Sunday, April 30, 2006
And they find themselves in a brand new coffee shop - a generic Starbucks type - and try hilariously to shake the manager down for a little protection money.
Which proves to be very difficult seeing as how the company "accounts for every f*cking bean" as the manager so earnestly explains.
It's like the manager/peon would LOVE to pay a couple of mobsters some green but cannot because "Corporate" won't let him.
Damn the Man!
Anyway the hooligans leave, scratching their heads at this new world order, and one says something along the lines of "so much for the little man".
So sad, but so true.
The economy of the corporation is killing organized crime as we know it.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
First a $100,000 worth of Kraft sauces goes missing down in Dyersburg, Tennessee.
Then $100,000 worth of Red Bull goes missing.
That is going to be some nightmare of a BB-Q down in ol' Hillbilly Holler.
Now, if you figure $100,000 of sauce works out to $2 per bottle.
(Suspiciously, Peapod is offering Kraft sauces on sale for a $1......)
And $2 a bottle translates to about $.75 per bottle wholesale.
You can then deduce that $100,000 divided by .75 = 133,333 bottles.
Jeezuz that is SOME barbeque.
But it gets better.
There are 24 Red Bull cans per case.
2,880 cases were stolen.
Which works out to about 69,120 cans of liquid hee haw.
A party that involves over 100 thousand bottles of sauce and about 70 thousand cans of Red Bull sounds like my kind of party.
I am just waiting for half a million bags of potato chips to go missing and I am driving down to Tennessee as fast the Blue Bomber will take me.
It is being held in a suburban hotel conference room, the kind with the movable walls, booby chandeliers, and chlorine-scented hallways.
Our room has two columns of narrow tables, 5 tables in a column, four people at a table.
So it's a bit snug.
Sitting to the left of me today, I enjoyed the company of a weirdo named "Glenn".
"Glenn" is the Procurement Officer in Charge of Federal Contract Purchasing - or something, for a small town. He takes his job very seriously and it is highly likely that every single pencil on his desk is sharpened to a very very fine sharp point.
I thought he would be the kind of person who would be cognizant of his personal space boundaries.
But he was not.
To refill his water glass, he stood up and reached for the pitcher by streching his arm over my head.
Which resulted in the extraordinarily awkward movement of having my head getting bumped into his armpit.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Walking out to the car I noticed what I thought to be small footprints scattered throughout the backyard.
Then one day I happened to fill up a flipped over plastic trash can lid with water because I thought the little sparrows and grackles looks a bit parched.
Later on I noticed that the little birdies were alternately drinking the water, then hopping into the water for a bath. Because that's what you do when it's sunny and warm in New England, you drink and swim.
Anyway, after they'd drunk and washed to their hearts content they hopped about in the yard until they made a little hole and then they did this odd kind of shuffle and flappy thing.
Turns out birds need both a water bath AND a dust bath.
Who knew?! Well now I do and you do.
My last contribution to the rabble in the rubble is a large lump of seed filled suet. Which tastes nasty to a human, but which is apparently like crack to the birds.
I have to make a mad dash now to the car with keys in hand to avoid getting dive bombed by suet-addicted sparrows. They are pissed that I haven't yet replaced the lump of suet.
This sucks! I am SO not responsible enough to feed and water a flock of about 47 assorted city birds! I can barely keep houseplants alive.
Friday, April 14, 2006
A woman gets on the bus with her baby.
The bus driver shoots her a quick look and says: “Holy shit lady, that's the ugliest baby that I've ever seen. Ugh!”
Steaming mad, the woman goes to the rear of the bus and sits down.
Fuming, she turns to the man sitting next to her and says: “That goddam driver just insulted me!”
The man looks at her kindly and says: “You go right up there honey and tell him off – go ahead, I'll hold your monkey for you.”
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
And probably for a few others too.
For example, for some reason the City seems to think that patching potholes at three in the afternoon is a perfectly fine task to attend to.
Well, sure, if you want to create a two mile curiosity back up in both directions.
Or changing traffic light lightbulbs at busy intersections at four in the afternoon. Because that would NEVER cause a clusterfu*k of cars.
And how come there is never anyone to direct traffic around these endeavors?
Hasn't the City yet realized that Boston drivers are mesmerized by heavy equipment? That seeing hard hats and cherry pickers confuse us and cause our braking foot to go heavy?
I can't wait to see what public works project they trot out today at tea time!
Monday, April 10, 2006
Hmm, I thought it was last week.
And then I thought it was today, seeing as how there was a couple of helicopters buzzing around the place.
I just don't get the ritual of baseball.
And everytime I've been to a game at Fenway, I have consistently been surprised when the game actually starts. I find the lack of any kind of kick off disorienting.
Not only the beginning, but the end too. All of a sudden all the players walk off the field and hey the game is over.
And who knew, because the little green rectangular box that's supposed to tell you the score shows a line of numbers.
I think the R box is Runs, which I think is HOMEruns and that would be the score.
So what's with all the other numbers?
But I will still cheer on the Sox.
Because that's what you do if the only reason you go to Fenway is to drink beer in the sun in the afternoon.
And maybe knock back a few sausages with peppers & onion.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Seriously people, the place should really be called Ocean State Odd Lot.
They sell the oddest stuff.
I was there today and they were running a click n' lock flooring special.
And also a special on Israeli couscous.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Let me preface this with the fact this movie was released in 1991 and transition from the eighties to the nineties was not an easy one.
It was a weird weird shift from the greed, coke, and big BIG hair of the 80's to the earthy crunchy, grunge fuel slacker fest of the early nineties. SOOO awkward!
Sort of like giving birth to a 48-lb orangutan covered in peanut butter - can't stop it from happening but that doesn't mean it has to make sense.
So yeah, back to my main point. I really think that Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man was the Brokeback of the early nineties. I watched it again today. Yes, again. I am a glutton for crap tv.
Anyway, there was definite tension between Mr. Johnson and Mr. Rourke.
Especially at the end when Don is about to hop on the horse at the rodeo and Mickey leans in. Just when you think they are heading for a big wet one, they hug....
Back then, that's how Hollywood treated gay love - with heartfelt hugs.
And another thing.
How come the bad guy ALWAYS announces his intentions, just in case the good guy is a little retarded.
Example: in Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man, there is a scene where two men are holding up a gas station and Harley (played by the semi-retarded Mickey Rourke) advances on the knife-wielding bad guy who says (with a straight face)
"I am going to cut you long wide and deep"
What else were you going to do with that knife? Peel him a grape?