Whoomp there it is

Furious George

2026-08-03T10:17:07.000-07:00

Opportunities like this didn’t occur very often and George knew he’d be remiss not to try and take advantage. The Tamale vendor wasn’t budging on the price despite the bad man’s firm assertion that two American dollars is the highest amount of money anyone should be required to pay for, in his words, “undercooked ethnic street meat.”

George rolled his eyes. The bad man was racist and cheap and stubborn and ignorant but more than anything, the bad man was very bad, and George desperately needed to get away. He surveyed the landscape. The crowd wasn’t as dense as he expected but he still felt like with the right move at the exact right moment, he could elude the bad man and finally escape his stranglehold once and for all. But what about after that? Where would he go? Where would he stay? How would he continue to evade capture? The same troubling obstacles presented themselves once again. A group of speed walking middle-aged women glided past him. George shook his head in disgust. If walking is too slow for you, why not just run. Several people browsed the market tents. Two grungy looking young men wearing disc golf shirts and cargo shorts sat on a nearby bench eating ice cream cones. A family of four crossed the street as a policeman stood at the intersection directing traffic.

Maybe this time will be different he forced himself to think optimistically. There’s a lot of people here. Maybe this time someone will understand me. Hopefully this time someone will actually help. George snuck a few steps away from the bad man like a base runner eager to steal second. The bad man didn’t notice. He was too busy informing the tamale vendor that it wasn’t about the money, he could buy a thousand tamales if he really wanted to. No, this was all about the principle of the matter and as the bad man describes himself, he’s a man of strict principles. George snuck a few more steps away and when the bad man didn’t seem to notice he took his shot. “Goddamn, I hope someone here speaks monkey!” he mumbled to himself as he quickly scurried away.

“Help, Help!” He cried out gesticulating wildly towards no one in particular. As usual, he had the crowd’s attention, yet no one seemed to be processing his pleas for assistance. “Help!” He shouted while lunging towards the speed walkers. “He beats me! He tortures me! You have to help!” The speed-walkers exchanged nervous glances and fled the scene in terror.

“Oh now, you know how to run!” George snidely remarked. He was losing time fast. “Please!” He pleaded with the young men eating ice cream. “He does terrible things to me! Detestable things! Unspeakable things!”

“Dude, these edibles are too intense, are you seeing a monkey too?”

George jumped onto the bench and held the man by his shirt collar. “Don’t you understand me!” He shouted in frustration. “You have to do something!”

“I’m too high for this!” The young man whimpered while running away in tears, his buddy laughing uncontrollably with his cell phone pointed directly at George. What was it with those phones, George thought to himself? Why did they always pull their phones out like that? Yet, as he thought that he noticed more people with their phones out. This wasn’t good. He had, once again, attracted too much attention.

“Mommy, look, a monkey!” A small child exclaimed. “Can we take him home and keep him?”

George’s eyes lit up. “Yes, yes, yes, please take me home. Take me far, far away from here!”

“Don’t be silly,” The mother replied. “He’s probably riddled with diseases.”

George scoffed. “You Judgmental bitch!” He nervously hopped back and forth searching for rescue, praying for some kind of intervention, but everywhere he looked he only saw phones pointed at him. This wasn’t good he thought to himself. Too much time had already passed and sure enough the next thing he saw was the bad man walking briskly in his direction holding half a tamale. “Oh George,” the bad man called out. “What are you doing little buddy?”

George was aghast. This can’t be happening. Not again. Fortunately for him, the cop at the intersection had also taken notice to his presence and seemed to be on a collision course with the bad man. He jumped up and down again shouting, “Don’t let him take me, officer! He’s abusive. He’s manipulative. He’s evil!”

“Sir, does this animal belong to you?” The officer inquired. His hand resting firmly on his taser.

“Easy,” The bad man answered. “He’s harmless, I assure you. He’s just a little curious, that’s all.”

“Well that may be so,” the officer cautiously replied. “But this is a crowded Farmer’s market. You can’t have a goddamn spider monkey running around without a leash.”

Desperate for help, George pulled out all the stops. “Look, look closely at my leg. You can see the scars from when he puts his cigars out in my fur. Look, look here at my tail. You’ll see the marks from when he hooked me up to jumper cables. He’s an awful human being! He has to be stopped. Please, please for the love of god, don’t let him take me!” George pounded on his chest and pointed frantically towards the bad man.

“Well, well,” the officer chuckled. “You’re right. He’s a curious little guy, isn’t he?”

The bad man nodded his head. George was devastated.

“Well, I suppose I’ll let you be on your way. Have a good afternoon!” The officer said while walking back towards his post.

“Same to you.”

The bad man scooped George up and placed him on his shoulders. “Let’s get you home, buddy. I want to see if this waterboarding thing is all it’s hyped up to be.”

George hated that officer for not helping him. He hated those people for simply pointing their phones at him rather than trying to offer him any kind of assistance. He hated the language barrier which prevented him for communicating his misery. But more than anything he hated the bad man and his stupid goddamn yellow hat.

Saturday at the club

2026-07-27T14:31:32.682-07:00

Saturday at the Club

A rotisserie chicken package lies on the top layer of a pallet of tortilla chips. It won’t be discovered for three more hours when it will then need to be thrown away. An abandoned shopping cart sits nearby—its contents, two crushed packages of ground beef underneath a forty-pound case of bottled water. The juices from the meat drip onto the concrete floor. A man passes by eating a footlong hotdog. He stops momentarily, burps loudly, and continues on his way, his burp lingering still. A woman screams, “Kayden!”

Three different boys all look her way, but none of them is the right Kayden. “Kayden!” She shouts again, frantically stomping around looking for her child, searching between pallets and inside trash cans. She’s wearing an oversized leather tactical soccer mom backpack packed to the brim with thermoses, applesauce pouches, baby wipes, diapers, a change of clothes, sunblock, bug spray, bear mace, needle-nose pliers, an extra phone charger, an iPad, and a pair of binoculars. This woman is prepared for any and everything the universe could possibly throw at her, and her only oversight was forgetting to actually keep an eye on her child. “Kayden!” She calls out a third time in exasperation. He is located a minute later, three aisles away, karate chopping loaves of bread.

A man viciously coughs directly into his hands, then touches eleven different jars of mayonnaise before deciding it would be better for him to buy a smaller one at the regular grocery store.

A woman places a box of noodles in her cart, crosses another item off her list, and giddily asks her husband if they can go look at granola bars. He nods his head approvingly but appears to be miles away. On the inside, he’s yearning for the golf course. Longing for that joyful feeling he gets on the green hanging out with his boys while soaking up the sun and crushing cans of Coors Light. But their marriage counselor suggested spending more time together, so instead of an 11:00 a.m. tee time, he’s here shopping for noodles. “Want to get frozen yogurt after this?” His wife inquires. He nods his head again and dies a little inside.

A woman shakes her fist in the air and tells at no one in particular, “Where the hell did you move the coffee to this time, you bastards!” You don’t react because she seems unhinged, but wait a moment or too before proceeding on the off chance that someone nearby knows the answer, as you also can’t find the coffee.

An elderly man sits down on a pallet of Dr.Pepper and rests his head against a steel beam. The excitement of the day evidently too much for him to bear.

A child blows his nose and sets the tissue on an end-cap. A bird flies overhead. How long has it been inside? No one quite knows for sure.

Two long-lost friends reunite in the middle of the bread aisle and stand there for twenty minutes reminiscing about earlier times when they stood in everyone’s way.

An Instacart employee scans a carton of eggs and recklessly tosses them on a flatbed. The customer won’t discover they’ve been pre-scrambled until much later after the tip has already been paid.

A man spits out at a free sample on the floor right next to a trash can. A woman coming from the other direction steps in it, then uses a wet floor sign left out from a previous spill to scrape it off her shoe. The hot dog guy from earlier watches this incident with a look of disgust on his face, then tosses his hot dog wrapper on a pallet of macaroni and cheese.

Kayden sprints past you, once again unsupervised and nearly collides with your cart. A baby awakes and begins to cry. In the distance, sirens sound. Is this an emergency? Should you evacuate? Is the building on fire? No one seems to know or care. The chaos ensues. A few more babies begins to cry. A young man near you calls his girlfriend and reminds her to take her birth control.

A man sneezes on an entire tray of free samples. Evidently this is a routine occurrence as the old lady doling out the samples doesn’t blink an eye. She simply tosses the whole tray away and begins filling it again. An oblivious lady talking way too loudly on her Bluetooth crashes her cart into a pallet of EVOO. Dozens of bottles crash to the floor. A woman slips and falls. Someone shouts out, “Dear God!” Oil is everywhere.

The cacophony of crying babies has intensified. You estimate that as many as 70 babies are now screaming at the top of their lungs. Your anxiety is through the roof. You must escape. Taking a risk, you abandon your cart and leap over the oil spill, bust a spin move around a guy wearing overalls eating a Slim Jim, and sidestep your way through the center of the store near the patio furniture and gardening equipment. You sigh in disbelief. What were you thinking coming here? It’s Saturday afternoon for chrissakes, you should know better. A veteran napping on a patio swing display startles himself awake, and his service animal nips at your heels, almost causing you to fall. You somehow manage to maintain your balance, veer left, take a few steps, and stop dead in your tracks.

“Who do you have for cell service?”

“Hey, what’s up? We’re helping out members today.”

“Come here, let me holla at you a minute.”

Oh no. In your haste, you accidentally walked right into the gauntlet of super aggressive cell-phone salespeople!

“I don’t even have a phone!” You shout, much to their consternation. “Never had one!” You continue. “I still use messenger pigeons.”

Then the most serendipitous thing happens. The bird from before, or maybe a different bird, Lord knows how many birds are inside this building, nevertheless, a bird flies overhead taking the attention of all three cell phone goons, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip away. A few aisles later, you tuck yourself behind an endcap. Enough of this, you think to yourself. Just leave. Try again another day. Suddenly, a gust of air blows on the back of your neck, and you turn to find one of those cool looking globe fans that rotate both vertically and horizontally. Standing there, staring in awe at this amazing appliance bobbing up and down and side to side, the cool breeze softly caressing your cheek, you feel a wave of inspiration washing over you. What an innovative piece of technology. You decide it would make a terrific addition to your living room, pick one up, and make a decision. You’re going back for your cart. No more messing around! You’re finishing this shopping trip. Your redemption arc starts now.

You check your phone to read a text and an elderly woman on a motorized cart nearly side-swipes you, causing you to leap three feet backwards. “No, no,” you whisper to yourself. “Not today, Satan.” Courageously, you carry on.

You blast back through the center section, the cool-down from the globe fan literally giving you a second wind, squeezing between two slow walkers, then zig-zagging around a married couple having a domestic dispute over which kind of barbecue sauce to buy. One by one, you begin checking items off your list. Tortillas, check. Peanut butter, check. Cheerios, check. You’re on a roll. Rounding the corner of the cereal aisle, you encounter the man in overalls eating a Slim Jim from before, only now he is with his whole family, walking four abreast down the center of the main aisle. Moving in perfect synchrony, at a glacial pace, they have all the time in the world and what appears to be an unlimited supply of Slim Jims.

Trailing them cautiously, you merge from side to side with the precision of a Formula One driver desperately looking for a seam. Finally, after twenty agonizing seconds, one of them turns into an aisle to more closely examine a family-size pack of ramen, giving you the narrowest path to escape. You accelerate past them and continue your mission. Apple Juice, check. Capri-Suns, check. Coffee (hooray, you found it), check. One item left to go, and it’s all the way in the back of the store.

You stride to the back, moving with a sense of purpose and an intolerance for nonsense. A large mass of people crowd around a free sample station in front of the freezer section, blocking access to the back of the building. Evidently, the tray of Perdue chicken nuggets is empty but only for a few more seconds. As the free sample worker begins piling the freshly cooked nuggets onto the tray, the swarms of salivating savages hungrily advance like pigs at a trough.

“Excuse me!” You bellow while pushing through the ruckus. Enough is enough. You have no more time for shenanigans. An employee breezes past you, pulling a pallet of bottled water. You slam on the brakes and veer right around a man on the phone who appears to be in the midst of a nervous breakdown over paper plates. “Should I buy the Dixie or the Chinets?” He pleads to his wife. His indecisiveness disgusts you. You slam an economy-size pack of paper towels on the bottom tray of your cart, spin on your heels, and head back straight for checkout. Side to side, right to left, back and forth, you glide through the havoc with the elusiveness of Pac-Man evading the ghosts. “Peace out, losers!” You call out to the legions of shoppers left behind in your wake. It is only once you reach the front that you realize the line to checkout starts back where you had just come from. Swallowing your pride, you scurry back, pretending that you had forgotten something important. A few people stare, but you avoid making eye contact. Let them judge. It’s fine. Anyone could have made that mistake, you tell yourself. Move past it.

Once again, you are at the back of the store, hundreds of yards from the exit. Who knows how much longer you’ll be stuck here. Your stomach rumbles. Fortunately for you, a fresh tray of chicken was just put out, and you pop a steaming hot nugget into your mouth. Chewing carefully, trying to avoid scalding the roof of your mouth, you survey the line ahead of you. It seems endless. It reminds you of a TSA line at the airport during a busy holiday weekend, and even though everyone is wearing shoes, it still smells like feet. The person behind you bumps their cart into your heel. “Sorry.” They mumble under their breath, but they do not sound sincere.

Slowly but surely, you make your way to the front. Four people ahead, three people ahead, two people ahead… Finally, you’re on deck. You’re next up. Nothing can stop you now, you naively tell yourself while watching the cashier flag over a supervisor. Oh no! It’s a coupon discrepancy. The elderly woman in front of you is evidently attempting to pay for a case of Coke with an expired Pepsi coupon that’s only good for online purchases at a completely different store. Your heart sinks into your chest, and you feel like screaming! How could this be? Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, she understands her mistake and decides to forgo the Coke altogether, explaining that it was her husband’s idea to use the coupon so it wasn’t her fault. He’s the one that drinks most of the soda, and besides, she has plenty of tea at home anyway. The cashier listens to her ramblings with the same detached look you imagine rests on your face while what little energy you have remaining slowly deflates from your body. The cashier tells the old bag her total, and you breathe a sigh of relief. OK, you tell yourself. That was an ordeal, but it’s over now, and…Oh-my-fucking-god! She’s writing a check!

Fumes burn inside you with the fury of a thousand fires, and you’re not sure if that’s the result of the burrito you had for lunch or the existential dread engulfing you that you’ll never leave this building alive. Hours pass, or perhaps only minutes. At this point, time is an illusion. Nearby, someone aggressively clears their throat. You snap out of your trance and see Grandma Moses slowly exiting the checkout line. This is it! It’s finally your turn. You cross your fingers, hoping for the best. May the items all scan. May there be no need for price checks. May the receipt printer not need to be reloaded. May this process be quick and easy. And it is! It only takes about twenty seconds. The cashier hands you your receipt and wishes you a good day, despite clearly not meaning it, and just like that, you’re on your way.

However, there is one last obstacle. The receipt checker at the exit door. Not only do you need permission to enter this god forsaken place, but you need permission to exit, and exiting is a lot more stressful. The woman working the door gives you an ocular assessment as you approach. Like, some kind of cyborg, she’s already counted all the items in your cart, including the KY Jelly you attempted to hide in between the Capri-Sun and Coffee, and is currently silently judging you for your indiscretions. You hand her the receipt and hold your breath. Your heart beats wildly, and the shopping cart practically quivers under the scrutiny of her penetrating gaze. She draws a line through the receipt with a Sharpie and brusquely hands it back to you.

That’s it! You’re done! You continue towards the vestibule, nearly colliding with 13 other people attempting to enter, and zig-zag your way outside. The great outdoors! Finally, you meet again. Trees and sunshine, and birds! Outside birds! Where they belong! You take a deep breath and take in all the fresh air. Now, if you could only remember where you parked.

Pizza Passport 2025

2025-08-25T06:49:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year, we purchased a Pizza Passport for the low cost of $35. With the passport in hand, we were able to explore the region and receive 50% off a pizza of any size and toppings combination from over 40 participating pizza locations.

And we did exactly that. Over the course of the last 6 months or so, we’ve dined in twenty different pizza places all over the STL: some good, some not so good, some incredibly good, some thin crust, some thick, some mozzarella, some that all too familiar eclectic mix of Swiss, Provolone, Cheddar, Liquid Smoke, and a plethora of preservatives and emulsifiers that technically (at least according to the FDA) classify it not as cheese per se, but rather as “Processed Cheese Product.” Oh well, at least it has the word cheese in the name, right? And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t care if they discovered plutonium in Provel. I’m still going to eat it. It’s delicious.

Keep in mind, I visited each and every one of these restaurants exactly one time and therefore am evaluating them based on a sole experience. An experience that usually consisted of a basic one topping pepperoni, because you can’t exactly compare supreme pizza from one place with buffalo chicken from another. I suppose some of these experiences could be chalked up as anomalies. Perhaps they were understaffed on the day I arrived and prepared my pizza in haste. Maybe the crust didn’t proof properly, or the sauce didn’t blend right, or perhaps the dishwasher brought in some really potent weed and they all had trouble focusing for a while. Nevertheless, here are my reviews. I’ve indexed these in Drake order so we’ll be starting from the bottom.

20.

GOOD NEWS BREWING (O FALLON)

Nothing but bad news here. Good News serves up 9” pizzas (think the size of a normal paper plate) with a thin, undercooked crust, topped with dry sauce, and bland toppings. At $15 a pop, even with a half-off discount, it seems criminally overpriced. If I had to say a nice thing about them… the beer was good.

Outdoor seating.

18.

SCHOTTZIE’S (SOUTH COUNTY)

Schottzie’s is an ordinary bar with ordinary food. The only thing extraordinary about this place is the incompetence of the staff. It took our waitress 15 minutes to bring us our waters. She also forgot to submit half of our order and only after finally dropping off our pizza, did she realize that she had never given us plates or silverware. “Oops,” she said lackadaisically. She then moseyed to the server station, a mere six feet away from us, proceeded to pull out a bag of Jalapeño Crunchy Cheetos from behind the computer and deposited two huge handfuls into her fat mouth, before grabbing a stack of plates with her gross, disgusting Cheeto fingers and carelessly tossing the plates on our table. This. Chick. Was. The. Worst.

But enough about that. This isn’t about the service. It’s about the quality of the pizza and the quality was low. I’m not sure if they were using a Provel/Mozzarella blend or what they were using but the cheese tasted a little strange. It tasted like one of those times when you pull a Jack’s frozen pizza out of the freezer late at night, usually while drunk, and decide that there’s not enough cheese on it so you pull whatever shredded cheese you happen to have in the fridge and layer it on top, only to find out fifteen minutes later that your additions made no improvements to the pizza, and if anything it made it worse because the cheese melted inconsistently and now the crust is kind of soggy.

17.

PIO’S (SAINT CHARLES)

A block away from Historic Downtown Saint Charles sits a dilapidated structure in the same spot it’s resided for the last 50 years. If the food were better, you could refer to the state of the building as charming and timeless, but with the mediocre fare they serve, it’s more accurate to label it as antiquated and worn-down. The sauce is stale and the cheese is flavorless; it’s an all-around lackluster pizza. I didn’t even finish the leftovers.

17.

SAUCY’S (HIGH RIDGE)

If you were to take the sauce and crust from Domino’s, layer it with cheese from Little Caesar’s, and drizzle garlic butter seasoning from Papa John’s on top, you will have successfully constructed a pie from Saucy’s Pizzeria. Nothing special, really. It’s the kind of pizza that serves its purpose but fails to leave a lasting impression. Good, not great. Adequate, yet appetizing. Filling, yet forgettable. Which really speaks as a testament to the preeminence of pizza because even when it’s just okay, it’s better than most other meals. So, if you’re in High Ridge and have a hankering for pizza, stop by Saucy’s, or don’t. I don’t care what you do.

16.

NANCY’S (O FALLON)

Nancy’s serves up a flaky deep dish crust topped with mozzarella and layers of toppings which are then doused in roughly one and a half to two gallons of marinara sauce, and it is at this point that it ceases being pizza and morphs into some sort of lasagna with pepperoni. It is my assertion that pizza is not meant to be eaten with a knife and fork, and if you find yourself needing the aid of utensils to eat one, something must have gone horribly wrong during the baking process. I’d rate this place lower but it would be unfair. After all, they specialize in authentic Chicago style pizza and by all accounts, they’ve delivered on that promise. It just so happens to not be my cup of tea. I prefer actual pizza, not whatever this was supposed to be.

*Carryout only

15.

RED OVEN WOOD FIRED PIZZA (FLORISSANT)

Situated in the heart of downtown Florissant in a refurbished two story brick building is Red Oven Pizzeria. An immaculately clean, well-decorated, and elegant restaurant that at first, appeared to be operated exclusively by an 11-year-old boy. After about twenty minutes or so of exchanging looks of concern and befuddlement with the other guests in the dining room, the owner emerged from the kitchen to assist with taking orders, and delivering drinks, thus sparing me from making the difficult decision between choosing to call Child Protective Services or IMO’s.

Red Oven’s mission is to serve authentic Neapolitan pizza and since I’ve never been to Naples, I’m just going to have to take their word for it. The wood fired oven cast a light char on a chewy crust, coated with a tangy and flavorful sauce. The pizzas are offered in one size (12”) only, so we ordered two. My wife’s Margherita was bland and underwhelming. My pepperoni was better. But both seemed light on cheese, and neither one was hot when delivered to our table. They were warm but not hot, and the only thing worse than waiting 35 minutes for a meal is waiting 35 minutes for a meal that isn’t even fresh.

Clearly we caught them on an off night and if we lived closer, I’d be willing to give them a second chance because we were looking forward to this place and it was a bit of a letdown. My expectations were higher.

14.

PIZZA WORLD (CREVE COUER)

This is a very greasy pizza. I’d rate it one notch, maybe a notch and a half above Costco Pizza. It’s definitely more flavorful and topped with savory seasonings. Also, they have a pizza challenge. If you and a friend can eat a 24” inch pizza in a half hour, you can win a free T-shirt. So, if you have a ravenous appetite and a desperate need for a free T-shirt… this is your place.

13.

MONTE BELLO (LEMAY TOWNSHIP)

Tucked away on a tiny corner in Lemay Township rests the charming and timeless Monte Bello pizzeria. At first glance, it appears to be an abandoned residence. A suspicion that’s eerily confirmed with a quick peek through the window. But as you bravely push through your fears of being murdered and descend the staircase into the dimly lit basement below, the aromas from the kitchen waft upwards, and tendrils of freshly cooked dough and vibrant marinara seep into your nostrils, giving the nerve endings in your nose a gentle little hug.

You reach the bottom to an array of tables clustered together so closely it’s difficult to get in and out of your seat. Try your hardest not to be tall when you visit as the ceilings are quite low. Yes, you could describe the accommodations as a little cramped, at least before you try the food that is, after the fact, you’ll realize that the word you were looking for instead was, “Cozy”.

The oldest existing pizzeria in Saint Louis, established in 1950, it practically predates the invention of Provel, not that they use it anyway. Monte Bello uses a 4-cheese blend complemented by a robust spice mixture that’s been a family secret for half a century. My one qualm with the quality is the abundance of cornmeal stuck to the bottom of an otherwise delicious crust. This place is extremely busy and the kitchen is still operating with the original oven that was installed in the fifties so the pizzas take a little longer to cook. Reservations aren’t required but are recommended and even with one, you’ll still probably have to wait a while.

12.

LILIANA’S (COTTLEVILLE)

We were unable to make it to the OG Liliana’s off Tesson Ferry but did manage to visit their second location in Cottleville, which is in a building that is much bigger than it needs to be. It used to be a Mexican restaurant, and then after that it was something else. Then it was vacant for several years, or it was either a Crossfit gym or a church? No one really knows for sure what this place was between 2019 - 2023, but now it is Liliana’s. Having said all this, the pizza was pretty tasty, with the lone exception of the mounds of cornmeal stuck to the bottom of the crust that you already know displeases me. I’d rate this place to be about on par with Stefanina’s—the clear-cut best of the three major STL style chains. If you know, you know. Translation for the youngsters, IYKYK. In other words, if Cecil Whittakers is Jay Leno and IMO’s is David Letterman, then Stefanina’s is Conan O’Brien. Translation for the youngsters, if Seth Meyers is Cecil Whittakers and Jimmy Fallon is IMO’s, then Stefanina’s is Conan O’Brien.

11.

Mama Mel’s (Lemay)

This place presented us with quite the quandary as they offer both STL and Detroit-style pizza. Not wanting to make the wrong decision, we went with one of each. The Detroit-style wasn’t the best. Frankly, it seems like the thicker the crust, the less likely I am to enjoy it, and Detroit Pizza is as thick as it comes. The STL was much better. The sauce was tangy. The cheese was just the right amount of burnt, and the crust was nice and crispy.

10.

MONICAL’S (O Fallon)

Pasted on a glass window of this O Fallon storefront are big, bold white letters that read, “Voted best pizza in St.Louis” And while I don’t think that’s true at all, it is quite tasty. Perhaps a more accurate statement would be to say, “Best pizza in this particular strip mall” or “Second best pizza on Highway K” (Ami’s). But I digress. Monical’s has a spacious dining room with a full bar, extensive menu, and several specialty pizzas, including “The Point.”

The Point sports a sweeter sauce with extra toppings. It’s also shaped like a triangle. Is it gimmicky? Yes. Is it delicious? Also, yes.

That’sa Nice’a Pizza (South County)

This aptly named storefront in Concord offers a crunchy thin crust with a fiercely sweet sauce that pairs perfectly with mozzarella cheese. Provel is available upon request but isn’t as agreeable to the sauce, so go with the mozzarella. Trust me on this.

*Carryout only

HOT PIZZA COLD BEER (SAINT LOUIS)

Brought to you by the same innovative minds behind Sugarfire Smokehouse and Hi-Point Drive-in comes a fresh new eatery off Washington Ave that will indulge your taste buds’ two most primal desires. Hot Pizza, Cold Beer, sounds like a dream and delivers as promised. With its crispy crust and zesty sauce, each enormous New York slice sends bursts of dopamine surging through your system, bite after mouthwatering bite

*Metered street parking

DOUBLE D’S PIZZERIA (SOUTH COUNTY)

First, work up an appetite, browsing for treasure at the South County antique mall, then head next door to a pizzeria that will satisfy your hunger and titillate your taste buds. Double D’s boasts loads of flavorful cheese layered atop a zesty sauce covered with delicious peppery seasonings. The one downside was that the crust was a little on the doughier side, but altogether it was still a fabulous pizza.

NICK AND ELENA’S (BRECKINRIDGE HILLS)

If you want Provel in its purest form, take a trip down to Breckinridge Hills and visit Nick and Elena’s, where the cheese sports an orangish hue and each bite delivers a spicy kick. This is quintessential Saint Louis-style pizza. The type of pie that would make a New Yorker so angry he’d chuck the box at an oncoming taxi. With its crispy cracker crust, piquant sauce, and perfectly melted cheese, it’s a masterpiece in culinary achievement. I’d say it’s on par or perhaps a notch above Pirrone’s pizza, which, prior to this passport endeavor, I considered to be the best pizza in town.

NUBBY’S (OAKVILLE)

I normally stray away from comparing food to sex, but with Nubby’s, I’m willing to make an exception. The moment you enter the front door, the sweet, smoky aroma sends shivers down your spine and stimulates your most tender senses. All that meat being pulled in the kitchen is likely to put you in the mood to masticate, and you won’t even care who sees. For a place known for its BBQ, Nubby’s has no business baking a pizza this damn delicious. They offer both a hand-tossed and a STL style thin crust. We ordered the thin crust, and it hit like a vintage Mike Tyson knockout punch. I have no doubt that the hand-tossed slaps as well.

With several big screen TV’s, Nubby’s seems like a good place to watch sports, but you’re not going to care about the game. No, the only thing you’ll be focusing on is the feeling of pure bliss as you sink your teeth into each savory slice. So, stuff your guts, get your fill, and leave yearning for more.

CAFE PIAZZA (SAINT LOUIS)

Directly across the street from the Anheuser-Busch brewery is a resplendent little hole in the wall that will curtail your hunger and cure your blues. Leave your troubles behind as you enter the threshold of Café Piazza; grab a seat and immerse yourself in its aura of nonchalance. This whole place is a vibe. The interior is visually striking. An intricate mural sprawls across the ceiling. Various paintings adorn the walls. But the real work of art… The real masterpiece… is what’s cooking in the kitchen!

The canvas, an impeccable hand-tossed crust, baked to crisp perfection, covered with brushstrokes of tantalizingly bold tomato sauce, and splattered with fresh mozzarella and robust seasonings.

This pizza’s beauty knows no boundaries. It belongs on the covers of magazines. Slap a pair of denim jeans on a pie from Café Piazza, and American Eagle will forget Sydney Sweeney ever existed. Each mouthwatering bite whips your taste buds into a frenzy like a group of preteen girls at a Taylor Swift concert. Once you’re finished, venture into the arcade behind the bar and play one of the twenty or so pinball machines on site and leave with an equally satisfied stomach and soul.

*Street parking only

UNCLE LEO’S (CONCORD)

Another South County gem that lives up to the hype. This is a magnificent pizza and one of the best STL style I’ve ever had. The ingredients work together all too well. It’s more than a partnership. It’s a divine union. A glorious harmonization of flavors. An irresistible arrangement of thick pepperonis blanketed in layers of gooey Provel, complemented by an expertly seasoned savory sauce. It’s the kind of pizza you can’t stop eating. You just keep telling yourself, “One more slice… One more slice…” and the next thing you know, you’re staring at an empty box with a couple of balled-up napkins and a desperate need for a bottle of Tums. It’s worth it though. Trust me. The indigestion won’t be enough to wipe the satisfying grin off your face.

*No dining room; a few outdoor tables. Otherwise, carryout only.

AFFTON PIZZA COMPANY (AFFTON)

On the corner of a small strip mall off Reavis Barracks Road sits what is perhaps the most slept-on pizza place in Saint Louis County. We arrived on a Saturday evening, much to our surprise, to a completely empty dining room. That’s okay, we thought. More food for us. They are evidently known for their garlic breads, but we opted instead for chicken tenders, fries, and mozzarella sticks the size of hot dogs. I was almost ready to tap out until the pizza arrived. My heart nearly skipped a beat as my gaze surveyed its majestic beauty. It was covered head to toe in juicy pepperonis generously piled high, captivating me with its alluring aroma. Steam steadily rose from the hot, gooey cheese, leaving me as enchanted as a cartoon wolf in the presence of a hot lady. “Awooooo!” I unleashed a primitive howl. My jaw dropped to the floor, and my tongue rolled out of my mouth the entire length of the table while my eyes briefly transformed into slot machines, landing on ❤️❤️, which then popped out of my head to absurd dimensions. Suddenly, a train whistle magically appeared at the table. I pulled it, and a horn blared while steam began pouring out of my ears. I started to levitate in the air, unable to resist the urge to pound my fists on the table, rattling all the plates and cups. I tried to compose myself but had no control over my vocal cords. I just floated there midair, muttering, “Hummina Hummina, Hummina, Hummina!” at a comically fast pace. After a few awkward moments, I regained control of my senses, my tongue and eyes fell back to their original proportions, and gravity returned, settling me back into my chair. “Well, that was weird.” I remarked to my wife and child, who were both staring at me with their usual looks of embarrassment and disapproval. To sum things up, Affton Pizza Company is very, very good!

BUD’S PIZZA AND BEER (SAINT LOUIS)

Buds serves exquisite New York Style pizza with wide, sturdy slices of flavorful cheese, delectable sauce, and crispy pepperonis that curl up on the edges. We ordered a full pizza because of the passport, but they also sell by the slice and have great happy hour and beer specials throughout the day. I’m telling you this pizza was flawless. It looked so good it could have started a 10-year war. The “Helen of Troy” of pizzas.

I just can’t say enough nice things about this restaurant. The aesthetic is on point: the red plush leather booths, the vintage Budweiser signs, even the music they played while we were there seemed like it was handpicked to complement my tastes. Like the entire place was built specifically for me. I took one final swig of my $3 Bud Light draft and leaned back in my seat, shifting my gaze from side to side trying to soak in the electric ambience. Bearing an expression of wide-eyed astonishment, I perhaps mimicked the countenance of the late, great Ray Liotta when he portrayed Shoeless Joe Jackson visiting Ray Kinsella’s farm for the first time in the iconic movie, “Field of Dreams.”

“Is this heaven?” I startled, suddenly aware of the fact that I had just spoken out loud.

“No,” our server replied jovially. “It’s Buds. Can I get you another beer?”

No parking lot.

Metered parking only.

Strange interactions.

2022-03-31T17:00:00.002-07:00

I am not a male model. If you’ve ever seen me, you’ll render this claim as undeniable as if I were to say, I am not Santa Claus, or I am not a mongoose. I am neither of those things and I am also not a male model. Which is Ok. I’ve come to terms with it. Although, nothing makes me feel less like Santa Claus or a Mongoose and more like a male model than the way I look in the dressing rooms at Kohl’s.

They must have highly trained engineers come in and design these rooms with just the precise lighting fixtures, calculating the exact wattage needed, which combined with the sheen off the mirror, transforms the reflection of an Average Joe into a Hunky pile of man meat. When I see myself in those mirrors I like what I see. I mean, I look good. Almost too good. So good I fear for my safety and well-being. My knowledge of the law is rudimentary at best but I figure it’s gotta be illegal to be this sexy. And not only do I have to worry about the cops but also of the flocks of females likely waiting for me in the parking lot. I’ll have to sprint to my car to avoid all the wild, sex-crazed, maniacal women lunging at my genitals and showering me with their panties.

But I won’t allow my head to balloon up with an inflated sense of desirability. Not again. I’ve fallen victim to these mirrors before. It’s the same song and dance every time. By the time you make it home and try on the shirt for a second time, it’s as massive a disappointment as the finished product on a microwaveable dinner. Your mouth waters while examining the picture of a scrumptious looking Chicken Parmesan on the Lean Cuisine box, but once you pull the steaming hot tray out of the microwave, the succulent, juicy chicken breast you thought you’d be eating appears, dry, flavorless, cold and somehow also overcooked.

I know now that while standing before this mirror in this dressing room, I may appear to be a legit snack, while in reality I most likely better resemble last week’s leftovers. I know this now.

But at the time, I was a young, vain, impressionable 18 year old kid, whose top priorities were being cool, keeping it real and looking real cool. I was fresh out of high school working as a pizza delivery driver and like most 18 year olds, I had a lot of free time. Free time I spent socializing and partying as much as possible. Mingling, meeting new people, getting fucked-up, and, graciously accepting compliments on my crispy new T-shirts.

Of course, the same T-shirt size discrepancy always presents itself. As far as T-shirt sizes go, medium and large, which represent 70% of consumers, often jump too much between the two sizes. This is especially apparent at Kohl’s as the folks at the Urban Pipeline clothing company seem to lump all men into two categories. You’re either a David Spade or a Chris Farley body type. There is no in between. Which puts me in quite the quandary. Do I go with the medium which fits a little more snugly than I’d prefer on the off chance that it won’t shrink a bit, or do I opt for the much larger shirt, the one that makes me look like a toddler, on the off chance that it will shrink abundantly, and may actually fit? Of course, the third, and most regrettable option, is to forgo the purchase altogether which only gives me seven minutes to search for a replacement.

I allow myself fifteen minutes in clothing stores to locate whatever fetching piece of garment happens to attract my attention. Fifteen minutes, and it’s already been eight. To make matters worse, I have $20 of Kohl’s cash that expires tomorrow. I have seven minutes remaining to find a new addition to my wardrobe. Once my time has elapsed, I leave, as it simply wasn’t to be. My process is methodical. I enter the store, head straight towards the men’s department and continue moving, never stopping to browse or mingle, always on the go, traversing through the clothing racks with the tenacity of a Great White shark stalking a school of otters. Starting in the middle, I move outward in concentric circles, swiveling my head from side-to-side until something reaches out and tickles my fancy. If by the end of the fifteen minutes, nothing has tickled my fancy, I leave, and my fancy remains untickled. Numb and dull, feeling no sensations whatsoever. I head toward the parking lot. My fancy yearning for a tickling.
I exited the dressing room, taking note of the time with one shirt in my left hand reserved as a “Maybe” and the two different sized shirts in my right hand, hoping I’d make a decision on which one to choose by the time I made it back to the rack to return one when I was startled by the presence of an unexpected visitor.

An army man. A marine, to be more specific. Semper Fi. But I didn’t know that yet. I was 18. I didn’t know who was what in terms of serviceman. All I saw was an army man in an army uniform. An intimidating figure. And he was looking right at me like he was waiting for me. He was short, but also big. Not stout, but compact. If I had to guess, I’d say he was 5’6” 190 pounds. A pint size, cube of muscles and aftershave with jet black hair, cut razor thin, a rugged jaw line, piercing blue eyes and a neck as thick as a Redwood. He stood before me with rigid posture, his hands folded into each other at his waistline, with a uniform so crisp and clean, you couldn’t detect a speck of lint with a telescope. “Young man,” he shouted more loudly than was necessary. “Have you given any thought into serving your country and joining the marines?”

Now, I’ve been caught off guard plenty of times in my life. I once encountered a woman at Costco with a service kangaroo. A cab driver once asked me if I knew how to get any heroin while flying down the interstate at an alarmingly fast speed. I once ran into Daryl Strawberry right by the strawberries in the produce section of a grocery store. But I can’t think of a more random occurrence than the one you’re currently reading.

Had I given any thought into joining the marines? No, I can honestly say that I hadn’t. Enlisting in the Marines was the furthest thing from my mind. I wasn’t even sure if I could pull off a V-neck shirt yet. How was I expected to make a massive, life-changing commitment like joining the military. I had seen, “Full Metal Jacket” and that was enough to alienate me from that lifestyle forever. The notion of all my insecurities being exploited and eviserated by an irate drill seargant in an attempt to mold me into a cold-blooded, merciless killing machine, seemed like it would be both horrible and ineffective. Not only would I hate every second of it, but I’d probably also become increasingly unfocused, distraught, and self-conscious. How am I supposed to drive a tank over a bunch of Palestinian children with the constant distraction of whether or not my camouflage was unflattering or if my crew cut made me look gay.

At this point, I realized hadn’t said anything at all for about thirty seconds. I was speechless. A typical reaction to being caught off guard. After encountering the service kangaroo, I didn’t speak for eleven days. I had seen army recruiters before. They used to stand behind a table with pamphlets on it in the high school cafeteria. There was a recruiting office next door to the Subway I’d go to on occasion. And I had one call my house before. Thank god for Caller ID. At least in that scenario, I could pretend not to be home. However, there was no escaping this conversation, as much as I desperately wanted to. Not wanting Army man to mistake my silence for contemplation, I forced myself to mumble these three words,

“No thanks, man.”

Those three words, must have been the detonation code for the chamber of fury and outrage that lay dormant in Army man’s soul. An unlit furnace waiting for its opportunity to explode onto the earth, decimating anything in its path.

“I guess you just want to sit in your mom and dad’s basement all day long playing video games and eating Funjuns!” Army man snarled with a sharp and intense vigor. Quiet enough not to raise suspicion from Kohl’s security but fierce enough to scare the ever living shit out of me. His face tense, nostrils flaring, eyebrows etched into a permanent slant, eyes fixed on me with a gaze so menacing it would have made Medusa blush. “At some point you’re going to have to grow up! Can’t play video games in Mom’s basement the rest of your life. Time to get a job! Be a man!”

For the second time, he’s mentioned video games. I don’t even play video games. Nor do I eat Funjuns. It’s almost like his whole speech was intended for somebody else. Plus, I had a job. A good one. I made lots of tip money delivering pizza. Although in hindsight, telling that to Army man was a error in judgment. As it only threw more fuel on the inferno of rage boiling inside of him.

“What a fucking loser you are!” He snapped. “Waste of oxygen! That’s what you are!” He added with his fists clenched and chest puffed out like he was ready to absorb a cannonball blast.

Now, I’m not an expert in reading body language, but it seemed pretty obvious at that point that Army man wanted to something terrible to me like fashion an open bear trap around my neck on a timer that would clamp my face off unless I found the key, or stick me in a maze lined with barbed wire and watch me rip myself apart trying to escape. I had just seen the movie, “Saw” a few days earlier and still hadn’t processed my emotions.

The more plausible action for him would be to fold me up like an accordion and slam me on the ground, leaving me half the size of my current self, which would help me with my T-shirt dilemma but wouldn’t bode well for my low threshold for pain. I knew I needed to do something fast, so I side stepped once to the left then spun back to the right in a slippery maneuver that left Army man frozen in the mud. Although, looking back, I’m fairly sure he didn’t try to stop me, but I like to think I would have gotten around him even if he had.

With one minute remaining, I reached the checkout counter with one V-neck shirt in my hands. This was it. I was finally doing it. Upon being handed my receipt, I politely thanked the cashier and cautiously walked into the parking lot, knowing that he still might be out there, lurking in the bushes, waiting for his chance to pounce. What was with him anyway? Why was he such a dick? So I declined his offer, so what. Surely, that can’t be the first time that’s happened. What kind of emotionally unstable operation was this guy running. Joining the military is a huge commitment. Huge. And after hearing the word, “No” once, he immediately went on the offensive. No second attempt was ever even made to entice me to reconsider. It took several minutes of convincing for me to sign up for The Kohl’s credit card. Yet, this guy thought I jump at the opportunity for four years of combat, a lifetime of PTSD and possible death. Just so we’re clear, I’m not against the military. I’m simply against me being in the military.

Twenty years later, I can still say with confidence that I made the right decision. It never would’ve worked.
As I pulled out of my parking spot and turned down the row to the main road I saw him standing along the sidewalk on the far edge of the building smoking a cigarette. Even from a distance, I could tell that he was still brooding from my rejection of his offer, and as I passed him by, he glared into the car with the same look of contempt, that terrified me minutes earlier outside of that dressing room.
On the drive home, I pondered over that interaction wondering if perhaps I did anything to provoke him. I replayed the whole ordeal over and over again in my head and couldn’t find any cause for his overreaction. Unless of course, it wasn’t an overreaction at all, but rather the same sales pitch he gives to everybody. An unconventional approach that I highly doubt is effective. Like, Good cop, bad cop, without the good cop. Army man’s strategy seemed to be to berate recruits into signing contracts under duress. I wondered how often that worked and became skeptical that it ever did. Then for a brief moment, I felt bad for Army man. Here was a guy who was just trying to do his job. Maybe he had a mean boss. Maybe he was under performance probation, and was in desperate need of a recruit to meet his quota. Maybe that day was the last straw and he knew he’d be fired upon returning to the office that day, yet again, empty-handed. This wouldn’t excuse his behavior. But it could potentially explain it.

Years later, at a Super Bowl party, the doorbell rang, and the host of the party asked if I could answer it for him while he ran off to get his wallet. Not wanting to miss any commercials, I briefly considered passing that responsibility on to somebody else, but ultimately decided to do what was asked of me. And I’m glad I did, because when I opened that door, guess who I saw standing there, muscles bulging, rugged jaw line, jet black hair peeking out the top of a visor, holding a Pizza Hut bag?

Just kidding. That part never happened. Would’ve been funny it did though. Can you imagine!

My retirement from recreational basketball.

2021-06-12T15:52:00.000-07:00

One-armed men have been the demise of many figures throughout history— Dr. Richard Kimble, anyone who faced Angels Pitcher, Jim Abbott in the 90’s, and unfortunately, yours truly.

This story takes place about 7 years ago inside a Gold’s Gym. I was planning on working out my arms, but decided to stop inside the basketball court first to shoot around. Nothing too intense, just a little warm-up to get the blood flowing.

Upon entering the gym, I noticed one other baller on the court— an overweight Cuban fella, who looked sort of like Fat Joe. I never caught his name and he wasn’t quite as big as Fat Joe, so we’ll just refer to him as Stocky Joe. Stocky Joe was hoisting up 3’s on the far basket. I took the near basket and began working on my mid-range game.

A few minutes later, the door flung open and in walked the man who would soon end my recreational basketball career, and convert me into a guy who uses ellipticals. He was a tall skinny guy with a medium build, bald head, one arm, and handlebar mustache. His name was Daryl. What Daryl lacked in appendages, he made up for in swag. This guy must have been sponsored by Under Armour. He had all the gear. I’m talking, shoes, tank top, headband, leg sleeves, wristbands, etc. He even wore a wristband on his chicken wing arm, which I thought was strange. But I just figured they came in two packs, and he didn’t want to waste one.

Daryl dropped his Under Armour duffel bag on the ground, and shouted in a loud booming voice, “Ya’ll wanna play bucket?”

Bucket, AKA, 21 is a classic playground basketball game. It’s perfect for when you have an odd number of players, as it’s essentially, one on one on one, etc. The objective of the game is to be the first to score 21 points. It’s also known as “Tips” to some people. Although in “Tips” you can tip in a missed shot and subsequently take the shooter’s points back to zero, while gaining two points yourself. But all that does is encourage cherry-picking. Also, only scrubs play Tips.

We all agreed to play a man’s game. First to 21 wins, no tips, and you’ve got to take the ball back on every possession.

“I’ll break” shouted Daryl, before stepping back and effortlessly sinking a thirty-foot 3-pointer.

By the way, this was the very first shot he took. He didn’t warm up at all. He literally entered the gym and immediately challenged every person on the court. Stocky Joe and I exchanged nervous glances. Neither one of us seemed prepared for this level of competition. Who was this guy? Why’s he so confident? What happened to his other arm?

That last question may seem inappropriate, but don’t act like you’ve never wondered the same thing when interacting with a person with a physical deformity Were they born that way? Did they get attacked by a shark? Was it some kind of a freak vending machine accident, and he stuck his arm up there because it wouldn’t dispense his Twix? All those questions would soon take a backseat to the more important question? Who taught this man how to play?

Daryl started the game from the top of the key, and checked me the ball. I checked it back and got in the defensive stance. He then jab-stepped to the left and dribbled once to the right, and then just disappeared. I literally heard the ball swish through the net while still facing the opposite direction. “What the fuck!” I muttered under my breath. “Is this guy The Flash? How’s he so fast?”

On his second possession. He did the same thing. I stayed with him for about half a second before watching him blow by me for an uncontested shot, which he decided would be a completely unnecessary 360 reverse layup.

After that, he hit me with a stutter step which almost caused me to fall down. He then streaked across the paint and hit a floater

Next, almost out of boredom, he heaved up a thirty-foot fade-away which bounced off the back of the rim. I snagged the rebound and took it to the top of the key. I could tell Daryl was toying with us. He thought we were both bums, and while I couldn’t speak for Stocky Joe, I was determined to prove him wrong. Now’s my time to shine, I thought to myself, eager to display my athleticism.

For my first possession, I dribbled down to the right block, stopped on a dime, and pivoted hard to the left. Then I quickly pivoted back to the right and faked a hook shot.

Now, this usually gets the defender to go airborne. Not always, but usually.

Once this happens, I tuck the ball back towards my body, wait for the defender to soar past me, and shoot the easy, uncontested layup. This was a move I had been using since junior high. I have perfected it over the years and it worked like a charm almost every time. It wasn’t something I could do every play, but once or twice a game, I could usually pull it off with a high success rate. Once again, I say usually. Unfortunately for me, this wasn’t one of those times. Daryl must have had the scouting report on me because he didn’t jump on the pump fake. He didn’t even flinch.

My move was similar to Hakeem Olajuwon's Dream Shake, with the only exception being his move worked and mine was terrible.

This put me in a precarious position. I now had my back turned to the basket and had already picked up my dribble. In a game situation, I’d simply pass the ball back out to the wing, but this was different. I had to try to hoist up a shot somehow. I had no other option. So, that’s what I did. I jumped backwards while simultaneously turning to shoot. Much to my dismay, once I turned I was making direct eye contact with Daryl’s crotch. He had also jumped, and he jumped much higher than me.

Now I’ve had my shot blocked before but this was different. This wasn’t so much a block as it was a spike. Daryl slammed the ball into the floor so ferociously, I thought the hardwood was going to open up and create a black hole. My thought process was them temporarily delayed while I crashed to the ground. I’m pretty sure my head slammed on the floor, but the only pain I could feel was to my pride. It had been broken. What I experienced that day was likely the most embarrassing scenario in all of sports. This was like getting tackled by the punter, or giving up a home run to the opposing teams batboy.

I contemplated faking an injury so I could get the hell out of there, but Daryl was quick to lend me a hand and help me up. Of course he exhibits good sportsmanship, I thought to myself. Is this guy determined to be better than me at everything!

As I sprung back up to my feet, my eyes caught Stocky Joe smirking at me with condescension. It was as if he was trying to say “Really, Bruh” with his eyes.

I shrugged and shook it off. It was tough though. Because fuck that guy! It wasn’t like he provided me with any help defense earlier.

The rest of the game went as you’ve likely already predicted. With Daryl dominating every step of the way. He scored on me at will. The final score was 21 to 3 to 0. I put up the goose egg. Again, I scored no points at all. Zero. Even that lazy asshole, Stocky Joe managed to sink a lucky shot at one point.

“Ya’ll wanna run again!” Daryl shouted out.

Stocky Joe passed on the opportunity to continue standing there, not playing defense, and I politely declined. I decided at that moment that I was done with basketball, not only for the day, but for the rest of my life. Unless I wind up with Alzheimer’s later on and forget about that humiliating beat down I had just endured.

On the drive home that day, I considered several new hobbies to replace basketball. Hobbies that don’t require athleticism, as it was clear my best days were behind me. Bowling, darts, scrap-booking... maybe I could get into bird-watching, I thought to myself.

Sometimes, when I look back on the events that transpired that day, I kick myself for not accepting Daryl’s offer for a rematch. Did I give up too easily? Was there a chance I could’ve redeemed myself? Why didn’t I try to force him to his weak side? He had no left hand.

Ultimately, I feel like I made the correct call. I was clearly outmatched, and leaving when I did certainly spared me additional embarrassment. Maybe one day in the future, I’ll get my confidence back and enter a pickup game, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I just saw a Ruby-Throated Hummingbird out my window, and I need to log it in my journal.

13 Books to read before you watch another shitty reality show.

2021-05-17T13:51:00.000-07:00

Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman

I, admittedly don’t read many fantasy novels, but I also don’t have a reason to, as I can’t imagine any of them being as good as Neverwhere. The author once referred to this work as, Alice and the Wonderland for adults and I can’t think of a more apt description. In the book, the protagonist, Richard, stops to help a mysterious wounded girl on the streets of London and subsequently gets swept underground into the London below — A ghastly, ominous setting filled with immortal assassins, talking rats, and demons. It’s an enthralling read that’s funny and shockingly wholesome.

Anxious People - Fredrik Bachman.

The first 10-15 pages of this book might turn you off as it tries way too hard to be funny. Fortunately, the forced humor quickly dissipates and the book takes on a more natural flow about a botched bank robbery which clumsily transforms into a hostage situation at an apartment viewing. This book has no antagonist. And it’s not even clear who the main character is supposed to be. It does, however, have an entertaining ensemble of all walks of life who despite their differences, come together when it’s truly needed. Because no matter how strong-willed a person might act, no matter how resilient they may seem, no matter how bold and unafraid, everyone needs someone else to lean on. This is a beautifully written book. It will make you laugh, make you cry, make you reach out to a loved one, and make you want to read it again.

The Hit List - Richard Belzer

Fifty-six years before Jeffrey Epstein didn’t kill himself, Lee Harvey-Oswald didn’t act as the lone conspirator in the Kennedy assassination. I feel like that’s a fairly uncontroversial opinion. Most people would agree there was foul play amiss, the magnitude of which has yet to be determined and likely never will. That’s because anyone who witnessed or knew of anything unusual about that day died under mysterious circumstances. In the Hit List, Richard Belzer ( Yes, the same Richard Belzer) analyzes the tragic demise of 50 separate people who either knew too much, said too much, or simply saw something they weren’t supposed to see. And he does so, with that familiar, unbridled Detective John Munch, snark.

Recursion/Dark Matter - Blake Crouch

Some books are slow to get out of the gate. Blake Crouch’s books are not. They blast out of the starting block like Usain Bolt on rocket skates. I couldn’t decide between Dark matter or Recursion so I decided to include them both. And while they deal with different subject matters they share the same intricate storylines, mesmerizing plot twists and frenetic pace. If you like Sci-fi thrillers, these books are for you. And if you don’t, read them anyway because I told you to.

The murder of Roger Ackroyd - Agatha Christie

On December 3rd 1926, renowned author, Agatha Christie, vanished off the face of the earth. What soon followed, was at the time, the largest search in human history. A nationwide manhunt. This was headline news. Hundreds of people scoured the forests for days. Aeroplanes were used in the search for the first time ever. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle even hired a psychic in an attempt to discover her whereabouts. Their search came up empty. She was eventually discovered 11 days later at a hotel a couple hundred miles away. Claiming amnesia, Agatha could provide no details as to how she got there, or what she had been doing all that time. Upon returning home, she never spoke of the disappearance again. How fitting for such a mysterious event to occur to such a revered mystery writer. All we know for sure is that right before this she wrote, ‘The murder of Roger Ackroyd’ otherwise known as the greatest mystery novel ever written. A compelling premise with a slew of suspicious characters in a riveting novel that keeps you guessing until the very end.

Choke - Chuck Palahniuk

The same author that brought you Fight Club brings you another deranged tale about a depraved medical school dropout named, Victor Mancini. This book is lewd and obscene, and quite possibly the funniest book ever written.

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel

Station Eleven is a multiple perspective account of an apocalyptic future after a deadly virus wipes out a majority of the population. Reading this at the start of the Covid shutdown was a little surreal. Not that the author could’ve predicted the utter shit-show that would encapsulate the world a full year after her book was published. Still, Station Eleven is a brilliantly written tale that makes you think about how you would react to the end of times.

A walk in the woods - Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson is an amazing writer. Read anything he’s written and you won’t be disappointed. My favorite so far is, ‘A walk in the woods’ A hilarious autobiographical account of his attempt at hiking the Appalachian trail.

Foe - Iain Reid

In the not-so-distant future, a young couple living in isolation on a farm in the country receive a visit from a stranger who gives them unsettling news. The same author who brought you, ‘I’m thinking of ending things’ brings you another menacing psychological thriller that will bend your mind in ways you didn’t think possible.

Stoner - John Williams

This is not a book about marijuana. Sorry to disappoint. Instead, it’s a book about a guy named William Stoner who enters the University of Missouri in 1910 at the age of 19. He later becomes a teacher. He marries the wrong woman. His life is quiet and after his death his colleagues remember him rarely. On the surface it seems like it would be incredibly boring. The type of story you’d need marijuana for in order to make it interesting. But it’s an exceptionally well-told, flawlessly written novel that you’re sure to enjoy whether your stoned or not. I highly recommend it.

Based on a true story, not a memoir - Norm Macdonald

I usually stray away from celebrity memoirs as they tend to hit a wall after 100 pages or so. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever finished one. This book, however, is a departure from the Norm.
By page 1, it becomes immediately clear that not only is this not based on a true story, but rather, nothing in the book is even remotely close to being true at all. In typical fashion, he hilariously rambles on from one implausible occurrence to another in a manner that only Norm Macdonald can achieve. Side note: For all Audiobook fans, you can actually buy this book in Norm Macdonald’s voice, which is just the bee’s knees.

What to regret when you’re expecting? - Ryan Shaw

The same author who brought you, ‘The customer is always right?’ Brings you another mildly humorous book. Evidently, not only is this guy an expert on consumer relations, he is also adept in parenting and shameless self promotion. Don’t miss your chance to read the book that’s received three (Yeah, that’s right) three, 5 star reviews on Amazon.

Breakfast food sucks. Lunch is much better

2020-08-16T17:02:00.001-07:00

I don’t know how people can eat entire meals first thing in the morning. I have to be awake for at least 60 minutes before I’m even hungry. I’ve always been that way. Then when I am hungry, I’m hungry for lunch, not breakfast. Breakfast sucks.

I don’t like sausage and I don’t care for eggs. Biscuits are good, but only as a sidekick for country fried steak, or fried chicken. Eating biscuits and gravy only, seems really strange to me. Same with bagels. If I’m having a bagel, there better be pizza toppings on it, ya feel me.

Sure, pancakes and waffles are good, but only because I find the other breakfast options so undesirable. Put it this way— if I went to a continental breakfast and my options were waffles or street tacos. I’m going with street tacos every time. I don’t care that it’s 9am, and I don’t care that the street tacos at the Holiday Inn Express are probably subpar. If I’m hungry, I want my hunger satisfied by the best foods available.

Which brings me to the problem. The best food,

in my opinion, isn’t readily available. I work the early shift. I start at 3:30am, and my lunch break is around 8am. Is it too much to ask for some chicken nuggets at that hour? Honestly?

Everyone lauded McDonald’s for their decision to offer their breakfast menu all day. But what about lunch? Can lunch get a little respect? If they can make an Egg McMuffin at 8pm, they should be able to make a Big Mac at 8am. What’s the difference? Worst case scenario is that would take longer than usual. Which would be fine with me. I can pull around and wait a few extra minutes. I’m not going to complain for the fresh food.

They say it’s the most important meal of the day, but isn’t that because it’s the first thing you eat? And doesn’t burning those calories throughout the day give you the energy to give it 35% at work?

Eating is my second favorite thing to do. Sleeping is first. And I don’t know about you, but when my appetite starts pumping, I don’t get a hankering for scrambled eggs. I get a craving for a spicy chicken sandwich with a side of pepperoni pizza.

P.S. I forgot about bacon. Obviously, bacon is amazing.

Turd Sandwich Association (TSA)

2020-07-31T16:06:00.001-07:00

I only flew once prior to 9/11. I was nine years old and have no recollection of that flight whatsoever. But from what I’ve read and seen in old movies, airports used to be way more relaxed than they are now. Nowadays, you can’t run wildly through the terminal like the McCallister ( minus Kevin of course) family. Those shenanigans would get you detained in a heartbeat.

It’s crazy to think that there was once a time when you could walk right onto an airplane without removing your shoes, belt, watch, and dignity. When security did their jobs quickly and efficiently, and the process wasn’t unnecessarily stressful. A time when calling things the “bomb” didn’t freak people out and getting to the airport two hours early was only something you did if you worked on the plane.

Last summer we flew to Orlando. It was our first plane ride as a family of four— Disneyworld! A trip that was sure to be draining, both mentally, and financially.

I began loosening my belt as we approached the security line. I knew the drill. I’ve done this before. I had not, however, done this before, with children. We managed to make it through the turnstile and as we began corralling through the roped off barriers, I noticed TSA agents stationed every ten feet along the way, loudly shouting at us to, move along! As if that wasn’t the obvious intended route.

‘Oh, you mean follow the crowd through the clearly defined path? How would we ever have figured that out on our own?’

And they say it with this smug authoritativeness completely void of human decency, which only serves to highlight their uselessness to society. Why do these people exist? We already have stanchions with retractable belts to guide us through the maze. I could do without these dipshits every ten feet stating the obvious. It seems to me like each airport could operate just fine with half the amount of agents at security. I say this confidently because at least half of them do absolutely nothing.

As we got closer to the screening Simon began throwing a tantrum. While Becca consoled him, Sophie decided that the burden of carrying her backpack was too much for her shoulders to bear. So, now, I was responsible for both carry-on suitcases, a backpack, a carry-on bag, and a stroller. I walked up to the conveyor belt fumbling our bags while simultaneously trying to empty my pockets and take off my shoes.

“There’s no way this ends well,” I muttered to myself as I dropped my cell phone and my boarding pass while trying to load one of the suitcases on the conveyor belt. I was in over my head. Like Michael J Fox trying to juggle machetes, I was destined to fail and I’m surprised I didn’t injure myself in the process.

I managed to get both suitcases on the belt, and was in the process of loading our electronics in a separate bin when I noticed another TSA agent staring at me as if I was wasting his time. I was clearly having issues and could’ve used some assistance, but instead of helping me load up any of the bags, you wanna know what this dumb asshole did? He looked at me with his fat, stupid face and said, “Sir, please place all your bags on the belt and push them through.”

I’m working on it fuckface!

My brain almost exploded. What was this guy’s problem. I wonder what he would do if he was a lifeguard and someone in the pool was drowning. Would he jump in and save them? Would he throw them a buoy? Or would he remain seated and curtly remind them to swim. “Sir, I’m going to need you to stop splashing around and swim already!”

All I had to do at this point was fold up the stroller and place it on the belt. Folding a stroller is an easy thing to do, unless you need to do it in a hurry, then suddenly it’s as difficult as solving a Rubik’s cube while riding a roller-coaster. “Sir, please go through the scanner,” the TSA said in a rather dickish tone.

I took two steps to the left to get in line for the body-scan machine, when the same TSA agent yelled at me again, “Sir, you need to push your bags all the way through the belt!”

Look dude. Either wait for me to push all by bags through and then I’ll get in line. Or push my bags through for me. I can’t do both things at once. Meanwhile, I can’t help but notice that you’re doing zero things. And aren’t you’re on the clock? I mean, shouldn’t you be doing something? Anything?

Now I have no idea what this guy’s official job title was, but I can’t imagine what he tells people he does. He probably brags about saving people’s lives and thwarting terrorist attacks by seizing tubes of nail polish and small bottles of water. The people at road construction sites that hold the STOP/SLOW sign work harder than these jack-wagons. Where do they get their confidence from? How can these people who do, literally nothing, behave so pompously, as if they’re vital, important members of society. “Move along!” They arrogantly shout, oblivious of their insignificance. Delusions of grandeur. These morons make Brendan Dassey look like Neal Degrasse Tyson, but in their minds, they’re Captain fucking Planet.

In haste, I entered the body-scan machine before completely emptying my pockets. “What’s that in your right pocket?” A different TSA inquired.

At that point I realized what I had done. In my pocket was a tube of Zipfizz. If you’re not familiar with Zipfizz, it’s an energy supplement that you mix with water. It’s a powder. I brought a powdery substance with me. I brought a powdery substance with me through airport security. I was fucked.

My heart sank through my stomach. This was a mistake that would’ve been easily explainable to a rational human being. But that’s rarely the case in airports. I was momentarily detained while the agent ran a red wand over my hands and tested the tube of powder for combustible/flammable components. I mentally prepared myself for a prolonged detention filled with vigorous full-cavity examinations. The cost of the airfare already had me feeling taken advantage of, but this was going to be the rectal equivalent of spending $300 for zero leg room. “Sir, you’re good to go,” The Agent said in a condescending tone.

I let out a huge sigh of relief. I had survived the TSA.

It was over. I was free. Sure, I lost a few thousand brain cells in the process, but you always have to expect casualties when dealing with the Turd Sandwich Association (TSA). The only thing that they can do to you after you pass security, is subject you to a completely unnecessary, “random bag check”

A random bag check essentially means, that they’ll catch you in line right before you enter the plane, open up one of your bags and fuck up all your neatly folded clothes for no reason. Which they did, by the way. But hey, if wrinkling up all my shirts, somehow equates to a safer flight, then I’m glad to make the sacrifice. Thanks for keeping me safe, TSA.

An angry rant for no reason

2020-07-18T14:45:00.001-07:00

Grocery store baggers

I went to the grocery store today and purchased 36 items. Then, somehow left with 38 plastic grocery bags. Why these people can’t figure out how to fill these bags up to more than a quarter of their capacity, is beyond me. One of them contained a single can of beans. That was it. A single can of beans, and this genius decided, “Well, that’s enough for you, plastic bag. Now, off you go, on your journey into the ocean until you eventually wind up in a blue whale’s stomach.

Now not only are the bags harder to carry inside at once because there’s so many of them, but I also have to figure out what to do with 38 plastic bags. And god forbid I show up with a reusable bag. I did this once and the chick at the register nearly had a brain aneurysm trying to figure out how to squeeze all 15 of my items in my giant 27 gallon size bag. She placed two bags of chips in my bag, and then asked if she could put some of it in plastic. “What, no.” I said. “Just stuff them all in that bag, they’ll fit.”

She then stared at me with with the same confused look Marty Mcfly had when his Nike’s laced up themselves. It became apparent at that point, that I needed to intervene. “Ok, let’s start with the bulkier stuff,” I said. “Grab that box of bagel bites, and those mini tacos, and those taquitos, and those pepperoni hot pockets...”

Yeah I know, but this isn’t about my poor diet. This is about mocking a woman who thought a loaf of bread made a better foundation than an economy size box of Hostess Cupcakes. I mean, honestly, has this bitch never played Tetris before? Just take a second to scan the conveyor belt before haphazardly tossing random items in the bag. It will be easier that way, and it will take about as much brain power as it takes to remember your zip-code. Trust me. If I can go through self checkout and stuff 15 things in one plastic bag, you can fit more than a single can of beans.

Self-Checkout machines

While we’re on the topic of grocery stores, allow me to explain in great detail my disgust for self-checkout machines: They are as ubiquitous in retail as Karens and the combination of corporate greed and the low IQ of the general public make them just as infuriating. I try my hardest to avoid these brain-cell killing devices but most retailers, make it their goal to offer you no other option. If you go to Wal-Mart anytime between Monday and Sunday, they’ll have 26 out of their 27 lanes closed, and the one cashier that is working is a hungover, blind woman in a wheelchair with Parkinson's disease and a bone to pick with management.

So you figure, fuck it. You Might as well do the job yourself since no one else is there to do it. Somehow the five people you walked by in the produce section stocking the same apple, were unavailable to help check that day. Serves you right for shopping at Wal-mart in the first place.

Even if I only have one can of beans, I’ll still try to avoid self-checkout. Why would I want to scan my own beans? I’m not on the clock. Unless, the cashier is the same guy from yesterday, and he sees me approaching. Then I’d probably stick with the self-check. I just don’t want to deal with it. Like, even though I can’t see the guy’s facial expression through his mask, I can bet that the second I walk away, he’s going to remark to the bagger, “Hey, remember that creep I was telling you about? The one who is always buying beans? That’s the guy!”

It’s such a hassle. Especially if you have an age-restricted item, like alcohol, and you have to wait for the clerk to bypass the prompt on the screen. Only problem is, she’s busy showing a 75-year old lady how to ring up an avocado without a bar-code. Getting stuck behind a senior citizen at a self-checkout is the equivalent of being stuck behind a school bus on a lengthy subdivision road. You’re not going anywhere for a while.

Unnecessarily loud car speakers

This isn’t nearly as common as it used to be. In fact,

I thought this particular strand of douchebag was extinct until the other day when my windows rattled as a result of one of these dipshits strolling through my neighborhood with subwoofers that cost more than his car. If you’re not familiar with this phenomenon, it was rampant in the late 1990’s/early 2000’s.

It was a trend where guys with abnormally large penis’s would spend thousands of dollars, sacrificing all their trunk space and in-tact eardrums, to transform their perfectly fine stereo system into something that sounds like the nuclear reactor from Chernobyl. I rode in several cars during that timeframe that were equipped with these systems and they all sounded terrible. It was nothing but bass. No drums, no keyboards, no vocals. In other words, no music. Just unnecessarily loud, booming vibrations that invoked migraines and ruined the song you were trying to listen to.

Fortunately for us, that trend has since lost traction. All of the participants either, died, matured, or now suffer from permanent hearing loss. But every now and then you’ll hear one in the wild. You’ll be outside on your porch with a cold glass of lemonade on a calm peaceful day, when suddenly you’ll feel your nose hairs vibrating. A minute later a guy in a 95’ Camaro speeds down your street bumping the ambience from the movie, Deep Impact which wakes up every infant child within an eight block radius, and causes you to spill your lemonade.

You’ll go inside to refill your glass, and tell yourself two things.

1. I’m sure glad that doesn’t happen more often.

2. The death penalty is a good thing.

Getting pulled over

If you get pulled over on a decently busy road, please be considerate of other motorists, and pull off into a parking lot or side street. Why anyone would stop on the main road, and block an entire lane of traffic, is beyond me. Especially, when you could easily drive an extra 10 feet and turn into a parking lot. I’m sure the cop won’t mind you reducing their chances of being struck by a vehicle either. People who do this deserve two tickets. One for speeding and a second for being a total turd-brained, dipshit.

Receipts

Can anyone tell me why we’re still bothering with receipts? I thought we, as a nation, were going green. Straws are getting banned across the country. Plastic bottles are generally frowned upon. Eco-friendly products are selling better than ever... Yet, when I go to Wal-greens to buy a small bottle of ibuprofen, I’m handed a 14 inch long receipt, and three coupons that I’m just going to immediately throw away. All this does is intensify the headache I was hoping to cure. Receipts are printed on thermal paper, which contains BPA, which means it’s non-recyclable. So we’re basically tossing forty million metric tons of receipt paper in landfills (according to the statistic I made up just now in my head.) There’s no reason for all that paper to exist. Even if there were an issue that required me to make a return, they could easily look the purchase up using the card I used to buy it with. Even if I had paid with cash, they could look the purchase up via my Wal-greens rewards account. Go to a gas station or convenience mart for a pack of gum and they’ll straight up ask you, “Would you like a receipt?”

And of course the answer is always no. They may as well be saying, “Here, you can throw this away, or I can throw it away for you.”

No one seems to be bothered by this incredibly wasteful practice other than myself, and that’s a shame. One of these days, people will take notice. Problem is, it will likely take a tragedy. It will take something like, a photographer for Animal Planet snapping a picture of a dead baby penguin with a three-foot long CVS receipt wrapped around it’s neck hanging from a glacier, for people to finally say, Oh, shit! He was right. Receipts are fucking stupid.

Shoe sizes

How are they not universal yet? In Nikes, I’m a size 11, but the same exact size in Adidas are too big. What gives? Why can’t these different brands crank out the same sizes. Shirts are even worse. The only article of clothing that you can buy every time without issues are pants. You know what you’re getting with pants, every time. 34 waist, 32 long will always be 34 inches around and 32 inches down from the inseam. Then there’s the modifiers, skinny, regular, relaxed, loose, boot-cut, etc.... Whichever fit works best for you.

Then you have shirts. How shirt-makers fucked this up so much, I have no idea. But they should definitely take notice of their rivals, the pants makers, and develop a more sophisticated universal sizing chart.

Often, I’ll try on a medium shirt and it’s way too tight. So, I’ll go up one size and suddenly I’m swimming in it. How is it that I go from practically wearing spandex to looking like a kid wearing his fathers T-shirt in one size? Other times, I’ll try on a large and it will be long enough but still a little snug in the chest and arms. So, I opt for an XL, which is just as snug in the chest and arms, but like 5 inches longer than the large. This is infuriating. The length wasn’t the problem to begin with.

You can buy 3 large shirts from three separate stores, and wind up with three shirts that correspond with three completely different body-types. C’mon, shirt-makers, what the fuck?

There’s needs to be a complete overhaul in shirt sizes. Scrap the old system and start fresh. No more, small, medium or large. Let’s do what the pants-makers are doing and make more accurate sizes. It can be chest size by arm size by length. Or neck size by stomach size by length. Or maybe we keep small, medium and large, and branch out into extensions of those sizes. Medium-thin, medium-wide, large-medium, large-large, etc....

Anything but what we have now— a broken system which makes it impossible to buy shirts online. I don’t think this is too much to ask for in 2020. If they can customize a tuxedo that will fit a miniature schnauzer, we should have shirt sizes that fit correctly

Have a perfect day!

2020-06-10T07:53:00.001-07:00

The two men walked briskly side by side through the busy grocery store, while one gave instructions to the other.

“So, you see Declan, here at O’Malley’s, we value customer satisfaction over anything else. That’s why our motto is, ‘Have a perfect day!’

We may not have the lowest prices in town or the widest selection of name-brands; we may have what food critics call a subpar bakery, and our deli department may have received a D from the health department, because we may have a slight roach infestation, but what we lack in those areas, we make up for with dynamic customer relations.”

Declan listened intently to the manager, Brent’s, detailed analysis of the store's history and core values.

“Always remember to C.H.E.E.S.E,” Brent explained. “C.H.E.E.S.E stands for Calmness, Honor, Empathy, Encouragement, and Smile Entirely.”

Declan was noticeably confused.

“Listen,” Brent continued. “We may not have the most creative marketing team, and we may center our business around nonsensical acronyms; we may be hemorrhaging money internally and we may be moments away from bankruptcy, but what we lack in all those areas, we make up for with dynamic customer relations.”

Declan nodded his head in agreement.

“What’s our motto?” Brent asked quizzically.

“Have a perfect day!” Declan proudly answered.

“That’s correct,” Brent said. “And that’s not only our motto, but it’s also store policy.”

The two stopped near the cash registers. “Here’s your post,” Brent said.

Declan was eager to get started. He was in desperate need of a job and was grateful for any opportunity thrown his way. “Watch how it’s done,” Brent said with the confidence of Evil Knievel jumping a single semi-truck.

A middle-aged lady approached the register with a cart full of groceries. Brent greeted her with an enthusiastic, “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” the lady answered.

Declan watched in awe as Brett scanned all 37 times with the charisma of a Broadway actor and the pizzazz of a flair bartender. He was fast but considerate. Efficient yet attentive. “Someone’s ready to party!” He said while holding up a bottle of wine.

The lady laughed. “Oh, you know it!”

“How do you like them apples?” He joked while pointing to a package of Granny Smiths.

The lady laughed flirtatiously. “You sure are good at this,” She said with a smile.

Brent picked up a block of Brie, “Oh, this. It’s a bries!” He said.

She laughed again, even louder this time.

“Nuttin to it,” he said while holding up a can of Planters peanuts this time. “I’ll have you out of here in a Jiff, he added while scanning peanut butter.

‘Man, he’s killing it,’ Declan thought to himself hoping he could be just as witty when it was his turn.

Brent finished up ringing out the lady, handed her the receipt, and said, “Have a perfect day!”

“Oh, I am!” The lady responded while giving him bedroom eyes.

A voice boomed over the intercom, Brent, we need you in the bakery. There’s another raccoon in the pan washer!

Brent turned to Declan, “I’ve gotta go take care of something,” he said. “Do you think you can handle the register?”

Declan wasn’t sure that the 90 seconds of training he had just received was an adequate amount of experience, but he didn’t want his apprehensiveness to be viewed as weakness. “Sure thing,” he said with equal parts false confidence and trepidation.

“It’s easy,” Brent reassured him before walking to the back of the store.“Just make sure anyone who comes through this line is having a perfect day.”

Declan manned the register and was approached within seconds by a man with a few things in a grocery basket. “Hi, how are you!” Declan asked.

“Eh,” the man somberly answered. “I’ve been better.”

“Oh, it looks like someone’s ready to party!” Declan declared while drawing attention to a handle of Jack Daniels.

“Party?” The man asked with a puzzled look on his face. “Not quite. I just got laid off from my job.”

Declan was not prepared for that answer and had no idea how to proceed, but he decided that emulating Brent was the only solution. After all, things worked out fine for Brent.

“How do you like them apples?” Declan asked.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The man sternly replied. “How do I like losing my job? Is that really what you’re asking me?”

Declan appeared confused. Even more noticeably than before. He picked up a block of cheese. “Well, that’s not Gouda.”

“Are you really making cheese puns right now?”

Declan began to sweat. This isn’t working out at all, he thought to himself. In a panic, he picked up the next item, held it up high, turned it towards him, and read the label, “Its all about the— Preparation—H.”

“Could you put that down,” the man said, embarrassed. “What is wrong with you?”

Declan wasn’t the most self-aware, but even he could tell that this customer wasn’t having a perfect day. All he knew was that it was up to him to fix it. He wasn’t about to lose another job. After getting fired from Chic-Fil-A for forgetting to say, ‘My pleasure!’ Declan learned that policies were a big deal. He looked the customer directly in the eye and said as sincerely as possible, “Have a perfect day!”

The customer was aghast. “A perfect day! A perfect day! Are you kidding me right now!” He yelled.

“I’m very sorry, sir. But, it’s store policy.”

“What is store policy?”

“For you to have a perfect day. It’s our policy.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I’m as Sirius as satellite radio,” Declan replied, proud of himself for making a pun. “I need you to have a perfect day. It’s our policy.”

“Are you Fucking kidding me!” The customer screamed.

A group of teenagers nearby whipped out their phones and began recording. “World Star!” One of them obnoxiously shouted.

“What seems to be the problem here, Declan?” Brent asked after reappearing from the bakery with what appeared to be animal scratches all over his neck and face.

“This man won’t have a perfect day,” Declan nervously answered, sure that he’d likely be fired over this confrontation.

“This is so unprofessional,” the customer told Brent. “What kind of shit show are you running..”

Brent interrupted, “I’m sorry, sir, but is this true? Are you not having a perfect day?”

“What do you even care!”

“It’s our policy.”

The customer balled his fists up and began punching the air. Brent whispered into his walkie-talkie, “We need security at register 5.”

“Sir,” Brent implored. “This is your last chance. You need to have a perfect day!”

The customer erupted into laughter. Not cute or funny or infectious laughter, but sinister laughter. The type of laughter Jafar had after he turned Apu into an elephant just to fuck with Aladdin. “Let me tell you something, bud,” The customer started out. “Yesterday, my girlfriend dumped me, today I lost my job, and to top it all off I have a hemorrhoid on my ass the size of a golf ball. So, you’ll have to excuse me, but I’m not gonna have a perfect day. In fact, I’m having one of the worst days of my...“

“What’s the matter, Karen? You’re too good to have a perfect day?” An onlooker taunted. All the bystanders laughed.

The customer took a step back and realized there was now a crowd of about fifty people witnessing his meltdown. “Do any of you see what’s happening here?” He pleaded. “I just want to buy my groceries and get the hell out of here. Can’t a man just have a bad day?”

“Hey man, your bad day is your bad day. Don’t take it out on anyone else,” one onlooker shouted.

“Not cool, man, another one added.

“How about you quit being such a dick and have a perfect day already,” one of the meaner ones suggested.

The customer broke down in tears.

Brent gave Declan a concerned look. “What should we do now?” He asked.

“How should I know,” Declan answered. “I’ve only worked here for twelve minutes.”

Security arrived and ordered the customer to have a perfect day.

“No!” The customer shouted. “No, absolutely, not!”

Voices in the viewing pit became louder and more annoyed. Declan froze in fear. Brent did the same. As confident as he seemed 15 minutes ago, he sure seemed unsure of himself now.

“I’ve had enough of this shit!” The customer proclaimed while smashing the bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter and flipping over the candy bar and gum display rack. “Fuck this shit!” He continued while slinging packs of mints at people's throats like they were ninja stars. Finally, in a blaze of glory, he ripped the cash register off the counter and slammed it into the ground. Cash flew everywhere. The crowd went into a frenzy and police ransacked the place at that very moment. The customer was arrested and placed in police custody.

You probably already read about that. You’ve probably watched the video too. It only happened a few hours ago, but since then, the video has been viewed a million times. People are saying he should serve life in prison. Some are even calling for the death penalty. Others say that’s too harsh of a sentence. One thing everyone agrees on is, that man was NOT having a perfect day.

Escaping the Cave

2020-06-06T18:56:00.002-07:00

Spelunking was never one of our strong-suits. Heck, we had never even attempted it before, but we were an adventurous duo ready for anything at a moment's notice. Him more than I— I was far less spontaneous before we met— now I would follow that man to the ends of the earth. That’s how in love I was with him. His exuberance, his passion, his raw sexual energy just drove me into a frenzy every time I laid eyes on that rock-hard, calendar pin-up quality body of his.

Loving him was easy. He never fought with me, never yelled, never even raised his voice. He was the epitome of refinement. The blueprints for perfection. He was an awe-inspiring human being who drew an immense amount of attention everywhere he went. All the women wanted him, and all the men wanted to be him. But I was the luckiest of all because I got to be with him.

It was rare to see him frazzled, it was even rarer to see him bewildered. What’s the difference between those two adjectives? I haven’t a clue. But for some reason, one seems worse than the other. The point is, seeing him frantically poking and prodding at all those walls in that cave, looking for a way out, shook me to my very core.

Up until that point, I had never seen him panic. Never, not once. He was always a master of his domain. So, it was a little nerve-wracking seeing him not completely in control. By his estimates, we had a little less than 5 minutes left of oxygen before we would both suffocate and die. “Look for clues!” He screamed at me.

“Clues?” I asked.

“Clue!” He fired back. “There have to be clues somewhere.”

I took a step back and stared at the hieroglyphics on the wall. Surely, there’s a message amongst those images. Too bad I lacked the mental acuity to decipher that code. I’ve never been good at puzzles. “Three minutes!” He screamed.

This wasn’t going to end well. I don’t even know how we wound up in this predicament. My mother tried to warn me, “That man is too wild,” she’d say. “He lives too close to the edge and one of these days he’s going to fall off. Do you really want to be with him when he does?”

She didn’t understand him. She didn’t understand me. Most notably, she didn’t understand love. My parents were never affectionate towards each other. Most of the time, it didn’t even seem like they were husband and wife. They always put off more of a roommate vibe than anything else. I always told myself that wasn’t going to be me. I wasn’t going to live in a loveless marriage. I was going to find someone who made me feel special. Someone who looked at me like I was the only woman on earth. Someone who’d lift me and pin me up against on a wall because they found me so irresistible. “We don’t have any time left!” He shouted as he buried his lips around my neck and ripped apart my blouse.

I moaned in ecstasy. He lifted my skirt and pulled down my panties. “Oh, God!” I shouted out towards the heavens.

If we’re going out, we’re going out in a blaze of glory. He penetrated me deeply, and I swear I saw god. I began reaching toward the light. That’s when I noticed the lights were less heavenly looking and more fluorescent. Suddenly a voice boomed down from the skies, “We’re calling the police,” the voice said authoritatively.

So, you see, Timmy, your grandfather and I are very sorry, but we can’t come to your birthday party. We’ve been banned for life from that particular Escape Room.

Netflix Originals

2020-03-01T09:44:00.000-08:00

If you’re like me you spend way more time scrolling the Netflix movie menu than actually watching one. Don’t fret, I’ve watched them all, and will now tell you what, and what not to watch. Get your popcorn ready. This is the Netflix Originals movie list part 1.

In the shadow of the moon

If The Terminator And Se7en had a baby, it would be this movie. In the Shadow of the Moon is a riveting thriller with supernatural elements and more twists and turns than a roller coaster during an earthquake.

Score 7.5/10

El Camino

While it was nice to see Jesse Pinkman on the screen again, this felt more like a compilation of deleted scenes than an actual movie. Vince Gilligan is a genius at creating gripping, tense moments that leave you on the edge of your seat, and El Camino has a few of those moments. What is doesn’t have however, is any type of resolution for Jesse whatsoever. El Camino ends with Jesse’s dismal fate just as uncertain as Breaking Bad did. Which really begs the question— Why was this even made?

5/10

Triple Frontier

Triple Frontier boasts an all-star cast with a subpar script. The first act is amazing. The second begins to fall apart, and the third does its best with what it’s got, but let’s face it, It was doomed by that point. There’s a chance I’m being too harsh with my critique here because I expected better. But I don’t think I am. This is a story about highly skilled ex-soldiers capable of conquering the most treacherous of obstacles. Who in an instant, completely disregard all their training and become as undisciplined as toddlers in a candy store at the mere sight of money. It had potential. But squandered that potential when it stopped being a heist movie and transformed into a competition to see who can make the worst decisions. A+ cast. C- film

Score

5.5/10

When we first met

There are certain actors who instantly make anything funny. Andy Samberg is one of them. Will Forte is another. Adam Devine might be at the top of the list. Fans of Workaholics, Groundhog Day, Romantic comedies, slapstick comedies, and just comedy in general will get a kick out of this.

6.5/10

Fractured

If the movie Taken had a baby with The Machinist, it would be this film.

Fractured is suspenseful. At times, uncomfortably so. Sam Worthington plays the lead role a little too intensely. And although certain plot twists are dangled in front of you, with no desire to be spontaneous, the director does a good job of keeping you guessing until the very end. This is a decent thriller/mystery that’s definitely worth a watch.

Score

6.5/10

The Irishman

Oscar-worthy Straight to Netflix films and Deep Fake technology! What an age we live in!

Scorsese’s latest and most likely his last film draws powerful performances by some of Hollywood’s greatest actors. Pacino, Deniro, Pesci, Romano... Wait, maybe not Romano. Although, he did give an alright performance. You know what they say. Everybody thinks Ray is Ok.

Anyways, The Irishman runs 3.5 hours but doesn’t feel quite that long. It’s slow paced, but suspenseful. Mostly dialogue driven, there’s far less action than other Scorsese films, but don’t sell this one short. It’s compelling, dramatic, and even a little funny. Funny how, you might ask? Just funny, that’s all.

Score

7.5/10

Inside Man Most Wanted

Inside Man is one of the greatest heist movies ever made. Inside Man Most Wanted, is not. Starring the chick who plays Kim Wexler in Better call Saul and the dollar tree Denzel from the cover photo, this sequel has an Ok storyline that’s very poorly executed. With weak writing, weaker acting, and super predictable twists, the only thing heisted here are the two hours of your life it takes to watch this piece of shit movie.

Score

2/10

Velvet Buzzsaw

Velvet Buzzsaw wins the award for coolest movie title among this list. That’s about the only nice thing I can say about it though. It’s intriguing at first but gradually becomes more and more ridiculous as time passes. Jake Gyllenhaal rarely disappoints, but this is unfortunately one of those times. Even going into this with tapered expectations, I was let down.

Score

5/10

Marriage story

This was a difficult watch. Divorce can be a messy and complicated process. Especially when children are involved. I don’t know from experience but I’ve seen it secondhand. Marriage story displays the heartbreaking and financially crippling process of child custody battles. You’ll find yourself empathizing with both parties, as neither one seems completely at fault. And neither seem like they’re getting exactly what they want out of the situation. The only people who thrive is this film are the bloodsucking lawyers, who distract their clients by patting them on their back, in hopes that they won’t notice that their other hand is wrapped firmly around their wallets.

Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson deliver brilliant performances in a movie with an argument scene that rivals any fight scene in cinema history. It’s an emotionally draining watch that will stretch your emotions from amusement to fury, and humor to heartbreak.

Score

8/10

The Ultimate guide to buying frozen pizzas

2020-02-20T15:03:00.001-08:00

Frozen pizzas— the cornerstone of the American diet. Whether it’s an after school snack, a late night drunken feast, or simply an easy dinner on a night you don’t feel like cooking— Frozen pizzas always hit the spot.

Based on my estimates, I’ve eaten roughly 10,000 frozen pizzas in my lifetime. And seeing as how I haven’t died yet, I think it’s safe to say that they’re good for you.

But which ones should you buy. The pizza section at the market is vast and intimidating. With so many selections to choose from, it’s easy to have a mental breakdown right there in the freezer department and head to produce for a kale salad instead. Don’t make this mistake. There is a solution. That’s where I come along. Below I have listed all the options you’ll see in the store and rated them appropriately. I have indexed these in Drake order. So we’ll start from the bottom.

Devour

Devour is the official pizza of the UFC. It’s shaped like an octagon and comes in bold calorie-loaded flavors like The Creamy garlic supreme and The Carnivore. I’m honestly surprised it doesn’t come paired with a little bottle of Axe body spray. It’s pretty clear once you bite into one of these things that way more time was spent on the brand’s image than the actual pizza itself. It’s dried out, unseasoned and zest-less. That’s right. It is without zest. They were right about the name though. This pizza was devoured... by my trash can. It’s really not good at all.

Score

2/10

Digiorno

The crust tastes like three-day-old cornbread. Add some bland toppings on top of that and you have yourself a pretty weak pizza. Also, it takes like thirty minutes to cook. So you’ll have plenty of time to contemplate eating something else instead. Maybe you decide to order Dominos. It tastes much better and is just as fast. You know what they say about delivery? At least it’s not Digiorno.

Score

4/10

Home Run inn Pizza

If it was up to me, I’d rename this, Sacrifice Fly pizza.

The crust is flavorless, the sauce is dry, and the toppings are stale. Especially, when considering the price point. They run around $5-$7 depending on where you shop. Which is far too much money for a pizza that has to bunt to get a hit. The only way this pizza is rounding the bases is if it heard Jose Altuve banging on a trash can. It’s bad pizza and it should be ashamed.

Score

5/10

Mama Lucia’s

Mama Lucias are the Cady Herron of pizzas. They’ve been around way longer than most of STL style pizzas. Back in the day, they cost roughly the same as a Jack’s or a Red Baron. But once the other STL style gourmets hit the market with a much higher price point, guess who decided to follow? That’s right, Mama Lucia. All because she was abruptly placed in the same window as Lena’s and Dogtown. Suddenly, she forgot her roots. She forgot her friends, Janis, and Damien. She lost her integrity. She became plastic. Last time I checked, a Mama Lucias costs $6-$7, depending on where you shop. Much to much, for a so-called spring-queen who was very recently a mathlete.

Score

6/10 - Don’t flatter yourself, Mama. You ain’t all that.

Totinos

Totino’s Party Pizzas are nostalgic for me. They’re the closest thing to that square pizza the lunch lady served me in elementary school. Also, it’s delicious. The flaky crust, the diced up pepperonis, the zesty sauce— What’s not to love?

Score

6/10

Tombstone

Tombstone Pizzas are thick and girthy. The kind of pizza you just want to shove down your throat. Sorry for that intense visual. Sometimes I get a little saucy when discussing pizza. Because of it’s size, it’s easy to feed two people with one pizza, which is hard to do. Pair that with the savory flavors and reasonable price point; $4-$6 depending on where you shop, Tombstone is a value pizza with a delightful taste.

Score

7/10

Palermo's is pretty damn good pizza. My personal favorite is the special edition pepperoni. The combination of the center cut and julienne cut pepperonis bring the ruckus to your taste buds like the Wu-Tang Clan at a karate dojo. They also have a chicken alfredo pizza that hits you like a cool breeze on a nice spring day.

Score

7/10

TJ's are a fundraiser pizza. You can randomly find them here and there (Valenti's meat markets sells them) but for the most part, they're only available through fundraising. I'm not going to lie, they're incredible. I love them. I used to buy them all the time, and that's when they were $7 a pop. Then it went up to $8, then $9, and the last time I saw an order form, a pepperoni was $10.50. As good as they are, I have to draw the line somewhere. And I know they're for a fundraiser, but I'm not paying over $10 for a frozen pizza. The thing is, I'd gladly pay for thirty dollars worth of pizza as long as it's reasonably priced. But ten bucks a pop for a TJ's is ridiculous. And as much as I want your little girl's scout troop to be able to go to Space camp, I shouldn't be price gouged in the process.

Score

7.5/10

Red Baron

Red Baron is delicious and affordability priced. They have many different styles.
Thin and crispy and classic crust are two of the main options. Although, I’m not entirely convinced that they’re not the exact same thing. Brick oven style is perhaps their best tasting pizza. The crispy crust embraces your taste buds with each mouthwatering bite. It’s tangy and delectable. If you’re looking for something different. Try Red Baron’s French bread pizza. It’s crunchy, it’s savory, and it’s guaranteed to burn the roof of your mouth. But it’s worth it.

Score

8/10

Jack’s

Jack’s has been a mainstay in my freezer for my entire life. You can never go wrong with a Jack’s. I’m actually eating one right now as I type this. They’re the best bang for your buck as far as frozen meals go, and on top of that, they’re delicious. You can get a super tasty, flavorful Jack’s for between $2-$3. If your spending more than $3 for one, you’re shopping at the wrong place. Even Menard’s has them for $2.50 and they’re a freaking hardware store

Score

8/10

Dogtown

The Dogtown hot wing pizza is a sizzling, spicy, succulent slice of goodness. It’s the best frozen buffalo chicken pizza on the market and it’s not even close. The bacon bacon pizza is equally piquant with a pronounced peppery kick. They also make a Tomato basil garlic pizza for when you kind of want to eat healthy, but not really. Regardless of which style you decide on, Dogtown never disappoints.

Score 10/10

Lena’s

Lena’s are the real deal. This pizza is so good, It’ll knock your socks off. Which is primarily why I remove my socks before biting into this sweet delicious pie. Lena’s is so good, it doesn’t even feel like you’re eating frozen pizza. It’s restaurant quality, Grade-A, gourmet pizza. And it’s the best you can buy.

Score

10/10

Well, there you go. Thanks for attending. Please join me next week when I list the best places to buy French fries.

2019-01-24T19:06:00.001-08:00

So, I had an idea. How would certain movies pan out if the main character was replaced by me. Meaning, they’d still be the same character, same name, same family, same situation, same marital status, etc... Except instead of the movie version of these people, they’d be replaced by current day me. Sounds ridiculous, right? Whatever. Here we go...

Me as Chuck Noland from Castaway

My contacts dry up and fall out of my eyes on the second day on the island, which basically renders me blind. I then step on a sting-ray while hunting for fish, and die a few hours later in the sand. The movie is 10 minutes long. Wilson never even makes an appearance.

Me as Jim Halpert from A Quiet Place

I sneeze. Have you ever heard me sneeze? I sneeze once, and the whole family is killed instantly. The movie is 5 minutes long. Also Emily Blunt and I decide not to try for another baby, as it’s not really in the budget. The truck needs to be fixed and all The floorboards need to be replaced, and with the whole end of the world thing going on, we decide to wait.

Me as Gordon Bombay from The Mighty Ducks

I use my connections to get out of community service and opt to pay a substantial fine instead. I’m a hot shot lawyer, it’s not like I can’t afford it. I then continue litigating, while amassing a fortune of wealth for myself. There’s no way I’m coaching a Pee-wee hockey team. Are you fucking kidding me? Also, I still bang Charlie’s mom.

Me as Hugh Glass from The Revenant

As soon as I see the bear, I unbutton my shirt exposing my nipples. The bear bashfully covers his eyes. I call out to him, “It’s OK, big fella.”

He peeks through his big ole paws, and smiles. I wave to him and motion for him to come forward. He’s reluctant at first, but eventually comes around. He’s nervous. I can tell. Life gets lonely in the woods. I lay down on the ground and run my fingers through the grass in a seductive manner. The bear succumbs to temptation and lays next to me. We lay there all night, talking, laughing, making growling noises, etc... He falls asleep in my arms. It’s beautiful. It’s also the point when I unsheathe my knife and skin him alive. Bear fur is far more valuable than beaver pelts, and I’m way smarter than that punk bitch Hugh Glass.

Me as Jack Dawson from Titanic

I make Rose’s dumb ass scoot over on that floating door so that I don’t get hypothermia and drown. Then we grow old together and she never throws that expensive ass necklace into the ocean for no reason 90 years later.

Either that or she dumps me before the iceberg even hits, and boards a life boat with Billy Zane, when she sees that the drawing I made of her looks like this

Me as Will Hunting from Good Will Hunting.

I go to the job interview for MacNeil myself, and take their offer. It’s 5 times more than I’m making now and I wouldn’t have to work construction anymore. Also, I would realize what a great thing I have with Minnie Driver and tell her the truth from the get go, and never make up that bullshit story about having 13 brothers. Lying to a chick you just met for no reason doesn’t sound very wicked smaht.

Me as Juwanna Man from Juwanna man.

My 14 inch vertical leap and sluggish conditioning make me a liability on defense. Plus, my deep voice and prominent Adam’s apple, confuse no one. All the girls on the team immediately realize that I’m a dude. But it’s 2019, and people are more tolerant now, so they’re cool with it, so they wind up making me team manager. The team still makes it to the finals and they play in the championship in front of several spectators with dozens more watching from home.

Heroin Chicken

2017-12-07T18:56:00.001-08:00

In the past year I’ve become captivated by this fascinating section of the World Wide Web known as Pinterest. I used to think Pinterest was simply a website where midwestern housewives shared different ways to make their husbands hang wooden pallets on their walls. Boy was I wrong! This thing has Recipes galore. I’m talking, Chicken Parmesan, Chicken Enchiladas, Honey Mustard Chicken, Chicken Tortellini. In case you haven’t noticed, I eat a lot of chicken. So imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon this recipe here...

What the fuck is this shit???

Is this supposed to make me hungry? Talk about the most unappealing name for an entree I’ve ever heard. I don’t know about you, but I’ll pass on having withdrawals after dinner. Have you ever known anyone with an actual addiction? That shit consumes their lives. The drug becomes their first and only priority, they become shells of their former selves. Nothing else matters, they will sell every piece of clothing they own with the exception of a lone pair of overalls, all in order to get that next fix. And while they’re crying, alone in an alley, sitting in a puddle of their own urine, you can approach them and say, “I know exactly how you feel. Last night, I had three pieces of chicken, and I almost... you’re not going to believe this, I almost went back for a fourth!”

This isn’t even a sensitivity issue for me, it just irks me that people are so bad at describing things. It’s rather bothersome to me. Not only is it bothersome, but it’s also aggravating, incommodious, and vexatious. There are 170,000 words in the English language, there’s no reason to keep saying the same ones over and over again. Switch it up. Keep it fresh. Instead of saying “hungry” say famished. Instead of saying “tired” say lethargic. Instead of saying “many” say Plethora. Plethora happens to be one of my favorite words. It makes me sound mature. My second favorite word to use is demeanor, mainly because it rhymes with wiener. I’m not nearly as mature as probably sound when I use words like plethora.

As far as chicken goes, you could call it scrumptious, mouthwatering, nectarous, delicious, delectable, titilating, etc...

Yet, this lady decided the best way to describe it was to compare it to the high you feel when you shoot heroin. Could she be more oblivious? Could be be more out of touch with reality? This lady is like the Michael Scott of chefs.

Without even looking at this recipe, I can tell you that this chicken doesn’t emulate heroin in any way, shape or form. The same way those cupcakes my co-worker brought in the other day didn’t emulate crack to the six people who made that statement.

“Oh these cupcakes are amazing! They’re like crack!”

Are they? Are they really, Susan? And you know this of course, with all of your crack smoking experience?

The only food-related methaphor more preposterous in my opinion is when people compare desserts to sex. Quit describing that cheesecake as orgasmic. You know that isn’t true. Really? Is that cheesecake giving you vaginal contractions? I’ve never heard of a pastry that has that type of an effect on people. And quite frankly, I can’t fathom why anyone would want to have that reaction. Can you imagine how uncomfortable the dining out experience would be if that were the case. Like, right after you’re done eating at that moment when the server approaches the table, and says something like, “Did anyone save room for dessert?”

Then everyone’s eyes light up, and some people start moaning. You look across the table at your grandmother, and say, “Happy birthday Nana!”

“Now if you’ll please avert your eyes, while I indulge in this tiramisu. Things are about to get weird.

That’s just one of the many awkard moments I can imagine in that scenario. I’m sorry, did I say many? I meant to say, Plethora. Man, I love that word plethora. It’s like crack to me.

Things I don’t understand...

2017-11-04T12:38:00.001-07:00

Being called OCD

Nobody seems to know what OCD means. It’s

quite strange. I mean, I’m a pretty neat person. And by neat, I mean clean, and orderly, not cool. Although I consider myself to be pretty cool too, but that's not really the point here. The point is, I don't like clutter. I like things to be organized. I like things to be tidy. This according to some people makes me OCD, which is a highly inaccurate, erroneous assessment. OCD, or Obsessive compulsive disorder, is an actual medical condition that can become very serious for those afflicted. It’s characterized by fixating on minor issues, and having constant, uncontrollable urges to repeat the same actions over and over again. A person with OCD might not be able to walk past a picture hanging on the wall without touching all four corners of the frame, or might incessantly flip the light switch off and on for no other reason than they can’t help it. That’s what OCD is. It’s an actual ailment. It’s not putting dishes in the dishwasher right away, instead of leaving them in the sink for no god damn reason. That’s just called, not being a slob. You should try it sometime you filthy bastards. And while we’re at it, I also don’t care for the term “Neat Freak”. I’m cool with the neat aspect. As I said earlier, I do consider myself to be a neat person, both figuratively and literally. However, I don’t care much for the freak part. Really? I’m a freak now. I don’t know about you but I hear the word freak, and I think Jeffrey Dahmer or John Wayne Gacy. And you’re going to lump me in the same category, because why? Because I vacuum the living room rug every day? That makes me a freak? I also clean out my car on a weekly basis, so I might as well be the Son of Sam, right? Although my neighbor’s dogs do bark a lot. Which brings me to the next thing I don’t understand...

My Neighbor’s dogs.

I’ve lived next to these beasts for 6 years and they still bark their asses off at me every time I walk outside. What the fuck, dogs? You should know who I am by now. Also, umm hello? I’m on the other side of the fence. I’m where I’m supposed to be. What is your deal? Stop acting like I’m threatening your well being, by grilling hamburgers, and minding my own business. Keep that shit up and I’ll bring the vacuum cleaner out here and give you something to bark at.

People who can’t figure out speeds on the highway.

Here I am stuck behind your dumbass on the freeway, when I notice you’re only going 55. The speed limit is 65, and you could easily be going 75 if you wanted to. But whatever, I’ll just asssume you’re super old, or you have donkey brains or something. I’m just going to pass you on the left now because you’re clearly in no rush, and.... wait what the fuck! I see now you’ve decided to become Mr. Leadfoot, as you’ve gained momentum and are now going 80. I’ll go ahead and get back behind you again, as you’re now going the appropriate speed.... Ah, I see this has prompted you to drop back down to 55 mph. Are you kidding me right now? What type of person does this sort of thing? I hope your head gets chopped off in a freak helicopter accident.

Edit: Ok, so maybe I shouldn’t wish death upon a person based solely on their driving. I realize that now. Because what this person deserves is something far worse than death. Oh yes. You see, death would be the easy way out for such a miserable piece of turd. Instead I wish for their internet to run very slowly at all times, for the rest of their life. I wish them an eternity of feeling like they have to sneeze only they can’t. I wish that the fitted sheet on their mattress slips off from the corner of the bed and bunches up by their pillow every night. I wish that they never get fresh fries from McDonalds ever again, I wish that they always have at least one fingernail cut too short, so that the skin underneath the nail is exposed and it hurts every time it touches something. I wish that they wind up stepping in a puddle every day, but always in the morning, so that they have to deal with wearing wet socks all day long. Also I hope they never obtain the foresight to bring an extra change of socks. Last but not least, I wish for every fun size Starburst package they open for the rest of their life to be double yellow. That’ll teach them won’t it? That’ll teach those bastards not to drive slow in front of.... My god, I have issues, don’t I?

Pregnancy Cravings

Ever hear a pregnant woman say something like, “The baby wants Funjuns.”

No it doesn’t. You want Funjuns. Don’t blame it on the baby. They don’t even know what Funjuns are. That baby has never been inside a 7-11, they’re not aware of the variety of snack choices that are out there. That baby isnt just sitting inside you thinking, “ Man I could really go for some Gummy worms right now.” Instead, it’s just staring at your uterin wall thinking things like, “I wonder what thoughts are.”

What is it about a tiny human growing inside of you that makes you suddenly want to eat entire jars of pickles? The cravings are just so spontaneous and random, they don’t even make sense. Especially when your wife decides she wants a funnel cake on a Tuesday night. What are you supposed to do then? Ok, let me just drive to Six Flags real quick. Now I’m in my car driving around aimlessly, asking my phone to locate the nearest carnival. Fifteen minutes later I wind up in the parking lot at Shoe Carnival. Thanks a lot, Siri! Now not only to I have to return home without a funnel cake, but I also have to explain why I just bought two new pairs of Sperrys. How am I going to pass up a BOGO sale?

Tipping

Please don’t misconstrue this, I’m not opposed to tipping in general. However, I am a little miffed, with some of the tactics being used by these middle speed restaurants. That’s what I call them. See, you’ve got your fast food restaurants with drive-thrus, and then you have your slower, sit down, and be waited on, types of restaurants. But you also have the in-betweens... places like Panera bread, or Five guys or Fuzzy’s Tacos, etc....

These are places that don’t deliver, yet the receipts have tip sections on them, and some of these places have tip jars on the counter as well. I once had a guy actually say to me, “You know, tipping isn’t required, but we are trying to encourage it.”

Yeah, well ya know what buddy? Punching your face isn’t required either, but you’re certainly encouraging that now aren’t you? The whole concept of gratuity was designed to offer an incentive to workers for providing a service. So what service did you actually provide, pal? I mean, what did you actually do?

You took my order and handed me a pager. That’s it. I filled my drink myself, picked up my food from the kitchen window myself, and bussed my table myself. The way I see it, if anyone is entitled to a tip in this scenario, it’s me. Not you. And don’t infer this rant as me just defending being frugal. Go to the Great Clips by my house and ask those ladies if I’m a good tipper. Ask the delivery guys at the local Dominos if I take good care of them. Shit, not only do I tip them well, but I watch the Dominos pizza tracker intently to ensure the safety of my driver. If I see that Steve left the building at 5:42 and it’s now 5:57, I’m legitimately worried about him. I’m ready to call 911 and alert the authorities about his disappearance. Where the hell is Steve? My pregnant wife wants Dominos,

but only because the baby wants Dominos. More that that, I want Dominos. Maybe he got stuck behind a slow driver. Man what I wish upon slow drivers, you have no idea. Anyways, all of a sudden, I hear my neighbors dogs barking their asses off. This could only mean two things, either someone is outside, or a leaf just fell off a tree. I spring off the couch and fling open the door. And what do I see, but Steve in all his glory, standing there with a delicious smelling bag of fresh Dominos goodness. I’m so happy to see him that tears are rolling down my face. He hands me the receipt and I fill out the tip section with a big emphatic $5. I notice his brand new Sperry’s while handing him back the receipt.

“BOGO sale at the Shoe Carn?” I inquire.

He nods and confirms that it is so. I bid him adieu and stay on my front porch just to make sure he makes it back to his car alright. See, that’s what tipping is all about. People taking care of people. Steve provided me with a service and was compensated accordingly. That’s how things work. You get a tip for doing actual work. You’re not getting any money for handing me a pager. It’s just not happening. I don’t know, maybe I am cheap. Perhaps I’m just a little old-fashioned. Chances are, I only feel this way because I’m OCD.

The 15 best movies ever

2017-07-30T13:54:00.001-07:00

This took a while. I revised the list about six times, but now it's final. This is my compilation of the top 15 movies of all time. Now, I suppose I should give you a brief analysis of my bias, as you may not find my list to be as relatable as yours, so here we go. I didn't include comedies. I feel that they should have their own list. I'm big on crime thrillers. I'm not much of a Sci-fi fan. I've never seen Star Wars. I've never seen Lord of the Rings. I don't care much for DC/Marvel movies. Also, the earliest movie on my list is from 1988. There's a reason for this. And the reason is, that movies from the past sucked. They all sucked. I find it impossible to watch critically acclaimed movies from the seventies, and take them seriously. Taxi Driver and The Sting, were tough to get through. It's not that the stories were appalling, but rather that the way it was filmed was amateur at best by today's standards. Weak special effects, non existent cinematography, shoddy camera work, etc.... And not only that, but it seemed like the editing process back then wasn't nearly as thorough. Nothing got cut, director's weren't concerned with time constraints. The movie Deer Hunter literally had a thirty minute scene at a wedding reception showing everyone dancing. That's it. That's all that happened, for thirty minutes. Sure it picked up after that, but that's not the point. Nothing about that scene was even remotely pivotal to the plot, yet it was still shown in its entirety. And people in their fifties and sixties still talk about Deer Hunter like it's an American Classic. Imagine watching Shawshank Redemption again and seeing that suddenly the movie is much longer, because they decided to add a new scene showing Andy Dufresne doing the Warden's taxes for thirty minutes. Would you still think the movie was great? But I digress... let's just dive right into this list already, what do you say?

15: Field of Dreams (1989)

Without a doubt the best movie featuring baseball playing ghosts ever. Casper is a distant second. This movie is jam packed with heart warming moments like Ray meeting Shoeless Joe Jackson for the first time, James Earl Jones giggling like a child as he enters the corn field, and of course Ray having a catch with his dad. That last moment is up there with Forrest Gump meeting his son, and the first 10 minutes of UP, as the most tear jerking scenes in cinema history. You'd have to be made of stone not to succumb to the emotion of those scenes. I read somewhere that even Kim Jong Il, cried at the end of Field of Dreams. Which is probably why he banned Television in North Korea. He was afraid that Kevin Costner made him gay. Director Phil Robinson knocks it out of the cornfield with this legendary film. A+

14: Mystic River (2003)

This Clint Eastwood directed murder mystery movie is top notch. An all star cast featuring Kevin Bacon and Tim Robbins tells a gripping tale of three childhood friends who are reunited twenty years later in the midst of a tragedy. Even with Sean Penn's horrendous over-acting, this film manages to reach 5 star status, or 10 stars. Depends on your scale I guess. Basically, whatever amount of stars you've chosen for your movie rating meter, Mystic River is that same amount of stars.

13: Enemy of the State (1998)

Will Smith turned down the roles of Neo from the Matrix and Django from Django unchained. Pair that with his son Jaden, and it's safe to say Will has made some questionable decisions in his life. One thing he got right though, was accepting the lead role in Enemy of the State. This movie is a thrilling rollercoaster ride of betrayal and government corruption. Three years before 9-11 triggered the signing of The Patriot act, Enemy of the state was already warning the public of Big brother's watchful eye. Even though it's a fictional account, it feels like something that can and does totally happen. We all know that the government adds fluoride to our water supply, poisons our air with chemtrails and of course is working with the AOA (American Optometric Association) to brainwash us. They guise it as a Glaucoma test, but everyone knows that puff of air is intended to penetrate your frontal lobe and control your brain. Nice try, CIA. I'd rather go blind. Anyways, if you haven't seen Will Smith's greatest performance, do yourself a favor and partake in Enemy of the State. A+

12: The Nice Guys (2016)

Here's one you probably didn't expect to see on the list, but I've gotta say. This movie is a refreshing change from the typical Hollywood production. What is this movie, even? It's like a murder mystery dramatic comedy. It's got it all. Director Shane Black kills it in this hilariously witty, sharp, well written mystery staring Ryan Gosling and Russel Crowe as private investigators hired to find a missing girl. Shane Black also directed the 2005 movie "Kiss kiss bang bang" which is pretty similar to The Nice guys. I really liked them both, but only wanted to include one in the list and I think The Nice guys is better. But you should totally watch them both if you haven't already. They're the bees knees.

11: The Dark Knight (2008)

Heath Ledger made this movie. Well, not actually. Christopher Nolan made the movie, but Heath Ledger made the movie, if you know what I mean. His performance was by far the best part of the movie is what I mean, if you know what I mean. And if you still don't know what I mean, then you can go jump off a cliff, if you know what I mean, and what I mean is that you don't know what I mean. Jesus, I just gave myself a headache typing all that out. Anyways, there were plenty of great performances in The Dark Knight. Christian Bale, Aaron Eckhart, Michael Caine, all kill it in this movie, but nothing compares to Heath Ledger's performance. Gary Oldman did a great job, and he was like the fifth best actor in the movie. That says a lot, considering all of Gary Oldman's accolades and achievements throughout the years. Go ahead and look up all his achievements, I'll wait. But be sure to remember to type the "R" in Gary Oldman, otherwise you're going to be directed to a very dark part of the internet that you'd rather not see, trust me. It's been months, and I still can't get those images out of my head. To sum things up, with the assistance of Heath Ledger, Christopher Nolan created the greatest superhero movie ever with The Dark Knight. I give it a solid 12 out of 12.

10: Prisoners (2013)

My god is this movie intense! It's like Se7en meets Ransom, which are two great movies in their own rights. I originally had Se7en in my list and bumped it. Anyways, Hugh Jackman, Jake Gyllenhaal, Maria Bello, and Paul Dano, knock it out of the park with this exhilarating thriller. This film is filled with "Oh shit" moments. Not to be confused with "Oh, I've got to take a shit" moments. They are two completely different moments. But if you do have to take a shit during this movie, make sure to pause it. If you have to read a text during this movie, make sure to pause it. If you have to look away from the TV for any reason, pause it. It's 2 and a half hours long, and every scene, every moment, every second, is crucial to the plot development. Director Dennis Villeneuve (Arrival, Sicario) created a masterpiece with Prisoners. It earns a hard 3.14159265359 out of Pi.

9: Saving Private Ryan (1998)

The only war movie on the list, because it's by far the best. That opening scene where they're storming the beaches of Normandy is haunting. Holy shit, what an intense movie. And an all star cast carries this film to legendary status. Tom Hanks, Giovanni Ribisi, Adam Goldberg, Edward Burns, Tom Sizemore, even an unknown at the time Vin Diesel delivered an phenomenal performance. As great an actor as Matt Damon is, this movie wasn't even really about him. Steven Spielberg did what Steven Spielberg often does with Saving Private Ryan, by delivering a monument of perfection. This film earns a filet Mignon on a scale of Kale to Steak. A+

8: Training Day (2001)

I've always said that if they ever make a movie about my life, I want to be played by Denzel. God damn, this guy is a terrific actor. He was always the protagonist prior to Training day, then with one movie he switched up his persona. Just like that, he flipped the script on Hollywood. They wanted to typecast him as the good guy and he outplayed them. This shit's chess, it ain't checkers! By the way, Ethan Hawke was amazing in this movie, but still overshadowed by Denzel. I realize that by now, you've probably had a few head scratchers regarding the films I've had on this list. But I doubt anyone can argue with Training Day being top 10. And if they can, fuck them, this is my list. A+

7: No Country For Old Men (2007)

How could a movie with such little dialogue, speak so loudly? This movie is fueled by powerful silence. Javier Bardem and Josh Brolin invigorate your senses with exquisite performances in a movie that says 1000 words with one picture. There's a reason No country for old men won the Oscar in 2007. Because it's awesome. 11 out of 11. A+

6: Hell or High water (2016)

Right, I realize this movie just came out last year and it's already in my top 6. Why is this? Because it's fucking amazing, that's why! Hell or High water got jipped at the Oscars. Remember the whole, La La land won... no, no, wait, Moonlight won. But you know what? Hell or High water was better than both of those movies put together. Ben Watson and Chris Pine star as two bank robbing brothers with nothing to lose in a ridiculously good movie that will be talked about for decades to come. Hell or High water is a must watch.

5: Die Hard (1988)

Die hard features the most bad ass character in movie history. John McClane makes Jason Bourne look like Pee-wee Herman. No one is more bad ass, I promise you. I don't know what it is about this movie that makes it so rewatchable. Maybe it's Carl Winslow playing the friendly cop. Maybe it's not. Regardless, Die Hard is without a doubt the best action movie ever made, and I'm willing to fight you to the death if you disagree. A+

4: Big Fish (2003)

This movie isn't that well known. And that's a shame, because it should be. It's been described before as a modern day Wizard of Oz, and while I don't completely agree with that analysis, I can't think of a better comparison, so that's what we'll go with. It's directed by Tim Burton, so that should tell you something about it. It's also Tim Burton's best movie ever, so that should also tell you something too. Please do yourself a favor and indulge in this movie if you haven't seen it before. It's unlike anything you've ever seen. I promise you won't be let down.

3: Goodfellas (1990)

This movie is gangster. It's also funny. Funny how? You know, funny like a clown. Funny like it amuses you. That kind of funny. Some people will try to tell you that Scarface is the most gangster movie ever. Those people are wrong. Scarface is over the top, and relies too much on montages to propel its plot. Goodfellas is 100 % gangster from start to finish. Plus it's based on a true story which only makes it more awesome. I mean, come on... Pesci, Deniro, Liotta, Scorsese... this movie is legit. Goodfellas should be a clear cut top 5 on anyone's list. It's top 3 on mine. 10 out out of 9. A+

2: Shawshank Redemption (1994)

No surprise here. I'm pretty sure this movie is widely regarded as the best ever made. And with good reason, it's the shit. A story originally created by Stephen King, narrated by Morgan Freeman, I mean, how much better could it get. The story of Andy Dufresne's false imprisonent and twenty year escape has captivated audiences for the last 23 years, and isn't showing any signs of slowing down. I love it. And not just because my last name is in the title. Although that certainly helps. Just ask the Shawnee Indian tribe about that. Yeah like I would ever donate to the Cherokee's when there's a whole tribe of Shaw's out there. Get real! Irregardless, Shawshank Redemption is a true masterpiece, and one of the greatest works of art in cinema history. A+

1: The Usual Suspects (1995)

Boom! There it is. The moment you've been waiting for. Agree or disagree, you have to admit that The Usual Suspects is an electrifying, riveting, tale of 5 criminals, a stranger with a proposition, and a detective with a motive. This film will keep you on the edge of your seat and by the end you'll most likely collapse. I've seen it probably 25 times, and still wind up with goosebumps by the end. An all star cast, led by an amazing performance by Kevin Spacey catapult this twenty two year old film to the top of the list. The Usual Suspects is the cats pajamas and the bee's knees. A++ there's nothing better...

So there you have it. That's my list. Perhaps you disagree. If that's the case, feel free to comment about it. But elaborate please. Don't just say my list sucks, instead explain why it sucks, and how you would change it, if you could. Don't expect me to take your criticism seriously if you can't construct a coherent sentence.

A guide to Netflix

2017-07-16T18:23:00.001-07:00

If you're like me, it takes you 40 minutes to decide what to watch on Netflix, and sometimes you give up before then and wind up watching Friends reruns on TBS instead. Also if you're like me, the notion of taking on a new series is way too much of a commitment. We're talking weeks, months even, depending on how many seasons there are, and you don't have that kind of time. Actually you probably do, but like me, you act like you don't. I watched a music video on YouTube the other day which led me to watching another music video, then to a news blooper reel, and three hours later, I found myself watching a tutorial on now to make my own guacamole. I don't even like guacamole. That YouTube sidebar has a mind of its own, I'll tell ya... Anyways, like I said, I don't have time to start a new series. You wanna know what I do have time for? A movie. Because even if the movie winds up sucking, You've still only wasted two hours of your life. Unlike when you start a new series and you think season 1 is the greatest contribution to mankind in the history of television, but by season 3, you realize you fucking hate it, and you just wasted the entire month of May Thanks a lot Homeland!

Look, we're in the middle of a heat wave. It's hot as balls out. And sitting inside in the air conditioning watching Netflix should be the ideal environment for everyone right now, so please allow me to make some reccomondations, as I understand how hard it is to make a decision. First of all, the best way to search for a decent Netflix movie is to search by category. Don't just sign on and allow Netflix to tell you what to watch because you recently watched Moana. Like, look Netflix, the kid's finally asleep. I'd like to finally watch something other than Moana for a change. Wouldn't you? So here's a list of some movies worth watching, currently available on Netflix that you've probably never heard of.

No Escape

An action movie starring Owen Wilson? Yeah I know how it sounds. And please disregard the low rating on Rotten Tomatos. They clearly fucked this one up. No escape is as stressful a viewing experience as it gets. And that's a good thing. It doesn't let up for even a second. From start to finish, it's a heart pounding, action packed, exhilarating movie and I give it a hard 7 out of 7. For sure watch this movie .

Shimmer Lake

A dark comedy bank heist movie told in reverse starring Rain Wilson (Dwight from The Office) do I even need to go on? It doesn't matter, because I'm not going to. This Netflix original will knock your socks off. Unless of course, you watch it without socks on. Which I'd actually reccomend doing, it's pretty annoying losing your socks.

Nightcrawler

Jake Gyllenhaal plays a crime scene photographer in a movie thats mainly great because Jake Gyllenhall kills it. The guy is a great actor. And this movie is different than any action movie you've ever seen. It's solid. Sharp, fast paced, and entertaining. You won't regret it.

Kid Cannabis

This movie is based on a true story of this nerdy kid from Idaho who got tired of being a nerd and built his own drug empire, by smuggling marijuana in from Canada. It kind of starts slow, but its definitely worth watching. It does have quite a bit of nudity as well as gratuitous drug use, so if that type of thing offends you, don't watch it. Although, I shouldn't even really have to tell you that, as the word cannabis is literally in the title of the movie. So if it does offend you, it's kind of your own fault for being a dumb ass isn't it? Ron Perlman and John C Mcginley are great in this. 5 out of 7.

Butter

This movie is strange. But it's also pretty funny. I don't really have anything else to say about it. I watched it like 5 years ago, but noticed today that's it still on Netflix, and unless you specifically searched for it, you'd never even know it existed. Jennifer Garner, Olivia Wilde, Ty Burrell, Hugh Jackman, Ashley Greene, and Rob Corddry star in this movie that's far from marginal. It's Butter.

Kung Fury

This is either an awesome movie or the stupidest thing you've ever seen in your life. It really depends on your sense of humor. The good news is that it's only a half hour long, and you'll know if it's your cup of tea in the first five minutes, so there's really no risk involved. So... If you like movies where ninja cops travel through time to kill Hitler with the help of dinosaurs, then it's your cup of tea.

Mean Girls 2

Just kidding. Please don't watch this movie. It's the worst piece of shit ever made in the history of cinema. What an atrocity. No wonder none of the origanal cast members returned for this shit. It was awful. And the girls weren't even that mean. Fuck this movie. The other ones I mentioned, you should watch for sure, but this movie can go jump off a cliff. The plastics are back, no the fuck they're not...

Overrated/Underrated Part 2

2017-02-07T15:08:00.001-08:00

The Overrated

Technology

Look, we are balls deep in the age of information, and it's absolutely astonishing how much technology has progressed in my lifetime alone. Having said that, just because a certain technology is available, that doesn't mean it's necessary. For example, we could do without automated faucets, right? How are these convenient for anyone?

Sometimes the sensor is on the very bottom of the faucet and sometimes it's towards the top, so good luck finding it on the first try. It usually take 4 to 5 good stabs at it before you get it to kick on. You just stand there swiping at the air like your scratching imaginary turntables, until it finally turns on, only to immediately shut off after like half a second. Doctors recommend that you wash your hands for twenty seconds after using the restroom, yet they designed these things to give you like a teaspoon of water. And good luck drying your hands off, because the paper towel dispensers are even worse. If there's no hand dryer, and all you have is an automatic towel dispenser, you might as well just dry your hands on your pants. Technology is supposed to make things easier, and all they did here was make it hard.

Washing your hands shouldn't be a stressful experience. Public restrooms are not a place you want to spend any more time in than you already need. By the way, it would be nice if businesses and restaurants wised up and started playing music at a high volume inside the lavatories. Drown out the noise that no one wants to hear. You've got to figure that pooing in a public bathroom is a complete and total act of desperation by anyone. It's not like people who could hold it in if they wanted too, are just walking into a Wal-Mart bathroom for fun. These people have no other option, they're in there taking the shit of the century, meanwhile you're stuck waving at the sink, with hands full of soap, trying your hardest not to start dry heaving. And it's not even the smells. Sure it smells like Bin Laden's ball sack, but it's the ambience that gets to you. Believe it or not, a half inch thick plastic divider isn't enough to mask the sound of a 300 pound dude pooping lava six feet away. I don't know about you, but I would rather listen to anything than that. Anything at all. As long as it's not country.

So yeah, that's one example. And I kind of spent a lot of time on it, so I'll lightning round the rest of it.

Fitbits - They're nothing but glorified step counters.

Siri - quit relying on Siri to do everything for you. Learn phone numbers. Remember appointments with your brain. Haven't you seen Ex Machina? Siri will make you her bitch one of these days.

Self Checkout machines - If you have more than two items, they're a pain in the ass. And they still require an attendant, so how exactly are they making things run smoother?

The Underrated

Cargo shorts

I vividly remember this one time about 12 years ago when jean shorts became uncool practically overnight. There I was out and about with friends, when suddenly I started getting mocked for wearing jean shorts. What the hell, I thought to myself. These things aren't cool anymore? Since when? That was quite the blow to me at the time. I liked my jean shorts. They were comfortable, they fit me well, they accentuated my thighs perfectly. I mean, I looked good in those things. But whatever, I decided it wasn't that big of a deal, because I still had plenty of cargo shorts. Then a few years later, this happens...

Jonah hill makes one joke about cargo shorts in the movie Superbad, and just like that, without warning, cargo shorts become uncool as well. What the hell man! Does no one appreciate the practicality of these things? I don't expect women to understand. They have giant ass purses to carry all their bullshit around. Guys have two pockets. That's it. Take the bare minimum amount of items a dude has to carry with him at any given time... wallet, phone, keys. That's a lot already for the standard blue jeans pockets. It's not like you can fit much more in there without it becoming incredibly uncomfortable. But the average guy has a lot more to carry. That's the thing. I mean it varies from guy to guy, but we're talking, chapstick, pack of gum, backup chapstick, lighter, cigarettes, mints, salami sandwich, Epipen, etc... You get the picture. The extra pockets help. Cargo shorts are a fucking pragmatic fashion choice. They're as snazzy as they are functional. And do they really look that bad? Really?

Like, if you saw this guy walking down the street, would you point and laugh at him? Meanwhile, there's a bunch of dudes walking around wearing backpacks for no reason. What is that all about anyway? Those are the people we should be making fun of. For fuck's sake, the amount of guys I see on a daily basis walking around with backpacks is astounding. I don't live anywhere near a college campus. Where are these people coming from? And these are grown ass men too. I've seen 28-29 year old dudes walking around wearing backpacks, where are you guys going? Are you on your way to the bus stop? And it's even worse when they wear these dumb ass looking things.

What do you even carry in this thing? Your phone charger? I am honestly genuinely perplexed when I see dudes walking around with one of these on their back. It makes no sense to me. And It usually accompanies a pair of these awkward looking sweatpants that are somehow in style, and a beanie hat in the middle of summer.

Kids these days, man... I don't know. I just don't understand them. Bottom line, if cargo shorts are wrong, then I don't want to be right.

Overrated/Underrated Part 1

2017-02-04T15:57:00.001-08:00

The Overrated...

Mini burgers

It seems like every restaurant nowadays has a menu option for you to get like 3-4 mini burgers instead of one normal sized one, and no one seems to notice that they're getting ripped off in the process. Think about it. The average burger is at least 1/3 of a pound. The average amount of meat you get with the mini's is like 1/8 of a pound. You're filling up on the buns, man! The kitchen staff is laughing at you! Anytime an order for these things pops up on the prep line, the owner of the restaurant laughs like Mr. Burns from the Simpsons, because he knows he just made a nice little profit off your dumb ass. These restaurants don't spend money on bread. The bread is literally free. They bring it straight to your table in huge ass baskets. And you're still paying the same amount of money for far less meat. Its ridiculous. I'm tired of miniature versions of foods. Mini tacos? No thanks. I'd rather have the same amount of full size tacos. Personal pan pizzas? An extra large pizza is a personal pan pizza to me. Mini M&M's? Seriously? Who looks at a regular sized M&M and thinks, oh my that's far too big? Well I say enough is enough. Mini burgers aren't burgers.

What are these? Burgers for ants?

The Underrated...

Silence.

I've never gone hunting. To be quite frank, I've never really understood the appeal of it. I have many friends that hunt, but it's never even seemed remotely interesting to me. There's just something about waking up at 3am on my day off, to go freeze my ass off in the woods for six hours with a 50% chance that I don't even see a deer, that's stopping me from participating in a hunt. Plus venison really isn't that great. I mean, I guess it's OK, but it's definitely not better than pork or chicken or beef. Maybe it's cheaper to kill your own meat, but is it though? First you have to pay for a hunting permit. Then you need to factor in the cost of your rifle and the ammo. Add another few hundred dollars for a taxidermist, if you want to get the head mounted. Plus the cost of your tree stand, and all your camouflage gear, and a jar of deer piss to sprinkle on your head because that helps somehow.... Once you factor all this in, is it cheaper? It sounds far more expensive and time consuming than simply going to the supermarket and picking up some steaks, but what do I know?

This is where I hunt for my meat.

I brought this up to a friend who hunts once, and he told me he hunting helps him unwind. He said sitting out there in the woods alone, in silence, away from all the noise and stresses of everyday life is the most relaxing thing in the world. And that's something that I can appreciate. I'm still not going hunting ever, but it helps me understand why people do. Everyone deserves some peace and quiet every once in a while, and in today's busy bullshit world, it can be tough to come by. I think the biggest problem is that some people simply underestimate the power of silence. They think that if two people are in a room together and no one has spoken in the last thirty seconds, something must immediately be said in order to break the silence. They're wrong. Silence is therapeutic. Do yourself a favor and take 10 minutes a day, to just sit there in silence and do nothing. Close the door to your office and turn off the phone, take some extra time in your car, fake taking a shit... it doesn't matter how you achieve your ten minutes, as long as you get them. Maybe then you'll understand the impact that silence can have.

Think about it in terms of farts. The silent farts are by far the most powerful. The noisy high pitched ones sound hilarious but they don't really pack a punch. The low pitched ones that sound like a mouse playing a tuba are equally as funny, but again, they're not nearly as potent. The deep boisterous baritone farts assert your dominance over the rest of the room, but they're certainly not the smelliest. Then you have those real gassy ones, you know the ones. The ones that sound like when a school bus comes to a compete stop. Those can really sting your nostrils, but nothing compares to a Silent but Violent. Nothing. When I start firing those Helen Kellers out of my ass, you better have a Haz-mat suit on, cause those mugs will melt the flesh off your face. Silence... it's underrated.

P.S. So I'll admit, maybe the fart analogy wasn't the best way to illustrate my point, but I like talking about farts, because farts are funny, so deal with it...

Laura and the two Steves, the most confusing love triangle in television history.

2016-12-12T10:31:00.001-08:00

You know what's funny about the show, Family matters? Everything. Everything about that show was funny. But you know what's interesting about it? Steve Urkel wasn't even supposed to be a main character. He was originally intended to be a secondary cast member, but was so popular at first, the writers had to completely rewrite the show to include him more. The studio audiences loved Urkel. Viewers of the pilot loved Urkel. Everyone seemed to love Urkel, except the Winslows. The Winslows hated Urkel. They despised him. Probably because he caused thousands of dollars worth of damage to their house, but he was still a nice guy.

Yes you did do that, you clumsy fuck!

Harriet was nice to him, but the rest of them treated him like shit. Eddie was always ditching him to go hang out with that loser Waldo Faldo. Carl was constantly throwing him out of their house. He killed his pet beetle that one time. Then to top it off, he challenged Steve in an episode of American Gladiators.

Lols, that episode was hilarious.

But the disrespect Steve received from Laura was on a whole different level. Mainly because of how much he cared for her. Laura was the girl of Steve's dreams. The apple of his eye. He longed for her, and she was nothing but short with him. It wasn't uncommon for Steve to profess his unwavering affection for Laura, and for Laura's response to be, "Go Home Steve!"

That pretty much sums of Laura and Steve's relationship at first. She couldn't stand him, and he couldn't stand that she couldn't stand him. So he did what any reasonable man would do in that situation, and genetically altered his DNA in a transformation chamber he had built in his basement.

About fifteen seconds in the chamber was all it took for geeky, awkward, uncoordinated, loser Steve to transform into suave, sophisticated, super cool Stefon. Stefon was the complete opposite of Steve. And for that reason, the Winslows loved him. Eddie envied him, Carl adored him, and Laura... Laura was smitten as a kitten with Stefon. She couldn't handle how sexy he was. She basically fell in love with him. Like immediately. The only problem though, was that the effects from the transformation chamber eventually wore off, and after a few days, much to Laura's chagrin, Stefon would always morph back into lame ass Steve.

And that became the routine. Steve would become Stefon for a couple of days, then inevitably transform back into Steve. Then back into Stefon for a weekend, then back into Steve. Then at one point he turned into Bruce Lee. That episode was hilarious though.

Then around season 7, things got weird. Steve built a cloning machine, and cloned himself as Stefon. So now, Steve and Stefon both existed in the same world, at the same time. Otherwise known as the exact moment Family Matters jumped the shark. If you're not familiar with the term "Jumping the shark" it's the phrase you use, when a sitcom has completely run out of ideas, and begins insulting its viewers with ludicrous plot lines. It was first used in the 1980's that one time Fonzie literally jumped over a shark on water skis. When the writers started phoning it in, and Happy days became sad days.

Another example of Jumping the shark would be when the character Tori was introduced on Saved by the Bell. All throughout the show, there were six main characters. Zack, Kelly, Slater, Jessie, Lisa and Screech. Now all of a sudden, in the middle of the last season, they introduce a new student... What gives?

Tori was a rebel. You could tell this because she wore a leather jacket. But she was also very cute, you could tell this because anytime she entered a room, the crowd went Whoo! Tori and Zack had quite the rocky relationship. At first they hated each other. Then they started to like each other. Then they started to really like each other. Then she dissapeared forever.

She really did. She was in like 10 episodes and then for some reason, left right before the finale. What was this chick's deal? Why would she transfer schools halfway through senior year, only to drop out three days before graduation? And another thing about Tori that was weird, was that the whole time she was at Bayside, Kelly and Jessie were nowhere to be found. They just weren't there. I know they were still at the school because they popped back up in the last few episodes, but they weren't around at all when Tori was there. Were they suspended? An explanation would've been nice. Maybe they just got new boyfriends or were hanging out with a different clique, or something. They still would've been visible in the background though, right? After all, there were only like 20 kids total at Bayside. I feel like we still would've been able to see them at some point. Like In the back of the classroom, or maybe we'd see them walking past Slater in the hallway, while complimenting him on his corduroys. But no, they were just gone. Until Tori left, then they were back. I vividly remember the last episode ever. It was graduation and Zack was the last person to get his diploma. Then he turns and looks in the camera and goes, "

Well can you believe it? I graduated high school." Then they all throw their hats in the air and the show ends. And you're like, "What the Fuck just happened?"

First of all, graduates are typically called in alphabetical order, and Zack's last name was Morris. Why the fuck was he going last. Powers, Spano, Slater, Turtle... Zack should've gone before all of these people. And why was no one concerned about Tori's absence? She was supposed to graduate too, and not only did she not make it to the ceremony, but no one even seemed to care. And at this point, you're screaming at your TV. Quit throwing your hats in the air and get out there and find Tori you cunts! She could be trapped in that room that used to be the radio station, or got lost in the hallway that leads to the Max. Was the Max inside the school, or was it a separate building? It was basically their cafeteria, but they never really explained it. Sorry. I guess I got sidetracked there, but you get the point now about jumping the shark I hope.

Another example is when The Office replaced Steve Carell with James Spader of all people

Anyways, the moment Steve cloned himself... that was the beginning of the end for Family Matters. The writers were grasping at straws at that point. This tends to happen with most sitcoms that feature kid actors. Eventually the kids grow up and become uninteresting, which was certainly the case for Family Matters. By season 7, Eddie Winslow was somehow older than Carl. The actor that played Eddie was only like 21 by that point, but he suffered from Greg Oden's disease, so he could've easily passed for like 47 or 48 years old.

It was hard to take it seriously, when Carl started lecturing Eddie on the dangers of alcohol. Eddie's a grown ass man, Carl. Leave him be. He looks like he's got two mortgages, three kids, and smokes a pack of Winstons a day. Plus, Richie and 3J were both going through puberty and Judy had disappeared years ago. So the only story the writers had left, was Laura and the two Steves.

You see, Steve had somehow managed to wear on Laura over the years and she had actually started to care for him. But when Steve and Stefon both walked in that front door together, Laura was struck so hard with a whirlwind of emotions, she fainted right there in the living room. Steve and Stefon may have shared some DNA, but neither one of them had any intention in sharing Laura. She obviously needed to make a choice. But how could she choose? On one hand, Steve had always been there for her. He did so much for Laura over the years. He'd literally saved her life a couple of times, and it was abundantly clear that he loved her more than life itself. Then on the other hand, there was Stefon. Stefon had good posture and wore contacts.

The fact that she even had to comtemplate this decision was baffling to me. Stefon was a mindless clone. There wouldn't even have been a Stefon without Steve. Steve is a genius inventor. He was the first human being to successfully clone himself. Do you have any idea how much money he was about to make with that discovery? Look at how rich Zuckerberg got, and all he did was create a website where people you went to high school with, post fake news stories. Steve's invention was the single greatest human achievement of all time. Not only could he create clones, but he could make superior clones. You don't think the U.S military would want to do business with Steve? Can you even imagine? Take any random Navy Seal, and put them in the cloning machine a couple thousand times, and we'd have entire platoons of Jason Bournes protecting our country.

This is who I mean when I say Jason Bourne. Not Jeremy Renner. Jeremy Renner is not Jason Bourne. Matt Damon is Jason Bourne.

Yet Laura was still torn.

For fuck's sake Laura, what is there to think about? Steve is about to be a billionaire. A multi-billionaire. We're talking hundreds and hundreds of billions of dollars. The richest man on earth status. Do you have any idea how great your life could be? Any idea how of how big a yacht you'll have? And people say it's not the size of the boat that matters.

Needless to say, it was very difficult to watch the show by this point, but eventually Laura comes to her senses, and agrees to marry Steve. Then I want to say that Stefon moved to France to sell cologne or something, but I could be wrong. I never watched a majority of the last season because of how ridiculous it was, but I looked up the episode guide. At one point, Steve and Carl go back in time to the 1700's, because of course, Steve invented a time machine too. Then I looked up the series finale and the description was - Steve must find a way to come back home from Outer space to marry Laura. That's seriously what happens, look it up.

Despite all of these mishaps though, Family Matters provided some high quality entertainment on Friday nights for years. Steve working with Carl and Lieutenant Murtaw, to take down The Dragons. The mysterious disappearance of Judy Winslow. Aunt Rachel buying her own restaurant... but none of these stories can compare with the most confusing love triangle of all time. Laura and the two Steve's.

The Ultimate Pizza Guide

2016-07-06T15:00:00.001-07:00

Life is kinda like pizza. Sometimes it can seem too cheesy, and other times you can get burned. But sometimes it's amazing, even though it's Barbeque chicken and not the pepperoni you ordered, but sometimes life can be confusing as well. Just remember that nothing will comfort you like a pizza, and with all the darkness in the world these days, it's nice to know that pizza has your back. I have close to thirty years of pizza eating experience, thin crust, deep dish, frozen, on a bagel, I've eaten thousands of pizzas, and as good as pizza is, there are some kinds that are much better than others. I would like to share my findings with you, so that you get the absolute most out of your pizza eating experience. So without further adieu, here is The Ultimate Pizza Guide. Enjoy!

I decided to break this thing into 4 sections. Nationwide chains, local chains, frozen pizza, and sit down restaurants...

NATIONWIDE CHAINS...

THE WORST

Papa John's:

If I were stranded in the middle of a desert with no food or water, and wound up walking hundreds and hundreds of miles, looking for sustenance, before finally stumbling upon a Papa John's... I'd ask them if I could borrow their phone so that I could order pizza from a different restaurant.

Papa John's sucks. Their sauce sucks. Their cheese sucks. Everything about them sucks. Well, except for Peyton Manning. He doesn't suck. He's pretty cool. But everything else about them sucks.

THE SECOND WORST

Pizza Hut:

Pizza Hut is the king of the gimmick. They believe that creativity supersedes quality and that's how they wound up with items like the hot dog pizza.

I don't know what the hell is going on at the Pizza Hut headquarters, but it seems like they're just sitting around a table, passing around a bong, being like, "Ok, ok man. What if we made like, a pizza that looks like a taco, stuffed with cheeseburgers. No, wait. What about a pizza where the crust is made of smaller pizzas!

How about you guys just make a pizza that doesn't suck? How about that? If I had to say a nice thing about Pizza Hut, I guess, at least they're not Papa John's.

HONARABLE MENTION

Sbarro

Sbarro is pretty underrated, at least in Saint Louis it is. It's pretty good pizza, and it's affordable. Plus they serve by the slice, which is something I really like because sometimes you're not hungry enough to eat a whole pizza. Like if you're currently running a 5K, or if you're on your way to eat out at a restaurant where there's probably going to be a long wait. It's more convenient to walk around with just one slice, than having to carry a big box around, know what I mean?

THE BEST

Dominos

A few years ago, Dominos revamped their menu with a brand new recipe and since then, they've been serving heat. Dominos is the shit! Plus they have this awesome little innovation known as Pizza Tracker. Whenever you order online, pizza tracker pops up, and you get to oversee the whole process through the powers of technology.

Dominos pizza tracker is awesome. It adds a personal touch to the pizza ordering experience. You learn the cook's first name. You learn the delivery driver's first name. You know the exact minute the driver leaves the store with your pizza. Then you start pacing around your living room, anxiously waiting for Keith to show up. After ten or fifteen minutes pass, you're thinking something's wrong. You start to get worried about Keith. Where the fuck is he? He should be here by now. You run outside to see if you can locate him and see your neighbor across the street behaving erratically. You ask him what's wrong. He tells you he's looking for Keith too. Your jaw drops. Holy shit! It's a damn conspiracy. Where is this guy? Does he even exist. A car drives by, you jump in front of it, while your neighbor rips the driver out of the car. All of your Grand Theft Auto training has prepped you for this very moment. You inform the driver that you'll be commandeering his vehicle. You're conducting an emergency search party. The driver looks visibly shaken by what you're telling him. You step back for a minute and suddenly notice a familiar logo on his hat. Your eyes then glance to his shirt. He's wearing a name tag. Holy shit! It's him. It's Keith. A tear rolls down your cheek. He says, it's OK. Everything is going to be fine. I'm here now. Your pizza is safe. You tip him generously and head back inside. What a stressful experience that was! It will probably help to eat the entire pizza in one sitting. That's the only way to recover from that whirlwind of emotions. Luckily for you, the pizza is very tasty. Dominos is the shit.

The complete list:

1. Dominos

2. Sbarro

3. Little Caesers

4. Pizza Hut

5. Papa johns

LOCAL CHAINS

When it comes to pizza in Saint Louis, there are two heavyweights; Imo's and Cecil Whittaker's...

So who's better?

Let's compare the two, shall we? Both have been in operation for decades, and both have unnecessarily extensive menus. For example, did you know that you can order a hamburger at either one of these establishments? I'm not really sure why anyone would go to a pizzeria for a hamburger though, that's kinda like eating the pizza at a Chinese buffet, I mean... What are you even doing?

They both have wings. Unfortunately, I'm not much of a wing connoisseur (pizza is my thing) so I'm afraid I can't speak intelligently on the differences in quality. I like the Toasted Ravioli at Cecil's better, but Imo's invented Provel Bites, which blow Toasted Ravioli out of the marinara sauce, if you know what I mean.

I thoroughly enjoy both restaurants, but when it comes down to it, I give a slight edge to Imo's in pizza quality. Very slight.

So the answer is Imo's, right?

Wrong. Despite the slight edge is quality, Imo's lacks the one thing that Cecil's excels in. Deals! Cecil's is all about the deals.

Customer appreciation day every Tuesday = Large pizza $4.99

All day every day, buy one get one free extra large one topping.

After 9pm special, large two topping $6.99

And so on...

Imo's just sent me a coupon for a large two topping for $14.95, like that's some kind of a deal. That's not a deal, Imo's. Why would you think that's a deal? I refuse to believe that the ingredients Imo's uses are that much more expensive than Cecil's, to justify the price increase. Maybe they just spend too much money on advertising. Perhaps they're still paying luxury tax on that lucrative David Freese contract from 2011. Who knows. But paying that much extra really isn't worth it. Imagine going to Best Buy and seeing a 48" TV for $200, then going to HHGregg and seeing a comparable TV that's 50" but it costs $400. That's a no brainier to me. That extra little bit isn't worth paying double for. Anyways, so to answer the question, who is better.... The answer is...

Stefanina's

Stefanina's is the answer. Stefanina's is the best. If Imo's and Cecil Whittakers are heavyweights, Stefanina's is an ultra heavyweight. A super, ultra heavyweight Stefanina's is a strongman competitor. While the other two are wrestling each other in the octagon, Stefanina's is in the corner deadlifting a Helicopter. They don't want any part of Stef's in the ring. They'd get Debo'd real quick. Tuck your chains in Imo and Cecil. Stefanina's is crushing both of you, and that's all that really needs to be said about that. There's really no competition here.

The complete list:

1. Stefanina's

2. Cecil Whittaker's

3. Imo's

4. Talayna's

5. Fortel's

FROZEN PIZZA

THE WORST

Digiorno

The rising crust feature was innovative at first. It was cool watching it rise in the oven. I'm not sure why. Maybe it reminded me of my childhood with shrinky dinks. Maybe not. I don't care anymore. The crust tastes like three day old cornbread. Add some bland toppings on top of that, and you have yourself a pretty weak pizza. Also it takes like thirty minutes to cook, so you have plenty of time to contemplate eating something else instead. Maybe even order Dominos. You know what they say... Delivery, at least it's not Digiorno.

Third Place

Palermo's

Second Place

Dogtown pizza

So this pizza is only available in Saint Louis, but whatever... It's amazing! They have many different kinds, but my personal favorite is the hot wing pizza. Dogtown has probably the best (frozen) buffalo chicken pizza I've ever tasted, by far. At around $7-$9, it's a bit on the expensive side, but please take my word for it, that it's worth it.

The Dark Horse

TJ's

There was once a time when TJ's would have been in my top 3, but sadly that time has passed. TJ's is a fundraiser pizza. You can randomly find them here and there (Valenti's meat markets sells them) but for the most part, they're only available through fundraising. I'm not going to lie, they're incredible. I love them. I used to buy the shit out of them, and that's when they were $7 a pop. Then it went up to $8, then $9, and the last time I saw an order form, a pepperoni was $10.50. As good as they are, I have to draw the line somewhere. And I know they're for a fundraiser, and I want your daughter's Girl Scout troop to be able to go to Space Camp too, but I'm not paying over $10 for a frozen pizza. That's ridiculous.

The Best

Lena's

If you haven't heard me rave about Lena's yet, then you clearly don't know me, and why are you even reading this?

Lena's is the tits. Of course they're another only available in Saint Louis frozen pizza, but this is where I live, so what do you expect? The first time I had Lena's, it was a pepperoni, and it knocked my socks off. The second time, I had sweet heat chicken, and it knocked my socks off. The third time I had the bacon pizza, and it's actual strips of bacon on there. Did you know that? Not bacon bits like some frozen pizzas try to pass off as real bacon. I'm talking actual bacon! I was wearing sandals at the time, but had I been wearing socks, I'm sure they would've been knocked off. Trust me, if you haven't had a Lena's yet, do yourself a favor and go out and buy one. They're the best frozen pizza money can buy.

The complete list

1. Lena's

2. Dogtown

3. Palermo's

4. Luigi Rafaeli's

5. Culinary Circle

6. Mama Lucia's

7. TJ's

8. Jack's

9. Tombstone

10. Red Baron

Sit down restaurants

Third place

Dewey's

A night out at Dewey's is always a good time. They have a plethora of different draft beer selections, and a constantly rotating seasonal pizza menu that always hits the spot. The servers are on their game too. They always seem so cool, but they also know their shit. They can break down the whole menu for you in an instant. They're just so damn hip. It's like they all got hired on at the VIP lounge at a Wilco concert.

Second place

Fratelli's

Fratelli's has been in operation for 35 years, yet I somehow just tried them for the first time last month. I must say, it's fucking great. I mean, it's good. It was tough because everything on the menu looked delish, but I was there specifically to try the pizza. I'm sure everything else is fucking great as well. I know one thing for sure, I'll be back.

The Diamond in the Rough

Francesca's

Tucked away in a run down complex, next door to Church Street Bar and Grill (the dirtest bar in Saint Charles) where every night is convict night and wearing sleeves is optional, lies a little known pizzeria called Francesco's. I've only eaten there once, but I was impressed. It was very good. Way better than I expected. I'm not sure why I expected less though. Remember when you first learned that the dude that played Jimmy from Degrassi was a rapper? You were like, "What, this dude is going to be lame." Then he brought the ruckus. It's kinda the same thing. This guy Francesco knows pizza. That's a life lesson for you right there. Don't judge a pizza by its box.

The Best

Pirrone's

Pirrone's pizza is the best pizza of all pizza. Seriously, it's off the charts. Much like Fratelli's, they have an extensive menu packed with intriguing items, but the pizza is so fucking good, you don't even want to risk trying something else. I give Pirrone's a solid 10 out of 10. They are the bee's pajamas and the cat's knees.

The complete list

1. Pirrone's

2. Fratelli's

3. Dewey's

4. Francesco's

5. Erio's

So there you have it. Hopefully you learned something. Just remember that no matter how much life brings you down, keep on truckin' and take it slice by slice

Fin

How to avoid getting throat chopped Part 2

2016-06-02T15:41:00.001-07:00

Quit being so damn oblivious to your surroundings...

Ever been in a crowded place simply trying to get from point A to point B, but the person walking in front of you is moving at the speed of a sloth the day after leg day? And the worst part is, there's no way around them. You're stuck and it sucks. You honestly didn't even think it was possible for a human being to be this slow. It's ridiculous. Glaciers move faster than this person.

Eventually, they quit moving altogether,

for no reason at all. They just stop moving. You see this as a golden opportunity to walk around them, but as soon as you make a move, they begin walking again, which completely cuts you off. And don't think you're getting an apology either. Oh no, they'd have to acknowledge your existence first. Next, they're likely going to walk into an establishment, and stop immediately once inside, to send a text or check their phone, or grab something from their purse. They don't step off to the side, or walk in a little further to avoid being in everyone's way.... You know, like a normal person would... Instead, they simply stop right inside the entrance, right inside the doorway, right where people are trying to enter, which causes a a highly unnecessary clusterfuck. And they don't even realize they're doing it either. The lack of situational awareness that some people display in these scenarios is absolutely astounding. Pay attention for fuck's sake!

Here's another example of something that will earn you a throat chop...

Don't leave your shopping cart on the left side of the aisle, while you browse the right side of the aisle... Similar to that dumbass lady I encountered at Shop n Save last week. How is anyone supposed to get through when you're blocking the whole aisle, huh bitch???

Here's the story...

I slowly approached her waiting for her to acknowledge my existence, and move the cart, but she remained as oblivious as ever. She just stood there staring at the spaghetti sauce, like it was the most important financial decision she was ever going to make, and needed the same amount of concentration that a brain surgeon would need while doing a transplant. "Excuse me" I said.

"What, huh... What, Oh, sorry,"

She looked startled at first, like I surprised her somehow. There was literally no one else within forty feet of us, yet I managed to get 3 steps from her, and then had to speak up before she even realized I was present. Dumbfounded by how clueless and incognizant some people can be, I wondered how you don't hear about people falling into gorilla pits more frequently. Like, I'd totally believe it if you told me that this lady wandered into a chimpanzee house, thinking it was the food court or something. The thought almost made me want to invite her to the zoo, and let natural selection run its course, but the notion of spending any additional time with that useless turd sandwich, sounded about as appealing as taking an elevator ride with Ray Rice. Not even two minutes later, I ran into her again. As I was standing in the next aisle, she came around the corner and got the cart hung up on the bottom shelf. She had to back up and try it again. Apparently the five foot wide aisle was not wide enough, as she ran into the corner again only a few seconds later. Then what does she do? After I already had to ask her to move once, what does she do? The same fucking thing! Again I waited a few seconds for her to detach herself from her own world, and acknowledge my presence but that wasn't happening. I glanced into her cart and became devastated when I noticed Capri Suns and Animal crackers. Unfortunately for society, this lady has already procreated. She also had Ragu in her cart. All that time spent comparing sauces and she went with Ragu? Her poor children. Not only do they have to live with the fact that their mother is an idiot, but they have to do so while eating inferior spaghetti. Before I can even announce my presence a second time, she took a phone call and began talking very loudly, which she might as well have been doing. In her mind, she was the only one in the store anyway. I wound up just turning my cart around and going the opposite direction, because at that point, it seemed like a better option.

I wound up running into her again at checkout. She lined up in the 15 items or less line, with 25 items in her cart. She may have been trying to pull a fast one, or perhaps she couldn't count that high. The most likely answer though, is that she was unaware of what an express line actually is. Just like every other aspect of her life, this chick was inattentive, absentminded, and completely oblivious to the rest of the world around her. People like this are the bane of our existence. They're the reason traffic jams exist. They're the type of people who stand on the moving walkways at airports like its a ride or something. They're the type of people who spend 5 minutes looking for their checkbook every time they're at a checkout instead of having it ready beforehand. Everyone becomes dumber after spending time around these people. I award them no points, and may God have mercy on their souls.

Sorry about the wait...

2016-05-09T15:04:00.001-07:00

Today I took my cats to the vet. My appointment was at 12:15. I wasn't seen until 12:50. A few weeks ago, We went to a restaurant for dinner. We ordered. Forty-five minutes later, we still hadn't received our food. In both cases of blatant shitty customer service, do you wanna know what the one thing I never heard was? The one thing that would've eased my mind a little? The one thing that would've mitigated my anger, and reduced the images of me throat chopping everybody in my head? The one thing I never heard was a simple,

"Sorry about the wait"

That's all. Look, I get it. Shit happens. Sometimes you're short staffed, and sometimes you're just busy. Or it could be a more complicated problem, like the doctor got his wristwatch stuck in a poodle's ass, or the kitchen staff got too high after the lunch rush. I just don't know why they couldn't have told me there was a problem.

I don't really need to know the exact circumstances that caused the delay, it would just be nice to be acknowledged. When people get left waiting, their main concern is, wondering if they've been forgotten. If they haven't, let them now. Reassure them that you value their time. Apologize. Just acknowledge that you're slow, and that you're working on rectifying the situation. It's common courtesy, and common courtesy is good enough for 95% of people out there. The other 5%, are the people that cause a scene. They are the people that demand to speak to a manager, and then to that manager's manager, and so on. They basically feel that they're entitled to speak to the CEO of the company because their water glass had a spot on it. The main problem with customer service these days, is management that bends over backwards for the 5%, and completely ignore the 95%. I may not be throwing a tantrum in your establishment,

but that doesn't mean I'm not pissed too. I've worked in retail long enough to know that the phrase, "I need to speak to your manager" basically means, "I have a lot of free time on my hands" Ironically, these Dickbags that receive the most attention from a customer service standpoint, are the same douchenozzels that will constantly demand free shit, yet they're considered more of a priority because they're known to be difficult. As for the rest of us. We have lives. We have more important things to worry about. We're not complete fucktards, and that's precisely why we should be valued more as consumers. We just want good customer service, that's all. And we don't need gift cards, or free desserts. We just need you to tell us one simple thing...

Sorry about the wait.

See, now was that so hard?

How to avoid getting throat chopped Part 1

2016-05-05T14:28:00.001-07:00

Don't try to have a conversation with me early in the morning.

Why would you do this? Less than an hour ago, I was sleeping peacefully on my super comfortable memory foam mattress, I'm not ready to talk to you about how your night went. Oh, you and nine of your girlfriends went out and drank wine, while you all painted a picture of the same tree? That's fantastic. I'm glad you told me that just now. When I write my autobiography, I'll most definitely have a whole chapter dedicated to you telling me that story. Look, most people need some kind of a pick me up in the morning like a cup of coffee, or an energy drink, or a little cocaine. It really depends on the person, I guess. If you're the type of person who just wakes up and is automatically all chipper and upbeat, do everyone else a favor and keep that pep to yourself. No one has the patience for your optimism at such an early hour.

Don't tell me to Smile!

Listen. If someone is not smiling, there's probably a reason for it. It's not like they just forgot to smile. Maybe their grandma just died. Wouldn't you feel like an asshole if that was the case? The most likely scenario though, is that they suffer from "Resting bitch face syndrome"

RBFS is a very common condition. I have it. There are many of us. We don't usually smile. It doesn't mean we're sad,

or upset, or pissed off, or in pain. It's just the way our faces look. Sorry we don't walk around all day smiling like some kind of dumb idiot. Nothing makes me want to smile less, and chop a throat more, than when I'm being told to smile by a random stranger. And if I do manage to muster up a smile, it's only because I'm envisioning bonking you over the head with a large wooden mallet.

Sidenote: Telling me to smile early in the morning will earn you two throat chops

Don't attempt to push your political views on me.

Remember when some people were boycotting Chic-Fil-A because the owner was against gay marriage? Then other people were showing up in droves to support Chic-Fil-A during the protests. The whole thing was ridiculous. Do what you want to do, but don't preach to me one way or the other. For the record,

I'm pro gay marriage and pro chicken. Hitler himself could be the CEO of KFC, but that wouldn't stop me from driving through on my lunch break, and ordering a two piece original. Boycotting every business that doesn't completely align with your views is your perrogative, but don't try to tell someone else that they need to do the same. Personally, I think it's a shame. Let's say you're addicted to two things; Milano cookies, and getting abortions. Then you found out that the president of Pepperidge Farms is Pro-life. That doesn't mean you can't eat Milano cookies anymore, does it? I mean, depriving yourself of one of life's simple pleasures based on arbitrary reasons is such an irrational decision to make. Life is short. Do what makes you happy. Or don't, I'm not telling you what to do.

But if it was me, in your position, I'd be eating the shit out of Milano cookies and doing what those aborted baby fetuses never had a chance to do. #Yolo

Don't leave me a voicemail.

A decade ago when texting was becoming more and more prevalent, I fought it. I fought it hard. "This isn't how people should communicate!" I would say. But that was then, and this is now. Phones are more sophisticated now, and unlimited texting comes standard on most packages. Texting now is the only way to live. Actually calling someone on the phone implies that you have a serious matter to discuss. Anything else can be resolved via texting. Don't call me over something minor. Especially when I'm trying to watch funny cat videos on YouTube, and my video has to be paused for ten seconds, while I'm waiting for my phone to stop ringing. The only thing worse, is when my voicemail notification goes off. Now, I have to stop what I'm doing and check your dumb ass message, when 99% of the time, it's just you telling me to call you back. Well, obviously I need to call you back, because apparently you need to talk to me. Otherwise you wouldn't have called me. What are you calling me for anyway? What could possibly be so important? Are you calling me to ask what I want for dinner? Just text me. Or better yet, just assume I want pizza, because I do. I always do. We don't need a phone call to confirm this.