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.
--
Sorry about yesterday. It was one of those mornings when I just couldn't
get it together. I sat down to write, like I always do, and it was as if
an inanimate object had been propped-up in front of the keyboard. Like a
toaster oven, or a hedge apple. And it's been my experience that hedge
apples don't generally produce good copy. So screw it. I turned off the
computer and went to Waffle House.
Toney didn't have to be at work until 10:30, so she went with me. Or as
more and more horribly misguided mofos insist on saying it, she went
with. I ordered the usual: scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns with
cheese (scattered and covered), toast, and sweet tea.
I've said it before, but it's worth repeating: never, for the love of
God, order coffee at Waffle House. Does the term painful fecal geyser
mean anything to you? Well, ignore my advice and it will, my friends.
I always get the same breakfast meal there, and it's consistently good.
But yesterday I believe I was served the Worst Hash Browns Ever. Check
it out. That fried-up discus on the edge of the plate was once potatoes,
if you can believe it. By the time their cook got finished though, it
was just an emaciated husk, leeched of all its fluids and hard as a
bullet. And check out that high-end cheese they use. Heh.
Toney said I should send it back. But it's Waffle House. Ya know? I hate
people who bitch and moan about cheap crappy food, as if they're seated
in the main dining room at the Ritz-Carlton Bangkok. I had a boss in
Atlanta who did that all the time, and it made me want to choke the life
out of him. It's fast food, douchesack, and you know the risks going in;
it's one step away from kneeling in front of a conveyor belt with your
mouth open, and hollering, "Ready!"
Surprisingly enough, the 'browns weren't all that bad. You know, once I
cracked open the hard outer shell. Inside, the taters were still moist
and tasty, which I couldn't have predicted; it was like eating crab
legs, or something. Not exactly the way I prefer them, mind you, but not
as awful (Awful House?) as I'd originally feared.
As I was paying I picked up this
flier, and knew immediately what I'd be
doing this weekend. Only 100 words though? Man, wotta challenge. Wish me
luck.
-- Speaking of Waffle House, they only
take cash there, no credit cards, etc. And I don't like that. I've
reached a point where I'm almost cash-free. I use my ATM card for
everything: groceries, gas, restaurant bills, new pants after I blow the
ass out of yet another pair.... If it weren't for the vending machines
at work, I think I could completely live my life without having actual
dollar bills in my pocket.
Years ago people predicted that this would happen, and I didn't believe
it and also didn't like the sound of it. Plastic cards that you swipe
everywhere? It's like something out of A Clockwork Orange: a
tad soulless and creepy. Yet here I am, irritated because some
businesses won't let me do my swiping. A man is entitled to swipe!
The same thing happened with cell phones. I remember pontificating in
knowing tones that if a person can't drive to the freakin' grocery store
for a box of Nilla Wafers without remaining in constant contact with the
outside world, then that person is either a mental patient, a poser, or
drastically over-scheduled. But in 2006 I feel completely naked and ill
at ease if I forget and leave my phone at home. A short little phoneless
trek to the post office to drop off a Netflix movie now seems wildly
risky, and not at all advisable.
Has anything like this happened to you?
-- Last night I watched a new TV show called The Nine. It debuted
after LOST (an appropriately titled show, by the way; I have no
idea what's going on anymore) on Wednesday, and I told the DVR to record
it. It looks semi-promising, and I've given my DVR friend the go-ahead
to record next week's episode as well.
It stars Bailey from Party of Five, as a doctor who was one of
nine hostages taken during a bank robbery. Apparently these nine
strangers will be forever connected in some way, and that's what the
show is about. I'm not really clear on it.
But I guess the network figured they hit the jackpot with Charlie, so
why not roll the dice with Bailey too? It doesn't matter that he looks
alarmingly like Pat Sajak now, he was a member of the Salinger clan on Party
of Five, and that just might be a good luck charm.
If this one proves to be a hit like LOST, also look for ABC to
bring back that humorless older sister who was always up on her
high-horse about something. And maybe even Bailey's ample-breasted
girlfriend? I think I read that she has a show on some cable channel
where she plays a deeply-religious psychic who can talk to horses, or
somesuch. But that can't last long, can it? And what about that annoying
younger sister with the Hanna-Barbera voice? Hell, there's a whole bunch
of 'em...
I predict that the Salingers and their loved-ones are the future of
American television! That's right, we are now entering the Era of Salinger!! ...Yeah,
I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about.
-- Before I go, I want to direct you to this cool site that features
dozens and dozens of old cereal boxes. Sounds kinda lame, but it ain't.
Here's a personal favorite, and this one reminds me of aisle five at the
grocery store where I worked as an ugly teenager. Check it out.
And that's gonna do it, boys and girls. The question of the day is, can
you name all these people? I can't, but maybe you can?
--
Sorry about yesterday. It was one of those mornings when I just couldn't
get it together. I sat down to write, like I always do, and it was as if
an inanimate object had been propped-up in front of the keyboard. Like a
toaster oven, or a hedge apple. And it's been my experience that hedge
apples don't generally produce good copy. So screw it. I turned off the
computer and went to Waffle House.
