The Great GPS Super Mess

The GPS is awesome....most of the time.

The GPS (Global Positioning System) has made our road trips and daily commutes much easier. It has rendered the paper map and map-based websites virtually obsolete. For the most part it is awesome and works great.

There have been a few occasions when I was happy to have the good old road atlas with us in the car because when the GPS F’s up it F’s up big! Here are some things to keep in mind if you are considering going “The way of the GPS”.

The most common phrase spoken by the GPS is…..”Re-calculating! Re-calculating! Re-calculating!” It sounds like an engineer with Tourette’s Syndrome…..except with no swear words in the mix.

I didn’t realize you can change languages until my wife decided to be funny and change it to Mandarin…..I was not amused…..actually it was funny but we were lost so it was not so funny. In the ensuing conversion back to English we changed it to Redneck…..that was funny, even if we were lost.

If you are on a toll road, the GPS will not remind you to stop and pay or pick up your ticket at the toll plazas….we found this out the hard way on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The GPS instructed us to blow right past the plaza in the EZ Pass lane, so we didn’t pick up our ticket. We landed up having to pay the entire $50 fee on this portion of turnpike because we had no ticket to prove where we got on.....we should have paid $2.50.

The biggest nemesis of the GPS is the skyscraper. On a trip to Chicago we found out that the GPS could not talk to its satellite buddies due to all of the skyscrapers. We drove around in circles for an hour and landed up in the bowels of the mega metropolis under Michigan Avenue.  A bum offered to clean our windows with a bottle of what looked like piss (not mid day yellow, but bright “first pee of the day” yellow). The road atlas saved the day. GPS + City = Bad News!

The GPS seems to lose its location on occasion. Sometimes it does not keep up with the true location of the car and gets a few blocks behind.  There have been multiple trips where it was telling us to turn down a road 2 blocks back well after we passed it. At this point it is best to pull over, turn it off, and let things reset. Like texting while driving, there are things the GPS shouldn’t do. Rapid route recalculations is one of those things.

The GPS is a great invention and has made traveling much easier. There are just those occasions where rather than standing for Global Positioning System, GPS stands for Going Pretty Slow or Gonna Probably Screwya!

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Won't you be my neighbor?

We’ve lived in our current house for seven years. We rarely talk to our neighbors and a return exchange of a friendly wave is almost always out of question. I still haven’t figured out the dynamics of our street. One thing I do know is that the couple who we bought our house from were really big liars. I know it was probably a stupid question to ask but when I asked “What are the neighbors like? Are they friendly people?” I was told what I expected or most likely wanted to hear: “The neighbors are really friendly and we do stuff together all the time.” I recommend against asking this question to the sellers of a home…..your best bet it to go to a few neighbors and ask them. You may come to find out that the owners of your potential new home are douche bags who will tell you whatever you want to hear to make a sale or your potential neighbors are a bunch of A-holes.

Our street is quite so I can’t complain about that aspect. I am just confused of how unfriendly people are. When we moved in to our house I ran across the street to a neighbor’s looking for a phone book. I knocked on the door and a short, round, little man opened the door, looked at me and said “What do you want?” I introduced myself. All I got was “Hold on a minute.” in return. He turned around and walked back into his house. A moment later a telephone book came flying my way. He said “Bring it back when you’re done.” and shut the door. So off I went. I got what I needed from the book and walked back to return it. I once again knocked on the door. I heard a yell from the house “Leave it on the front porch.” I dropped the book and walked home.  Since that day I have been able to get a few occasional waves from the guy and that was all up until this week.

I was mowing my lawn and had stopped to empty the grass catcher into a refuse bag. I had my earplugs in and couldn’t really hear anything. I bent over to unhook the bag and stood up. I turned my head and there was “phone book guy” standing next to me. He scared the crap out of me and I jumped a bit. He then started talking to me as if we were best friends. I was thoroughly confused at this point. I wasn’t sure what to say. So we shot the shit about sports for a while and I went back to mowing the lawn. So apparently one of the local rules on my street is that you can only talk to your neighbor every seven years.

A few weeks prior to this incident I was loading up some old stuff into my car to take to our storage unit. As I was carrying stuff out my neighbor directly across the street stopped me and asked “Are you moving?” I responded “No, just moving some stuff to storage, the house is full.” He looked at me and said “I’m glad you’re not moving, you are really good neighbors.” I thanked him and he immediately went inside. Yet another awkward conversation….. I haven’t talked to the guy for years, get a return wave twenty five percent of the time, and we’re good neighbors? I guess “good neighbor” equates to out of sight out of mind in his head. The saying about high fences making good neighbors must be true. Apparently in my neighborhood, being neighborly really means being un-neighborly.  Keep quiet, ignore each other, keep your yard kept, don’t acknowledge the existence of other neighbors, and leave me the hell alone. Mr. Rogers would hate it here. I could picture it now…..”Won’t you be my neighbor?”…….from what I’ve observed on my street I think he’d get a hardy “Go the hell away and leave me alone!” in return.

T-Shirts for Everyone!

One size doesn't always fit all...

Have you ever seen the “one-size-fits-all’ t-shirts? Who in the hell thought up that bright idea? I was looking at some websites for cloths and noticed that this sizing category has recently been changed to “one-size-fits-most”. Shirt sizes just don’t seem to grow proportionally. They get shorter and wider or longer and narrower…..they just don’t seem to do what you would expect. Being a person who falls outside the “most” category, I’d make the following extensions to the traditional t-shirt style line-up to help alleviate the t-shirt woes of millions of people around the world.

The “TA”- Shirt: Ideal for those who like to have their ass hanging out of their pants but still covered by something other than their jeans or underwear.

The “TB”- Shirt: Ideal for those shaped like Grimace (the big McDonald’s purple gum drop-shaped character). This shirt is shaped like a bell.

The “TC”- Shirt: Ideal for those shaped like a beach ball, the shirt is circular in shape. It somewhat resembles a silhouette of Mickey Mouse’s head.....those aren't ears....they are the sleeves!

The “TD”- Shirt: Ideal for those with smoking hot bodies. Also known as the “Daaa-aaaamn baby you look good” shirt

The “TE”- Shirt: Ideal for those egg shaped people. Humpty Dumpty has nothing on this one.

The “TF”- Shirt: Ideal for those shaped like a football, narrow at the top and bottom and fat in the middle.

The “TG”- Shirt: Ideal for those men who have large beer guts. Every man needs a good roof over his head. That roof needs to be covered from the elements as well. This shirt is also very popular among pregnant women.

The “TH”- Shirt: Ideal for those ladies with huge hooters, especially for the Dolly Partons, Morgannas, and Elviras of the world. These shirts have extra room for the “girls”.

The “TI”- Shirt: Ideal for those shaped like an I-beam due to larger than normal love handles.

The “TJ”- Shirt: Ideal for those ladies with a slightly smaller chest than the TH-shirt. Made for the slightly smaller uber-boober for extra juggy control.

The “TL”- Shirt: Ideal for those who like a super loose shirt. It’s like a tent, only with holes for your arms and head.

The “TM”- Shirt: Ideal for those men with extra stuff in the chest region, a.k.a. moobs or man-boobs.

The “TP”- Shirt: Ideal for those men with erectile missfunction. This shirt has extra material in the nether region in case your soldier decides to make an involuntary salute.

The “TQ”- Shirt: Ideal for those who want to show the world how queer they really are.

The “TR”- Shirt: Ideal for those shaped like the Michelin Man. It contours to all the rolls and curves and is ribbed for your pleasure.

The “TU”- Shirt: Ideal for those who just want coverage on the upper back, chest, and shoulders. This shirt drapes over the top of the body like an umbrella but lets the lower part of your torso breathe.

The “TV”- Shirt: Ideal for all the couch potatoes out there. This shirt is silky smooth for repositioning yourself without getting your shirt all twisted when spending the day napping on the couch.

The “TW”- Shirt: Ideal for those who like edible cloths. This shirt was created by the great Willy Wonka himself.

The “TX”- Shirt: Ideal for those who like minimal coverage in warm weather and like to show off the goods underneath in an X-rated way without being topless.

The “TY”- Shirt: Ideal for those whose upper body parts bounce around like a yo-yo. This shirt has extra support in all the right places to control the bounce.....minimal ounces to control the bounces.

The “TZ”- Shirt: Ideal for those shaped like a zeppelin. This shirt is wider than it is long. 365 of these will definitely make a good year.

Don’t be a Butt Hole Daddy

I'd like to hear the story of the
 origin of this street name.....

We were about two hours into the three hour drive home from my parents’ house and the kids started acting up. The portable DVD player had used up all of its kid-mesmerizing power. My soon to be three year old daughter was getting a little rambunctious. She starting kicking my wife’s seat then put her foot on the monitor hung on the back of the headrest. My wife yelled out “Stop kicking the seat and get your feet off of the monitor. If you do it again I’m taking it down for the rest of the trip!” There was complete silence out of my daughter for awhile then the questions from Turdette started flying (Turdette…..like Smurfette for those children of the 80’s, just with turd substituted for Smurf).
Turdette: “Where can I put my feet? Here? Can I put my feet on the seat?
My Wife: “No, keep them in front of your car seat!”
Turdette: “Can I put them on the arm rest?”
Me: “No, keep your feet down between Mommy’s seat and your seat!”
Turdette: “Can I put them on Mommy’s headrest?”
Me: “Do you know where I’m gonna put my foot if you don’t stop it?”
Turdette: “Where, Daddy?”
Me: “I’m gonna stick it where the sun doesn’t shine! Do you know where that is?”
Turdette: “In my butt hole?”
Me: “Yes! But don’t say that word! Where did you hear that word? A little kid shouldn’t be using that word!”
Turdette: “What word? Butt hole? Daddy don’t be a butt hole!”
Me: “Stop saying that! I don’t want to hear you say that anymore!”

By this time I was starting to giggle uncontrollably. She shouldn’t be saying “butt hole,” but it was getting pretty funny.

Turdette: “Daddy, why do you laugh when I say butt hole? Butt hole! Butt…..hole! BUTT HOLE!”

Me: “Sometimes you say something you shouldn’t but it makes me laugh.”
Turdette: “I like to make you laugh. You laugh funny! Butt hole!”
Me: “OK, OK, stop it. Enough with saying butt hole. I don’t want to hear it anymore!”
Turdette: “Why Daddy? Am I being a butt hole?”

At that time I lost it! The giggling turned to laughter. Then the barrage just stopped.

One of my areas for improvement as a parent is keeping a straight face when disciplining the kids. Sometimes the things they do or say need to be corrected but they are hilarious and make me laugh. It’s hard to make a point when you have an ear-to-ear grin on your face or are laughing when doing it! After I thought about it a while, I think she heard “butt hole” from me. Yes, I did call some driver that when he cut me off. I just assumed that the kids wouldn’t hear it since they were occupied by a movie. There is a lesson to be learned from this story for everyone, parents or not. The first three letters of assume are A-S-S. Sometimes making assumptions will make you look like an ass…..in this case…..a butt hole.

Dadisms, Vol.1

It is good to get paid for
EVERYTHING you do at work!

My dad did his best to prepare me for the working world. He is a very wise man who has offered up many pieces of useful advice and personal wisdom over the years. Of his many pieces of advice, one stands out as the most memorable and most frequently applied. Before I started my first job at the grocery store he looked me in the eye and made the following statement: “Make sure you crap on the clock if you have to take a dump at work. Don’t do it before or after your shift. If you have to take a shit you might as well get paid for it.” Ever since that day I’ve tried to follow his advice as closely as possible.  Yes, this is somewhat gross but to this day I still get some sick level of satisfaction when I walk out of the can at work knowing I just got paid for the last ten minutes in “my other office.” Like the kids’ book title states “Everybody Poops”…..Some of us are just lucky enough to get paid for doing it.

Super High IQ Toy Aisle Chick

It is possible to be so smart
that you are stupid!

My wife and I were walking through one of the toy aisles at a local department store looking for some Christmas presents for our kids. We stopped in one aisle to look at some ridiculous all-the-rage, have-to-have it toy of the year and overheard an intriguing conversation between two store clerks one aisle over. We first heard a female voice say “My IQ is so high. I’m off the charts.” Then a male voice responded “I’m really happy for you, keep stocking the shelves.” The conversation continued between the toy aisle self-proclaimed-braniac and who we think was her supervisor.  My first thought was “Hmm, why are you working in the toy aisle of a department store not challenging your genius mind and by going to college?”

I looked at my wife and we laughed at each other a bit and eagerly waited for the next volley of conversation from the next aisle. So we listened more. She continued on “I’m just too smart for college, it will only limit my abilities and I won’t learn anything if I go. I tried to go to a couple of different schools and just failed out. I’m too smart for them and they can’t keep my interest.” I started talking loudly, making fun of the too-smart-for-college moron stocking toys on the shelf. “My IQ is so high that could have went to Harvard but I chose MIT instead. I was super smart, and graduated college with my PhD at age 18.” My wife kept telling me to shut up and moved on. I just couldn’t let it go.

I peeked around the corner to observe the lucky guy on the receiving end of her ramblings. I think his eyes were permanently rolled back in his head in disgust and in utter amazement of his delusional coworker. I could have saved him by asking for assistance to find something but I kept moving. On a side note, I would like to thank that gentleman for taking one for the team and keeping Miss Smarty Pants occupied until we were far away from the toy department.

We made it to the movie department to look at a few new releases. There was one that the kids really wanted but they were sold out. I went to the counter and pressed the button for customer service. I started looking around for my assistance to arrive and low and behold Super Smart Girl showed up. I told her that I needed a rain check and she seemed a little peeved. She tried to give me one but kept messing things up with the cash register. After a few minutes of her utter ineptitude with the register I gave up and walked away. I muttered some stuff about how a super genius was outdone by a cash register and went in search of my wife. High I-Q? My A-S-S!

I continued mocking her genius-ness as we shopped. Maybe she was too smart for her own good? Ha! I don’t think so. If you are going to claim to be that smart you better have something to back it up. Go to college! If you are that smart you should be able to go for free! If you are broke, you should be able to go for free as well (unless you are from a middle-class family, then you are royally screwed on the financial aid. That’s a story for a later time.)

If you’re that smart, I think you would at least be working in electronics and not in the toy department. Get your degree, and then tell people how smart you are. Have something to backup your self-proclaimed uber-intelligence! At least shut your pie hole so your co-workers don’t have to listen to you all day long. Last I checked the earth still revolved around the sun, not you.

You’re Washing What?

That's just frickin nuts!
Absolutely nuckin futs!

My 5 year old son ran into the bathroom and shut the door. I didn’t think much of it since he most likely had to crap or had held his pee to a near bladder-breaking volume and had to drain his softball size pee holder. He didn’t come out for 5 minutes so I walked back to make sure he was ok. I put my ear up to the door and listened for awhile. All I heard was water running and my son muttering some sort of nonsense.  I knocked and said “Hey Sir Poops-a-Lot! Are you ok?” He answered “Yes I’m fine, I’m washing my nut. Go away!” My immediate and very confused response was “You’re washing what?” He yelled back “My nut was dirty and I needed to wash it.” I started to open the door expecting to see something horribly wrong. I opened it ever so slowly and peeked in. As it turns out he was washing a small steel hex nut that his Grandpa had given him earlier that day. It was tarnished and he wanted it to be shiny again. Needless to say I didn’t find anything worthy of Urban Dictionary, and I am greatly relieved.

Grocery Store Boxing Match

The customer isn't always right,
sometimes they are very, very wrong!

Not too long ago in a town in the Midwest, it was another 4^th of July weekend and I was working at the grocery store. One of the store managers was a larger, somewhat husky woman who didn’t take any crap from her workers. For the sake of anonymity I will refer to her as Big D. Big D was always pleasant to work with, like a ray of sunshine to brighten our miserable 8 hour shifts….. well, not really. We all dreaded being under her watch for any length of time, the full shifts were just extra special.  She typically didn’t work weekends so most of the time I was safe. She just happened to be working this eventful day, but without her what transpired would not have been possible.

The store was packed as was to be expected on a holiday weekend. There were lots of people on beer runs, doing their best to go broke at the state liquor store located in the grocery. I was manning one of the cash registers this fateful day. A small group of drunken men came in and loaded up their cart with beer and various grilling foods. They got up to the checkout a few registers down from me. They’re ages appeared to range from early 20’s to mid 30’s.

Their lucky cashier asked for ID as was required by the store for anyone looking under the age of 40 (not sure how the brilliant management chose 40 but that was the guideline). The men seemed to take offense to this, i.e. the one who was paying was most likely underage. I heard the cashier say “can I see your license please?” The youngest guy said “I didn’t bring it, I rode with them. I’m 23, what’s the big deal?” The cashier explained why he was asking and the dude continued to get more irate. For me, I actually got some sick pleasure out of messing with customers like this guy, the cashier who was trying to ring him up…..not so much. 

The irate jackass started yelling “get your manager over here, NOW!” So the cashier obliged. Lucky for him Big D was on duty, not so lucky for the group of morons at the register. Big D arrived at the register and addressed the customer. He immediately laid into here with “this little dumbass won’t sell me this beer and shit. He keeps asking for my ID.” Big D responded “It is our policy to ask for ID for people who look under 40. Can I please see your ID.?” I looked at Big D, looked at the dude, and then looked back to Big D. She had good 5 or so inches on him and at least 40 pounds. Things were getting interesting.

She kept asking for ID and the guy kept getting louder and more belligerent.  He reached out and touched her arm and the last words I heard out of his mouth were “Look you big bitch….sell me the fucking beer.” Then BAM! There was a loud crack as Big D threw her best round-house and nailed him in the face. She had enough and had been pushed to the limit. The cops had been called well before the confrontation’s fatal blow. They arrived just after this happened to drag the drunkards out of the store. Big D became an instant legend.  It was “yes ma’am, no ma’am” from that moment forward.

There is the old adage in sales about how the customer is always right. It is a good practice to follow. The customer is always right……most of the time. In this case the customer couldn’t be more wrong and he paid for it. It’s ok to argue with management if you feel the store is in the wrong. Just be careful when picking your battles. There are some arguments that there is no way you’ll win, especially if you are drunk, belligerent, and disrespectful to a particular grocery store manager known as Big D.

3000 Page Views!

RTBART has gone international......
like the space station.

Random Thoughts by a Random Thinker has reached 3/1000ths of the goal of 1 million page views! There’s still a long way to go but progress is being made towards this milestone every day (slowly, very slowly). Random Thoughts by a Random Thinker has gone international! RTBART has been viewed across the globe by the following countries (in alphabetical order):


Canada, China, Hungary, Iran, Mexico, Morocco, Russia, Singapore, The United Kingdom, and The United States

  

Thank you for reading of Random Thoughts by a Random Thinker and thank you for your future viewership in advance. As always, please feel free to share RTBART with your friends and families, maybe even the people you hate…..that way they can get the true story behind the origin of the latest insult you throw their way.  Rock on with your bad selves and stay tuned for more funny (and somewhat demented) shizzit from Random Thoughts by a Random Thinker!

Acronyms You Should Know, Vol.1.

Momma, don't let your babies
 turn out to be KINOB's!

My fiancé at the time (now my wife) and I were at Best Buy doing some shopping, most likely supporting my heavy metal music addiction and picking up a new album. As we were walking around we came upon a family with the dirtiest kids we had ever seen. They weren’t like potty mouth dirty, just really frickin in need of a bath dirty. She elbowed me and whispered “those kids are really dirty, I mean filthy, they  need a bath….bad!” That got the gears turning in my head. Now, being an engineer, I use acronyms all day long and often start thinking in them. I starting putting letters together….dirty, kids, bath, etc. A few minutes later it hit me….KINOB (pronounced ky-nob)! Kid in need of bathing or Kids in need of baths! I looked at my fiancé and told her “Those kids are KINOBs.”  She looked at me with a puzzled look on her face “What?” I repeated one word…KINOB……..I finally told her “KINOB…..Kids in need of baths.” She looked at me, rolled her eyes and laughed. Needless to say we pinkie swore that we would never let our kids turn into KINOBs. So, if you’re thinking of having kids or already have them, don’t let them turn into KINOBs…..KINOBs will eventually turn into MINOB’s and WINOB’s (men and women in need of bathing). Stop the KINOB epidemic before it occurs, bath your kids on a regular basis!

Don’t be a Tool

Look! I'm a one-eyed monster!

I had some interesting neighbors throughout my collegiate career. One year we lived next to a jackwagon named Phil. Phil was one of those guys that rubbed you the wrong way from the minute you met him. No amount of alcohol could make him tolerable. He was just a tool, there’s no other way to put it. We were friends with some of his roommates, and he always seemed to follow them over to our place. The one night we were in the middle of a Euchre game (because that’s the card game of choice in the Midwest), and Phil was being a peckerhead as usual. We couldn’t get him to go away. One of my buddies had reached his fill of Phil and started yelling expletives (fill in your own) at him. The rant ended with the following statement: “You are such a frickin tool! Why do you have to be a dick all the time? You’re like a human dildo……screw you Phildo!” And his nickname was cast in stone and stuck for the remainder of our acquaintance. We soon found that we could have fun with a few other names the same way. Some of our buddies, mainly Will and Bill, quickly became Wildo and Bildo for no necessary reason. It was just funny. And oh yea, not to be chauvinistic, our friend Jill unfortunately was dubbed Jildo (not for being a tool but for having one). Wildo, Bildo, and Jildo….if you ever read this I miss the fun we had and hope all is well. Phildo, if you read this, you still suck and at least you are no longer annoying the crap out of me!

My Two Little PITA’s

Parenthood is full of frustrations.

Parents always make comments to their adult offspring about how they were such pains growing up. I never really believed it when I was told things like “I hope you have kids that act the way you did” and “someday you’ll understand how frustrating raising children can be.” OK! OK! I get it! Now that I have two little PITA’s (pains in the ass) I understand.  My kids are always saying and doing things that drive my wife and me crazy. We say they are just making every attempt possible to annoy the crap out of us; our parents just call it payback. The following are some of kid-isms that have bubbled to the top of PITA pile of daily frustration.

The Toy I Have to Have

My Son: “Dad! Look” I’ve always wanted one of those…..what is it?”

I Want Ice Cream

My Daughter: “Daddy, I want ice cream.”

Me: “You need to eat your dinner”

My Daughter: “I’m not hungry”

Me: “Do you have room for ice cream?”

My Daughter: “Yes…. I do, can I have ice cream now?”

Me: “No, eat your food first. If you have room for ice cream you can finish your dinner”

My Daughter: “I’m full.”

The Movie We Just “Had to Watch”

My Son: “Can we watch a movie?”

Me: “Which one”

My Son: “My favorite movie”

Me:  “What’s the name of it?”

My Son: “I don’t remember.”

Me: “Why is it your favorite?”

My Son: “I don’t know.”

Getting Dressed

Me: “You need to get dressed, let me help you.”

My Daughter: “NO! I’ll do it!”

Me: “Your pants are on backward and your head is out the armhole of your shirt.”

My Daughter: “Can you help me get dressed daddy?”

Looking for Cool Cars

Me: “Can you see that Challenger down there? Can you see it?”

My Son: “Where?”

Me: “Way down there.”

My Son: “No, I can’t see it. I can only see as far as I can see.”

Potty Training

My Daughter: “I have to pee.”

Me: “Let’s go to the potty.”

My Daughter: “I already peed in my diaper, change it.”

Driving in the Car

Me: “Do you know where we are going?”

My Son: “Yes.”

Me: “Where?”

My Son: “I don’t know.”

Staying up Late on Friday Night

My Son: “Can we stay up later tonight?”

Me: “No, you will still get up at 6am.”

My Son: “Please! Please! Please!”

Me: “OK, you can stay up until 10 but you can’t get out of bed until 8am.”

6 a.m. Saturday morning roles around…..

My Son:  “I’m upppppppp!  Can you get up? I’m not sleepy anymore.”

On Long Road Trips

My son: “Are we there yet?”

Me: “No.”

My Daughter: “Are we there yet?”

Me: “What did I tell your brother?.....No.”

My Son and Daughter in unison: “ARE WE THERE YET?”

Me: “We’ll get there when we get there, just be quiet.”

Less than one minute later……the vicious cycle starts all over.

Why I Like the Mall

I used to hate the mall and
now I like it!

I was sitting on a mall bench entertaining my toddler son while my wife was shopping. Something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned my head and about fifty feet away was something you didn’t see walking around the mall every day. A chick was walking towards me with one boob hanging out of her shirt. I was floored, amazed, and watched in disbelief. I thought to myself “the mall is good, we must shop more often.” Apparently the chick’s shirt was a little loose and she was free-boob’n it. The shirt must have swung to the side and….. pop went the booby. She walked about forty feet before her friend pointed out the escapee. She put her hand up to her mouth, giggled at her friend, pulled her shirt over, and kept on walking like nothing had ever happened. My initial thought was that she must be a stripper and was so used to being nude that it didn’t faze her. I would have “hated” to see what she would have done riding the carousel located in the food court of this particular mall…..there were lots of shiny poles. I have been to the mall many times since that fateful day never to see the event reoccur. Needless to say the mall has been a little more enticing ever since, well at least intriguing. So why do I like the mall?.....one word…..BOOBS!

Calm Down Partners

The grocery store is no
place for Sumo wrestling!

I used to work at a grocery store for most of high school and my first few years of college. I started out as a bag boy and moved my way up to cashier…..whooopdi dooooo! I met a lot of good friends at the old grocery store, one of which was Zackitalia (read my previous post for an explanation of the name, and yes, he was being a real Richard Noggin in this story…..that’s dickhead for you slow people). Zackitalia made the move to the produce department one summer. He eventually coaxed me into making the move to the promised land of as little work as possible, a.k.a. the produce department. The produce department became the land of giants….. and one little guy.  Zackitalia was around 6’7” and 250 pounds, I was 6’3” and 300 pounds, our boss was 5’9” and 150 pounds soaking wet.

Our duties mostly involved restocking the shelves and displays throughout the day. We would have to unload the delivery truck two or three times a week and move all the uber-perishable produce into the cooler. One summer day we had two trucks come in and we had our work cut out for us.  Actually we just had to work, but this was rare in our department. We unloaded the truck into the main store room. We were in process of sorting boxes and moving things to the cooler. I bent over to pick up a box of apples. As soon as I stood up I was nailed in the left nut with a plumb. I stood up and turned around to find Zackitalia laughing at his impeccable aim. I flew him the bird and went back to work.

I picked up a case of celery and took it into the cooler. As I was walking out I heard “Hey! Fat ass! Catch!” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a cantaloupe whizzing at me. I turned around and THUMP! I somehow caught it between my left bicep and chest. I yelled out “How do you like that you stupid mofo!”  I grabbed the cantaloupe and spiked it on the floor as hard as I could. SPLOOOOSH! Cantaloupe guts went everywhere including the floor, the walls, and all over Zackitalia. We looked at each other and laughed. Our boss was starting to get a little nervous. He kept muttering “Calm down partners, just calm down.”

We continued with our tasks. I walked to the opposite side of the store room. I starting opening up some cases of bananas and the barrage of flying fruit started again. I gave Zackitalia the evil eye and threw down the box of bananas in my hands. I yelled some obscenities which I don’t really remember, though I’m sure the f-bomb was in there many, many, many times. For some reason, my friends enjoyed getting me mad to the point where I was seriously pissed off and started inflicting bodily harm on them.  I finally reached that point. I ran at Zackitalia as fast as I could and picked him up Sumo-style. After I picked him up, I rammed him into the produce cooler door pretty frickin’ hard. There was a loud THUMP!  and I dropped him on the floor. He looked at me and said “it’s funny when you’re mad.” Then he started laughing. I looked at the cooler door. I stared in amazement and finally spit out “Dude……look.” There was a huge dent in it the shape of Zackitalia’s body imprinted in the door. It was reminiscent of a white chalk outline at a murder scene.

We calmed down and laughed a bit. We looked at each other and simultaneously said “where’s the boss man?” Just then we heard a voice from a broken down ice machine “Partners calm down, caaaaaaalmmmmm dowwwnnnnn! You’re  gonna hurt yourselves.” At that time we saw the hatch to the ice machine swing open to reveal our boss’s hiding place. He took cover as soon as I had picked up Zackitalia. We had to look almost like two professional wrestlers due to the way I picked him up and ran him into the cooler door. That had to be pretty scary to our boss who was outweighed by quite a few hundred pounds. We helped our boss out of the ice machine and went back to work. He was convinced we were really fighting. It took a while, but we eventually got him calmed down.  We were lucky we had the boss we did, or we would have both been fired on the spot. At the time of this incident, we were in the process of closing down our current store to move to a new one being built across the street. I think that was the bigger reason we didn’t get in trouble…..we were moving stores and no one gave a crap about the rundown one we were leaving behind. We are often encouraged by our parents, teachers, etc. to leave our mark as we travel through life. In this case Zackitalia literally left his mark.