This morning before work I went to Starbucks and came to the realization that unless I change a lot about myself, I'm going to become a miserable old bastard. The manager at this particular Starbucks is a perky gal, and I just wasn't ready for perky at six in the morning. All of the employees there are friendly, and even though I know it's phony it doesn't bother me. This woman, however, is a braying ass who isn't nearly as clever as she thinks she is. Her voice almost made my head cave in.
Now, I wasn't rude to this lady; she didn't even wait on me. I sat there seething with silent anger and tried to drink my coffee as her dissonant tones sledgehammered against my eardrums like a retard-school production of "Stomp". Finally, I got up and left, preferring to go to work rather than hear one more Hee-Haw laugh or groan-inducing "joke". Why did this bother me so? Why couldn't I tune it out and finish my drink?
Later in the day I saw what could very well be my future. He was a cranky, mean-spirited little man, so old I could smell Jessica Tandy's twat on his breath. He was busy doing what old men like him do best: Making life unlivable for those who still have value to society. I wanted to knock his stupid old man hat off his stupid old man head, until it occurred to me that I was looking at myself in forty years. Yes, right now my miserableness only ruins my life and in some ways the lives of those who read my blog. But at least you fine folk read this of your own accord; at least I hope none of you are being held captive in a madman's basement, forced to read this sewage until he gets around to making a candy dish from your skull. Someday, though, the bitterness will start to seep out and infect the general populace like a glory-hole sperm-receptacle with a sore on her mouth.
On the bright side, I'm a big fatty, so maybe I won't live to see old age.
Now, I wasn't rude to this lady; she didn't even wait on me. I sat there seething with silent anger and tried to drink my coffee as her dissonant tones sledgehammered against my eardrums like a retard-school production of "Stomp". Finally, I got up and left, preferring to go to work rather than hear one more Hee-Haw laugh or groan-inducing "joke". Why did this bother me so? Why couldn't I tune it out and finish my drink?
Later in the day I saw what could very well be my future. He was a cranky, mean-spirited little man, so old I could smell Jessica Tandy's twat on his breath. He was busy doing what old men like him do best: Making life unlivable for those who still have value to society. I wanted to knock his stupid old man hat off his stupid old man head, until it occurred to me that I was looking at myself in forty years. Yes, right now my miserableness only ruins my life and in some ways the lives of those who read my blog. But at least you fine folk read this of your own accord; at least I hope none of you are being held captive in a madman's basement, forced to read this sewage until he gets around to making a candy dish from your skull. Someday, though, the bitterness will start to seep out and infect the general populace like a glory-hole sperm-receptacle with a sore on her mouth.
On the bright side, I'm a big fatty, so maybe I won't live to see old age.
23 Comments:
You sound just like me this week.
I was talking to a guy today who is moving from LA to the Vegas area. He said he'd looked around Henderson and I thought, "Cool that's where Todd's at"
It's actually more dangerous to your health to be 5 lbs UNDERWEIGHT than 75 lbs. UNDERWEIGHT.
Start getting your crankypants on.
Well, all we are is dust in the wind (don't you just love that song?), so live it up while you can! What you need Todd, is a wifey & a couple of kids, to add some perspective ;-).
Run to the light Todd, run to the light!!
Her voice may have been as jarring as a retard-school rendition of Stomp, but was her visage as comely as a Pinter play produced by the School for the Blind?
bob,
talk your friend out of it, for the love of Jesus.
kat,
I believe the old man stormed the beach at Normandy. It seems that would let out some frustrations.
ubie,
if I'm ever underweight it means I have a horrible disease anyway.
crystal,
I think all that has passed me by.
brooke,
can I walk slowly to the light?
mshellion,
did she transfer from a Starbucks in Louisville?
Personally I welcome a premature death. I suspect it will be like all the relationships I've ever had. Painful but brief.
Walk slowly to the light Todd, walk slowly to the light!
Nick - that was brilliant.
I meant 75 lbs. OVERWEIGHT.
Sorry for the confusion.
Meaning, you'll live to a ripe old age.
I can't believe that women don't love guys like you and Nick. Who would pass up a lifetime of entertainment like that?
Dumb women.
Nick,
I want to die while a girl is dumping me. What sweet revenge that would be. Oh, the guilt.
Brooke,
I've been thinking: Can I take a limo with a stocked bar to the light?
ubie,
I knew what you meant. I am in awe of your brilliance and realize you don't think it's dangerous to be 5 pounds underweight but perfectly okay to be 75 pounds underweight. Only Lindsay Lohan subscribes to that philosophy.
but then he would have to suffer Packer's fans, and nobody deserves that.
Dont get old and cranky.. get old and crazy.. thats gotta be the ticket.
mollyn.,
I'll be in Louisville in December. That's as close to cold weather as I'm getting.
nick,
Packer fans don't bother me as much now that their team sucks.
shaken,
you have to get up pretty early to make as little money as I do.
cindy,
you're right. The look on people's faces when they had to deal with a crazy old person would have to be priceless.
That Old Man's breath must have stank if you could still smell Jesscia Tandy's dead twat on it...ewwww...how did you recognize that old whore's stank anyway?
I have already come to the conclusion that I am going to be one of those cat ladies with 75 cats...
If someone died while I was dumping them I would just take their wallet and shoes.
I will be a superb old person. I will be capable, and healthy, and ornery.
And I will smoke lots of pot. And take my teeth out and give the husband blow jobs.
And I'll smoke a bowl for you, in your grave, you big fatty.
blonde,
one Christmas I was given a bottle of cologne called "Eau de Jessica Tandy's Twat". I've never recovered.
calzone,
my wallet is empty and my shoes are large and unfashionable, so at least I'll be spared those indignities.
aughra,
I think it's already been established that I'm not as cool as you, so it's only natural that you'll age well. And I hope you meant "on" my grave, not "in" it. My corpse will need its personal space.
kat,
I hope I'll be able to haunt people. That would be sweet.
Nick that was absolutely hysterical.
remember that clown doll that tried to pull the little giel in poltergeist under her bed. I was 7 when I saw that. I didn't sleep well again until last week.
uijjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj0o (sorry, that was my cat typing . . .)
I agree with Aughra (sans pot) - I am going to be old and bubbly and effervescent and, well, saggy.
Pass the wine.
Nick,
thanks for making this post seem much more popular than it actually was.
bob,
I wouldn't go that far.
Kat,
Everyone in Blogland should send you a clown doll for Christmas.
Kris,
I'd like to grow old gracefully, but who am I fooling?
I like how you complimented me and then immediately took a shot at me by responding to Bob's comment. It was well executed. Like Timonthy McVeigh.
or Timothy, if you prefer.
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