467

an old, con artist woman rammed her electric cart into the produce backroom doors.

"hello? hello?" she said ad nauseum.

i finally strolled over to greet her at the point where the employee backroom meets the sales floor.

"how can i help you?"

"listen," she said.

"okay."

"i have this celery but i only need the heart."

i pointed to a nearby shelf. "celery hearts are right there waiting for you."

"no, this is fresher," she said, dismissing my finger. "will you cut off the top and bottom and give me half for forty or fifty cents?"

"no," i said. "if i alter prices ill get fired."

"your manager would do it," she said.

my manager, ron, would never do anything of the sort. this woman has a long history of pulling such asinine stunts as returning a single moldy grapefruit that clearly sat in her fridge for five months and demanding a five pound bag for free.

"ron isnt here," i said. "if you want ill call the store manager but i will not change the price for you."

"whos the manager?" she asked.

"vino."

her face weakened. "no, hes not in charge of produce."

i know she has attempted similar, trivial scams with vino before. vino doesnt take any shit and has always denied her ridiculous requests.

"okay," i said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

i took the celery from her hand, let the backroom door close and placed the celery on the counter where it could wilt all night.


individuals including this customer fail to realize that bullshit always, always, always comes full circle. sometimes it takes longer than others but bullshit in its innumerable manifestations inevitably finds its way home to haunt the donor. i dont care if shes a ninety year old handicapped women in a motorized cart with six wooden nickels in her coinpurse. dont fucking lie to me and dont play me like im your personal court jester.

the beauty part is that i routinely grant such requests for people who exhibit at least a modicum of warmth, sincerity, and, most importantly, integrity. i wouldnt have been fired or even disciplined in the least for processing her celery.


i simply refused to be her clown boy bitch.

468

dictionary.com's thesaurus entries for the word "fucking:"

being intimate, breeding, copulating, fooling around, fornicating, going all the way, going to bed with, having sexual intercourse, having sexual relations, laying, making out, mating, procreating, screwing, sleeping together.

although i was greatly disappointed by the boring list i must admit that i cracked a smile at "going all the way." its as if the board of directors at dictionary.com carefully selected fourteen relatively tasteful synonyms and then asked a group of eighth graders to supply one final adequation.

one more thing:

what the fuck happened to plowing, nailing, effing, stuffing, slamming, dorking, forking, diving, drilling, humping, pumping, frigging, banging, bonking, porking?

469

polypharmic.

470

i just completed my application for "illinois state police forensic science technician trainee."

now thats a fucking mouthful.

i feel confident that my application will be accepted, ill pass the written test and ill be a selectee for a panel interview. i also feel abundantly confident that i will either fail the polygraph exam by lying about drug usage or pass the polygraph and lose the job due to being truthful about my drug history.

i havent smoked in a month and i havent used coke or any of the harder goodies for more than a year. unfortunately i think government jobs require no marijuana usage for the past three years.

i guess time will tell the tale.

im starting to search for a new job much more aggressively especially in light of jewel's new union contract proposal. if you look in the cocktionary under "abysmal" you will find a picture of our as yet to be ratified, shit-laden, fist-down-my-throat contract.

employees will not receive a contract raise until the middle of 2007; when the "raise" finally does take effect it will be to the tune of a motherfucking quarter per fatherfucking hour.

$0.25/hr.

i havent received a raise since 2004; eight and a third cents per year is frighteningly preposterous and nothing short of insulting.

"heres a thimble full of 87 octane for yah, sonny."


i voted "no" and sealed the envelope with a drop of piss.

471

"the flapping of a single butterfly's wing today produces a tiny change in the state of the atmosphere. over a period of time, what the atmosphere actually does diverges from what it would have done. so, in a month's time, a tornado that would have devastated the indonesian coast doesn't happen. or maybe one that wasn't going to happen, does." (ian stewart, does god play dice? the mathematics of chaos, pg. 141)

in a related story:

piston #7 misfires.

my check engine light illuminates.

472

the importance of active verbs cannot be understated in the world of effective professional writing. i owe susan jacobs a huge educational nod for vastly improving my technical writing skills.

the back label of my "santa cruz" organic limeade bottle boasts the following consumer guarantee:

"our third-party certification program is your guarantee that our products are grown and processed under the strictest organic standards. our independent third-party certification agency is quality assurance international. look for this seal to guarantee you are getting quality organic products."

lets rewrite this guarantee using nifty, active verbs, shall we?

"we guarantee through third-party certification that we grow and process our products by applying the strictest organic standards. we proudly employ quality assurance international as our third-party certification agent. look for this seal to guarantee that you will receive the highest quality organic products."

now thats an appealing and enthusiastic guaranfuckintee.


now if only someone would hire me and pay me big money big money big money no whammies.

473

as heard on the in-store television programming at work:

"college students can be pretty rough on their furniture so experts say that you should buy pieces that are sturdy but inexpensive."

whew.

thank god for those experts.

they must have trained at the oxford school of feng-shui to arrive at such a sage conclusion.

474

and now for today's edition of "i dont give a shit."

a customer barged into the backroom this afternoon clutching a bag of zucchini like it was a brick of precious gold bullion and exclaimed "excuse me... excuse me... excuse me... excuse me!" in an annoying, crescendo fashion.

i usually ignore the first two "excuse mes" unless ive made the unfortunate mistake of eye contact. why do i ignore the first two "excuse me's?"

because i dont give a shit.

"is the produce manager here?" she demanded.

"nope," i said. "we are all part-timers here."

i said that because i dont give a shit, you see.

"well i have a complaint!" she retorted.

apparently she wasnt feeling the "dont give a shit" vibe. seems to me that all complaints should be directed towards those who give a shit. im not a manager anymore so i dont give a shit.

i was, however, the senior employee by more than a decade so i reluctantly followed her to a zucchini display with signage that clearly read "10 lbs. for $10."

"i was expecting to pay a dollar each for these," she snorted. "the sign is very misleading."

yes, i can easily see how a person might mistake "lbs" for "each." theyre practically indistinguishable.

i then asked her if each zucchini weighed more than a pound. i knew that they didnt but i wanted her to realize what a fucking retard she was when she pondered her experience at our store. the zucchinis on the display probably weighed approximately half a pound; anyone with seven neurons and a #2 pencil can reason that youre better off paying a buck a pound rather than a buck a piece in such a circumstance.

"ill tell ron when i see him," i said with the inflection of one who doesnt give a shit. you know why?

'cuz i dont give a shit.

"well okay then," she replied, waddling away with a gait strikingly similar to that of a hamster.

the stupidity of our spoiled, north shore, high credit card debt, coke snorting customer base never ceases to dazzle me.



but then again, i dont give a shit.

475

as i worked this afternoon, an older gentleman approached me and asked where we kept the bing cherries. i told him they were on the back side of the first display table.

he said "thanks."

i subsequently began filling the red flame grapes when i heard the same man's voice inquire "did you ever sing in an opera?"

i peered at him for a moment wondering whether the question was a setup to a joke or a prelude to a snotty comment. i was caught off guard so i simpy replied "no."

"you have a baritone voice," he said.

ok, then.

how the fuck am i supposed to respond to that? race over to the intercom and give some sort of lavish ode to pavarotti?

i guess my voice sounds ridiculously deep for a nonsmoker. between the hours of three in the morning and noon my voice resonates like gravel looks. the rest of the day my voice verberates like a pissed off incarnation of barry white's larynx.

"thanks," i told the man thus fittingly bringing the conversation full circle.

such was my day.

477

im getting paid at this very moment by jewel foods to sit here and write.

my boss accidentally ordered 56 cases of broccoli crowns instead of 6; he subsequently asked me to drive eight cases to another store to start getting rid of the extra product before it begins to look worse than joan rivers' face.

i told him i would do it if he paid for my gasoline.

he told me to leave an hour early and still get paid for it.


deal.

478

i just received a hot-off-the-press copy of the complete first season of "amazing stories."

ironically, many of the episodes on the short-lived mid 80's television series were more along the lines of "mediocre stories;" however, one episode entitled "the mission," (which, incidentally, was directed by steven spielberg), is worth the entire price of admission.

the episode featured a young kevin costner, an even younger kiefer sutherland and a fellow by the name of casey siemaszko who played the role of an artistic, belly turret operator of a world war two aircraft. due to a series of enemy strikes and catastrophic failures siemaszko finds himself not only unable to egress the turret but also destined to become crushed upon landing since the landing gear wont deploy.

in one of the coolest sequences ever committed to celluloid, siezmaszko, following a dramatic series of emotional goodbyes and well-acted conveyance of helplessness, starts drawing a cartoon of his aircraft with the landing gear in perfect working order. as the cartoon nears fruition, john williams' musical score becomes more and more intense as siemaszko pours his heart and every ounce of concentration into the drawing.

no matter how many times i watch "the mission" i feel an awesome sensation concomitantly composed of chills, tears, excitement, elation and wonder.


do you remember how the episode ends?

481

as read on the comcast.net homepage:

"man jailed for yelling 'thank you jesus.'"


its about fucking time.

482

i ate at a brazilian, all-you-can-eat steakhouse this evening with four friends who all weigh well over two hundred pounds. at 230, i was only the third biggest boy at the table; rest assured some serious eating transpired.

i triumphantly announce that i handily outlasted everybody at the table. i felt it was incumbent upon me as an insatiable american to eat as much as i possibly could for as long as i possibly could.

mission accomplished.

even after i flipped my marker to the red side, (indicating that i no longer wished to be served), the "gaucho," no doubt sensing my penchant for gluttony, kept returning to me with a cornucopia of delicious, skewered, fire-roasted meats including lamb, filet mignon, bacon wrapped tenderloin, skirt steak, pork tenderloin and sausage.

holy fucking shit did i eat myself halfway to the merry land of atherosclerotica.

i also indulged in a decadent, cream-based papaya pudding -- a professed brazilian delicacy -- mixed with some sort of vanilla liqueur for dessert. might i mention it was an outstanding culmination to the kind of meal that would make even the most progressive rabbi wince?

as my arterial plaque continues to aggregate...

483

this might very well be the first time i have ever been awake at 8:54 a.m.

this might very well be the last time i will ever be awake at 8:54 a.m.

484

thank you once again, devin, for your gift of music.

"so youre leaving...
so youre on your own...
almost again...almost again...almost again, i have...
state your reasons
so? ...youre all alone...

almost again...almost again...almost again, i have...

sown,
AT THE SPEED OF SOUND I WILL BE FOUND
AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT I WILL BE SIGHTED"



and thank you so very much, atomic clock, for perfectly mirroring how i feel with your crushing drum kit.

485

a sign was posted in quest diagnostics where i went to have my cholesterol tested this afternoon:

"for the courtesy of our customers:

no public restroom
no cell phone usage
no food or drink
no weapons"


wouldnt you fuckin' know it?

i had to go all the way back to my truck to stow my flamethrower.

486

once again i received the distinction of earning the lowest "secret shopper" score of any employee in the entire store.

my righteous 56.4% prompted the following comments:

"i spent more then five minutes picking items from the shelves near the place where the associate was working, but he did not acknowledge me in any way. i had to approach him and initiate conversation about one of the products that they had on sale. the associate provided me with the information, but did not thank me or offer any other types of closing remarks."


ah, yes.

another satisfied customer.

487

so thats what he did to laci.

488

each bottle of aquafina boasts:

"all bottled waters are not the same. aquafina's state-of-the-art hydro-7 purification system consistently removes substances most other bottled waters leave in. so the only thing you taste in your water...is water. aquafina. pure water. perfect taste. every time."

wow. aquafina must be pretty fucking awesome.

too bad the sales pitch sucks.

passive verbs, passive verbs, passive verbs, tsk tsk tsk. i dont know about you guys but i could barely contain myself when i read the exciting action words "are and is." which one of the following two options sounds more appealing to you as a consumer?

option #1: aquafina is good!

option #2: aquafina rocks!

furthermore, how many millions of times have we collectively groaned at the incessant, cliched phrase "not the same" or "not created equal" in terms of a company's attempt to set their product apart from similar items? "all bottled waters are not the same." right off the bat we find ourselves confronted by an ambiguous statement. perhaps every bottled water known to man tastes better and tests purer than aquafina. you dig?

now!

does anyone in the universe besides two hapless assbags in tattered white labcoats know what the fuck constitutes a "hydro-7 purification system?" hydro means water. what the fuck is water-7? is that how many toilets were used as source taps? in any event, pepsico might as well have written "aquafina's state-of-the-art chlorinator destructo gizmoid thingamajiggy v. 3.4 consistently removes..."

anyone with a brain can perform five seconds of research and learn that "hydro-7" refers to little more than a reverse osmosis water filtration system. pick one up at your local home depot for forty-nine ninety nine.

manufacturers take relatively simple concepts and create frequently bizarre and almost always unnecessarily confusing terminologies that make it seem as though some magical process will occur or has occurred. negatively charged ions! space age polymers! viscoelastic memory cells! you what what these phrases mean in english?

air filter! baseball bat! mattress!

onward:

"consistently removes substances most other bottled waters leave in." consistently implies that some bottles contain all the bullshit originally found in uncle joe's tapwater. dont you want a brand that "always" removes unwanted substances? and for fuck's sake let us clasp our hands together and chant "i will never end a sentence with a preposition!"

it simply aint polished.

finally, it seems to me that i shouldnt taste water in my water. my water should taste like a tall glass of cold nothing. oxygen and hydrogen are tasteless; upon taking a huge swig of pure water i should want to throw my arms to the heavens and exclaim boisterously for all corners of the world to behold "holy shit this tastes like absolutely nothing!"

and thus, my friends, a slogan for aquafina arises:

"aquafina. nothing has not never tasted so much like nothing!"

489

the wizards at jewel merchandising have outdone themselves with this week's employee informational packet:

"jewel farmstand is the place to be
selling produce is the life for me.
fruits and veggies spread out far and wide
keep manhattan just give me my order guide!
(sung to the tune of "green acres")"


i think the logical next step would be for jewel to start writing our checks with red crayon and the e's reversed.

are you fucking kidding me?

490

russian president vladimir putin's explanation for why he kissed the bare stomach of a five year old boy out of the blue while visiting with tourists in the kremlin:

"he seemed to be very independent, very serious, but at the same time a boy is always vulnerable. he was very sweet. ill be honest, i felt an urge to squeeze him like a kitten and that led to the gesture that i made. there was nothing behind it really."

i wasnt too concerned until i read "really." whenever a high official includes the word "really" in response to charged questions somebody is probably getting fucked.

ill let you have the honors of crafting the punchline.

491

"do you know why i pulled you over?" the cop asked.

the man chewed on the upper left side of his lower lip momentarily before saying, "i was speeding."

"license and proof of insurance, sir," the cop said.

the man fumbled around in the glove compartment, found his allstate insurance card, leaned to his left, unsheathed his wallet from the back pocket of his fading jeans, removed his driver's license and handed both documents to the awaiting michigan state trooper.

the cop began to return to his cruiser when he paused, lowered his leathery, weathered face to the window, tipped his hat slightly backwards and asked "arent you gonna offer any excuses this evening?"

the man looked up, rhythmically tapped his black steering wheel with a few fingers and, wearing a sheepish facial expression, shrugged his shoulders.

"nah. nobody i know is sick in the hospital and im not a doctor so i have no patients that need my urgent care. im not a fireman, im not a cop, im not a judge, im not a congressman, im not a mayor, im not a notary public and im not related to anyone who is. my right foot hasnt been cast in lead. i wasnt being chased by fugitives. no gun was aimed at my head. i wasnt breaking in the engine. im not late for dinner. the kids are fine. the cubs already lost two to nothing. my house isnt on fire. aliens didnt implant a device that forced me to drive 95 miles an hour. my dogs are neither sick nor waiting to be walked or fed. i wasnt racing anyone for fun, i wasnt dared, i wasnt on the telephone, i wasnt changing the radio station, i didnt drop anything on the floor and my accelerator wasnt stuck. i wasnt late for an important business meeting. i had no flights to catch. i wasnt dropping off donations at the church and i wasnt in a hurry to volunteer anywhere. i could clearly distinguish the speed limit signs that were noticeably posted every mile or two. i had no emergency situations whatsoever and frankly when i arrive home i will have absolutely nothing to do but kiss my wife. i just wanted to get there earlier."

the trooper continued to look at the man for several seconds.

"i see," he said.

he then handed the driver's license and insurance card back to the man.

"have a nice day, sir."

492

im off to south haven, michigan to do absolutely nothing.

my kinda vacation.

i shall return in a few.

493

as read on the comcast.net homepage:

"shuttle to launch despite damaged foam."

hmmm.

i wonder how that decision transpired.

"ah, fuck it, smithers...what could possibly go wrong with damaged foam upon reentering earth's atmosphere?"

494

oregon based agalloch will release their eagerly anticipated "ashes against the grain" album on august 8th under the "end records" label. check out the track "not unlike the waves" here.

agalloch creates very layered, complex, anthemic, mountainous blends of doomy, melancholy metal using instruments that run the gamut from piano to cello to violin to electric guitar. tempo shifts abound throughout a catalogue of songs that usually last at least seven minutes apiece. haughm's vocals are deliciously haunting and oscillate between black metal growls and soothing, clean vocals.

their previous release, 2002's "the mantle," still consistently finds its way onto my playlists.

while strapping's "city" represents the best album ever recorded for purposes of catharsis, agalloch's music epitomizes the best the metal world has to offer anyone who wants to contemplate life while curled up in front of a fireplace.

its also probably the best music to listen to while having sex as raindrops inexorably pound the earth.

495

the first thing my boss told me when i arrived at work this afternoon was that we had sold two thousand watermelons between the time the store opened at seven and the time i began my shift at one.

since i dont make any commissions or bonuses or perks based on the magnitude of our sales i wryly replied "man my bonus check is gonna rock this week, ronald."

can you feel the fuckin' humor?

i was then informed that we would be out of wawamelons until the delivery arrived later in the afternoon. perhaps not surprisingly, the first question with which i was confronted on the sales floor was "where are the watermelons?"

since we did not have any, i succinctly yet aptly replied "we are out until the next shipment arrives."

let us now engage in a little thought experiment, shall we?

imagine, if you will, asking a clerk at your local grocery store where you might locate a watermelon. in response, the clerk informs you that no more will be available until the next truck arrives. when presented with such information, would you surmise that at least 999,999 out of one million people who aren't retarded would understand that no more watermelons will be available until more arrive?

a normal chain of thought would involve something along the lines of "okay. none here. more later. lets see now...i know! ill get a melon later when they are here!"

instead, i had the ignominious distinction of dealing with the one moron in a million who, with a poker face that would make johnny chan weep, asked "so what are you trying to say?"

yeah. go ahead. let that morsel of human ingenuity bounce from neuron to neuron for thirty-eight seconds.

upon realizing she was indeed serious, i simply told her that i meant abraham lincoln was the sixteenth president of the united states.

what, did you think i was trying to say something about watermelons, oppenheimer?

496

if youre looking for a few months to kill, check out bushspeech and let the games begin.

you can create reams of custom, president bush speeches from a word bank of over 300 words and phrases.

hilarious doesnt quite capture the essence of the website's ingenuity. i have only one critique for the individual who developed this fruit of the gods: the inclusion of the vice president's first name beckons with a vengeance.

and yeah, i have posted a slew of goodies including the "cumdoody song."

_______________________________

sometimes i wonder exactly how president bush fucks laura.

i like to think he nails her while wearing a small plastic bib and the burger king crown on his head.