PInk Grapefruit

When I have the tremendous privilege and pleasure of enjoying breakfast in a diner I like to order multiple beverages: both coffee AND juice. If it's an extra-special steak and eggs treat, I'll get a third beverage: ROOT BEER or some other sweet fizzy soda pop.

My juice of choice? GRAPEFRUIT. But first I have to ask, "is your grapefruit juice pink or ???"

All too often these days, they proudly and confidently reply, "PINK!" Like, of course that's the only reason a person would ask. Because they cannot stomach REAL grapefruit juice and need that pansy-ass pussy pink sweet watered-down tasting bullshit. And almost everyone these days defaults to this blasphemous half-assed fake fruit concoction.

But when *I* hear them say "PINK!" I'm like, forget it. I guess I'll just have orange juice. And even then, you're going to get some pulpless no-meat thin watery shit, but at least it still tastes of some acid.

It really pisses me off, how difficult it is to even find REAL YELLOW-Y STRONG-ASS GRAPEFRUIT JUICE in stores. Instead it's all this flaccid pink-in-plastic sissy-ass shit.

I WANT MY MOUTH TO PUCKER, FUCKERS! GET IT RIGHT! WHY EVEN PUT THAT PINK SHIT ON A MENU?!? DON'T ORDER GRAPEFRUIT JUICE IF YOU DON'T LIKE GRAPEFRUIT JUICE! Give these fuckers who want pink grapefruit juice fucking HI-C or kool-aid or some other watered-down pastel-colored crap.

There should be diners for people who like real food. Hard-boiled egg types of fuckers who want actual blood pudding, dill pickles, and pulpy sour-ass JUICE. I'm so sick of people mocking folks who don't want to eat stuff with wheat fillers or who are lactose intolerant and don't want milk or butter added to EVERY MOTHERFUCKING THING AUTOMATICALLY, but these same bullies making fun of people who understand most adults don't produce enzymes to digest milk BECAUSE WE'RE NO LONGER FUCKING BABIES are the same immature crybabies who want their food SO FUCKING BLAND as to be nutritionally void user-friendly ultra-familiar CRAP. Oh, you want your steak WELL-DONE and your grapefruit juice PINK; I get it. You have no palate and you can't be trusted with resources - you will just ruin all of the best things, like actual FRUIT JUICE and BLOODY ANIMAL FLESH. Do you want mommy to cut your crust off for you too, you fucking picky brats?

That also brings me to the subject of "home fries". Why would I go to a diner to get potato wedges? NO. I want SHREDDED HASH-BROWNS. FRIED. If you can't make hash browns, don't even bother offering breakfast. You can't be trusted to fry an egg or fry a burger or fry ANYTHING. I don't want your shit if you don't have SHREDDED GOLDEN HASHBROWNS. And not like an oblong McDonald's potato puck (though AT MCDONALD'S, I am okay with those). Shred the fucking potatoes and fry the fucking potatoes in SHORTNING (not butter) and you should be able to get them crispy WITHOUT DREDGING THEM IN WHEAT FLOUR, you cheating lazy-ass dumb fucks.

Here's the deal: when I order steak and eggs I want the whole experience. The yolks running all over my crispy-on-the-outside shredded hashbrowns, dragging bits of medium-rare meat through all of it. Washing it down with coffee, grapefruit juice and root beer: all kinds of potent contrasting flavors and textures. YUM YUM YUM YUM.

If you can't appreciate that, stick with cans of spaghetti-o's or whatever soft "food" you're into AT HOME.

One Asshole A Day vs YOU

 

“If you run into an asshole in the morning, you ran into an asshole. If you run into assholes all day, you're the asshole.”
    -Raylan Givens - created by Elmore Leonard

Good point.

Something to think about.

I haven't read the books or watched the shows, so my take away is based purely on this quote, knowing nothing about the context.

Here's what I get out of it:

It's not that the world isn't overpopulated with assholes.

It's not that it's unlikely you'll encounter more than one asshole throughout the day.

It's that if you're going through your day and it's just one asshole after another, and that's your entire perception of everyone you encounter, then the problem you're having is with yourself. You're the one making your entire day miserable, and it's likely that someone who does that to themselves is exuding major asshole vibes themselves.

A little bit law of attraction-ish. Not that I believe in that exactly, but maybe you get what you give.

 

Sick In Public

After all the bitching about people exposing others to their contagions, now I am one of them. And I don't even feel that bad about it.

Maybe I'm too sick to invest energy in shame.

Sleeping With the Enemy

This week I've been sleeping with the enemy: NOISE.

But it's not making me feel bitchy, mad, or resentful. Sleep-deprived? Yeah. But fine with it.

I guess because I'm on an adventure? Or because none of the noise I've been hearing comes from neighbors at home.  Instead it adds color to my journey.

Tonight is particular loud. Loud music, cars, and movies on the street below. But I'm going to sleep pretty great tonight. With the sounds pr9viding an extra layer of adventurous comfort and companionship, reminding me where I am.

Can They Hear Me Swearing?

There's been some neighborhood quiet lately. And beautiful spring rain.

I'm starting to worry that *I'm* the noisy one.

Like when I get frustrated and explode out loud, "ARE YOU FUCKING *KIDDING* ME?!?!" when something doesn't go my way.

I'm not actually asking anyone. I'm home/at work alone. I'm just inquiring of "the universe", I guess you could call it.

Should I even care? Like ... maybe it's good if everyone in the neighborhood knows there's an asshole with an explosive temper  in residence.

When the Thingy Just Comes Off In Your Hand

So tired. So so so fucking tired. Just trying to get through one. More. Thing and eventually get to bed and get to sleep for a minute before being woken up again by involuntary vomit filling your mouth and waking you up to the burning lava before you drown.

You reach to close the slats of the blinds against the night and the neighbors' eyes. And the stupid twisty pole-stick thingy just comes right out into your hands. Just quietly detaches to add to the futility and you just let it drop. Just let that useless-ass stick that gave up functionality just drop the same way you drop your tired puffy aching stupid fat head and slap your whole face down into your too-small hands that just can't even begin to carry all of the weight you've accumulated and saddled yourself with.

One bill at a time. One fork at a time. Another fucking night at a time.

Is it true that some people really wake up ready and well-rested for their day? How does one get that to occur?

All I know is this fucking stick-wand-thingy is still going to be here tomorrow, on the fucking floor on a bed of soft decaying piles of my shed head hair, right under the window where everyone can see in and knows I am an old bitch-ass sloppy-as-fuck sack of shit.

Annoying Ways to Refer to Interstates in Washington: I-5 vs "The" 5

Laughed wryly at this video of a man's furious extra-dramatic rant depicting "Washington natives when a transplant says 'The 5' instead of I-5" (via @rjromain who says "t’s like dragging your nails across a chalkboard for the born and raised lol #seattle #seattlewa #seattlewashington #pnw #tacoma #washingtonstate #pyuallup"):

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As a 4th+ generation Washingtonian who grew up near the crotch  of I-90 and I-5, this doesn't annoy me as much as people calling Puget Sound "the ocean", but ... yeah. I do mentally assign demerits to people who say "the" instead of "eye".

Modest proposal: you must pay five-times pricier tabs if you give directions like this or refer to interstates in Washington this way, or say "THE 520" or "THE 405" instead of just fucking 520 or 405. 

You just TAKE 405, not take "take THE 405". Like ... we don't need that extra pretentious California verbage cluttering up our shit for NO GOOD REASON. And I don't need to insert a fancy i as in verbiage for you to know exactly what I'm talking about.

GARBAGE IN, GARBAGE OUT.

And if you don't like "Seattle" or the way people have been doing shit here for decades or more, WHY DID YOU FUCKING MOVE HERE? You didn't fucking know we lived here and had ways of doing things before you fucking tailgating, California-stopping, road-raging assholes inserted yourselves and brought all that smog with you? And don't even get me started on crazy cult-mindset motherfuckers from Idaho, Utah, Arizona, etc. infiltrating like that stupid selfish shithole cunt who moved to Redmond and things he's going to be the new and improved Tim Fucking Eyman.