The famous deity type from St. Croix County was at Denny's tonight with a woman that I had not met previously. He mentioned that college has calmed me, that he has gone a somewhat different direction, and that everything keeps blowing up (including his septic system). I would hate to have shit and sewage in my basement, and I'm sure Luke agrees.
This event was notable because Satan never comes out. It was great to see this change. He was promoted at work and has a mortgage and what have you. As the oldest of the Deputies crew, I must say that I feel old in a pressing way as my high school-era friends buy property, enter marriages, and become adults in a traditional sense.
Also, a new server started tonight. She is only working a couple of nights a week. We hope this will be a suitable match for her and the restaurant.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Drinkin' Coffee, Gettin' Paid
So. Last Thursday (November 6, 2008) I was sitting at the counter reading Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza by Gloria Anzaldúa with Luke nearby when a horrible racket erupted from the corner booth (not the Denzel Electronic Press think tank booth, but the other one). It was a loud-assed, anti-rhythmic tinkling of change being tossed about.
Eventually, the kids responsible for said fuss realized they were being annoying. Luke agreed with them that yeah, it was kind of annoying. I turned around and told them that it was really annoying. I also told them that I'm sure I could find a tool to perform a lobotomy somewhere.
To which brontosaurus dipshit said, "Is that a threat? I've got a knife in my pocket..." followed by more nonsensical babble from brontosaurus, who clearly did not know his asshole from his piehole because he was letting the wrong one run. I responded that I didn't mean to threaten (Who? Me? Threaten?), rather I felt as though someone who was amused by bouncing quarters off tables could probably be helped by a lobotomy.
To which Dude Bronto responded, "What? You've never played quarters or beer pong?" And another voice chimed in and said, "That's what I was gonna say" or something to that effect. And ladies and gentlemen--I have never played beer pong or quarters. Which apparently, according to Dude Bronto means that I must not have much a social life. I was, of course, forced to inform him that my friends and I don't need to put on airs to drink, we don't need to play little games, etc. Don't forget--I am from Wisconsin.
AND beer pong is gross. But I didn't need to go into the management of germs with Dude Bronto because I can tell a lost cause when I see one.
Anyway. He said that didn't sound like much fun. Then it began in earnest--the whole "you're just jealous" thing. That's right. Dude Bronto asserts that I cannot play quarters and I'm jealous. I was becoming flustered at this point (I do not have to deal with such idiotic fuckery as a genderal rule). So I told Bronto Dude that he should probably live in a group home. And Bronto Dude is all, "What if I already do?" So I was all, "I'm gonna call them and tell them not to let you leave without your helmet anymore."
Then he got pissed. And decided that he'd rather be a dumbass that a "dyke who sits at Denny's reading." To which I shrugged my shoulders. Because if he was a dyke, he'd surely be less idiotic and annoying--and if he read a book once a while, he'd probably be a whole lot smarter.
And I've been trying to channel my inner-dyke for about five months. Whatever, eh?
So then he and his little gaggle decide to leave, and Dude Bronto actually puts $1.50 (in QUARTERS, even) in front of me and says, "Try it sometime." I'm not sure what I was supposed to try: Calling his group home and reporting the helmet problem, being a dyke, reading a book...or maybe doing my laundry?
Who cares? I got paid.
Eventually, the kids responsible for said fuss realized they were being annoying. Luke agreed with them that yeah, it was kind of annoying. I turned around and told them that it was really annoying. I also told them that I'm sure I could find a tool to perform a lobotomy somewhere.
To which brontosaurus dipshit said, "Is that a threat? I've got a knife in my pocket..." followed by more nonsensical babble from brontosaurus, who clearly did not know his asshole from his piehole because he was letting the wrong one run. I responded that I didn't mean to threaten (Who? Me? Threaten?), rather I felt as though someone who was amused by bouncing quarters off tables could probably be helped by a lobotomy.
To which Dude Bronto responded, "What? You've never played quarters or beer pong?" And another voice chimed in and said, "That's what I was gonna say" or something to that effect. And ladies and gentlemen--I have never played beer pong or quarters. Which apparently, according to Dude Bronto means that I must not have much a social life. I was, of course, forced to inform him that my friends and I don't need to put on airs to drink, we don't need to play little games, etc. Don't forget--I am from Wisconsin.
AND beer pong is gross. But I didn't need to go into the management of germs with Dude Bronto because I can tell a lost cause when I see one.
Anyway. He said that didn't sound like much fun. Then it began in earnest--the whole "you're just jealous" thing. That's right. Dude Bronto asserts that I cannot play quarters and I'm jealous. I was becoming flustered at this point (I do not have to deal with such idiotic fuckery as a genderal rule). So I told Bronto Dude that he should probably live in a group home. And Bronto Dude is all, "What if I already do?" So I was all, "I'm gonna call them and tell them not to let you leave without your helmet anymore."
Then he got pissed. And decided that he'd rather be a dumbass that a "dyke who sits at Denny's reading." To which I shrugged my shoulders. Because if he was a dyke, he'd surely be less idiotic and annoying--and if he read a book once a while, he'd probably be a whole lot smarter.
And I've been trying to channel my inner-dyke for about five months. Whatever, eh?
So then he and his little gaggle decide to leave, and Dude Bronto actually puts $1.50 (in QUARTERS, even) in front of me and says, "Try it sometime." I'm not sure what I was supposed to try: Calling his group home and reporting the helmet problem, being a dyke, reading a book...or maybe doing my laundry?
Who cares? I got paid.
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