid to get a job...cheer up!  Maybe when you're ready, Macy's will need help making signs or selling jems.  

One Toke Over the Line Sweet Asshat, One Toke Over The Line

Or, People on Ludes Should Not Serve Food

The place:  a small town in Ohio.  The restaurant: a hip-for-the-area joint named for a famous rock of translation. The Asshat: the dirty blonde/light brown-haired bartender/server chick who completely screwed with our lunch hour.  (And I really couldn't snap a photo - no opportunity, and I didn't want to explain my blog to my boss, who was buying lunch!)

She walks away from us while she's talking to us.  She stands in front of us and just stares at us with a goofy expression.  She fails to come close to getting the soft drink and water order right. She has to check to see if the "steak burger" I ordered can be made, because, according to her, "I gave one to a judge and like then had to tell him he wasn't getting his food." Huh?

She returns to tell me that I'm in luck and my burger can  be made.  Then she stares at us blankly. I've seen that look in people's eyes before.  I mean, c'mon, I know "too high" when I see it...and it takes a lot for me to call someone "too high". And she appears to be higher than an eagle on peyote.

At one point, a woman who appeared to be the manager told us that it's been 25 minutes and they usually get it out in 12 and a half.  Uh, thanks for the vote of confidence!

To make it a perfect lunch, after we tell the waistress to wrap our food to go, she returns with one food item in styrofoam:  my boss's steak salad.  "It's comped." She tells us.  We stare back blankly and ask, "Huh?"

"I dropped your burger." She said.  "I slipped on a freaking cucumber."

"Are you OK?" I ask, feigning concern.  "Yeah", she blankly replies.  "I'm really sorry. I can deliver it to you.  Do you want to give me the address?"

Yeah, right.  As if, despite the hunger headache ravaging all regions above my neck, I want to wait for God knows how long for the chef to remake it and then her to figure out how to bring it to me two blocks away.  Chances are, she'd get lost crossing the street - or worse, get hit by a bicycle and become so disoriented she eats my lunch and then goes home.  I ended up with a couple slices of luke-warm pizza from the place across the street. 

If you're going to hit the pipe before work, know your limits.  Freaking Asshat!

I Didn't Take Her Picture, But....

Today's Asshat is the lady I saw when I pulled into my hotel in a not so old town in an eerie part of the country...you do the math or just smile like you know what I mean.

Anyhow, this lady was doing something with her car - what it was exactly, it was hard to tell. She was either fixing something, arranging stuff or beating the car with a large piece of plastic. Maybe she was spanking it for being green and looking crappy, I don't know. I was just eager to get inside, so I didn't pay as close attention as I usually might've.

While this lady was frittering away the time with her car, the two small children with her were playing a chasing game.  I have no problem with this.  It's what kids do.  The kids weren't doing anything out of line.  The girl, about seven and the boy, about five, were chasing each other and having fun. 

So what was the problem you ask?  The woman had no clue what was going on.  And they were chasing each other in a fucking parking lot!

Taters and a Tot

Does anybody know these taters?  If you do, I don't recommend dining in public with them.  We sat near them tonight in El Coyote restaurant in Monroe, CT. Usually good food, this late afternoon meal was punctuated by unnecessary noise.  The problem wasn't so much the kid.  I mean he was doing his share of damage - actually a bit more than his share.  

No, the problem was the woman on the left - she appeared to be his mother.  If she were any louder, people a mile away at the market would have called to complain.  She assumed her kid was pissing us off, and seemed to think it was funny.  She didn't realize that being so loud we could  hear entire conversations isn't how you're supposed to behave in a public restaurant. Four tables, some with kids, and her loud mouth was the only thing we could hear.  And since she chews her cud with her mouth wide open, we had to see it too.

Among the comments we heard come out of this asshat were, "I'll buy you some candy if you be good". And, "I'm going to sell you!"  What a great fucking mom!  Mother of the fucking year. Next time do us all a favor.  Stay at home until your kid learns to stop throwing everything from the table onto the floor, and you learn to shut your lip-smacking, decibel machine of a mouth.