Where do I begin?

….Imagine getting up at 5 in the a.m. And imagine that you are doing so because you have a flight to catch.  You get your boardin’ pass, you strip, get searched, have the dogs called in on you, get searched one-mo-gin,  and then in a flash,you arrive at your gate.  Now you are just watching those seconds roll on by before you hop on this aeroplane…and before you know it, you are in seat 9c (aisle please), ….(you were asked to move because at first you were sitting in someone else’s seat 9B)…

(Here comes the pain)

1. The stewardess has informed the passengers that the plane is “overweight”.  Has this ever happened before? To anybody? Ever? Four of your fellow passengers have to leave the plane.  In exchange they do receive a $400 voucher, but please…it’s annoying.  {ATTENTION AIRLINES –ATTENTION AIRLINES:Stop over-booking flights.  The words ’sold’ and ‘out ‘(together and in that order) make perfect sense in this situation.  When you run out of seats–game over. Stop selling seats that you don’t have to sell} (Dass it)
2. But dass not really it….after being in the air for about 45 minutes, the captain informs the passengers that one of the planes’ “generators” stopped working.  (Are you imagining all of this?) How terrifying…So now the plane is en route to a lil place  called Pittsburgh. Landed it. That’s right. The plane landed in Pittsburgh.
3. Some airline dousche then informs the passengers that they are to be deplaned, sent up to the terminal, and rebooked.  This has “I am not getting out of Pittsburgh tonight, am I?” written all over it.  The rebooking process is a nightmare.  You end up standing in line for almost two hours to find out that another plane will be sent from Cincy (at some point) and that it will be a direct connect home.  For your troubles you are to receive a $200 voucher and a $7 meal voucher.  This, of course, doesn’t fully satisfy you.  Justice has not yet been served son.  But…really…dass it.  You can’t do anything about it. Just, just take it.
4. You clocked in (in Pittsburgh) at about 9a.m (est).  This will be the most miserable shift you’ll ever put in.  You are overwhelmingly enraged.  You want to yell at someone but you can’t.  You want to strangle one of the airline dousches–but you can’t.  You just can’t.  The plane has finally left Cincy (Cincinnati)* and will arrive at a decent enough time to get you home around (let’s say) 3:30p.m. (cst). You clock out (of Pittsburgh) at 1:55p.m. (est).
5. These are your friends now (you know that right?).  You have wasted away in the airport of Pittsburgh all day ( oh my goodness).  You spent the day together threatening to shoot people and wanting to blow some/anything up, mocking the airline douschebaggery. You’re a family now.  It’s almost over and you realize just how much you’re going to miss the new fam.
6. Kansas City. Home. You wait for your cab (gonna be pa-pa-pa-paH-ricccaayy), and as you wait, you see all of the friends hailing their respective cabs, one by one, exiting your life.  It was a long, long,long, long, day spent with a gang of pissed off people (who you will never see again).

But don’t fret, they’ll remember you. And hey, it could have been a lot worse….

Now you take all of that…

and imagine that you were me…

dat is all..(Did I say it right?)

*I know how to spell it

One word…humbug (I’m kind of serious).

Currently watching Jimmy Fallon embarrass himself at The Thanksgiving Day parade. Humiliating for everyone like me. I’m sure there are many that are thankful that there aren’t too many of those. I owe WordPress of bit of gratitude. I forgot my password (again) due to my infrequent helpings of grits. WordPress got me out of a jam, and for that, I am very thankful. This parade is awkward. Initiating ChannelChange sequence….

Still on the parade.

I want to apologize to everyone for not being around. You hear me? Although, I did say in my intro that it would take me some time to really get things rolling so…

Apology rescinded (Sorry).

Eat up.

I wanna say Happy Thanksgiving but no thanks please…

During a dream I dreamt recently, I was busting the most peculiar hang, a solo hang, with Will Forte.  (If you don’t know who Will Forte is you need to look it up because I am not going to tell you.)  It was his birthday and I was there to show him that at least I cared (remembered).   He was opening gifts that were sent, I’m guessing, from family members and such.  One of said gifts was a dartboard.  Will informed me that he already had a dartboard and had no use for a second one.  “What am I going to do with two Dartboards?”, he asked.  Trying to be as helpful as possible, I told him we could have a DoubleDartDay.  Much to my surprise he did not kick me out after this comment.  His interest was most definitely piqued and he smiled a little at the suggestion.  Unfortunately I could not provide him with any explanation of what DoubleDartDay was or how exactly such an event would go down.  But we were on to somethin’…

At one point, I recall looking through his collection of movies.  I stopped on a movie titled ‘Fiasco’, starring Keanu Reeves and Jim Carey.  I looked at him, and before I could even ask, he had that Forte smile on his face, and he was holding not one, but two thumbs up…

I gotta get my hands on a copy of this flick..

(Its good to finally be back at ‘Grits’.  Although, I did have a little trouble finding the place.)

Yeah we like to call him Jeff.

I was thinking today. A little too much I would say.  There were a few things I brought to my attention.

1. I have nothing.
2. I want nothing.
3. I am nothing.
4. I need nothing.
5. I.HAVE.NOTHING.

It’s survival at this point.

(Having nothing to do with becoming overly content with having nothing)

I yelled at Hank (lil’ kitty) for misbehaving.  He straightened up and got his act together so fast I was kind of curious.  Imagine you are in a mall.  Say the mall is in…Columbia, Missouri.  You bump into a mother yelling at her 6 year old daughter (who was doing nothing but being a lil’ kiddy)  for acting very “unchristian-like”. What? Huh? @&#*!  That poor little girl straightened up so fast I was insanely furious.  When I yelled at that lil’ kitty, he straightened up just like that little kiddy.  IT.WAS.WEIRD.

]]> http://whatyoudontlikegrits.wordpress.com/2009/04/09/da-middimalist/feed/ 0 whatyoudontlikegrits http://whatyoudontlikegrits.wordpress.com/2009/03/13/can-i-get-in-trouble-for-this/ http://whatyoudontlikegrits.wordpress.com/2009/03/13/can-i-get-in-trouble-for-this/#comments Fri, 13 Mar 2009 21:19:19 +0000 whatyoudontlikegrits http://whatyoudontlikegrits.wordpress.com/?p=561 ]]>

Oh god. Don’t look now. Keon has returned.

And he has a few things he would like to say:

Keon….

[WARNING WARNING]

KEON THINKS THAT THIS SHIT IS LIKE A DICE GAME U JUST GOTTA ROLE EM RIGHT!!!!!!!

(I’m listening…what else Keon?)

Keon asks: Do u really say wats really on ya mind about me real talk!!!!

(hmmm…uh huh)

Keon IS SAYING SOME TIMES U NOT WANTED NO MATTER HOW MUCH U WANT TO BE SO U GOTTA FIND THAT ONE FOR U!!!!!!!!!

(uh huh uh huh)

Keon IS SAYING WAT THE FUCK I DO NOW SHIT IS CRAZY I CAN’T WIN FOR SHIT!!!!!!!!!!

(totally understandable)

.    .    .    .

(I hope that when he sees this (even possible?), he understands that I was juss playin‘)

Today is the worst day of the year.  After you approach the 21 mark, things start to digress, exponentially.  It sucks that there is no light at the end of this long, dark, obstacle of a tunnel.

The birthday wishes were great, sure.  Ain’t it strange how most of them come from people you haven’t seen in ages or people that you don’t even respect (wink).  It’s an eye-opening experience to see who has the balls to send those glorious birthday wishes.

“How are you going to celebrate” seems to be one that gets asked a lot.  Celebrate?  I am too old to celebrate.  I was too old to celebrate when I turned 16.   How old am I really?

Oh gAWd…

Now I know what my boy Busfield was going through. Twenty (something) is the new Thirty (something).

In a celebratory response to that heavenly win for my Missouri Tigers, Hoops, her boyfriend Scoops, and I decided to take it up to the Record bar to meet up with Konay Stone and Chalk-oh-Lot Dunkers.

(I didn’t think that I would have enough energy for another hang, due to the fact that I exerted most of it yelling at Leo Lyons and accusing him of being too “silly” when it’s time to get ta business.)

A Big Birdie informed us that there was a cover at The Record Bar. Any other night, Marbles and Team Oops would have responded to that with a “no thank you…” and a “please”, but somethin’ had us feelin’ fine…

$7 BUCKS?!!?

I had zero dollars on me so Team Oops stepped up and pulled their boy out of a jam. First round o’ drinks…ON ME (equal to or less than the value of said cover charge).

But this is where things got h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s…

7(dollars) times 3(people) would give us what? A total of $21. Right? (Oh I failed to mention this earlier, but Scoops was feelin’ really really really fine. ) Hoops had a twenty-spot and Scoops had a ten. There was some chatter back and forth between Team Oops, none of which I could understand or even hear for that matter. I did notice Hoops burrowing through her purse. And this went on long enough for the one-eyed door guy to start getting suspicious and judgmental. Then Scoops grabs Hoops’ twenty-spot, and the four quarters she collected from her purse. (We were gettin’ in this bar…no matter the cost.) Scoops then puts all of the money down in front of the door guy, and he goes, in that stupidly hilarious voice, with the stupid Scoops face, he says… “are (is) we (‘umm)  good?”

The door guy stares up at Scoops with his one good eye, which was his right eye I think. The patch was covering the left. Which means, in order to look at this intoxicated fart who just gave him too much money and who was also standing to his (the door guy’s) left, he (door guy again) had to shift his entire (fat) body around just to get his disrespectful glances in.

I giggled (noticeably),  grabbed the ten dollar bill, handed it to Scoops,  got stamped,  and headed into The Record Bar…

I was almost embarrassed.

First post of  ‘09.  And you bet your arse it could very well be the laaaaaasssst. Juss playin’…

Somehow, I began to lose motivation, as far as ‘Grits’ goes.  I don’t know why, but I did.  Still not motivated really.  I mean, en route to begin the posting of this new post, I was denied entry, like three (or more) times.  I couldn’t remember my password.  Yikes.  My hiatus, I cannot apologize for.   I have been working entirely too much.  I need to make a solid commitment to ‘Grits’.  My schedule is pretty set, at this point, so I am almost certain (about 16 percent) when I say that I am bouts ta squeeze in a few more servings of grits.*

*This might not be entirely true.

THIS REALLY HAPPENED…

I was at the bank to make a hefty deposit.   When I walked in, there was a very old white man with a long white beard and a walking stick, and a black woman, who I would assume was a crackhead, standing off to the side.  The old man ( did I mention he was wearing a one-piece, denim overall fit?  I think he was also dawning a blue mesh cap with the letters V-E-T stitched across the front. ) was yelling at the teller for reasons unknown.  He kept calling her a “trick” and in a very drunken manner.  Only he wasn’t drunk, he was just oLD n’ kRaZyIE ( I felt threatened at first, but then after another glance I realized that Hank could probably take this old geezer down ).  Then this old buzzard takes it a few more notches below the belt and says, (WARNING: EXPLICIT MATERIAL) “suck a f**k’n nut you trick.”  Realizing that her and her boyfriend (?) could soon be in handcuffs, the black lady says, “C’mon Dwight, C’mon Dwight,” and asks the manager if they could use the restroom before they left.  The old man’s name was Dwight.  Although, I never got her name.  As she was pulling him [Dwight] to the bathroom he yelled at the female teller again,” you stupid trick.  She’s gonna take ur money then run ur credit to tha ground” ( I guess this one was for me and the other customer).  The black lady then silences him. “Stop it Dwight.  C’mon Dwight.”  They were out of sight now and in the restroom (I’m pretty sure they went into the same one).  After about a few minutes of silence, and me wondering how I was going to remember all of what was happening, so to share it with the rest of you, he erupts one last time…. “tRIcK!??!$%@#?”

[There was a total of three employees there.  The  female teller who was getting disrespected.  There was a manager, male,  and another teller, also male.  These two just let this oldhead beat up on their fellow (female) employee.  Nobody did anything.  The two men just kept their heads down and minded theirs.  It was really pathetic.  Did I mention that these two assholes are probably in their late 40's or early 50's?  Maybe that had everything to do with it.  I was thinking about going up to Dwight and saying, "Alright Dwight, that's about enough."  I'm sure that would have gone over well. ]

The African-American woman then grabs him (again) in an attempt to get him out of the bank, as he was attempting to get a few more expletives out. Unfortunately he was too old and out-dated to form any interpretable terms or sentences.

During the walk back, I was trying to focus on key words for the story, and at the same time, trying to focus on not getting hit by a car or two.

…On the way to the bank, I passed a man getting out of this lemon, wearing a suit and tie.  He was carrying one rose and a box of Little Debbie Nutty Bars.

What were the chances of it getting any weirder than that?

Dass It…

n’ Dass All.