October 31, 2005
Pardon Me, Mr. Prime Minister, But About Your Drink of Choice...
I just started reading Face the Nation, an excellent book by Bob Schieffer (host of Face the Nation and the CBS Evening News) about the first fifty years of the CBS Sunday morning program. If you are even remotely interested in the television industry, this is a book worth buying. Although there are numerous captivating tales, the following one is without a doubt my favorite thus far.
“[I]t never bothered [Barbara] Walters to ask the questions the rest of us [men] shied away from. During a trip to India with President Carter, she asked Indian Prime Minister Morarji Desai about reports that he drank his own urine.
He readily admitted that he did, bragged on its medicinal qualities and she had a story the rest of us had been too timid to pursue.”
Obviously my opinion of Barbara Walters has risen tenfold since reading this. I really hope I get to interview people for a living one day. The “Do you drink your own urine” question seems like it would be appropriate a supermajority of the time. In fact, I think I'm going to start asking it on interviews the next time I am in the job hunt mode.
Interviewer: "Do you have any questions for me?"
Thinking Fool: "Why, yes I do. Could you tell me about benefits?"
Interviewer: "We have blah blah blah blah blah..."
Thinking Fool: "What about urine?"
Interviewer: "What about it?"
Thinking Fool: "Do you drink your own?"
Interviewer: "Excuse me?"
Thinking Fool: "Some Indian Prime Minister used to drink his own urine and he lived into his 90s. I read it in a book if you don't believe me."
Interviewer: "Thanks for coming in."
Thinking Fool: "My pleasure. When can I expect to hear from you?"Posted by fool at 12:26 AM | Comments (1)
October 28, 2005
Harriet Miers's Resignation Letter BEFORE White House Staffers Had a Chance to Make Some Edits!
XXXX BREAKING NEWS STORY XXXX
XXXX MUST CREDIT THINKINGFOOL.COM XXXX
XXXX THINKINGFOOL.COM EXCLUSIVE XXXX
Sometimes it's helpful to live in Washington. One of my contacts inside the White House managed to give me the original letter that Harriet Miers wanted to submit to President Bush to inform him that she was withdrawing her nomination to be the next Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. My source told me that Miers did not know that the letter would be made available to the public. Accordingly, changes had to be made. The final letter is available by clicking here. However, the original unedited version follows. At the time of this writing, no other site has obtained a copy of the original, unedited letter. That means I've scored my first exclusive. When the AP puts this on the wire, I better get credit.
October 27, 2005
Dear George,
I’m so sorry I let you down. I have to get out of this mess. :-(
I thank God every day that you are President because I know that every decision you’ve made since you’ve been in charge of our country has been the right decision. That’s why even though I thought other people were more qualified than I was to be the next judge on the Supreme Court, when you announced my nomination, I knew in my heart that I must be the most qualified. After all, you said I was. That’s like Jesus whispering something in your ear. You don't question Jesus.
I really wish Laura wasn’t in your life. I think we’d have something. It pains me to admit this.
Trent Lott and those other bastards in the Senate have made this a very hard three weeks, and I just feel like I keep letting people down lately. For instance, on Saturday, I let my bowling team down. I rolled three games fifty pins below my average. That’s fifty pins below my average each game, George. Not fifty pins total. Just to make things clear, 50+50+50 = 150. That’s a lot of pins.
For some reason, Lott and others want the papers that you and I have shared while I’ve worked at the White House. George, you know as well as I do that the New York Times would be buzzing if it got its hands on some of our poems. Remember the one I wrote to you about the horse running through the baseball stadium? Or what about the one about the unicorn flying to the moon?
God, I wish we both drank.
Speaking of God, I love you, George.
George, they told me I’m going to have to testify if I don’t give them all of our poems. In fact, I think I’d have to testify even if I did give them the poems. (I didn’t know this when you told me I got to be the next judge. Why don't people just trust you?)
George, I really hate the question and answer type of environment. That’s why I like working for you so much. You have questions and you expect answers, and we all know the answers you want to hear. It makes things so much easier.
I just can’t hand over those papers, George. It would kill your presidency for them to read our poems. I can’t imagine tarnishing the legacy of the best president America has ever known. You’re an even better President than you were governor and you were the best governor ever.
I really like being in the Oval Office, George. It allows me to be close to you. :-)
At first when you nominated me to the Supreme Court, I thought it was so cool that I’d have the chance to stick it to all the baby-killers. But I also recently realized that by sticking it to the baby-killers, I wouldn’t get the chance to have you stick it in me. Don’t tell Laura I wrote this, please.
George, I’d do anything for you. I won’t let you go down on me. I mean, I won’t let you go down for me. (The delete key doesn’t seem to be working.)
That’s why I’m pulling out of this, George. If the situation was reversed, know that I’d never ask you to pull out. NEVER.
Don’t worry. I’ll stay in the White House. Obviously, I’ll stay.
And don’t worry about the baby-killers. There are lots of people who will stick it to them.
I can’t wait to continue to serve you. I can’t tell you how many nights I go to bed wishing you were a little more like Bill Clinton. You’re the best president ever, but could learn a lesson or two from the man before you. :-) :-) :-)
Always with fond love,
HarrietPosted by fool at 12:00 AM | Comments (1)
October 27, 2005
If Law Doesn't Work Out, Maybe I'll Try to Get a Job at an Answering Service
Yesterday, coworker #1 received a call while she was out of the office. Coworker #2 answered the phone and took down the caller's information. When coworker #1 returned, I instant messaged her immediately.
Thinking Fool: Some guy called for you while you were gone.
Coworker #1: Who was it?
Thinking Fool: I have no idea. I told him to call back later.
Needless to say, I’m fitting in nicely.
Posted by fool at 12:07 AM | Comments (1)October 26, 2005
We're Both Mature Adults. No Really, We Are!
On Monday night, the Deer Assassin and I were having a conversation when the Deer Assassin's cell phone suddenly cut out. We had been talking for awhile and I was starving, so I text messaged the Deer Assassin to let him know that I couldn't talk anymore anyway because I needed to eat. Within a few hours, the following rapid email exchange took place:
Deer Assassin: "Hey man, here's what happened. I pulled into a dark spot for reception and disappeared. Then you never called back. You fuck.”
Thinking Fool: "I text messaged you, dickwad."
Deer Assassin: "I got no text from your punk ass."
Thinking Fool: "Delivered at 924 EST: 'U Cut out but i have got to eat anyway.'"
Deer Assassin: "Delivered at 8:50 PST ‘shot it up yo' ass.’"
The sad thing is that we'll actually be representing real human beings for a majority of our lives.
On a related note, how annoying is it when one person’s cell phone cuts out and both people try to resume the conversation by simultaneously calling each other? You know what comes next. Both people go straight to voicemail; so both people hang up and simultaneously call each other again. Once again, both people go straight to voicemail. Then each party wises up and thinks, "Ah, goofball is trying to call me too!" So, neither of you calls at that point and then suddenly you both think, "Oh, screwball is waiting for me to call." So then you both pick up your phones and simultaneously call each other again. At this point when you go to voicemail, if you're anything like me, you unleash a slew of profanities. Needless to say, this is EXTREMELY frustrating.
Alas, I have a solution!
Thinking Fool’s Solution:: Whoever was the initial caller is the person responsible for reinitiating the phone conversation. So if the Deer Assassin called me and the conversation gets disrupted for whatever reason, the Deer Assassin has the responsibility to call me back. Makes sense, yes? Like Wile E. Coyote, I'm pure genius sometimes.
Posted by fool at 12:17 AM | Comments (2)October 25, 2005
Learn From My Mistakes: Volume I
If you’re at an Italian restaurant and notice an item on the menu by the name of “Ricotta Lovers Pasta Sampler,” do NOT assume that the restaurant is joking about the Ricotta part. I should have titled this entry, “Reason Number 23 I Should Never Procreate.”
Posted by fool at 12:00 AMOctober 24, 2005
The Film Roundup – Still Playing at a Theater Near You
Stay – If you like films that make you think, “I have absolutely no idea what’s going on,” then Stay is the movie for you. I didn’t know what was going on when this film started, and I didn’t know what was going on when the ending credits started to roll. Had I been alone, there's no doubt that I would have walked out because from start to finish, Stay sucked more than a gay man in Dupont Circle (a reference for the Washingtonians). Avoid this one like the Bird Flu. Thinking Fool’s Final Grade: F.
Good Night, and Good Luck – If you want to be entertained while hearing the words, “Good Night, and Good Luck,” skip this movie and give Countdown with Keith Olbermann (weeknights at 8 E.S.T. on MSNBC) a try instead. As someone who holds a B.A. in broadcasting, I should have loved this film. After all, it was about Edward R. Murrow’s battle against Senator Joseph McCarthy. Interesting stuff, right? In theory yes, but the film is quite boring. Good historical films make you want to learn more about a subject. The only thing Good Night, and Good Luck made me want to learn was the quickest way to the parking lot. Thinking Fool’s Final Grade: D.
Capote – I went to see Capote reluctantly, wondering how I could possibly like a biopic about a writer who has never made an appearance on my list of favorites. (One of my undergraduate professors recommended In Cold Blood and asserted that after reading the book, I would be categorically against the death penalty. Well, so much for that assertion. I was more in favor of the death penalty after reading the book than I was before cracking open Capote’s most famous work.) Philip Seymour Hoffman is always excellent, but he rises to a different level in this movie. The guy is absolutely amazing and the story is compelling. Even if you could care less about the life of Truman Capote, see this film. You won’t regret it (unless you’re a total idiot). Thinking Fool’s Final Grade: A minus. (I can't describe how wonderful it felt to actually leave a movie thinking, "Not only did I not hate that, I actually liked it!")
Two for the Money – Al Pacino is wonderful playing Al Pacino. Matthew McConaughey is solid playing Matthew McConaughey. Rene Russo is excellent playing, well she actually played a real character! Unfortunately, this movie is just not compelling even in the most liberal sense of the word. The whole gambling storyline really doesn't make a ton of sense, but I honestly didn't even care. If you want to see good movies with these actors, check out Scent of a Woman (Pacino), A Time to Kill (McConaughey), and The Thomas Crown Affair (Russo). “How can a movie about gambling not get a favorable review from a person who enjoys gambling?” you wonder. Because it isn’t any good; that’s why! Thinking Fool’s Final Grade: D.
Posted by fool at 12:00 AMOctober 21, 2005
Flushing the Bad Feelings Right Out of Your System
It’s one of those things that nobody wants to talk about. You’ve always been too embarrassed to tell a parent or sibling or even your lover (those are intended to be and hopefully are mutually exclusive humans). Some days you might even stare at yourself in the mirror wondering, “Am I the only one?” Well, rest assured you’re not alone. James Skwarok has proven that.
Skwarok is a Canadian community activist who transforms himself into “Mr. Floatie” by dressing up in a poop costume in order to protest the pumping of raw sewage into Canadian waters. (If this guy's story isn't made into a movie, something wrong is going on in Hollywood. Oh wait, all of the summer movies, save one or two, absolutely sucked, so we already know that something wrong is going on in Hollywood.) Mr. Floatie recently ran for mayor of Victoria, British Columbia, but withdrew from the race before city officials had the chance to force his exit from the contest. (Insert laxative joke.) In what might be one of the most absurd laws on the books today, Victoria only allows “real” people to run for city office and apparently that doesn't include "a big piece of poop.” (Obviously the laws are different in America because big pieces of crap run and win office every couple years.)
Well, my friends, once again the little guy has lost in the game of politics. But, don't you cry my brother. There is always a silver lining. The next time you stare at yourself in the mirror and start wallowing in doubt, you'll know that you're not alone. There are countless others out there like you and me who share the same dream. Mr. Floatie may have lost this battle, but all of us who dream of dressing up like giant pieces of poop and running for public office will undoubtedly win the war. Kind of makes you hungry just thinking about it.
Posted by fool at 12:01 AMOctober 20, 2005
West Coast v. East Coast: The Service Industry - Advantage West Coast!
Maybe it’s just me, but if it’s a weekday during lunchtime and there are at least ten people waiting in line to order food at Fuddruckers, I’m thinking it MIGHT be a good idea to have more than one employee taking people’s orders, especially if that one employee got his job by writing an essay promising that he would be the slowest, most inefficient cashier in the history of restaurants. The service industry plays by different rules in the District of Columbia. Instead of actually trying to cater to customers, most D.C. employees seem to live by the following motto: “I’ll get to you when I’m damn well ready to get to you, and don't you even think about giving me that look!” Obviously, it’s nice to be back in our nation's capital.
Posted by fool at 12:01 AM | Comments (1)October 19, 2005
55 Fiction, Volume 4
“It’s your wife.”
“Take a message.”
“She says it’s important.”
Ed tossed the file on the table and started mumbling. “It’s always important.”
“Honey, he got another DUI.” Ed stood there paralyzed. Even as principal, he knew there was nothing he could do to save his son this time.
“So much for the football scholarship.”
October 18, 2005
Do You Think They Considered Naming Him "Smokey?"
The National Zoo’s giant panda cub finally has a name. Yesterday, zoo officials revealed that the bear who many (i.e. yours truly) have been referring to as “That cute little Panda cub that gets to spend the first two years of his existence in America before having to live the rest of his life in miserable Red China” will now be known as “Tai Shan.” As we all know, “Tai Shan” is Chinese for “Peaceful Mountain.” Apparently “Up Yours” was zoo officials' second choice.
Posted by fool at 12:29 AMOctober 17, 2005
A Modest Proposal for Teaching the Teacher a Thing or Two
Remember the days when you had to ask your teacher for permission to go the bathroom? If you were anything like me, you usually phrased the question like this: “Can I go to the bathroom?” More often than not, the teacher would reply, “I don’t know. CAN you?” For some reason, teachers seemed to get off on correcting this one grammatical mistake. (Perhaps it was the only one they knew for certain.) Anyway, this might seem a tad extreme, but if your child has a teacher who gets off on the “I don’t know; can you?” line and you don't like this particular teacher very much and you have a son and you don't really care if your son goes through an incredible amount of pain, then I have a great idea. Take your son to your local physician and tell the doctor that you want to have your boy catheterized. (No “good” doctor will do this obviously, but if you can find a doctor as despicable as my degenerate soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law, you should have no problems getting this done.) The next day, tell your son to make sure he asks the teacher if he can go to the bathroom. When she (most elementary school teachers are women, yes?) responds with the familiar, “I don’t know, CAN YOU?” line, tell your son to retort, “Actually, I have a catheter in my penis, so at the moment I can’t, you bitch.” If nothing else, this will make the next parent-teacher conference pretty entertaining. Obviously, I shouldn't have children.
Posted by fool at 12:08 AM | Comments (3)October 14, 2005
Delusional Before the Drawing
Is it just me or does every single person alive have an unflinching feeling that he or she is going to hit the jackpot after buying a Powerball ticket? Although I have probably only purchased lottery tickets a total of five times in my life, each time I've forked over some cash, I've just known I was going to make a lot of money. Well, surprise, surprise, the gang at the office didn't hit the jackpot this time. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that we'll hit the big one eventually. Needless to say, because of this sort of thinking, I should be placed in the “Please, do not procreate” basket!
Posted by fool at 12:00 AM | Comments (2)October 13, 2005
One Telephone + Two Brothers + One Insane Allegation + One Radio Station = A Joyous Afternoon
Once upon a time, there was a sports talk show host in Phoenix named John Cannon. Unlike most of today’s sport talk mavens, Cannon’s show actually was entirely sports-focused (perhaps that’s one reason his show didn’t last). My brother and I used to call Cannon on a semi-regular basis, not to have a legitimate discussion about sports, but to piss him off instead! Each time we called, we would end our “commentaries” by saying, “I mean, you know I’m right; you gotta agree with me.” Upon hearing these magical words, without fail Cannon would respond the same way. His voice would become noticeably agitated, increasing both in volume and in pitch (to the point where he sounded like a steaming tea kettle when he hit certain words). “NO, I DON’T THINK YOU’RE RIGHT!!! AND I DON’T HAVE TO AGREE WITH YOU!!!”
Needless to say, we had many proud moments calling John Cannon’s show. The pinnacle came one day when I led things off by calling about the Suns.
Cannon: We’ll go to Otis on a mobile. Hi, Otis.
Otis (Thinking Fool): Hey, John, how’s it going?
Cannon: Not too bad, Otis. What’s up?
Otis: Well, I want to know if you watched the Suns game last night.
Cannon: Yes, I did.
Otis: Well, then you had to notice what I noticed, John. The Suns were up by “X” points with a few seconds to go and Danny Ainge fired a shot from just behind the 3-point arc. Now, John, I’m sure you’re aware that the line on last night’s game was Y points and Ainge had no business shooting a shot like that. I’ve checked with some of my friends, and we’re pretty certain now that the Suns are engaged in some sort of point-shaving scandal. I mean, you know I’m right and you’ve got to agree with me, John.
Cannon: NO, I DON’T THINK YOU’RE RIGHT, OTIS! AND I DON’T HAVE TO AGREE WITH YOU...
What made this day unusual was that my brother called immediately after I did. Cannon hung up on him as well. A few minutes later, Cannon's shift ended and the next guy took over. Well, wanting to see what sort of controversy we could generate, my brother and I called the next guy’s show and basically repeated our comments, saying something like, “We heard some guys on Cannon’s show mention this point-shaving thing and we've definitely heard similar rumors and think they're true." GE Friend placed a call echoing our comments and by George, that’s all it took. For the next four hours, the Phoenix sports talk market was talking about one thing – whether the Phoenix Suns, one of the cleanest teams in all of Sports, were engaged in a point-shaving scandal. After one commercial break, the afternoon host actually came on the air and said, “During the break, I called a friend of mine who runs a sportsbook at a major casino in Vegas and asked him to come on to talk about this. He refused, saying he didn’t even want to legitimize this moronic claim.” Can you imagine? “Tonight on Sportscenter we begin in Phoenix where the manager of a Las Vegas Sportsbook went on the air to deny allegations that the Phoenix Suns are shaving points.”
The next day, I called Cannon's show and told the producer I would like to go on the air. The producer said, "Otis, we got a call from the Suns and they're pissed. John doesn't want you to go on the air with him anymore."
Mission accomplished. God bless you, Alexander Graham Bell.
Posted by fool at 12:00 AM | Comments (2)October 11, 2005
How Do I Update my Account if I do not Have one?
I just received an email from “eBay” informing me that my eBay account might be suspended if I don’t update my account information by clicking on a link within the email. This is especially weird considering the fact that I have never purchased anything off eBay, nor established any sort of account with the online auction juggernaut. I must confess that I think Saudi Arabia and other “modern” Arab nations are on to something when they chop people’s hands off for stealing. No, we probably shouldn’t make that the practice in America, but permanently tattooing people’s hands to make it look like they have been dunked in red paint might be an option worth considering for the frequent thief. In other news, I began work today and am very VERY tired as a result. In still other news, I have been heroin-free for more than twenty-seven years. That might change soon.
Posted by fool at 06:39 PM | Comments (4)October 07, 2005
55 Fiction, Volume 3: Ride-a-Long Fun
“Kevin, Mike is one of the finest sergeants in town. He’s been on the force for nearly twenty years.”
Kevin shook the sergeant’s hand and stood idle while the officers chatted.
When he and the lieutenant finally returned to the cruiser, Kevin said, “So he’s a good cop?”
Howard smiled. “The guy’s a fucking idiot.”
October 06, 2005
A Missed Opportunity - How I Could Have Tormented a Jerk for an Entire Plane Ride
Last night, my dad and I received complimentary upgrades to fly first class from Phoenix to Orange County. There was one minor problem – our assigned seats were in different rows. I had 1A. My dad had 3C. When we boarded the plane, I asked the man who was seated in 1B if he would mind sitting in 3C in order to allow my dad and me to sit next to each other. He responded by saying, “Well, I’m actually settled in my seat now, so I’m going to stay here.” Fortunately, the man who was supposed to be in 3D readily agreed to sit in 1A, which afforded my dad and me the opportunity to sit next to each other (and play gin). I kind of wish the second guy hadn’t agreed to swap seats with me. In retrospect, I would have had a wonderful time sitting next to “the jerk.” The reading and sleeping that he did on the flight wouldn't have been so easy had I saddled up next to him.
Thinking Fool: Are you planning to sleep at all on this flight?
The Jerk: I’m going to read and doze when appropriate.
Thinking Fool: Oh okay. Well, since I’m on the window, I just want to warn you that I’ll probably have to pee a lot. I drank a lot of water at dinner. I also had Mexican food earlier today, so it’s possible that I’ll have to sit on the pot for a bit. I’m hoping I can keep the solid stuff in until we land though. (And yes, I would have attempted to pass gas as much as possible.)
At this point, I would have waited until the jerk became heavily involved in his book.
Thinking Fool: What are you reading?
The Jerk: [Title of Book.]
Thirty Seconds Elapse...
Thinking Fool: Is it any good?
The Jerk: Yes.
Twenty Seconds Elapse...
Thinking Fool: I read a book recently. I really liked it. Do you ever read Stephen King?
The Jerk: I don’t mean to be rude, but I really would like to read.
Thinking Fool: Oh, no problem. I understand. Sorry. I won't bother you again.
Two minutes elapse.
Thinking Fool: I wonder what my dad’s doing right now. He doesn’t read as many books as I do, but he reads more papers. Do you think that’s good or bad?
The Jerk: (Sighing) Really, I’d like to concentrate on my book.
Waiting a few minutes....
Thinking Fool: My dad and I were hoping to play cards together. Would you like to play with me? We could play Gin. I have a deck right in my back pocket. Here, I'll show you (pulling deck out of pocket).
The Jerk: No. PLEASE!
Two minutes elapse.
Thinking Fool: So what’s your book about?
The Jerk: PLEASE! LEAVE ME ALONE!
I’d start doing one of the brainteasers in the newspaper and wait for about two minutes to elapse.
Thinking Fool: Hey, sorry to bug you again, but are you any good at these things? I can’t figure out what number to put in right here and I think my head is going to start hurting if I don't get it.
The Jerk: (SIGH!) Please. I do not want to talk!
Thinking Fool: Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot.
I’d wait for another two minutes to pass.
Thinking Fool: So are you flying for business or for pleasure?
The Jerk: I’m not going to say another word to you.
Thinking Fool: My brother used to say that to me a lot. Now, we're really close. Maybe you and I will be friends one day.
At this point, I’m pretty certain the man would close his eyes and try to fall asleep. (I think it would be obvious that I was not going to allow him to read in peace).
Thinking Fool: Excuse me, would you mind if I went the bathroom?
The Jerk: (Sighing and standing up)
Thinking Fool: Thank you so much. You've probably been able to smell my gas all night.
I’d loiter in the bathroom for a few minutes before coming back.
Thinking Fool: (After sitting down) I couldn’t go. Does that ever happen to you?
And this would go on for the duration of the flight...
Needless to say, the Jerk would have regretted rejecting the seat swap. If only the second guy hadn’t been so nice!
Posted by fool at 03:56 AM | Comments (5)October 05, 2005
The Waiter Who Was More Upset than I was that My Water Glass Was Empty
Picture it, Sunday afternoon, the Victorian Room at the Barbary Coast Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada. After deciding to forgo the Bellagio’s scrumptious buffet due to the insanely long line of people waiting to be seated, my dad and I found ourselves sitting in the Barbary Coast’s Victorian Room, which is basically a glorified coffee shop. Our waiter could have easily been mistaken for a middle-aged high school wrestling coach. He was stocky and had features that would have made the men on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy quiver. After glancing at the waiter’s nametag, I spent a few seconds wondering what a Lithuanian man would sound like. Pure Russian, it turns out.
The waiter and I got off to a rough start when my attempt to order the manliest of men’s drinks failed.
"Russian" Waiter: What would you like to drink?
Thinking Fool: A Shirley Temple, please.
The waiter's eyes glared at me as if I had just asked him to obtain a nuclear weapon.
"Russian" Waiter: What is that?
Thinking Fool: 7-Up with grenadine.
The "Russian's" stare remained intense, yet was saturated with a sense of puzzlement.
Thinking Fool: "Cherry 7-Up?” I said with a questioning tone. (For a brief second, the waiter's intense stare made me wonder if I had just made up the name of the drink or ever actually consumed one outside my dreams.) “Umm, how about a cranberry juice?”
"Russian" Waiter: You want large or small?
Thinking Fool: Large.
Towards the middle of the meal, the waiter returned to our table for a few seconds. It was his first trip to see us since taking our order (a different waiter brought out our food). As he was filling my water glass, the waiter became noticeably agitated.
"Russian" Waiter: Sir, your glass is as dry as the desert and you didn’t say anything! (You have to love the phrase, "Dry as the desert!" Can't imagine too many Russians get to use that one.)
Thinking Fool: Oh, well, nobody was around for me to say anything. Plus, I knew you’d be back eventually. (I'm not the type who usually gets that miffed by waitstaff blunders.)
"Russian" Waiter: (Incredibly perturbed) "Sir, you should have yelled!"
Yes, I’m certain that would have gone over well. “HEY WAITER. MY GLASS IS AS DRY AS THE DESERT. GET OVER HERE AND FILL IT UP WITH SOME WATER, NOW!” I think he would have come to the table, peered into my soul, grabbed me by my shirt, and said, "If you ever show me up like that again, so help me God, I’ll puncture your larynx with a steak knife. You understand?”
I didn’t bother telling him that he forgot to bring my cranberry juice. I would have rather had a Shirley Temple anyway.
Posted by fool at 04:32 AM | Comments (1)October 04, 2005
Delay the Pardon
I have no idea if Tom DeLay should be found guilty of committing a crime (or two or three or four hundred). However, if a jury finds the man guilty, wouldn't it be nice if President Bush refrained from pardoning DeLay? Unfortunately, I don't think there's one chance Bush leaves office without giving Tommy a free pass.
Posted by fool at 05:54 AM | Comments (3)