Always Wrap Your Turd Nuggets in a Two-Dollar Bill

Last week—Thursday morning I believe—I took the mother of all dumps. Not sure this was the largest bowel movement of my life, but it only took one look to tell me this was going to need a plunger unless I wanted to risk dangerous overflow. The term "mother of dumps" makes a lot of sense as it would then be a large dump that would be capable of giving birth to smaller dumps. Much like a 135lb woman might give birth to an 8lb baby, calling an average dump one pound and following this model, the "mother of all dumps" would correlate to something like 16lbs. I think my numbers are quite off here (or I hope so). Anyway, since I love word play, it got me thinking about "the father of all dumps." I think this can be nicely summed up as your bowel-cleansing-inducing food of choice. For many people this is Taco Bell, but a standard cheeseburger does the trick for me if I haven't had red meat in a while.

Moving on but not really past the fecal then, Saturday I found myself at The Levee: home of the two-dollar bill wrapped turd. I've given it that lovely subheading because, while I was tossing some darts, my companions were discovering just that. I don't know who has the presence, or dementia rather, of mind to place a piece of poop inside a two-dollar bill and lay it on a bar surface, but the answer is at least partially "someone who was in The Levee Saturday night." The culprit could certainly benefit from this product from the Brown Corporation. And aside from some slut in heels stomping on my flip-flop clad foot (my fault for wearing flip flops to a club, but I think this was going to hurt even with a shoe on and I'm mostly just pissed because the bitch went on her merry way like it didn't happen) it was a good night. Hell, I never expected to see a dollar slice of pizza again in New York City, but there it was, and not even that bad.

As usual, my the train back to Jersey was lots of fun. Rarely do I go an entire round trip without witnessing several incidences of out and out jerkery. On this occasion it was an elderly and presumptuous slag that decided it was the duty of others around her to help her off the train. Shortly before her stop (which happened to be the same as mine) she pronounced to two girls seated ahead of me that one of them could help her off the train. Yes, not asked, stated...they should be so lucky...When it came time for our stop, I stood there clad in my moderately-to-highly douchey get-up of tight jeans, white v-neck, sunglasses and iPod. Still, this did little to deter said slag from declaring "he can help me off the train." He was me in this instance, and I had little choice as her greasy claws (they weren't greasy, but it makes for a better effect) were upon me as she made this declaration. She thanked me after I helped her off and I just walked away shaking my head and laughing. The thing is, I would gladly have helped this lady had she simply asked, but I never like presumptuous self-important fuckers.

I've got a potty mouth, but what I don't have is the patience to proofread this post. Catch you on the flipside.

Deaf People are Assholes Too

Before describing briefly an experience I had at Jersey Gardens on Sunday I'm going to throw in a little ego boost I received the day before as I was out on a run.

As I headed out on a run Saturday, I was in an extra friendly mood and decided to wave, salute, nod, or some reasonable facsimile thereof to every other runner I passed. In general I respond to all hailings from other runners, but I was in an extra initiative mood because I realized I wouldn't be running for a good long while most likely, especially not at any great distance. For whatever reason, however, not a single person returned my greeting. What a bunch of assholes. The ego boost I speak of came when I passed two physical trainer type dudes leading two women in I-take-fitness-seriously-or-at-least-the-gear outfits and they remarked, "now that is a great running stride." This kind of stuff makes my day, probably all the more because I admittedly run in a very goofy fashion. While in the past I was able to run quickly in spite of this it may also be the reason for so many of my injury woes.

But that is neither here nor there because far more important was the run-in I had Sunday at the food court at Jersey Gardens Mall. There I was, minding my own business, conversing with my good friend and his girlfriend when a lady came up to stand literally inches from me. Not sure why I said literally there, but man, literally. So I see that she has a pen with some message written on it and I say "no thank you," to let her know I am not interested. Unbeknownst to me, this woman happens to be deaf, so she taps me on the shoulder and sticks the pen near my face. I still might not have realized she was deaf at this point if my friend hadn't pointed it out. Now, I don't appreciate being solicited for donations and hand-outs, and deaf people are no exception. But the real kicker came when I dismissed her the second time and she put her hand to her mouth, made a kissing motion, and then put that same hand to her ass. Now I might not know sign language, but I am not a total moron and I realized she had told me to kiss her ass. Great job lady, great job. It's the kind of thing where I wouldn't be surprised to see her start talking once she turned the corner. Really though, I will assume she really was deaf and remind her that that is not an excuse to be an asshole. Would she have wanted me to interrupt her while she was eating to ask her for money? Doubt it...

And to prove I am not a total jerk, right before this incident I helped a little girl fill her paper ketchup containers when I noticed her struggling with the ketchup dispenser. She didn't tell me to kiss her ass.