"Where Even Our Food is Fried"

Yesterday I walked into a KFC/A&W, a combination of, you guessed it, KFC and A&W. The idea for the merger came a few years ago when the last A&W went out of business in a mall food court somewhere and they still had hot dogs and mustard packets left over.

"What can I get for you, boss?" says the guy behind the counter.

After taking a few minutes to look over the menu (and a few seconds to laugh about having been called "boss"), I say, "I'll have a hot dog, a small thing of potato wedges, and a root beer float."

"Do you want me to make it a combo?"

"Um... you can do that?"

"Yeah."

(Well, that explains the offer.) "Sure, whatever's easiest."

"All right, so you want a hot dog, potato wedges, and what to drink?"

"A root beer float."

I watch my order come up one selection at a time.

HOT DOG (1)
POTATO WEDGES SM (1)
AQUAFINA (1)

"Um, I actually wanted a root beer float."

"What?"

"I ordered a root beer float, not an Aquafina."

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's the same thing."

"Uh..."

"They cost the same, but we like to drink the Aquafina's when we're working, so this helps balance everything out when we do the inventory."

"Oh, working the system..." (a wording choice that implies, "you could get fired for this").

"Yeah, it helps work out the system." (a wording choice that implies, "it's technical, but you seem to understand").

"All right."

"I can change it if you want."

"No, don't worry about it."

"Okay," he says," what's your name for the order?"

I almost say "the only customer in here," but settle on "Drew."

"Drew? Okay Drew, here's your cup and I'll call you when the rest of your order's ready."

He walks away and I'm left looking at the cup.

"..." (That's me looking at the cup.)

"Did you need something else, boss?"

"Um... actually I wanted a root beer float."

"A root beer float? Oh, that'll be a dollar extra."

Something that Happened in March, a Four-Part Series Concluded in Five Parts, with an Editor's Note and a Title, which Itself will Conclude Presently

Editor's Note: The following conversation is presented unabridged and unedited with the exception of the contact information of both parties, in accordance with the arbitrary privacy policy of This Guy. We hope the fact that neither party managed to spell koi correctly any more than 17 percent of the time will not distract you from the heart of the conversation. We also hope you will notice that the owner of the pond was the first to misspell koi, and that I'm spelling koi correctly now, so I obviously know how to spell koi.


Part 1: sacramento craigslist > labor gigs
I need leaves and branches cleaned out my pond
Reply to: [email address removed]
Date: 2008-03-14, 3:44PM PDT

Must have own tools for the job, I have a koy pond that is 10 by 20 give or take a few, just moved in and need to have it cleaned out this weekend sometime. email me your bid and I'll contact the best bid. I have more work available as well but want to start with this job for now

Location: Auburn
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Compensation: best bid

PostingID: 606487099


Part 2: Subject: craigslist, cleaning koy pond
Sent:Fri 3/14/2008 11:10 PM

Hi,

That sounds like something I would do for $40-$50. If that seems ridiculously high, maybe I'm just not picturing it correctly, but I'm picturing a lot of mud and algae. I'm probably willing to do the work for whatever you think is reasonable.

What tools do you think would be needed? A pool net and a small rake, plus some trash bags? Would I be able to wear shorts and wade in the pond. or is the process somehow more involved than that?

Anyway, if it's a job that's possible to do with the tools I have, I know I will do it well.

You can call me at home or on my cell. I live in Auburn too. I can do the work anytime Saturday or Sunday.

[contact information removed]


Part 3: Subject: Re: craigslist, cleaning koy pond
Sent: Sat 3/15/2008 12:13 PM
Attachments: koi pond.jpg(151KB)

about 10 x 20




Part 4: Subject: Re: Re: craigslist, cleaning koy pond
Sent Sat 3/15/2008 12:53 PM

Huh... that came across a little rude. Let me know if you want to communicate in complete sentences, and we can talk about your koy pond.


Part 5: Conclusion
response: none
condition of koi pond: unknown

On-Again Off-Again

My car could use a check check engine light light.

Oh Yeah, March... How 'Bout That?

The thing about March was that... Well, you see, March is a really busy time of the year for me, what with Daylight Saving Time, St. Patrick's Day, Palm Sunday (and everything that went with that), Purim (on the first day of spring, no less [seriously... could've used a little calendar space to pencil in my Thursday appointments, Jews]), the new moon (pretty lackluster this month, to be honest)... shoot... what am I doing... okay, here's the deal, this is the truth now... Basically, what happened with March is, I fell in love. I fell in love with hating Malaise. Maybe not Malaise, exactly, but everything Malaise had to say, at the very least. My love was deep and my love was pure, like if you put "Ode on a Grecian Urn" through a Brita filter, or something... then, what would happen is, the poem wouldn't taste so much like metal, or... sorry for that. Probably you didn't need an example anyway.

(Here I pause for you to say "what in the?")

Let's start from the top. I feel as though I may have lost you. Easter was in March this year, we should probably start with that. A few days ago I was in Barnes & Noble (just one place) and the couple at the register was talking to the... registrar about how they didn't know why Easter was always moving around (or, that, rather than how [the whole point being that they didn't know how, ((or why, for that matter)) or else they wouldn't have been having the conversation ((unless, of course [[however unlikely]], the whole scene was a ruse))]), why, I don't know, but anyway I chimed in and told them (why, I do know) that Easter is always on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox (I didn't say vernal, though... it was an understood vernal) and that ended that. What I'm getting at is, that and other things happened in March, but I couldn't bring myself to share it and them with you and yours because I was so wrapped up in waiting for another post from Malaise that I'd forgotten (perhaps 've forgotten) how to blog. Part of what's ridiculous about all this is that Easter really only moves once a year, tops. And as cheesy as that may be, the fact remains that I'm brimming with this crap, but it's a good kind of crap, like how there are good bacteria, and if you could see them you'd be grossed out but without them you'd get sick all the time, only this blog is the other way around, sort of, and with commas instead of cilia... that kind of thing.

Okay, I think I said what I needed to say. So, I guess this is goodnight america (sic).

Look What I Found

Out That Someone Else Found. Um... here.

I Am My Co-Pilot

On my way to a friend's house last night I remembered that I owed my friend money, so I stopped at a nearby Safeway figuring I could buy a candy bar or something and get cash back. I settled on a 12-ounce bottle of Tropicana orange juice and stood in line behind a guy at the 10 items or less register. Nothing about the guy in front of me is important to this story except to note that his grocery needs were limited enough that the bagger finished bagging his groceries before the guy was done paying for them. My expressed motivation for entering Safeway is also not important, nor is the fact that it was a Safeway in particular or a Tropicana, specifically, but I'm not going to go back and edit out that information, and you've already read it, so just thank me for the clarification and let's move on. The only things to keep in mind at this point are that I was purchasing a single bottle of orange juice and that the bagger was present for the entire transaction.

After a short wait the checker rang up the orange juice and, bypassing the two-foot conveyor belt to the bagger, handed it directly to me. I swiped my card, hit debit, swiped my card again because I shouldn't have the first time, entered my pin, OK'd the amount and asked for $20 back in fives. The checker counted out the fives to me, handed me my receipt, and told me to have a good evening. I said the same to him and turned to leave as the bagger asked...

"Would you like help out with that?"

Huh.

Today I got a call on my cell phone from an unknown caller during my lunch break. I decided that the mystery caller could maintain his or her secret identity all he or she wanted but he or she would have to leave a message if he or she really needed to reach me because I don't like talking to people who waste my time withholding valuable, time-saving pronouns. A minute or so later my phone buzzed to tell me that I had a voicemail, so I checked it.

"Hi," said a man's voice (about a paragraph too late), "I guess I have a wrong number [then I guess you shouldn't have left this message]. I'm trying to reach a friend but I must have an old number for him [yep, must], so I'm just leaving this message so you aren't left hanging about why you had a missed call from someone you didn't know [huh, that was polite, maybe I should go a little easier on people in the inner monologue department].

"Anyway, we'll talk to you again soon, okay, bye."

If Irritation Persists...

I bought a can of dust remover spray at RadioShack today. The guy who rang me up had to ask for my date of birth. You have to be over 18 to purchase dust remover spray. He'd have to ask me even if I looked 60. Company policy.

That's a good policy—limiting the purchase of dust remover spray to adults and dishonest minors with a working knowledge of the Gregorian calendar system and first-grade arithmetic.

Sorry I Just Now Came Up With This

Maybe China Took My Camera

Good thing I ate a fortune cookie this morning.

Recommended Reading, List

My name isn't Dan Liebert, so I didn't write this.

Read it. Learn to laugh again. Be melodramatic. Stop telling people what to do.

Thirteenth Part of a Twenty-Six Part Series

Part Fourteen*:

M

"M" stands for malaise, which means "a vague feeling of physical discomfort or of uneasiness." Sadly, it could be mistaken for either "Malaise," which means "someone who struggles to group words into sentences" or "magaise," which means "an ironic thing to call someone who insists on calling other people 'gay' even when unprovoked." To avoid confusion, it is best not to write in a public forum if your name is Malaise or if you are magaise.

*knock on wood

Apparently, this is a Cleaver Comment

"Be not an idiot."

It's a riddle... I guess.

Sweeps

1 entry found.

Main entry: sweeps

pl. n.
Not short for "sweepstakes." <if your name is Chetan, don't email me about "this sweeps where you can win something awesome," because "sweeps" is not short for "sweepstakes.">

Probably Not the Best Naming Decision

Twelfth Part of a Twenty-Six Part Series

Part Twelve*:

L

"L" stands for "l," which means "the 12th letter of the English alphabet." However, it could be confused with "I," which means "the ninth letter of the English alphabet." To avoid confusion, it is best not to start sentences with words like "illicit" or "illadvised." The word "Illinois" should be avoided whenever possible and can be substituted with "Land of Lincoln" in most contexts.

*Twelve, as defined by Webster's New World Dictionary, means "two more than ten." The word "ten" is defined as "one more than nine."

A Readership Poll Inspired by Malaise (the Person, Not the Emotional State).

Am I done with the monologue?

What I Saw at the Mall Today

A Commercial to Believe In

Once upon a time, RadioShack commercials consisted of Teri Hatcher demeaning Howie Long in between episodes of "Cops." They didn't inspire me to shop at RadioShack, but they also didn’t inspire me to not shop at RadioShack.

This is where the fairy tale ends.

Last weekend, I caught the tail end of the latest RadioShack commercial. It looked so much like a Hallmark commercial that I almost tuned it out—something about a lonely old woman finding joy again in the angelic voices of her caroling grandchildren—but the ending caught my attention. “This holiday season, don’t just buy stuff. Do stuff.”

How inspirational. Thanks RadioShack, for that selfless holiday reminder. Oh but wait, doesn’t your latest slogan ring a bell? Why yes it does, and how it rings. Let us follow that joyful reverberating sound, guided by the ghost of Holiday Advertisement Past, all the way back to November of 2005. Don’t worry—he means us no harm.

Is this where you are leaving us, ghost? Here in the 2005 holiday season? He nods and points to the back of the room, to a dark corner beyond a crowd of holiday merrymakers warming themselves by a roaring fire. Howie Long lies hiding ever so quietly under the piano bench, peeking out expectantly. Now I see… RadioShack pulled the ol’ “let’s play hide-and-seek” trick on Howie and replaced him with random people sitting in a red chair and telling us what they want for Christmas. A man tells his wife about the perfect phone, a child begs his parents for an RC car, an elderly woman struggles to remember all the features of the computer she wants. The ‘05 marketing slogan: "This holiday season, don't just get a gift. Get the right gift (at RadioShack)."

Ahh… the holiday season, the glorious celebration of that one time when baby Jesus bought everyone digital cameras... Or, wait… was it the time when baby Jesus fried up some latkes for the innkeeper? Between these conflicting messages, will we ever find the true reason for the season? Foul specter, why have you shown us these things?

Perhaps we’d find more clarity if we looked at RadioShack’s 2006 holiday message. The ghost shakes his head. He will take us no farther. Unfortunately, all I really remember about the HS of ’06 is that someone named My Brother threatened to punch me in the face in the middle of Best Buy because I told him to shut up, so I don't recall RadioShack's '06 advertising campaign. Probably more of the same, but the important thing to remember here is that I was shopping at Best Buy.

Of course! When have I ever shopped at RadioShack? I mean, for crying out loud, the name of the store is RadioShack. As an electronics store, they really ought to keep that on the down low, don’t you think? I’m not even crazy about Kozy Shack. About the only shack I've ever been in complete support of is the snack shack at summer camp. Gummy worms, fun dip, ice cream cones: these things can come from a shack. Cell phones, CD players, wide screen TVs: nuh uh.

Come to think of it, the last time I shopped at RadioShack was when I wanted to connect two short coaxial cables into one medium-sized coaxial cable, and I don’t remember why. I just remember that they had what I needed. It's called a coupler—basically a threaded cylinder that’s less than an inch long, and it costs about $5 because, as they say in the industry, "you don't know how to make one.” I went to RadioShack last night to see if they had the same type of coupler. They did not.

So, unless I need some batteries but don’t want to see anything from Duracell or Energizer (so help me God), I don’t really see myself needing another RadioShack, which kind of sucks, because now I have no idea where to turn for the meaning of the season.

Cranberry Sauce is Good in Cottage Cheese

I was just about to write some ridiculous, worthless post just to say I'd written something this week (working off of the Spanish calendar week), but I really have to pee right now so... urine luck.

Quote of the Night

"The couch should not smell like poo."

-some lady