Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
I
hope everyone had a great holiday, and got to spend some downtime away
from work, and all that good stuff. Ours was nice, thanks for asking. I
had the whole thing envisioned in my mind before it happened, and
reality ended up being fairly close to fantasy. And that's a victory,
huh?
On Friday I took my company up on its offer to let us all go home at 1
PM. That sort of thing usually translates into me getting out of there
at 5 instead of 6:30, but I was hell-bent on jumping ship at the first
possible opportunity. And as soon as the second conference call (the One
O'Clock Ballbuster) was over at 1:30 or so, I turned off my computer and
walked out the front door. Didn't even tell anyone I was leaving, I just
got in my truck and drove away. Ahh, what a wonderful feeling....
On my way home I bought a case of real Latrobe-brewed Rolling Rock in
the classic longneck bar bottles, Toney and I went for a nice Mexican
lunch while the Secrets were in school, and the super-sized weekend was
officially underway.
-- We'd planned to spend Saturday working in the yard. All the weather
"experts" kept telling us that the weekend would be beautiful
and sunny, the "nicest Memorial Day weekend in twenty-five
years." And when we crawled out of bed on Saturday, it was raining.
So that was that. We decided we'd go buy yard supplies instead.
I pulled into the drive-through garden center at Wal-Mart, and loaded
the back of my Blazer with a dozen bags of mulch. They supposedly load
it for you, but I didn't feel like spending the entire day there, so I
did it myself.
As I waited to pay, I saw the most excellent nerd. He was wearing a
Sherlock Holmes cap, and was sporting a huge unkempt beard with no
moustache, like something out of Moby Dick. Unconventional. His
too-tight brown(?!) t-shirt was tucked into a pair of massive uniform
pants, and the dude was in bad need of a sports bra. He was with his
elderly mother (of course), and was acting all exasperated. He kept
calling her "mother," and rolling his eyes a lot.
I couldn't stop watching
the guy. He was a perfect specimen -- a fully-realized geek. And I wish
I had video footage of him helping the clerk load a gas grill into the
back of their Jeep Cherokee. He was sweating profusely and huffing and
puffing... His massive ass was pushed way out, and I got the impression
that he'd never lifted much in his life heavier than a Gamecube
controller, or a family-sized sack of Cheetos.
It was all so entertaining I didn't even really notice that the cashier
was moving as if she were underwater, something that would normally
ratchet my blood pressure right up. When I realized this, I considered
walking over and shaking the man's hand in gratitude. But then I thought
about where it had undoubtedly been, and the myriad tasks it had
performed (probably within the past hour), and decided against it.
-- When we finally got away from that cluster-fornication, we went to
Home Depot, where I planned to purchase a new weed whacker. I bought a
really nice one when we first moved here, but one of the Secrets took
care of that for me; by the time he was finished with it, the thing was nothing
but a prop. Thanks! And since last summer I've been making-do
with a ridiculous cheap-o model that would undoubtedly cause my Dad to avert
his eyes in shame.
But no more. I've now got the big honkin' heavy-duty whacker, with
enough power to slice through telephone pole guide wires. And the
Secrets can "help" with the cheap-ass grandpa-shamer, thank
you very much.
As we were leaving, I noticed the hot dog stand in the parking lot, and
the excellent smells it was pumping out. I'm not much for breakfast, and
was starting to get hungry. I saw that they were supposedly serving the
same kinds of dogs as NYC street vendors, and wondered if they had onion
sauce and all that goodness. And they did! I bought a
"regular" from them, and it was just about the best thing ever. I
gobbled it down in three or four bites, standing in the middle of a
handicap parking space only a few feet away from the stand itself.
Then I was in a frenzy. I wanted some of that sauce, goddammit. I asked
Toney if she'd ever seen it in a grocery store, and she blinked at me
like I was suddenly speaking porpoise. But I was almost certain that
buried inside the scarred-up folds and flaps of my brain, I had a vague
memory of seeing it on a shelf somewhere. And I would find it.
We went from store to store, and it wasn't a popular mission amongst the
family. We started at a fancy-pants specialty market, where we bought
steaks for Sunday's planned deck extravaganza. As Toney perused the
wares, I wandered off in search of my beloved onion sauce. I couldn't
find it, and finally decided to ask an employee. Surely it was under
that roof somewhere, the shit was right up their alley....
But the
zitster listened to me describe it, and said, "Dude, I have no idea
what you're talking about." Dude??
Then it was to this store, and that. And finally I tracked it down, only
a mile or so from our house. It was in the meat case, above the wieners
-- just a tiny jar that cost four dollars(!). Super-expensive, I
thought, but worth every cent. I've been eating the living crap out of
the Ballpark Franks over the past few days, and it's almost time for
another jar of the secret ingredient.
Have you ever had this
stuff? It's almost too good.
What do you think goes into the making of the perfect hot dog? I
arrived late at the onion sauce, and worry that I might be missing
something else kick-ass.
-- And I'll tell you more about our exciting weekend tomorrow.
In the meantime, here's a cell phone picture I snapped outside Wal-Mart
only a few minutes after our mulch-purchase. I'd sure like to know the
back-story on that deal... Wonder if Ahab Holmes had anything to do with it?
Perhaps "mother" got the wrong flavor of Nestle Quik, and he
snapped?
And here's an interesting duck x-ray being auctioned off at eBay.
Usually the duck x-rays they offer at that site aren't quite as
intriguing as this one, y'know?
Finally, this is a brief video that the Warner Bros. animation crew
supposedly did for inclusion in a WB Studios in-house blooper reel, back
in the 1940's. Apparently the cartoon folks were feeling a little left
out of all the fun, and decided to make a contribution. Good stuff.
I
hope everyone had a great holiday, and got to spend some downtime away
from work, and all that good stuff. Ours was nice, thanks for asking. I
had the whole thing envisioned in my mind before it happened, and
reality ended up being fairly close to fantasy. And that's a victory,
huh?