side cash

Every time I go out and walk Jenny around the neighborhood, I never know what I will find. Sometimes its pennies or other coins, keys, balls (heh, I said balls), or even a bike. That got me thinking and researching. I haven't found any info on the net as of yet, but I would be interested to know what the estimated amount of cash that lies on and is found on US streets on a daily or annual basis. Daily I'd figure it would be around the hundreds of dollars, yearly, who knows.

All I know is that I don't think you'd find this kind of phenomenon in most other countries in the world, and it may be a crying shame to the actual value of coins that people my disregard to in our US of A.

It all adds up peeps, and it all spends the same. That's why I pick up even pennies, face down and all.

you must be this smart to ride this ride

I love Wal-Mart, or Wally-world, Uncle Wally's as I frequently call it.

I go there to get a mess of stuff that, if purchased anywhere else, would cost sooooo much more. Per example, my brand of dog food in a 50 lb bag at a pet store would cost about $30. Uncle Wally's price, just under $20. Awesome.

So I head off to WallyWorld tonight before work to get some home essentials-bleach, soap, trash bags, TP and other needed what nots.

My gripe is this-

What is the minimum education level needed for a WalMart new hire??

I would be so far OVERqualified for the job there that its seriously disturbing. No matter what time of day or night it is, I have always guaranteed myself a 25 minute wait in line just to be checked out by one of WalMart's gifted employees. When I say "gifted" I mean, how hard is it to scan an item, bag the item, accept payment to said item, say goodbye and then repeat the process.

It's a needed evil though. Where else can I get a bag of top soil, a board game, new socks and a bottle of jack at 1 am for dirt cheap???

Sundayfunday

Finally, a day off wherein I don't have to do any chores or errands or any other laborious tasks. So, after Saturday night's brain dulling and gene pool questioning debacle, it was a welcome day.

Slept in til a convenient 1130, got up and made breakfast.

There was a old historic military vehicle show being held in Phoenix at the National Guard base, so I decided to check it out. It was free anyways and it cost you $5 bucks if you wanted to park on site. The donation went to the military fund that they represented anyways, so I didn't mind.

Crystal wanted to go with, so we humped it over there and took a quick tour of all the vehicles.

Most were restored fairly well, and spanned from WWII to the present day. There were some that, well, I failed to see why they were there. I guess the present Bronco trucks spray painted in camo qualified somehow as a historical truck. Maybe in AJ, but not here.

It was pretty neat seeing a vast array of different types of vehicles there, including some foreign ones from Switzerland and Germany.

Now here's my gripe..

I love WWII. The history, the stories, the knowledge we achieved during the time, but it never fails...I don't know how many of you have been to a show like this, or to a gun show, or even sometimes at an outdoor expo, but people that are obsessed with that NAZI shit are always there! Hey, I'm not a believer in that way of life, but I can appreciate the history of WWII Germany and how their actions affected the course of the war. If you wish to come to an event like this and display memorabilia for display and historical reference, sweet! I'm for it! Certain stuff disturbs me however.

There was a display of a WWII German Kubelwagon from the Africa campaign on display there. It was really nicely restored to almost mint condition. I was impressed. I wanted to get a closer look and a few pics so I got closer to it and saw in the interior that the owner had draped a NAZI flag across the back under a restored German rifle and had other Hitler items placed around it.

I was like, um, OK...I'm pretty sure that this is a German jeep now...duh...

Just then, the owner struts up and he's in a full German desert uniform, reaches in the vehicle's passenger side and turns on a personal stereo to play German propaganda and music.

I had to walk away, it was just too obsessive with the whole NAZI thing. Too bad, it was a nice truck.

There was a few of those guys there, strutting around all proud in their uniforms. Um...newsflash...you lost the war, and your leader was fucking insane, and dead by the way.

We stayed there for about an hour browsing and then left. Hit up the grocery store and had some dinner at the house. I should have ate more, I got a little tipsy...

You guys are idiots

I swear, I get my share of fools on a nightly basis at the bar. Last night though, took the cake. I showed up at work at 8pm, and being the late guy in, it's usually the easier shift seeing that you don't have to work the dead zone from 6-8. I get behind the bar and immediately realize that it is white trash night. Thankfully we didn't have Natural Light on tap, or they would have been there all night. There wasn't too many to start, but pretty soon the bus from Apache Junction showed up and dropped off the rest of the superior race...won..der..ful...

It wasn't your normal W.T. (white trash), but like single wide and missing 2 wheels, Kevin Federline trash quality...Most had their teeth, but then again, I wasn't looking. And the hottie factor??? Forget about it...CUMULTIVELY...all the girls in there added up to a total of 5.

There was a monster truck rally in Phoenix last night, so that did explain a lot (as well as the groups of gay cowboys...not that cowboys are gay, cowboys are cool, but these guys were definitely gay...like they were Scottsdale boys with trust funds that decided as a group to go out as cowboys after hitting up the local Saba's clothing store to get boots and a hat.)

Anyways, thankfully they left on the greyhound bus they showed up on...only the bus dropped off all the STOOOOPID people. Jeeeesus!!!

In my 10 years of bartending, I've seen some dumb individuals, and in their defense, that was at a bar on a college campus behind a frat house with mostly 22 yr olds, so at least they had an excuse...these were 25-30 yr old idiots. Damn! 2 plus 2 equals...DEEERRRRRRR!!!!!

Asking stupid questions, trying to close out a tab thru 3 different bartenders after you've already closed out your tab (I should have charged him twice!! With idiot tax.), screwing up drink orders, asking the bartender if the drinks are strong before you even take a sip, asking for specials on a weekend, closing out tabs with your waitress through a bartender,ordering 15...FIFTEEN!!!DRINKS and not leaving a fucking dollar!!!

Dammit peeps!!! Know what you want, order it, pay for it, leave a dollar and go away!

Transaction complete! Thank you drive thru!!

It's that easy...especially when I'm buried 4 deep with people that want to order. Don't ask why I'm not smiling or what I think about the football games, who's winning the Suns game. Granted, you drop me a twenty or let your tits out to play in my face and I WILL stop for you for a minute and give you the lip service you want.

GGGGRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!

Another day in the life

I'm going to go off again on the "luxurious" life of a bartender. Not about the lack of tipping or mannerly respect that we fail to receive on a daily basis, but on something a little more unsaid. For most of you typical 9-5'ers,you get a standard weekend off. We'd kill to have two days off back to back, especially a Saturday and Sunday. Our weekends are vastly different. Example, my days off are Sundays and Thursdays. I can't go anywhere because I work the following days, and my days off are usually spend catching up doing chores or personal errands, so technically, it isn't a day off. That isn't my gripe on this post though. It's something that the general masses don't take into consideration about our schedules. When all the rest of you general population are enjoying days such as Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, 4th or July, Cinco de Mayo and St. Patrick's day...we're working. Usually those are our most hectic days. Bartenders don't get holidays and special events off you ungrateful little bastards. So next week when you are all twisted on beer and chips and dip watching Indy winning the Super Bowl, keep in mind that we are working our asses off.

By the lucky chance that we do get that day off, you can bet that we don't feel like being in that environment to celebrate it.

We work on our birthdays.

We celebrate Valentine's Day with our loved ones the days before or after.

We had one minute of shaking hands with co-workers behind the bar on New Year's Eve before we went back to washing dishes and pouring drinks.

We watched fireworks during a smoke break on the 4th of July.

We didn't get a Guinness on St. Patrick's day, we only poured them.

We eat hamburgers on Thanksgiving.

So it would be wise of you to be a little more knowledgeable of our professions as we tend to your needs on these fun filled days. Cheers to ya! Go Colts on Sunday...I'll be at work.

The Assmaster

Upon a recent trip to Prescott, my bud Doug and I, in a distinctly non-discreet way, touched upon the topic of ass gas. To be more specific, we busted ass the entire trip.

Only in the presence of other males can this truly be appreciated I must say. Women,I just don't get it with you. You never bust ass!! Why? Because its socially unacceptable? Unlady-like? Fowl? That's why we enjoy doing it fools!! Do you know the power that you wield? With you withholding that noxious gas all day, it has time to brew, build, and upon exiting, could have the potential for world domination..yet you refrain from competition. Your loss.

Anyways, yes, ass gas. So, I'm in the hotel room with Doug, chilling after a long drive, a handful of beers and lunch and I rip one. I haven't been too smelly lately, so I thought nothing of it. Today was different for some reason. I've only made myself gag a few times, and well, this was one of those times. Before it hit me, poor Doug got a full lung full. He collapses face first into his pillow. I'm stoked! This game is called "I win!!" and I won! At what price however??

I see paint start to peel off the wall in front of me and brace for the impact. I don't want it, for I am afraid, yet I wish to savor the fruits (rotten ones) of my labors, and bask in its self-destructing glory. Like a hot summer breeze from a city dump, it smacks me in the face like a 200 pound sweaty hooker demanding payment for her services. I cough as my mouth starts to water. I reach for a pillow and cover up, but this is government weapons grade ass gas and normal protection does not give sufficient cover. It penetrates the pathetic pillow, and in fact embeds itself in it for future carryover damage hours later. In fact, it covered the entire room.

I struggle up and jam open the window and let the cool crisp air in. Apparently I forgot how weather systems work, for the hot heavier ass gas in the room countered the cooler lighter air outside and just made the contaminated room atmosphere slowly flow by me and create a pocket of ass gas right outside the window like a dirty bomb spreading outwards into society.

I kick on the ceiling fan in hopes to circulate the cloud out the window. It barely works.

We decide to evac.

We grab out lightly ass covered jackets and race out the door, leaving the window open while we are gone. Worried about or valuables? Hey, if the bastard wishes to brave a fallout zone for some counter change, a electric shaver and some minuscule personal property, he's welcome to it, as well as the Darwin award given with it. I'd rather return at 4am to a 10 degree room than a 60 degree room with ass residue covering everything.

I know you guys are reading this and are either laughing your envious asses off or are completely disgusted and offended by it. Something tells me that girls would make up the majority of the latter.Either way, I don't care, my ass is a registered lethal weapon, so don't piss it off. Only a fellow guy would appreciate the intricacies off ass warfare and still laugh at fart and poop jokes. That's why we are so simple to understand.

I am the assmaster.

Well, as far as humans go...dogs are still the kings of the animal kingdoms. They don't clear out just rooms, but houses...

The Chonnie Bandit part 3

I thought I was safe in my own house. The Chonnie Bandit has only struck on the perimeter of my house, but now, they've managed to find a security breach and infiltrated the sanctity of my inner sanctums. For those confused by what I mean by the Chonnie Bandit, go back in my recent archives and follow the story from the beginning.

Meantime...they have struck again, for the third time. We got back from the Led Zeppelin tribute concert Saturday night and I was greeted by a lovely interrogating question of " Do you know you have a paid of women's underwear under your sink?" from Crystal. My gut sinks and the adrenaline starts flowing for no apparent reason. I answer with a astonished "WHAT???!!" Sure enough, I go into the extra bathroom, and under the sink, conveniently hidden behind the last roll of TP, was a pair of wadded up thong women's panties. You got to be shitting me. They've infiltrated my house!!!

Immediately Crystal shoots me that look and I am immediately put on the defensive, avoid thermonuclear protect the balls warfare. As if I know who's the hell they belong to! The only thing I can think of was that I stocked the sink with TP over a month ago for the holiday party and I know that they weren't there then. So, that said, and thinking rationally, some poor party guest either crapped their pants or had aunt flo visit them during the party (because they were quite crustified and a solid mass), and they left their size "large" chonnies "out of sight, out of mind" tucked away under the sink.

Ahem...

how ghetto is that???!! I know that there were plastic grocery bags under there! Put em in that and in the trash can. Hell, just put em in the trash bagless...Save ME the disgust and embarrassment of finding said special treasures scattered around my house. Makes me wonder if there are any other presents hiding for me somewhere. Well, since 90% of my guests read this blog, chances are you know who you are. If ya want your chonnies back, ya gotta go to the Mesa landfill and fish for em. At least we all got a really good laugh and some practical detective guessing work out of it, so in the end, its entertaining. Slightly disturbing, but entertaining.

That bathroom is slowly becoming a Mecca for nasty debauchery...finding dirty chonnies, guests puking in it, guests having a nasty, wall destructing 3 way in it...jeez, what next??

On a related disgusting sidenote-

Jenny had a bit too much spoiled fun yesterday and has had a wonderful case of the doggie doodie shits all day. "LOOK dad! I'm peeing out my butt!" Including a nice steaming puddle of liquid poop in the closet this afternoon. Well, I needed to steam clean that carpet anyways...House smells of eggish doggy ass now...tasty!

Drunken cultural debauchery part 2

Well, after a night of working and a day of recovery, Saturday i had gotten Crystal tickets to the Phoenix Symphony does Led Zeppelin for Christmas, so we got ready and head out to Phoenix for the show. It was awesome! We headed back to the house around 11pm and Chris popped over to chat for a little. I was busy prepping food for the Crystal's birthday/football bonanza party the next day.

We head to bed, and then get up at noon Sunday for football, boozin and birthday cake. It was freggin cold man! Forecast high of 47 in the day with a 30% chance of snow at night. that just isn't right. We munch, BBQ, chat all day, watch football (dammit, Saints lost, but Woo Hoo! Go Colts!!) and having a great birthday time. Unfortunately no strippers showed up this year. The girls all spend the night sitting around knitting shit (yes, it sounds gay), but they made some cool hats in the process. We ended up watching Beerfest and Scary Movie 3 before crashing out after a long day.