Thursday, October 8, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Church's Chicken Shit
Last night I was driving down to California from Seattle. It's something like 14 hours. We left Seattle at like 1:30 in the afternoon. Hook calls me as we're driving on some mountain pass 9 hours into the drive to tell me this gem of a story. Keep in mind there's no preface to this like "Yo,dude, how are you?" or "Psyched you're coming down!" He just launches into the following:
"Yo dude, I almost just shit my pants today!!!! The toilet at my house is clogged and messed up so I can't use it. I'm sitting on the couch having a beer and farting and I get up and it literally feels like I got punched in the stomach. I start to panic cus I HAVE to shit. I'm pacing around clenching my butt cheeks together...the dog is following me around cus she's all confused. I look into the kitchen where we have this recycling bin thing and I'm thinking 'Man, I'm gonna have to put a plastic bag in this thing and shit in it!' Fuck that! So I head outside, butt cheeks still clenched tight, and look around around to see if I can find a place to shit. Like a light from heaven I see Church's Chicken a few blocks down the street. So I start walking there taking baby steps at first cus that's all I can do or I'm going to shit myself on the street. Then I start feeling a little better so I kind of start to skip. That only made things worse! I get into Church's and I ask to use the bathroom. Dude says OK so I head to the mens room. IT'S LOCKED!!!! FUCK, DUUUDDDEEE!!! So I just say 'fuck it' and go to the women's room. The sink is overflowing with nasty shit and the toilet is disgusting...but not as disgusting as after I was done with it....."
Right after he finished his gruesome tale my phone service cut out.
Perfect.
"Yo dude, I almost just shit my pants today!!!! The toilet at my house is clogged and messed up so I can't use it. I'm sitting on the couch having a beer and farting and I get up and it literally feels like I got punched in the stomach. I start to panic cus I HAVE to shit. I'm pacing around clenching my butt cheeks together...the dog is following me around cus she's all confused. I look into the kitchen where we have this recycling bin thing and I'm thinking 'Man, I'm gonna have to put a plastic bag in this thing and shit in it!' Fuck that! So I head outside, butt cheeks still clenched tight, and look around around to see if I can find a place to shit. Like a light from heaven I see Church's Chicken a few blocks down the street. So I start walking there taking baby steps at first cus that's all I can do or I'm going to shit myself on the street. Then I start feeling a little better so I kind of start to skip. That only made things worse! I get into Church's and I ask to use the bathroom. Dude says OK so I head to the mens room. IT'S LOCKED!!!! FUCK, DUUUDDDEEE!!! So I just say 'fuck it' and go to the women's room. The sink is overflowing with nasty shit and the toilet is disgusting...but not as disgusting as after I was done with it....."
Right after he finished his gruesome tale my phone service cut out.
Perfect.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
SHARK WEED
11.30.09 / La Pinata 3 / Alameda, CA
Who the FUCK lives in California (home of the best mexican food I've ever had the pleasure of ingesting) and goes to a mexican joint and orders mother-fucking POTATO SKINS?!??!?!?? I mean...FUCK, man, where the fuck do you think we are, T.G.I Fridays?!
This situation was particularly distressing to me because having recently uprooted from the bay area and relocated to Seattle I have extremely limited access to palatable mexican food. I mean, mexicans up here think it's OK to put a bunch of weird vegetables inside of a flavored tortilla of some sort, put a dollop of sour cream on top of it, serve it to you lukewarm on a plate and call it a "burrito". Nah, dude. Get out of here with that shit. Throw some beans, cheese, rice, guac and sour cream in mine, wrap it up in foil and send me on my way. I don't want to sit in your restaurant only to smell like shit for the rest of the day on the account of my clothes soaking up the stench of boiling pork or some other shit wafting out from your kitchen that the health inspector gave a "C" rating. Seeing someone so oblivious to their indisputable privilege of obtaining legitimate mexican food on the regular was exceptionally disgusting.
We arrived at La Pinata in Alameda, CA slightly after 6:30, were told there was a 25 minute wait and proceeded directly to the bar. Keep in mind we're at a mexican place that, from what I've heard, has pretty legit house margaritas and what does this mother-fucker order? He nonchalantly leans over to the bartender and asks for a "sex on the beach". A fucking SEX ON THE BEACH! Dude, you're, 22 years old, make way more money than you deserve to, live in a legit apartment, own a dog, have a cool girlfriend and you're ordering a fucking PINK cocktail usually reserved for drunken bachelorettes or confused 16 year old popping their bar cherries in Canada!!! Plus, the fucking thing comes with a slice of pineapple with an umbrella stuck in it wedged onto the side of the glass!! One would figure that is a 22 year old dude is ordering a sex on the beach he's going to cap it off at one and switch to beer or something afterwards, right?
Not Anthony Hook.
He ordered another drink of the same persuasion after we were seated.
Fuck this dude.
More later...
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