We recently had trouble with our internet connection, and had to “call the man.”
It was cutting in and out, you see, multiple times per hour. It would only go down for a few seconds at a time, but it was aggravating. Exceedingly aggravating. If I happened to be listening to a radio show, or watching a video, everything would suddenly shit the bed and I’d feel like going down to Miami and eating a face. It was also playing havoc with our Netflix streaming. And I can’t have that.
So, we called our cable TV overlords and they ran some diagnostic tests or whatever. Finally, the guy said they’d need to send someone out to take a look. “Is Sunday morning between 8 and 9 OK?” he asked.
And how weird is that? Early Sunday morning? The cable guy?? But it worked for us, and he arrived promptly at 10:45. A surly man, not interested in chitchat…
But he got the problem solved, and everything seems to be stable now. However, at the end, when I had to sign off on the repairs, he started calling me “boss.” “Initial right here, boss…” “Any questions, boss?” “Alright, have a good day, boss.” Just over and over.
I still don’t know what to think of it. It was a bit too much. And he was a black guy, which only complicated matters. I feel a little uneasy being called boss by a black man. Ya know? And it seemed like he was doing it on purpose. If he’d only said it once, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But when he said it for the fourth and fifth times within one minute, I began to wonder.
It’s all very confusing, still.
Late last week I was out running some errands, taking care o’ business, and that sort of thing. And my gut told me it was feeding time… So, I decided to go to a Subway located in a strip of stores near Target. It’s not my usual Subway, but it was convenient.
I pulled into the parking lot, and saw a whole group of people emerging from a van a few spaces down. Oh no! I’d better get in front of that herd or I’ll be screwed, I thought. So I leaped from behind the wheel, and made an attempt to reach the front door first. But it was no good… A couple of kids were with them, and they sprinted across the parking lot. The little bastards.
Great! All I could do at this point was stand there and hold the door while the whole gang sauntered in. My only hope: one of them would take pity on me, and tell me to go ahead of them.
Ha! There was no pity. They didn’t even thank me for holding the door. And every one of them made their way to the ordering spot, at the other end of the glass. Including an ancient woman who looked like a fetus, or maybe a prawn, with lipstick and wig. She was being dragged/carried through the restaurant by a couple of women, her feet occasionally bouncing this way and that off the floor.
“She’s 94 years old!” one of the women announced to the room, apparently expecting applause. “She was born in 1917, and graduated high school in 1934!”
What the hell is this, a sideshow? Just place your orders, and get the hell out of my way.
When the ESL sandwich engineer didn’t engage, the two women went ahead and launched into a giant production, anyway. “Mother, what kind of sandwich would you like?!”
“Pardon?” she answered.
“Sandwich! What kind of sandwich?”
One of the women turned to the engineer and said, “Do you sell roast beef here?” I thought my brain was going to explode. Then it was time to enter the bread confusion stage. I wanted to shout: Her taste buds probably cut out during the Johnson Administration! Just slap something together!! It doesn’t matter.
But they went back and forth about the bread. And while this important discussion commenced, I noticed the old lady had nodded off or something, and her forehead was now pressed against the glass. One of her handlers jerked her back into position, and for a couple of seconds she acted like she’d been transported to a strange and magical world.
“What would she like on the sandwich?” the engineer asked.
“Mother, you like lettuce, right?”
And that’s all I could handle. The lipstick prawn was only the first person that needed to order, within a group of about ten. So, I sighed loudly and walked out. I have no doubt one of the handlers said, “Some people!” as I walked toward my car.
I went to Wal-Mart and bought an ink cartridge for my printer, and a pack of padded envelopes. It was pandemonium in there, and I was struggling greatly. I think I could’ve run the board if I’d been playing the Wal-Mart Game. Some angry fat woman in a wheelchair seemed to charge at me, brandishing her below-the-knee amputation stump as a battering ram.
After that hell, I decided to go BACK to Subway. I was still hungry, and didn’t feel like eating a greasy burger. So, I returned and the gang was still there, taking up three tables and buzzsawing through their lunches.
There was nobody at the counter, so I walked right up. I felt like turning and announcing to the place: “I was born in 1962, and graduated high school in 1981. And today I’m going with the footlong turkey on white!!”
But I behaved myself, and took my hyper-extended meal to a table by the window – as far away from the group as possible.
And I sat there and marveled at the endless parade of walking, talking stereotypes entering and leaving the Game Stop store next door. What a grand gang of nerds. I love that look where they shave their faces, but maintain an unkempt beard underneath their chins. Know what I’m talking about? And the fedoras! Good stuff.
When I was beginning to eat the second half of my tubular lunch, I noticed the herd was on the move. They were finally finished, and making their way toward the door. And as they passed, a couple of them shot me a dirty look. Apparently they remembered I was the same guy who’d stormed off in a huff.
And I told them all to blow me, with my eyes, and continued eating my sandwich. I was prepared to fight all ten of them, if it became necessary.
I have more, much more, but I’m going to stop right here. I believe that’s enough for one day. How many people did I offend with this one?
I’ll be back tomorrow or Saturday. I still have to tell you about Andy’s dingleberry problem, and an embarrassing, borderline homoerotic dream I had a few nights ago. Good god! I think I might be having a series of mini-strokes.
Have a great day.
Now playing in the bunker
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Kelly from Iowa says
Excellent update!!! Can’t wait to hear about your homoerotic dream…oh and the dingleberries, of course.
LMAO. My gawd, I have a clone. You think just like I do.
I can’t wait for idiots in line anywhere. I wonder why big groups like that cannot have ANY compassion and let 1 person go ahead?
Kenny D. says
I’ll join your group. This post literally made me LOL at work. Nothing drives me more nuts than people who are confused at subway. This isn’t a 5 course gourmet dinner we are having. FFS!
You should have knocked down those two kids and taken your proper place at the head of the line.
Ohhhh! You are *SO* gonna hear it from the prawn lovers!
Wait a minute…. if you were born in 1962 and graduated in 1981, were you held back? That might explain your bias against prawns!
I was born at the ass-end of 1962, just a few days shy of 1963. Rocky is only a month older than me, and graduated a year earlier. I barely missed the cut-off. Or made it, depending on your perspective.
Bill in WV says
Believe me my friend, you made it.
I’m picturing the Prawn With Lipstick as Grandma Yetta from “The Nanny”
I personally cannot wait until I can use the “I feel like going down to Miami and eating a face” line. Not a second too soon Jeff. Funnier’n shit.
I second that! Awesome line!!!
The Kuban says
Third here! Perfect comedic timing. I snorted out loud. And “lipstick prawn” still makes me giggle.
That was an awesome update. I forwarded it on.
I’m offended – and I love it.
Also, I saw a double rainbow the other day. But unlike the guy in the youtube video I did not weep my vagina off.
I am not inclined to wait any longer for a Subway sub than the time it takes them to assemble it. It’s not good enough to be worth waiting on a big line. I like to think that once I saw that they had beaten me to the punch, I would have blasphemed – loudly enough to be heard, but softly enough to maintain deniability.
I don’t like being called “boss” by anyone.
“Lipstick prawn” was good.
There’s something about turning heel in a store and leaving; it’s empowering and frustrating at the same time.
I totally agree with and highly recommend that. ESPECIALLY in restaurants that insist on seating you in a location that you know sucks. Keep the drama low-key, but enough to catch the attention of someone who gives a damn (like the owner). And the abruptly but casually, walk the fuck out. As long as your party agrees to the terms, consider yourself empowered.
….”go to Miami and eat a face”
…”below the knee decapitation as a battering ram”
Funny dude! Fucking Funny!
***quick beer report…you know….because its fucking beer.
Deschutes…the magicians that make Mirror Pond Pale Ale also make something called, “Obsidian Stout.” I’m two deep into a sixer right now. Dark, dark, dark and the heady foam doesn’t leave. Not bitter or too ‘hoppy’ by any means. I’m ‘a likin’ it a lot. Fucking YUM actually.
Thank you…now please return to dog dingles and fag dreams.
Deschutes is a fucking. Outstanding. Brewery. One of the best in the US, IMHO. Mirrir Pond and Obsidian Stout are both filled with deliciousness. I’m jealous; they don’t ship out here to the east coast, so I’m settling for a Bell’s Two-Hearted.
The Duvel will be cold by tomorrow night.
That’s *mirror*. Jesucristo.
Thanks chill…it’s here in this little village of 1200 people (currently swarming with tourists). The guy who runs the supermarket Robert, (who is a really cool guy) is pretty proud of his beer…(92 different ones)…. Yeah! Here!? I asked him about Widmer’s Pitch Black Ale a while back. He tried to snag it but kept me in mind and brought this in for me. Like I said…I’m home alone for a while up here in northern New Mexico. Stop by…honest! Beer is here!
There’s a little mom-n-pop supermarket near me, the Westover Market in Arlington, where they allegedly have 1000 different beers. But if a given beer like Deschutes isn’t available, there’s not a whole lot they can do. They do at least have Coronado Islander, which is a very nice San Diego IPA. I’ve also taken a liking to Green Flash Imperial. For now, it’s a Torpedo and bed.
I’d love to swing by Taos or whatever, but I have to be in Annapolis Park, Md. in the morning. Have a few for me, if you would.
PS, good skiing at Apache in Ruidoso if you can wait a few months.
Lemme add Oskar Blues Gubna to that tasty mix. And anything by Ommengang!
Let me count the philosophers.
For two months now the mrs & I have been working our way through two cases of Deschutes Seasonal called Red Chair (Check Costco) IMHO one of the best craft beers made.
Thanks Unk…Red Chair is on the shelf here too and it is now on my list as tomorrows prime attraction sixer.!
A prawn with lipstick, HA!
Do you want a sandwich?
Don’t call me that.
No grandma, a sandwich, what kind of sandwich do you want?
To die, I just want to die.
Not offended! I had a similar Subwait experience behind two little dirts ordering sandwiches for the whole trailer park. They had a list for most of ’em but had to go unscripted for a couple – which involved the boy urchin running out to the van to ask mom and gramma for topping and condiment choices. Upon leaving, I saw why the kids were sent inside – mom and gramma probably needed a crane to get in and out of that low-ridin’ mini van.
Great update! You’re on a roll. Looking forward to the next installments.
Jeff, I’m concerned.
Subway? Hot Pockets? I thought you were supposed to be cutting back on sodium? How’s that comin’ along? Eat a fuckin’ salad for Chrissakes..
That was a fantastic story, though. I think from now on, I’ll start shouting, “I was born in 1964” everytime I enter a store. And no one will care because I’m old.
“I believe that’s enough for one day.”
You are wrong; a new Kay novel each day along the lines of your Subway experience would barely reach “enough.”
Which side of the borderline were you on, boss?
Jeff we must be close to having the same day’o birth, we also think way too much alike, astrology be damned.
Some Guy on the Innernets says
Holy Crap! It’s not just me! The clueless really are taking over. I was thinking it was just because I finished a long road trip yesterday, and the idiots on the highway had warped my perceptions, but it really is a zombie apocalypse. Great. Just great.
Anyway, funny stuff! Thanks.
Classic Kay. Almost spit my coffee out more than once.
I’m stealing the Miami line, too, if you don’t mind (although I’m not sure it will translate well into Italian – fuck ’em)
Happy Friday, Surfers!
I enjoyed the assurances in the comments that you, indeed, had not offended anyone today. Turns out that it’s OK to describe a microwaved bowl of chili as looking like Hiroshima, or a runaway barbecue as reminding you of Dresden.
I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the passage of time; maybe it’s because the vics were Japs and Krauts.
If you don’t offend someone from time to time, you’re just not driving close enough to the white line. Anyway, that’s my philosophy.
Good piece today.
A new Subway just opened two days ago here in this little village. I think the only one closer is 100 miles to the north in Durango, CO. or 125 miles south to Santa Fe, NM. The place has been packed. The guy who owns the place, a huge restaurant that has sat empty since the owner (Vera) died about eight years ago, opened it just as the tourists hit town. I haven’t been there yet but plan to go Sunday and just hang out. Should be a blast listening to Austerians and Italians say, “Foot Long”, in Europe-speak. I’ll be there to learn and pick up a little Russian too while I’m there…….”I’ll have a 5’7″, 32yrs. old…auburn hair and green eyes…to go please.”
“Would you like extra tits with that?”
“No…no thank you. Two will be fine.”
“No…Yes!…no…either way…I’ll be fine. Thanks.
…oh…uh…long legs would be nice…but either way…thanks.”
Root 66 says
Honestly, “a prawn with lipstick and a wig” had me in tears!
Oh, and “going down to Miami and eating a face” will be worked into a conversation TODAY!
At least no plastic forks were destroyed in today’s update!
“Her taste buds probably cut out during the Johnson Administration!” had me guffawing at my desk and I didn’t give a turd who heard!
If the prawn was 97, wouldn’t her kids know what she liked to eat by now? And, what’s more, COULD the prawn even eat? Did she have a set of choppers and jaws that would allow her to eat a footlong? I guess you’d have to ask Daddy Crawfish about her taking a footlong, but that’s another whole different scenario.
Root 66 says
You know, the more I think about it, the less I like the idea of my kids walking me into a roomful of strangers and announcing my age and graduation date.
I think I’d have to roundhouse kick them, or crap my Depends, or something…
Agreed, but from the description, the prawn probably didnt hear anyway! Sounds like the kids were trying to screw Subway out of a freebie.
Gordion Knott says
A few years ago, Metafilter.com, a site that occasionally links to this page, included a question from a sad-sack nerd wondering why he couldn’t hook up with chicks, despite his attention to dress and presentation.
The question included the words, “and I sport a fedora.”
Nerds in fedoras. The ultimate ladyboner-killer.
But a great name for a rock band none the less!
Southwest is having a face-eating weekend get-away package. Pack light!
The 4th Stooge says
While waiting in line at the DMV (which is a whole ‘nother problem in itself), I decided to go around the corner to Subway. I don’t know how it could be possible, but the damn line was OUT THE DOOR! I just said fuck it and made do with vending machine Cheez-its. What the hell was I thinking anyway, since all the sandwiches smell like foot and ass.
“Foot and ass” is the next – and often times fatal – phase of “Hoof and Mouth” disease.
I woud have opted for the Cheez Its, too. One of my all time favorites!
Ya know…I could understand that chimp eating on the woman’s face a few years ago. She was kinda scarey looking in the first place and I can’t say I blame my distant relative for his actions. But Sweet Sainted Mother of Patron Saint Delusional…damn man…didn’t your mother always tell you to dress for dinner. And did the guy even wash that face before he ate it. The guy is a creep AND he has no manners. Hey…don’t get me wrong. I like face just as much as the next guy. But I’m more of a…little nibbles here and there kinda guy. ya know?
Bill in WV says
Mike Tyson started all of this shit with his ear eatin’.
As far as the offensive jokes go it was days after the challengerexploded that we were cracking wise.
What does NASA stand for?
I don’t know boss what does NASA stand for?
Need another seven astronauts.
Funny in 1986 and funny in 2003. I laughed so hard I almost melted my girder off.
A buddy of mine was working at NASA Goddard in 1986. He heard about the accident on the news in the car on his way to work that day. By the time he actually arrived at work, his co-workers were already making the funnies.
The late, great Redd Foxx once said that Boss spelled backwards is double S-O-B and that means double. Maybe you pissed him off somehow!