Take me for instance. I have a fourth grade education and work as a doorstop, yet I am allowed to vote. Pretty fricken' cool. The other day I was wandering around, totally baked, when I saw a bunch of people walking into a school. I am looking at the 'Vote here' sign over the door when it dawns on me...IT'S VOTING DAY! I love voting because afterward you get a sucker. I head in the door and after the longest wait of my life I get my ballot. I hope next time I don't have to wait the ten minutes because it is a bit of a buzzkill.
I get to the voting booth with my ballot and pick up the pen. I immediately fill in the wrong circle. I ask for another ballot. I immediately fill in the wrong circle again. I get another ballot. This time I am doing just fine until I see the name Richard Headstrom. Heeheeeheheheheeeheee. Dick Head-strum. Heheeheeheee. I can't stop giggling. I look over at the woman next to me and show her the name. She doesn't find it amusing. Maybe she doesn't get it, so I explain it to her. I get a tap on the shoulder from one of the election people. He tells me to mind my own business. I mind my own business I say as I grab my crotch. "Dick Head-strum. "
He then asks me to leave. I tell him to go to hell, I was just trying to share a voting joke with the lovely lady next to me. Election dude grabs my shirt. I grab onto the voting booth and start to scream "Leave me alone you Dick Head-strum lover!"
He has my feet off the ground pulling me and I am laughing so hard i loose my grip. My upper half hits the floor hard and my ears start to ring really loud. I mean so loud I can't hear what anyone is saying. Poll worker guy and two others are dragging me by my feet to the door.
I still can't stop laughing and screaming "WHERE IS MY SUCKER?"
I get pushed out the door and told not to come back. I guess I will be adding this to the list of things not to do while voting. Dang. I need some Doritos.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Fancy pants dinner
I was wrangled into going to a fancy pants dinner. It was for a foundation of some sort benefiting kids with tri-polar fedoras or adult onset angst syndrome or something. These are the events I hate. Not because I don't like the causes, but because I don't like the people. Sitting in any room full of people, I can judge the amount of fun I will have by the number of men with earrings. It is a simple tell all of whether there will be drunken amusement or some dorks dancing to the Axel F Beverly Hills Cop song and bragging to the office on Monday that they really 'got down'.
This room of nearly 900 had all of one dude with earrings besides me. He was also the only little person there which made it a little more surreal. I felt I had made a friend.
The dinner started with the silent auction with beer and wine being served. I am usually a fan of beer, but not light beers in semi cold bottles. I was glad I brought my flask of the Jameson. When I say flask, you should know I mean nearly a full bottle in a convenient spiggotted bag built into my jacket. I bought a beer, dumped it out in a plant and refilled with the good stuff.
The silent went as planned. Silent.
We shuffled into the great room for our meal. It was good, overdone, over prepared, overly fancy, overly mediocre meal. Also, risotto. Which I think is the most overrated of all foods. Everyone tells me when it is made well, it is fantastic. How many times can I get the crappy plate of risotto? Apparently twenty plus times in a row. Fuck risotto. I think people only say that because they don't want to be the person who doesn't think it's good. Emperor's clothes type of thing. After the meal there was another auction for some big buck items. Dinner for ten here, weekend in Vegas there, designer accouterments blah, blah blah.
Since dinner was done and I am starting my second beer bottle of whiskey, it was time to get mischievous. I grabbed my bidding number and placed the first bid on every item. I waited til the last item, which I really wanted. Dinner for four at a Jacques Imo in New Orleans. Air fair and two nights in the French Quarter included. I have friends that have been there and said it was amazing. I raised my bidding number and the auctioneer sighed out loud. I held it up higher and waved it around til he called my number. The next bid was two thousand. The auctioneer seemed a bit surprised when I raised it again to raise it to twenty five hundred. Three, I bid to thirty five. Four, I stand up and I raise to forty five. Five, I takes a step forward and I go to fifty five. nothing...nothing...the auctioneer points to the other last bidder. I do the *cough*cheapskate*cough* thing. I love doing that. He stares at me angrily and goes to six. I raise my card right away and push it to sixty five hundred. I glare over and lift my fist up to my face. Stick my pinky straight up. Smile. As I slowly curl my pinky back down into the fist, follow it along with my eyes and turn my smile to a frown. I do this to BMW drivers too. Nice car, sorry about the penis.
The man stands up with the best scowl. It is the scowl of a business man who just lost a takeover bid. The scowl of a republican when low income housing is being planned in his neighborhood. The scowl of a religious person finding out his kid is an atheist or gay. that scowl. He raises his card, up to seven. I step toward him flipping my card up and back down quick. he holds his up for eight. I rise mine quickly and lower it slowly. He raises his card and holds it up. I flip mine up a few more times as I walk toward him.
He is fuming. I can see the veins on his neck bulging. His wife is tugging on his sleeve to sit down.
I smile and raise the bid again. And again. And again. I am standing at his table. He is at twenty thousand dollars. I smile and pick up an empty water glass. I pour a tall shot of whiskey into it. Hand it to him and say "Enjoy the meal. I always do." there is thunderous applause around us. The color is quickly draining from his face as he realizes he just spent twenty thousand dollars on a dinner for four. He sits and drinks the shot.
I turn and walk out of the room. What I do wish is that I had a few bucks to donate to this cause. They seem like such nice people.
This room of nearly 900 had all of one dude with earrings besides me. He was also the only little person there which made it a little more surreal. I felt I had made a friend.
The dinner started with the silent auction with beer and wine being served. I am usually a fan of beer, but not light beers in semi cold bottles. I was glad I brought my flask of the Jameson. When I say flask, you should know I mean nearly a full bottle in a convenient spiggotted bag built into my jacket. I bought a beer, dumped it out in a plant and refilled with the good stuff.
The silent went as planned. Silent.
We shuffled into the great room for our meal. It was good, overdone, over prepared, overly fancy, overly mediocre meal. Also, risotto. Which I think is the most overrated of all foods. Everyone tells me when it is made well, it is fantastic. How many times can I get the crappy plate of risotto? Apparently twenty plus times in a row. Fuck risotto. I think people only say that because they don't want to be the person who doesn't think it's good. Emperor's clothes type of thing. After the meal there was another auction for some big buck items. Dinner for ten here, weekend in Vegas there, designer accouterments blah, blah blah.
Since dinner was done and I am starting my second beer bottle of whiskey, it was time to get mischievous. I grabbed my bidding number and placed the first bid on every item. I waited til the last item, which I really wanted. Dinner for four at a Jacques Imo in New Orleans. Air fair and two nights in the French Quarter included. I have friends that have been there and said it was amazing. I raised my bidding number and the auctioneer sighed out loud. I held it up higher and waved it around til he called my number. The next bid was two thousand. The auctioneer seemed a bit surprised when I raised it again to raise it to twenty five hundred. Three, I bid to thirty five. Four, I stand up and I raise to forty five. Five, I takes a step forward and I go to fifty five. nothing...nothing...the auctioneer points to the other last bidder. I do the *cough*cheapskate*cough* thing. I love doing that. He stares at me angrily and goes to six. I raise my card right away and push it to sixty five hundred. I glare over and lift my fist up to my face. Stick my pinky straight up. Smile. As I slowly curl my pinky back down into the fist, follow it along with my eyes and turn my smile to a frown. I do this to BMW drivers too. Nice car, sorry about the penis.
The man stands up with the best scowl. It is the scowl of a business man who just lost a takeover bid. The scowl of a republican when low income housing is being planned in his neighborhood. The scowl of a religious person finding out his kid is an atheist or gay. that scowl. He raises his card, up to seven. I step toward him flipping my card up and back down quick. he holds his up for eight. I rise mine quickly and lower it slowly. He raises his card and holds it up. I flip mine up a few more times as I walk toward him.
He is fuming. I can see the veins on his neck bulging. His wife is tugging on his sleeve to sit down.
I smile and raise the bid again. And again. And again. I am standing at his table. He is at twenty thousand dollars. I smile and pick up an empty water glass. I pour a tall shot of whiskey into it. Hand it to him and say "Enjoy the meal. I always do." there is thunderous applause around us. The color is quickly draining from his face as he realizes he just spent twenty thousand dollars on a dinner for four. He sits and drinks the shot.
I turn and walk out of the room. What I do wish is that I had a few bucks to donate to this cause. They seem like such nice people.
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