So here’s the thing: Why is it that when people get to a certain age they seem to turn eating into a disgusting habit that nobody want’s to see? I mean, I understand the whole denture situation but what about the food stuck to the outside of their lips? That piece of chip from his chips and salsa is stuck to his lip for twenty minutes. The food just comes flying out like a wood chipper when their talking. Are they so out of touch with reality that they don’t notice the soup dribbling down their chin, or are they just old and don’t care anymore? Either way it’s gross and everyday I get closer to saying “Hey Milt, WTF?”

So here’s the thing: The self check out in the supermarket is the best and worst invention in the history of grocery shopping. It’s the best when I have a pack of triple A batteries, a jar of spicy pickles, a Snickers bar and the self check out has an open computer. It’s the worst when I have one box of Life cereal and all the self check outs are full with people who have the intelligence level of a chimp. They might be smart in the chimp world, but when it comes to the human world….not so much. My blood boils as I watch a middle aged man scan each item from his full cart and stare at the computer as if it’s going to say “You did that correct, you can now put the item in the bag”. These people are in slow motion and oblivious to the world around them. They handle their groceries like it’s plutonium. I just want to grab a hold of the first one and shake the shit out of them until they understand how annoying they really are.

So here’s the thing: This is something that you never want to do. Leave the bar one night and decide it’s time to let 7-11 be your dinner (again). What looks good tonight fat boy? Mmmmmm, it’s the spicy jalapeno chicken wrap! Then you drive home and forget your dinner in the passenger seat of the car and go inside and fall asleep. You wake up like nine hours later and realize you didn’t have dinner. You look for it in the fridge, but it’s not there. Ohhhh, it’s in the car that’s in the garage where it’s ninety six degrees. So ya go out and retrieve your chicken wrap and bring it inside. You set it down on the kitchen counter and start contemplating whether or not to eat it. We both know your going to eat it. The good news is I lost seven pounds over the next twenty four hours. I should have gone to college.

So here’s the thing: “It’s my birthday, give me a free shot!” First of all, the easiest way to NOT get a free drink from me is to ask for it, or in this case demand it. Why should I give you a free drink? “Because it’s my birthday” What does that have to do with me? “What?” I said what does that have to do with me?  “Nothing I guess” Let me see your ID……….your birthday was four days ago. “Yeah but I’m celebrating it tonight” Get the fuck away from me.

So here’s the thing: Hey joggers, thanks for making me feel like shit when I’m in traffic and you going strolling by in your stupid sexy bodies and ear buds all happy and shit!! Why don’t you stay home and just run in place so I don’t have to be reminded that the only exorcise I get is carrying my twelve packs of Pepsi up six stairs when I get home. You might be thinking “Don’t blame me because you look like shit naked and lose your breath putting on your shoes in the morning” Well who the hell am I supposed to blame, me? That’s just crazy talk. I’d much rather blame the joggers and their florescent little shorts and stupid sunglasses. Typing makes me hungry.