Meat-on-a-stick, smelly vistors, “are you freakin’ experienced?” and about a beard
I was riding down the elevator yesterday and it stopped on the second floor to let three super slow Salvadoreans on. My building houses the Salvadorean consulate. And wouldn’t you know it, one of the guys was walking around eating a damn pupusa. I have some trouble with the eating-while-you-walk thing. I mean, some foods are meant to be eaten on the go. Go-gurt, for example. Ice cream. Foods on sticks like corndogs, I guess shish-kabobs–that’s iffy. But I think it must only apply to foods on man-made sticks. Because chicken and/or turkey legs are also right up there with the wrong-est thing you can eat on the street. I especially like buffets where people can’t wait to eat and they sort of eat as they walk the food line. This fat woman bumped into Mar at Marie Callendar’s the other day while eating some pie. As much as I can’t wait to eat my freakin’ tater tots or enchilada pie, I wait til I set the plate down. And believe me, I fight the good fight not to be a full-on fatty on pretty much a daily basis. So right now as I wrote that, some smelly young bum just came a-knockin’ on the door and asked for a lawyer. The lawyer’s on some phone call, so I gave him a business card. They always tell me to try not to talk to the bums for too long. Don’t engage them too much–they could strong-arm their way into the office and, I don’t know, sit on an upholstered seat? He asked me if the attorney would fax him stuff. “Where would he be faxing stuff?” “To me.” Like the guy has a fax machine. He was carrying all of his possessions and I don’t think a fax machine is easy to tote along on your city-wide journeys. I mean, bring the pet, bring the blanket, the electronics are a maybe. I’m hungry, so I’m cranky. I try to be nice but when blood sugar is low, all bets are off.
Did you know there was such a place as The Holy Land Experience? It’s located in Orlando, Florida, so there’s half the explanation right there. They sort of try to make it seem like a theme park, but I think to be considered a theme park, you kind of usually have rides, right? Well, this is a themed park. A real, live long-haired, bearded and besandaled Jesus walks around with a wireless microphone and greets the children and welcomes you to the Holy Land. I can’t imagine a less-fun experience for kids than that. No rides. Just some scale model of Jerusalem, some faux ancient-looking buildings that house a fun gift shop and scroll exhibit. And a reflecting pool for…reflection. Not a water ride. I’m big on rides. I think they could have made it fun and religious. Why must the two be mutually-exclusive? I can picture a ride into the belly of a whale. And any number of devil/hell/demon/eternal suffering rides would be bad-ass!
Kristin just told me that Peaches was a librarian and an elementary school teacher before she was…Peaches. See. There is surely hope for me. I say, I need me a Casio on which to orchestrate awesome toe-tapping beats, some crazy sex-charged lyrics (oh so easy to come up with), and a freakin’ beard and I, too, can taste the sweet, sweet sweetness of supreme greatness. I’m just too lazy.
Tune in next week for the first installment of The Strip-Club-Happy-Hour-Fun-Time-Show!!!