"They should rename that movie...Love Actually doesn't exist so go jump out a sixth story window on 71st."
Colin Dools
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
12-18/The Corner Bar
His watch hinted that it was 5:29, but he was unable to tell exactly. Only the 12, 3, 6, and 9's were visible and in between them, plain tick marks stood where the other increments of five would stand. So, the minute hand, nestled up next to the 6, gave him the impression he had 4 minutes left to make the 5:33.
Four minutes to get to track 19. Lots of bags. Lots of people. Get to the train.
Popcorn?
Ok.
Lots of bags, lots of people, and popcorn now accompanied him to track 19. Last call for the 5:33.
"How can that be?" he thought, and lifted his left hand towards his face dumping 33 cents of the dollar popcorn down his arm and into his Foot Locker bag. As the popcorn fell, piece by piece like rain onto the gray New York Giants Athletic Dept T-Shirt that he purchased, he was more worried about the kernels that hit the floor.
Should he pick it up, or leave it. Snickers from nearby. A balding man with a mustache in a red reindeer sweater with reading glasses on his nose looked on, hands behind his back. The man was fascinated by what happened, looking on like an old man would stand and watch a construction site. The man looked on with anticipation, glancing quickly between the floor and his face.
All of this happening within seconds, he decided to run for the train. Feeling bad for leaving the mess, he also felt like a bad-ass for leaving it, even though in the grand scheme it was such a trivial faux-pas.
He ran down the steps toward the track, his feet like a jackhammer, pit pat pit pat pit pat down the steps. Behind him, the ruffle of bags, and another 33 percent of his popcorn followed, gracing the steps of track 19 like flowers from a flower girl.
The bing bong of the train alerted to the imminent closing of the doors. He lept off of the fourth step from the bottom, tumbling down onto the main level of the track. Leaving the last third of that wonderful popcorn, he jumped into the train as the doors closed. As the doors shut, one bag remained outside of the train, almost planned like a bad movie scene. Damn Giants shirt.
"Oh come on," he muttered audibly, emphasizing the word 'on'. A short Chinese woman with oval glasses looked on. It was the Giants shirt and popcorn showered bag that was trapped, and the popcorn could be heard cracking and crumbling into the shirt. Enduring only a half second of asphyxiation, the door released the bag and reshut.
The woman stared at him without shame. Embarrassed and sweating a bit, he made his way through the car. All the forward facing seats were occupied, but he would rather stand than sit backwards. Realizing this in the middle of the car, he looked at his watch again (pretending like he had to be somewhere) and about-faced back to the doorway area standing room. As he turned, the bag with the Giants shirt hit a 20 something brunette girl on the phone, who loudly told the other party,
"Some big guy just hit me with a bag."
Sorry.
Realizing that the look-at-the-watch-turn-around-and-pretend-that-you-knew-where-you-were-going-but-just-changed-your-mind-and-turned-around-move was useless on a fucking train, he sped up his short journey back to the Chinese woman. The train sped up as well, knocking him off his balance and onto the door of the lavatory. Settling in to the corner of the wall and the door, he dropped the bags and just stood. The bathroom door opened, and a man stepped out, looking at the Chinese woman, who then looked at him in the corner. The man followed her glance to his face, when the man gave him a dirty look.
"It's all yours now, bro."
"I....." the man walked away and sat next to the 20s something brunette.
The Chinese woman stared at him, almost as if she was waiting for an answer to an unasked question, mouth slightly open.
As the train slowed to it's first stop, the girl appeared. He saw her briefly sitting backwards, during his parade through the car. But he only saw her like when a person is driving on the highway and notices a car with only one headlight driving the opposite way. Its there, I noticed it, there it goes.
Her hair was dark, but not black. It was up. Eyes were green, glasses were thin. Black coat buttoned to the top. Hands in pockets. Slightly heeled boots clicking toward him, eyes locked. The train jolted as it slowed, but she was unaffected. His lean against the door broke with the negative force of gravity, and slammed back with a dulled thud.
As the train slowed and stopped, she perfectly timed her walk to not have to wait for the door to open. Five feet away the doors opened, 3 feet away she took her left hand out, 2 feet away she handed him a business card, 1 foot away she put her hand back in her pocket and walked out.
His hand felt like plastic holding the card, until the cold air of the outside surrounded it, blowing through his fingers. He looked stunned, he felt stunned. As the doors shut, he put the card into his pocket, along with his hands and stared at the floor. A smile curved his mouth, and with an eyebrow slightly raised he slowly lifted his head.
As his head slowly rose it initiated a turn to the Chinese woman who's face remained stoic, but her eyes stemmed with excitement. She leaned a little more forward now, still waiting for the reply to the unasked question. His face met hers, and he winked. Her head jerked forward, with a slight dilating of her eyes. Just then the next stop came, and the woman walked out, hands clasped in front of her with a bag on her wrist. She was in no hurry at all.
Feeling vindication from his foolery of the past 20 minutes he popped his collar in anticipation of the arrival to his stop. Grabbing the bags, and slinging his Macy's handled paper bag over his shoulder, he walked out of the train with a swagger.
As he walked into the house, he dumped his bags on to the kitchen floor. Grabbing the Foot Locker bag from the bottom, he shook the contents out onto the floor. Thirty three percent of his uneaten popcorn, a spotty greased Giants shirt, and a receipt dropped out. The receipt floated down to the other contents, who waited on it to join them on the floor. He thought about eating some of the kernels.
Unfazed by the gray and yellow art that was creating a havoc of rubbish on the tiled kitchen floor, he reached for his phone.
"Dude, I cant come tonight. I have a date."
"What. How?"
"This beautiful girl on the train gave me her card."
"Whats her name?"
"I don't know."
"Where does she work?
"I don't know."
"What does the card say?"
"I don't know. I just put it in my pocket and haven't looked at it."
"Did you make plans to hang out on the train?"
"No."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
"So how are you going out with her?"
"I'm going to call her now."
"Wait, you can't call her. You have to wait. Look at the card and tell me her name at least."
He had been flipping the business card in his pocket through his middle finger, forefinger, and thumb as they spoke. He pulled it out and looked. It was white. Holding the card between his forefinger and middle finger, he flicked his wrist flipping to the front of the card.
"I bet her name is Bertha. or Grace. Grace really isn't a bad name I guess. It would funny if it was Gertrude. I wonder how many chicks born after 1980 are named Gertrude. What does it say bro."
He stared silently at the scribbled handwritten word on the otherwise blank card.
LOSER
"Are you there?"
"I guess I am going out with you guys tonight."
"Why? What does it say?"
"Nothing, I cant find it."
"WHAT A DICK, OH MAN, YOU'RE A DICK DUDE!"
"Yup"
ck
Four minutes to get to track 19. Lots of bags. Lots of people. Get to the train.
Popcorn?
Ok.
Lots of bags, lots of people, and popcorn now accompanied him to track 19. Last call for the 5:33.
"How can that be?" he thought, and lifted his left hand towards his face dumping 33 cents of the dollar popcorn down his arm and into his Foot Locker bag. As the popcorn fell, piece by piece like rain onto the gray New York Giants Athletic Dept T-Shirt that he purchased, he was more worried about the kernels that hit the floor.
Should he pick it up, or leave it. Snickers from nearby. A balding man with a mustache in a red reindeer sweater with reading glasses on his nose looked on, hands behind his back. The man was fascinated by what happened, looking on like an old man would stand and watch a construction site. The man looked on with anticipation, glancing quickly between the floor and his face.
All of this happening within seconds, he decided to run for the train. Feeling bad for leaving the mess, he also felt like a bad-ass for leaving it, even though in the grand scheme it was such a trivial faux-pas.
He ran down the steps toward the track, his feet like a jackhammer, pit pat pit pat pit pat down the steps. Behind him, the ruffle of bags, and another 33 percent of his popcorn followed, gracing the steps of track 19 like flowers from a flower girl.
The bing bong of the train alerted to the imminent closing of the doors. He lept off of the fourth step from the bottom, tumbling down onto the main level of the track. Leaving the last third of that wonderful popcorn, he jumped into the train as the doors closed. As the doors shut, one bag remained outside of the train, almost planned like a bad movie scene. Damn Giants shirt.
"Oh come on," he muttered audibly, emphasizing the word 'on'. A short Chinese woman with oval glasses looked on. It was the Giants shirt and popcorn showered bag that was trapped, and the popcorn could be heard cracking and crumbling into the shirt. Enduring only a half second of asphyxiation, the door released the bag and reshut.
The woman stared at him without shame. Embarrassed and sweating a bit, he made his way through the car. All the forward facing seats were occupied, but he would rather stand than sit backwards. Realizing this in the middle of the car, he looked at his watch again (pretending like he had to be somewhere) and about-faced back to the doorway area standing room. As he turned, the bag with the Giants shirt hit a 20 something brunette girl on the phone, who loudly told the other party,
"Some big guy just hit me with a bag."
Sorry.
Realizing that the look-at-the-watch-turn-around-and-pretend-that-you-knew-where-you-were-going-but-just-changed-your-mind-and-turned-around-move was useless on a fucking train, he sped up his short journey back to the Chinese woman. The train sped up as well, knocking him off his balance and onto the door of the lavatory. Settling in to the corner of the wall and the door, he dropped the bags and just stood. The bathroom door opened, and a man stepped out, looking at the Chinese woman, who then looked at him in the corner. The man followed her glance to his face, when the man gave him a dirty look.
"It's all yours now, bro."
"I....." the man walked away and sat next to the 20s something brunette.
The Chinese woman stared at him, almost as if she was waiting for an answer to an unasked question, mouth slightly open.
As the train slowed to it's first stop, the girl appeared. He saw her briefly sitting backwards, during his parade through the car. But he only saw her like when a person is driving on the highway and notices a car with only one headlight driving the opposite way. Its there, I noticed it, there it goes.
Her hair was dark, but not black. It was up. Eyes were green, glasses were thin. Black coat buttoned to the top. Hands in pockets. Slightly heeled boots clicking toward him, eyes locked. The train jolted as it slowed, but she was unaffected. His lean against the door broke with the negative force of gravity, and slammed back with a dulled thud.
As the train slowed and stopped, she perfectly timed her walk to not have to wait for the door to open. Five feet away the doors opened, 3 feet away she took her left hand out, 2 feet away she handed him a business card, 1 foot away she put her hand back in her pocket and walked out.
His hand felt like plastic holding the card, until the cold air of the outside surrounded it, blowing through his fingers. He looked stunned, he felt stunned. As the doors shut, he put the card into his pocket, along with his hands and stared at the floor. A smile curved his mouth, and with an eyebrow slightly raised he slowly lifted his head.
As his head slowly rose it initiated a turn to the Chinese woman who's face remained stoic, but her eyes stemmed with excitement. She leaned a little more forward now, still waiting for the reply to the unasked question. His face met hers, and he winked. Her head jerked forward, with a slight dilating of her eyes. Just then the next stop came, and the woman walked out, hands clasped in front of her with a bag on her wrist. She was in no hurry at all.
Feeling vindication from his foolery of the past 20 minutes he popped his collar in anticipation of the arrival to his stop. Grabbing the bags, and slinging his Macy's handled paper bag over his shoulder, he walked out of the train with a swagger.
As he walked into the house, he dumped his bags on to the kitchen floor. Grabbing the Foot Locker bag from the bottom, he shook the contents out onto the floor. Thirty three percent of his uneaten popcorn, a spotty greased Giants shirt, and a receipt dropped out. The receipt floated down to the other contents, who waited on it to join them on the floor. He thought about eating some of the kernels.
Unfazed by the gray and yellow art that was creating a havoc of rubbish on the tiled kitchen floor, he reached for his phone.
"Dude, I cant come tonight. I have a date."
"What. How?"
"This beautiful girl on the train gave me her card."
"Whats her name?"
"I don't know."
"Where does she work?
"I don't know."
"What does the card say?"
"I don't know. I just put it in my pocket and haven't looked at it."
"Did you make plans to hang out on the train?"
"No."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
"So how are you going out with her?"
"I'm going to call her now."
"Wait, you can't call her. You have to wait. Look at the card and tell me her name at least."
He had been flipping the business card in his pocket through his middle finger, forefinger, and thumb as they spoke. He pulled it out and looked. It was white. Holding the card between his forefinger and middle finger, he flicked his wrist flipping to the front of the card.
"I bet her name is Bertha. or Grace. Grace really isn't a bad name I guess. It would funny if it was Gertrude. I wonder how many chicks born after 1980 are named Gertrude. What does it say bro."
He stared silently at the scribbled handwritten word on the otherwise blank card.
LOSER
"Are you there?"
"I guess I am going out with you guys tonight."
"Why? What does it say?"
"Nothing, I cant find it."
"WHAT A DICK, OH MAN, YOU'RE A DICK DUDE!"
"Yup"
ck
Monday, December 15, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
12-12/Picture of the Week
If you look closely, you can see this week's homework assignment on my forehead.
ck
12-12/Must See TV
I had been concerned with the recent episodes of "the Office" on NBC. I was thinking that the writing was starting to lack, but last night's Christmas episode was very entertaining.
Even though Andy's story line is at the top, his role in the episode was tertiary, at best. He stole the show with his three scenes though. His face was priceless when Jim walked in as he was jamming out on the sitar, and my other favorite part was his soliloquy on college drinking.
"I got straight B's. They used to call me Buzz."
It was followed by a clever "30 Rock" as always, with that beautiful and sexy Tina Fey. Humina Humina.. Favorite Line : Liz brings the box of Christmas Letters, Tracy says in white guy voice, "Are they Christmas Sweaters?"
Back in the days of Seinfeld and Friends, NBC really was the premiere sitcom network. Seinfeld will always live in infamy, and especially for me, now that I am older and can understand more of the jokes. It took 10 years of me laughing along until I finally understood what "the contest" is about. Now I "laugh along" with myself 3 or 4 times a day.
The episode of where Jerry can't remember her name, but it sounds like a part of the female anatomy - I had no idea. The sponge - no clue. The counterclockwise swirl - huh? In my water cooler circles (equivalent of me and Steve on 2nd Free having an egg sandwich in the cafeteria) when Seinfeld was discussed I'd have to interject with,
"How about that Lowell, for someone so dumb how does he fix those planes?"
"That Roy Biguns and his El Camino, classic."
Friends and their 90's hipster motif was just too annoying for me. I certainly sat back and waited to see if Ross and Rachel would get back together. Oh that day that Ross was outside the coffeehouse in the rain and they had their first kiss, mmmm. I ate that shit up.
But the 90's crap wore thin with me, which makes it even more difficult to watch now - the reason why I don't. Joey and his turtlenecks with black jeans now give me dusche-chills. The only classy ones on that show were Ross and Chandler, who had nice jobs, and wore suits - but Chandler would mess it up with an occasional no-collar button down shirt.
It's nice to be new and clean. I like the fashion better these days. The only classy time in our recent histories has to be from the 40's to early 60's. Wearing suits all day, and a derby, then progressing to the suit with the thin tie, was just wonderful. Then it just got weird with the pot smokers, those Mexican shawls, and then the afros.
I'm sure those bellbottoms and puffy pubic regions were sexy.
ck
Even though Andy's story line is at the top, his role in the episode was tertiary, at best. He stole the show with his three scenes though. His face was priceless when Jim walked in as he was jamming out on the sitar, and my other favorite part was his soliloquy on college drinking.
"I got straight B's. They used to call me Buzz."
It was followed by a clever "30 Rock" as always, with that beautiful and sexy Tina Fey. Humina Humina.. Favorite Line : Liz brings the box of Christmas Letters, Tracy says in white guy voice, "Are they Christmas Sweaters?"
Back in the days of Seinfeld and Friends, NBC really was the premiere sitcom network. Seinfeld will always live in infamy, and especially for me, now that I am older and can understand more of the jokes. It took 10 years of me laughing along until I finally understood what "the contest" is about. Now I "laugh along" with myself 3 or 4 times a day.
The episode of where Jerry can't remember her name, but it sounds like a part of the female anatomy - I had no idea. The sponge - no clue. The counterclockwise swirl - huh? In my water cooler circles (equivalent of me and Steve on 2nd Free having an egg sandwich in the cafeteria) when Seinfeld was discussed I'd have to interject with,
"How about that Lowell, for someone so dumb how does he fix those planes?"
"That Roy Biguns and his El Camino, classic."
Friends and their 90's hipster motif was just too annoying for me. I certainly sat back and waited to see if Ross and Rachel would get back together. Oh that day that Ross was outside the coffeehouse in the rain and they had their first kiss, mmmm. I ate that shit up.
But the 90's crap wore thin with me, which makes it even more difficult to watch now - the reason why I don't. Joey and his turtlenecks with black jeans now give me dusche-chills. The only classy ones on that show were Ross and Chandler, who had nice jobs, and wore suits - but Chandler would mess it up with an occasional no-collar button down shirt.
It's nice to be new and clean. I like the fashion better these days. The only classy time in our recent histories has to be from the 40's to early 60's. Wearing suits all day, and a derby, then progressing to the suit with the thin tie, was just wonderful. Then it just got weird with the pot smokers, those Mexican shawls, and then the afros.
I'm sure those bellbottoms and puffy pubic regions were sexy.
ck
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
12-9/Winter Meetings
Major League Baseball's winter meetings are being held this week in Las Vegas. With temperatures not rising past 68, it appears alot of the down time will have to spent indoors, or maybe actually doing work.
Dr Beeper, "Must be a nice change from dreary, old Manhattan."
I hope Scott Boras is racing Brian Cashman to the pool, Ray Ban Sunglasses on the neon green holder flapping around their necks. A shirtless Cashman with white suntan lotion on his nose, has his Corona beach towel around his shoulders ready to jump in the pool. How sad it will be when it it just too cold to enjoy. So they both will retire to their rooms to watch "Anchorman" on pay per view.
I wonder if behind the scenes Trevor Hoffman is making his own rendition of "Hoffman's 11," where he will steal money from the Bellagio and hold it ransom for a job.
I hope Scott Boras is racing Brian Cashman to the pool, Ray Ban Sunglasses on the neon green holder flapping around their necks. A shirtless Cashman with white suntan lotion on his nose, has his Corona beach towel around his shoulders ready to jump in the pool. How sad it will be when it it just too cold to enjoy. So they both will retire to their rooms to watch "Anchorman" on pay per view.
I wonder if behind the scenes Trevor Hoffman is making his own rendition of "Hoffman's 11," where he will steal money from the Bellagio and hold it ransom for a job.
Ricky Henderson would be Hoffman's Frank Catton (Bernie Mac). I know he would recreate the scene with Matt Damon perfectly where he says, "You want me to get up on the table and dance for you? Shine your shoes? Smile atchu?"
I think Josh Hamilton would make a good Rusty Ryan. Maybe he reminds me more of Tyler Durden. Oh, well.
John Kruk would have to be Rueben Tischkoff, only because in my mind I can see him acting that way on purpose with his chesthair out as a goof. "Get in the gaawwwddammm howwws."
I think Josh Hamilton would make a good Rusty Ryan. Maybe he reminds me more of Tyler Durden. Oh, well.
John Kruk would have to be Rueben Tischkoff, only because in my mind I can see him acting that way on purpose with his chesthair out as a goof. "Get in the gaawwwddammm howwws."
adult swim's aqua teen hunger force rendition of Kruk.
Omar Vizquel looks like Livingston, the computer nerd. Omar seems like the type of guy that could give a shit about computers, though.
Don Cheadle's Basher should be played by Tim Meadows just because I think it would be funny.
I wonder if any business goes down at the strip clubs. I'd like to see Omar Minaya making a big deal while getting a lapdance. It would be great with his Latin flavor to say something dirty in Spanish and then look over at K-Rod in a compromising position, and says,
"#**#&#^%#%$^#%$^#%# !" and they both laugh.
K-Rod translation, " I hope they are even hotter at Gallager's!"
Omar translation "And I know the DJ!!!!"
ck
Saturday, December 6, 2008
12-6/Picture of the Week
"If you dont want to dance with Colin, you and your purple hair can take a hike!"
ck
Friday, December 5, 2008
12-5/Omi the Magnificent
Today is the two year anniversary of Omi's passing. Here's a story of her greatness.
In high school, I decided to concentrate on "my studies," so I never played Prep baseball. Because I could have, you know. They wanted me. Really. Seriously.
Anyway, while concentrating on my studies, and driving around Bayside looking for the perfect slice of pizza, I decided to satiate my baseball needs by playing summer ball. Of course it was a team made up of anyone from Bayside Little League who wanted to play, but I would tell everyone,
"It's a travel team." sniff, serious face.
It was also my living proof of why I didn't play baseball in High School. It has nothing to do with me being scared of not finishing the running portion of the tryouts, or Brother Michael with the red hair. Either way, if I didn't spend all that extra time studying and not playing High School ball, I'd never be where I am today.
(Highlights - I make fresh pizza dough and cook for my mommy. Reminds me of when Robbie Hart tells Julia in the Wedding Singer,
"No, you're the best." julia
"At what? People eat prime rib and I sing." Robbie )
When people ask me if I played High School, I always say no, but I played on an elite [voluntary] travel team.
When they ask me where we played, I'd say - all over queens. [behind waldbaum's in college point]
Where Omi came in.
Omi and Opi would come to alot of games. And Omi was there when I had a little wardrobe malfunction. Every year we would get these cotton 2 button jerseys that fit, eh, ok. This summer, particularly, the jersey was real crap. They were a combination of silk and rubber, almost. The worst part about it was that it was very, um, "body conforming..."
Omi came to the rescue. I gave her the jersey one day, and with material from past jerseys, she actually built in extensions to the sides of the jersey. It was alot like a hockey goalie's jersey which had this to accommodate the extra room needed for equipment. By cutting up the seams on the sides, she inserted these extra pieces of old jerseys, giving me some nice breathing room in the front.
The jersey itself looked like a car that had been in an accident, and the doors only repainted, but hot damn, was I comfy.
Now when the hot dog/soda truck would show up, I would have no trouble doing what I do best.
I hope you can still watch me play baseball in Heaven. But turn it off when I get home, or when I get near a buffet. Ill be sure to start using that ab roller from Christmas '03 real soon.
With love.
ck
In high school, I decided to concentrate on "my studies," so I never played Prep baseball. Because I could have, you know. They wanted me. Really. Seriously.
Anyway, while concentrating on my studies, and driving around Bayside looking for the perfect slice of pizza, I decided to satiate my baseball needs by playing summer ball. Of course it was a team made up of anyone from Bayside Little League who wanted to play, but I would tell everyone,
"It's a travel team." sniff, serious face.
It was also my living proof of why I didn't play baseball in High School. It has nothing to do with me being scared of not finishing the running portion of the tryouts, or Brother Michael with the red hair. Either way, if I didn't spend all that extra time studying and not playing High School ball, I'd never be where I am today.
(Highlights - I make fresh pizza dough and cook for my mommy. Reminds me of when Robbie Hart tells Julia in the Wedding Singer,
"No, you're the best." julia
"At what? People eat prime rib and I sing." Robbie )
When people ask me if I played High School, I always say no, but I played on an elite [voluntary] travel team.
When they ask me where we played, I'd say - all over queens. [behind waldbaum's in college point]
Where Omi came in.
Omi and Opi would come to alot of games. And Omi was there when I had a little wardrobe malfunction. Every year we would get these cotton 2 button jerseys that fit, eh, ok. This summer, particularly, the jersey was real crap. They were a combination of silk and rubber, almost. The worst part about it was that it was very, um, "body conforming..."
Omi came to the rescue. I gave her the jersey one day, and with material from past jerseys, she actually built in extensions to the sides of the jersey. It was alot like a hockey goalie's jersey which had this to accommodate the extra room needed for equipment. By cutting up the seams on the sides, she inserted these extra pieces of old jerseys, giving me some nice breathing room in the front.
The jersey itself looked like a car that had been in an accident, and the doors only repainted, but hot damn, was I comfy.
Now when the hot dog/soda truck would show up, I would have no trouble doing what I do best.
I hope you can still watch me play baseball in Heaven. But turn it off when I get home, or when I get near a buffet. Ill be sure to start using that ab roller from Christmas '03 real soon.
With love.
ck
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
12-3/Identity Theft
The CK rebirth is now officially imminent. I have had my account number stolen and money tampered with. As upsetting and annoying all of this is, it is actually quite simple. I was hoping for a long annoying conversation with my bank that I could write about. I expected to be sitting on the phone frustrated, hand on my chin, and blowing sighs of tension upward swishing the hair out of my face.
Sadly it was pretty quick and the investigation is underway.
I had imagined that it would have gone something like this....
"Um sir, this is Ubrokeaniway bank. How may I help you?"
Yes, hi, I checked my bank statement this morning and there appears to be a discrepancy.
Uh, sir what type of diseprancy would that be.
(In the background you hear) whats a distrepancy? - Oh I had that in high school.
Well there is a charge on my debit account that I didn't make.
Is it the one for Waldbaums for 250 dollars? No.
Is it the one at McDonalds for 23 dollars? No.
Pizza Hut 31 dollars? um, thinking thinking - no.
Uncle Jimmy's House of Yum Yums? no = I vaguely recall that eveni....
It must be this one for the Vitamin Shoppe. well...why would you think...
Oh it must be this one for the gym membership? hey I think we're getting off track here..
Hey Sherryl, this guy shops at Large and Larger Men's. I don't think the others need to know..,
We have you on conference call now, to um, better serve you and your problem. Ok, I guess that's ok...
Cheerleaders Monthly subscription? mine.
Cooking in the Nude subscription? mine too.
Men on Men workouts video? check. Hey here's and idea - why don't I just tell you what the charge is?
Unfortunately nothing funny happened.
ck
Sadly it was pretty quick and the investigation is underway.
I had imagined that it would have gone something like this....
"Um sir, this is Ubrokeaniway bank. How may I help you?"
Yes, hi, I checked my bank statement this morning and there appears to be a discrepancy.
Uh, sir what type of diseprancy would that be.
(In the background you hear) whats a distrepancy? - Oh I had that in high school.
Well there is a charge on my debit account that I didn't make.
Is it the one for Waldbaums for 250 dollars? No.
Is it the one at McDonalds for 23 dollars? No.
Pizza Hut 31 dollars? um, thinking thinking - no.
Uncle Jimmy's House of Yum Yums? no = I vaguely recall that eveni....
It must be this one for the Vitamin Shoppe. well...why would you think...
Oh it must be this one for the gym membership? hey I think we're getting off track here..
Hey Sherryl, this guy shops at Large and Larger Men's. I don't think the others need to know..,
We have you on conference call now, to um, better serve you and your problem. Ok, I guess that's ok...
Cheerleaders Monthly subscription? mine.
Cooking in the Nude subscription? mine too.
Men on Men workouts video? check. Hey here's and idea - why don't I just tell you what the charge is?
Unfortunately nothing funny happened.
ck
Monday, December 1, 2008
12-1/Mid Shift Delusion
An ode to the Dive Bar
Smelling like a gutter
I turn around and shutter
a cougar next to me
all i wanted was to pee
Indoor smoking
i thought they were joking
your hoarse voice
i have only one choice
"Hey baby my name is Janet"
Oh God I'm in a panic
"I'm looking for a young man"
how long can I hide in the can
Run away from my 2 dollar Coors
A price no where else for sure
She's now looking at my friend
She yells " See how I can bend"
The locals don't care for our presence
I don't blame them they are peasants
They probably make more than me
But when I leave I can see
So Janet with the cackle
Good luck with your bait and tackle
Another nice man might pay your bill
He goes by the name Phil.
Midnights are awful. Look at this shit.
ck
Smelling like a gutter
I turn around and shutter
a cougar next to me
all i wanted was to pee
Indoor smoking
i thought they were joking
your hoarse voice
i have only one choice
"Hey baby my name is Janet"
Oh God I'm in a panic
"I'm looking for a young man"
how long can I hide in the can
Run away from my 2 dollar Coors
A price no where else for sure
She's now looking at my friend
She yells " See how I can bend"
The locals don't care for our presence
I don't blame them they are peasants
They probably make more than me
But when I leave I can see
So Janet with the cackle
Good luck with your bait and tackle
Another nice man might pay your bill
He goes by the name Phil.
Midnights are awful. Look at this shit.
ck
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