Some Silly Taco Bell Stories

Must...Get...Back...Into...The...Habit...Of...Blogging...

So here we go!


Impressive

I was taking orders at the second window, within earshot of Thaddus and a few other employees who were making the food. The customer wanted two separate orders, so I took both of the orders, repeated them back to ensure accuracy, and then said,

"It'll be $5.05 and $6.65 respectively at the second window."

The next thing I heard was the sound of Thaddus' jaw dropping as he exclaimed,

"Whoaaaaaa!!! Big word!!"

As I was saying the word "respectively", I was feeling proud that I used a word that added to the sentence so well, but I wasn't expecting any special reaction from anyone really. So the fact that Thaddus practically went into shock over hearing it made me feel like I had done something truly impressive, plus all of the employees who were nearby were amazed and in awe at my exemplary knowledge of the English language, probably because most of them only know a small handful of words in English (Break, Home, What, No, and to a lesser extent, Passport)

So my sarcastic response to Thaddus' remark was,

"I'm not an English major for nothin'!"

There's nothing quite like impressing someone with your extensive vocabulary only to follow up with a nice double negative. P-Dripple would be proud.


I...Uhh...

Customer: Do you have taco salads?
Me: Yes, we do.
Customer: Do they have lettuce in them?
Me: (Thinking to myself) Yes, hence the word "salad".
Me: (Aloud) Yes, they do.

Sometimes I wonder how much trouble I'd get in if people could see me while I'm taking their orders. I'm surprised my eyes don't roll right out of my head sometimes.


You Gotta Wonder...

A customer comes up to the drive-thru, gives his order, I take it and tell him to come to the first window. Naturally, he passes me and goes straight to the second window. One of the other employees over by the second window collects a $20 bill from the customer and brings it back to me, I make the change, and the employee brings it back to the second window only to find that the customer had left with his food already, minus his $8.01 in change. Hellllllooooo?!?


Too Much Information

Lady: (Orders some food for herself) ...and an order of nachos without cheese.
Me: Ok, so you just want a side of chips?
Lady: Yeah.

After I repeat her order and tell her what her total is, she drives up to my window, greets me, and says,

"The chips are for my dog."

I look at her, try my best to act mildly fascinated with this totally unnecessary piece of information she has just given me, and wonder who in their right mind would feed their dog tortilla chips from a fast food restaurant when you could just eat the dog and kill (pun intended) two hunger problems with one stone.


Too Much Information, Part Deux

A week or two ago, I stuck my head out of the drive-thru window and saw a moving truck illegally parked in about 4 parking spaces outside of the store. On the side of the truck was written the name of the business:

"Dungs Moving"

Needless to say, I was glad to hear it. I don't like being constipated either.

Random Humor Test Results

Thank you all for taking my test and putting up with my absence from blogging. I'm taking three literature classes this semester, 13 units in all, so I haven't had a lot of spare time to devote to blogging. But now I shall commence with the grading of the tests, and rest assured, I have some Taco Bell stories in mind for future blogs.


First of all, here are the correct answers to the test:


1. When was my first blog entry published?
a) January 23th, 2004
b) January 23rd, 2004
c) January 23nd, 2004
d) You have a blog?

2. What is the name of the famous caveman mentioned in my first blog entry?
a) Blog
b) Fluffy
c) Blarg
d) Shaquille O'Neal

3. When is my favorite time to start writing a blog entry?
a) As soon as I wake up, bright and early in the morning.
b) As soon as I wake up, bright and early in the afternoon.
c) After the sun goes down, ensuring that I don't finish until the wee hours of the morning.
d) Whenever the rubber chicken tells me to. (This is a trick. He doesn't tell me when to blog, I tell him when to blog. I'm just the pretty face behind the scenes. He's the real brains of this operation)

4. Who is my favorite superhero?
a) Superman
b) Radioactive Man
c) Mucus Man
d) That little Japanese Guy who can eat over 50 hot dogs in 12 minutes.

5. Choose the correct answer to this sentence: "Hi, would you like any hot or mild sauce?"
a) Yes, please.
b) No, thank you.
c) Yeah, I want a LOT of sauce.
d) Gee, your hair smells delicious.

6. Have I ever actually hit anyone with a tire iron?
a) Yes
b) No (Not yet...)
c) Once, but he deserved it.
d) Who hasn't?

7. What was my favorite TV show when I was a little kid?
a) Seseme Street
b) Sewing with Fran
c) Static
d) Wheel of Fortune

8. What is a "River Snake"
a) The name of a river.
b) The name of a snake.
c) Poop.
d) A special ingredient that rude customers get in their burrito. (Just kidding...or am I?)

9. I have never lost money from people trying to scam me at work.
a) True
b) False
c) All of the above
d) None of the above

10. I have been known to wear a piano at formal occasions from time to time.
a) True
b) False (I can't find one in my size)

11. Do monkeys really have pockets?
a) Yes, stupid.
b) No.
c) Of course, they need to put their Ex-Lax somewhere.
d) Yes, otherwise they wouldn't be able to use this pick-up line: "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
All answers are acceptable.

12. Fill in the blank: What is my tortoise's name? Floyd.

13. Fill in the blanks: Shya! And monkeys could fly out of my butt.

14. What is the most carbonated mountain range in the world?
a) The Rocky Mountains
b) The Himalayas
c) The Appalachians
d) The Sierra Nevadas

15. BEEEEEEEEEEEP?
a) BEEP! (Loosely translated: What?)
b) BEEEEEP! (Loosely translated: What did?)
c) BEEEEEEEEEP! (Loosely translated: What did you?
d) BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! (Loosely translated: What did you say?)

16. Fill in the blank: What is the absolute coolest rap persona ever created? P-Dripple of the Wet Side Slacks.

17. Which of the following is NOT an actual comment I received from one of my fellow college students about my story, Darkside?
a) I like how it is so suddle.
b) I like the honesty you can tell this character isnt completely sain.
c) Best...Story...EVER! (Though this would have been a cool comment to get)
d) I came in late to class and only herd 1/4 of it. and new what this story was aimin toward. Awsome delivery soft and the begging hard punch in the middle and smooth drive at the end.

18. What is that thing with the sauce on it?
a) Your guess is as good as mine.
b) The Quesadilla.
c) The Bean Burrito.
d) The Chalupa that one of the employees sneezed on. (One of the employees actually did this, and was about to try and cover it up and use it anyway, but I was appaled at that and made him throw it away and make a new one)

19. How old am I?
a) 4 (Mentally)
b) 15
c) 20 (Physically)
d) Whatever age my fake ID says I am.

23. Extra Credit: What number am I thinking of right now?
a) 3
b) 157
c) 1117
d) WRONG!!!
Congratulations to Isaiah for giving the best answer to this question, but he called me an idiot, so his answer is nullified.



So, according to my calculations, these are the results:

1st Place: Erica
2nd Place: Aaron
3rd Place: Isaiah
Most Creative: Beniy
Most Anonymous: Scot
Honorable Mention: Grace (Hey, you got 2 out of 2 right, you got a perfect score!)


Congratulations Erica!!! For your prize, you get a cookie. However, you must collect it from the "Keeper of the Cookies". Good luck getting it from him, I don't think he'll be very keen on giving it up...

Celebrating One Year of Random Humor

Yesterday, January 23rd, one year ago, was the day I started this blog with the main purpose of sharing some of my best writings-to-date. Little did I know at the time that it would develop into something that I would spend countless hours "working" on. However, once I started running out of previously written essays and stories, my blogs started getting more and more sparse, because I wasn't sure what to write about. There was even one time where I didn't blog for a month and a half.

But little by little, I started thinking of new things to write about, to the point where I would start having at least 5-6 fairly large blogs per month. I started writing about things that happened in my own life, from experiences at my job at Taco Bell, to getting my wisdom teeth pulled, to my studly tortoise, and many things in between. I began to realize this wasn't something I was just going to use to regurgitate old essays on, I was actually going to have to write and be creative on a regular basis! This threw a proverbial wrench in my normal schedule of writing creatively, the frequency of which fell somewhere between the range of "Never" and "Only When Forced".

But I have immensely enjoyed writing all 43 of my blog entries, this being my 44th. Looking back, I would never have imagined that I could have written all that I did. A few weeks ago, I went through and read all of my previous blogs, and thought of a potentially fun idea: Make an interactive test about the content of this blog where readers can use the comments section to take the test. It could have multiple choice, true/false, short answer, and fill in the blank questions, but knowing me, it wouldn't be your average test. So I put together a 22 question test, including one extra credit question for you overachievers, and without further ado, here it is...

Sean's Cumulative Examination, Measuring the Retention of One Year of Random Humor.


Directions:
-To take the test, click on the Comments link at the end of this blog, choose the answer that you think is correct for each question, and be sure to leave your name so I can recognize the people who do the best on my test in a future blog and possibly reward them with large cash prizes, and maybe a cookie! Oh, and by the way, just like any other public school test, cheating is not only condoned but recommended, because that way you have an excuse to read some of my classic blogs in order to find the answers. Good luck!


1. When was my first blog entry published?
a) January 23th, 2004
b) January 23rd, 2004
c) January 23nd, 2004
d) You have a blog?

2. What is the name of the famous caveman mentioned in my first blog entry?
a) Blog
b) Fluffy
c) Blarg
d) Shaquille O'Neal

3. When is my favorite time to start writing a blog entry?
a) As soon as I wake up, bright and early in the morning.
b) As soon as I wake up, bright and early in the afternoon.
c) After the sun goes down, ensuring that I don't finish until the wee hours of the morning.
d) Whenever the rubber chicken tells me to.

4. Who is my favorite superhero?
a) Superman
b) Radioactive Man
c) Mucus Man
d) That little Japanese Guy who can eat over 50 hot dogs in 12 minutes.

5. Choose the correct answer to this sentence: "Hi, would you like any hot or mild sauce?"
a) Yes, please.
b) No, thank you.
c) Yeah, I want a LOT of sauce.
d) Gee, your hair smells delicious.

6. Have I ever actually hit anyone with a tire iron?
a) Yes
b) No
c) Once, but he deserved it.
d) Who hasn't?

7. What was my favorite TV show when I was a little kid?
a) Seseme Street
b) Sewing with Fran
c) Static
d) Wheel of Fortune

8. What is a "River Snake"
a) The name of a river.
b) The name of a snake.
c) Poop.
d) A special ingredient that rude customers get in their burrito.

9. I have never lost money from people trying to scam me at work.
a) True
b) False
c) All of the above
d) None of the above

10. I have been known to wear a piano at formal occasions from time to time.
a) True
b) False

11. Do monkeys really have pockets?
a) Yes, stupid.
b) No.
c) Of course, they need to put their Ex-Lax somewhere.
d) Yes, otherwise they wouldn't be able to use this pick-up line: "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

12. Fill in the blank: What is my tortoise's name? ___________

13. Fill in the blanks: Shya! And _______ could fly out of my _______.

14. What is the most carbonated mountain range in the world?
a) The Rocky Mountains
b) The Himalayas
c) The Appalachians
d) The Sierra Nevadas

15. BEEEEEEEEEEEP?
a) BEEP!
b) BEEEEEP!
c) BEEEEEEEEEP!
d) BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

16. Fill in the blank: What is the absolute coolest rap persona ever created? _______________________.

17. Which of the following is NOT an actual comment I received from one of my fellow college students about my story, Darkside?
a) I like how it is so suddle.
b) I like the honesty you can tell this character isnt completely sain.
c) Best...Story...EVER!
d) I came in late to class and only herd 1/4 of it. and new what this story was aimin toward. Awsome delivery soft and the begging hard punch in the middle and smooth drive at the end.

18. What is that thing with the sauce on it?
a) Your guess is as good as mine.
b) The Quesadilla.
c) The Bean Burrito.
d) The Chalupa that one of the employees sneezed on.

19. How old am I?
a) 4
b) 15
c) 20
d) Whatever age my fake ID says I am.

20. Short Answer: What would be a good name for the Rubber Chicken that sits on my desk?

21. Short Answer: Out of all of my blog entries, which one(s) is/are your favorite(s)?

22. Short Answer: What do you like most about my blog?

23. Extra Credit: What number am I thinking of right now?
a) 3
b) 157
c) 1117
d) WRONG!!!

Taco Bell Stories Aplenty

The last two days at work have been rather enjoyable. And I can think of only two words to describe why: Happy Hour. I...uhh...oh wait. Wrong job. What I meant to say was: Crazy Customers. That's right. Those two little words can make the difference between a fun day at work and a boring day at work for me. Anyone can be a normal customer at a drive-thru restaurant. But few customers are actually worthy of earning the title of "Crazy Customer", for it takes a special type of person to be able to set dignity aside and make a fool out of himself for my entertainment. And if they are lucky, they are bestowed the honor of having their story immortalized into eternal blogdom. And now, enough with the formalities, lets get to the stories!!!


Taco Bell Story #1 - "Clueless"

I am at the first window, collecting the money for an order. A truck pulls up to the menu, and Miguel takes his order at the second window. As I finish giving the change for the first order, I look out the window and see the truck stopped about 5 feet farther than he should have been. The driver is yelling his order at the speaker which is several feet to his left. Then, amazingly, when Miguel reads his order back, the man cannot hear Miguel very well, probably because the speaker is pointed at his rear tire.

So after Miguel repeats his order in vain, the man pulls up to my window, and asks me to repeat his order. So I comply, and the following conversation begins between us...

Note: The words in parenthesis are the thoughts which are going through my mind as this conversation progresses.

Him: Can I add a drink?
(No.)
Me: Sure.
Him: Iced tea?
(Here we go...)
Me: We only have Raspberry iced tea, is that ok?
Him: Oh, is that flavored?
(It's uhh...raspberry flavored. Duh?)
Me: Yeah...
Him: Oh, well give me a Diet then.
(Because you're a pansy?)
Me: Ok. It's $11.14.
Him: *Starts to drive away to the second window*
(Oh good, he's leaving, I...wait a second...)
Me: *Yells* You pay here!!

At this point, he had already driven forward about 5 feet or so. He tried to back up, but another truck had already placed an order and was behind him on his tail. So he sat in his truck for 20 seconds or so getting his money out, and finally opened his door, walked over to my window, and said...

Him: Here's $11.05. Keep the change.
(Gee, I'd love to, if you had given me more than the actual amount you owe!!!)
Me: Uhh...Ok, whatever.

At that point, I really didn't care about losing 9 cents. It was a small price to pay to get him out of my drive-thru.


Taco Bell Story #2 - "Listening Skills"

Again, Miguel was taking an order at the second window, and when the customer seemed to be done with his order, Miguel asked:

Miguel: Anything to drink?
Customer: No, just a medium Pepsi.


Taco Bell Story #3 - "Nice Try"

Last Friday, Miguel was joking around with me and he asked if I wanted to join the army since one of our former employees left to do just that a few months ago. I said, "No, that's ok," and he laughed and stopped asking me shortly thereafter.

Later on in the night, business was slow, so I was talking with Miguel to pass the time, and into the dining room come three army guys dressed in their military attire. Miguel and I just looked at each other and laughed. Miguel made some comment like, "They're here for you!"

To make things easier, these three guys will be called Guy 1, Guy 2, and Guy 3.

So I take Guy 1's order while trying not to laugh too much, and sure enough, as soon as he finishes, he looks at my name tag and says:

Guy 1: So Sean, you ever thought of joining the army?
Me: *In a casual, nonchalant tone of voice* No, not really.

When I said that, Guy 2 burst into laughter. Guy 1 looked back at Guy 2 and gave him an incredibly menacing look as if to say, "Shut up! My commanding officer says I need 4 more recruits or else I'll be a test subject for an army experiment entitled "The Human Pincushion".

Guy 2, recoiling from the look Guy 1 gave him, replied, "What? That was funny!"

They didn't ask me if I wanted to join the army anymore after that. Lucky them.


Taco Bell Story #4 - "An Odd Fellow"

This time, I'm taking orders at the second window, and another cashier, Tony, is collecting money at the first window. I take a man's order, he pays, and comes to the second window. He is a fairly regular customer, and is quite eccentric and loud. His wife/girlfriend is sitting in the passenger seat, and is usually with him when they come through the drive-thru. I give him his food, he asks for more sauce, I give him more sauce, and he asks me what my name is. I tell him my name is Sean, he gives me some generic compliment, and takes off.

A couple of hours later, I am still taking orders at the second window. I take a man's order, but I cannot see who it is. When he is done ordering, the man says:

Man: Hey Sean.
Me: *confused* What's up?
Man: Hey, you're doing a great job, keep up the good work.
Me: Uhh, thanks...

I have no idea who it is, so I go over to the first window thinking it's one of my friends, and see that it's the same guy as before. I greet him by saying:

Me: Back already?
Him: Yeah, I brought my other girlfriend.

So being the curious person that I am, I looked in the truck at the person sitting in the passenger seat, and saw someone different than the lady who was there 2 hours ago. In fact, he looked quite different than before.

Now, I realize that the driver was most likely joking, and I thought it was pretty funny that he had just called another man his girlfriend, and that the "girlfriend" guy had a rather nervous expression on his face when he heard his "friend" call him that. So I went with it.

Me: Oh! She's quite a looker!

Both of them laughed at that one, and I was so deafened by my own wit that I didn't really hear what he said in response to that, but drawing from my past experiences of taking that guy's orders and talking with him, I'm pretty sure I didn't miss too much. At least he didn't ask for more sauce the second time around, because I forgot my tire iron at home. (If you get this joke, congratulations! You are a Sean's Random Humor Veteran! If you don't get it, looks like you've got some studying to do before the big test that's coming up...that's right, you don't think that this blog is all fun and games, do you?)

Warning: Do Not Read This Blog

First of all, a formal belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all. And if any of you don't celebrate Christmas or are Chinese, my humble apologies, but get over it. I'm not politically correct.

For Christmas, one of the presents I received from my parents was an iPod Mini. For those of you who don't know, an iPod is a fancy MP3 player (If you don't know what that is, you're probably Amish, so what are you doing using a computer to read this blog in the first place?) that is made by Apple Computer. Yes, I know what you're thinking, and no, amazingly, it doesn't suck. It can hold up to 4 GB of music, or in layman's terms, more music than any normal person could ever want to listen to. And that's just the mini version. The regular iPod holds as much as 40 GB of music, or in layman's terms, you'll go deaf before you listen to all the music you can put on it.

So the iPod is revolutionary in the sense that it can hold so many songs, is relatively hassle-free, and costs about a hundred dollars more than it's worth. Plus, you can buy some really laughable accessories for it, like an iPod holder for your car cupholder. Now all of your troubles are over! Instead of just harmlessly putting your iPod in the cupholder itself, you can spend $39.95 and place this device in your car cupholder, set your iPod on it, and spend the rest of your time staring at the stupidest purchase you've ever made.

I have around 400 songs on my iPod Mini right now, and it's only half full. And I have to say I'm very pleased with it so far. Though honestly, I was a little wary of it when I first installed the iPod software on my computer and read the disclaimer:

"THE APPLE SOFTWARE IS NOT INTENDED FOR USE IN THE OPERATION OF NUCLEAR FACILITIES, AIRCRAFT NAVIGATION OR COMMUNICATION SYSTEMS, AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL SYSTEMS, LIFE SUPPORT MACHINES OR OTHER EQUIPMENT IN WHICH THE FAILURE OF THE APPLE SOFTWARE COULD LEAD TO DEATH, PERSONAL INJURY, OR SEVERE PHYSICAL OR ENVIRONMENTAL DAMAGE."

Wait. So what they're saying is this thing costs $250, and you can't even use it to operate a nuclear facility?!? Great, just great. And what good is an MP3 player if you can't use it to power a life support system? Oh well, money buys less and less nowadays it seems.

But seriously, how litigious are we if a company has to write something like that on a disclaimer for a device that solely plays music? What idiot would use an MP3 player to operate air traffic control? I suppose I could see them being used as a last resort by air traffic controllers instead of those little flags since the iPod Mini comes in lots of different colors, like blue, green, pink, orange, strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, tutti-frutti, oh-rutti, a wop bop a loo bop a lop bam bam. But besides that, I see no reason to write such an insane and irrational disclaimer. Just say, "If you use this device for anything other than playing music, and something goes wrong, we are not responsible for your ignorance, stupid."

And this isn't just specific to Apple Computers either. Not even close. My mom bought one of those incredibly soft and comfortable pillows with the miniature beads inside of them, and it had a tag on it. On the tag, the very first line read:

Warning: Do not use for sleeping.

And then, a few lines down, it said:

• For decorative purposes only.

Again, maybe I just don't understand the retarded mentality behind this, but it seems to me if you buy an incredibly cozy pillow for $10, you aren't just buying it for its looks. Most people don't buy pillows just to set them aside and stare lovingly at them, wondering what it must feel like to rest their head on it. You buy a pillow to sleep on it for goodness sake. What happens when you're really tired, and the only pillow nearby is the pillow of forbidden sleep? Will you be brave enough to defy the almighty tag and willingly refuse to heed its dire warnings? Or will the suspense be so great that you must succumb to its will and put off slumber until you can find a non-decorative pillow that is actually designed for sleeping?

Who cares? I'm going to sleep.

Breaking News!!

Over the last couple of days, Southern California has been fiercely hit by the most dreaded duo of natural disasters: Long Waiting Lines to Return Unwanted Christmas Presents, and The Realization That California is Going to Slowly Sink into the Pacific Ocean If We Don't Get in Shape After All The Food We Ate During the Holidays. Wait a minute, those are man-made problems, and trivial ones at that. Actually, SoCal has been recently battered by this catastrophic couple: Rain and Wind.

That's right, once again it has rained in California, causing great discomfort and inconvenience to the locals who just took their Urban Onroad Hummers to the car wash. And not only was there rain, but it was accompanied by its good friend, wind, which caused several innocent branches and leaves to dismember themselves from their tree sweet tree and to all be hurled seemingly on top of my car. I guess the next time the only available parking space lies below a dirty tree, I'll just park in the middle of the street. That'll teach those trees to thoughtlessly trigger their tree trash to tumble. (WooHOO!! 12-word alliteration extravaganza!)

Actually, by California's standards, we're experiencing some pretty heavy rain and strong winds. However, by the rest of the world's standards, we're just experiencing some light sprinkling and a slight breeze, also commonly known as "God's Sneeze". I saw on the news that a tornado actually touched down in Inglewood a few days ago. They were classifying it as the weakest type of tornado possible in terms of size and intensity, yet it was still the top story on the news today. In the rest of the country, it would most likely be dismissed by most people and classified as a "Drip N' Draft" or a "Bad Hair Day".

I think this is California's way of trying to feel sorry for itself, because we don't have any real problems to complain about. Even our earthquakes are usually nothing compared to some of the big ones throughout history in Japan and especially the recent disaster in Asia. In fact, California has absolutely nothing to worry about. The only natural disaster we have hanging over our heads is the fabled big earthquake that is supposed to happen anytime now. It's supposed to be the earthquake to end all earthquakes, the biggest one in California's history, so naturally, it was given an extremely clever and momentous name: "The Big One".

If you ask me, I think that "The Big One" is just an elaborate scare-tactic used by seismologists in order to keep their jobs in demand. They know there's no huge earthquake coming anytime soon, so they just make up a bunch of information like "seismic readings" and "scientific facts" and pass them off as the truth. And each time they predict that "The Big One" will occur, they are always wrong and they get one step closer to becoming as unreliable as the weatherman.

So until we get hit by "The Big One" and finally receive our time in the disaster spotlight, we have to make a big deal out of a little rain and wind - meanwhile, the rest of the world is laughing at us for being wimps, while they are being swept away by a 50 foot tidal wave which was started by an earthquake that measured 16.7 out of a possible 1-10 on the Richter Scale and which is propelled by a hurricane consisting mostly of air, water, smallpox, and several rusty chainsaws...while walking uphill through 40 miles of snow...AND THEY LIKED IT DAG-NABBIT!!!!

After such an occurance, for example, the Indonesian news would probably casually mention towards the end of the newscast that there was a small oceanic disturbance earlier today which was caused by a slight shifting of the crustal region accompanied by some minor drizzling, modest winds, premature pimpling, and minimal loss of limbs.

On a typical Californian news channel, that exact same event would be the tragic top story. It would look something like this:

Anchorman: Our top story tonight: A tidal wave of death and destruction wreaked havoc today. It was caused by the biggest earthquake in the history of mankind, which opened up great gaping chasms and swallowed innocent civilians alive. Those who managed to not be swept away by the tidal wave or kept from being eaten alive by the earth were carried up into a massively powerful hurricane which was believed to have the ability to cause your body to break out in festering sores and had the superintelligence to manufacture heavy yet shoddy machinery. The end is near people! You must listen to me!! We haven't much time!

Speaking of listening, I am reminded of something that happened at work a few days ago in the drive-thru. I was ready to take the order, but the lady wanted to ask me a question first...

Lady: Do you have bottled water?
Me: No, we don't.
Lady: Ok, I'll take 3 of those.

Obserlizations and Generavations

After having worked at Taco Bell for over two years now, I feel like I am pretty well qualified to make some generalizations of certain types of customers that I have noticed. Please remember that I mean no harm by these and that they are simply for entertainment purposes. If at any point you find yourself being insulted by my words, please punch your monitor in anger and get over it.

There are at least four major ethnic groups that come to Taco Bell. I'm sure there are more, considering the fact that Southern California is home to what seems like approximately 20 billion different races, most of which have either eaten or worked at McDonalds. You know it's getting bad when you pull up to a drive-thru restaurant and see things like "Baba Ghanoush" or "Khau Kalash" on the menu, and you are asked if you would like some hummus with that.

The four major ethnic groups that I see in the drive-thru are:

1. White
2. Black
3. Asian
4. Mexican

Let's start with the whitey-tighties. White customers span a broad range of the social structure, from rich to middle-class to poor to Wal-Mart Employee.

Many times, white drive-thru customers are distracted by many things, including kids, cell phones, driving, eating, putting on makeup, trying to find the location of their wallet/purse, trying to remember to ask for more mild/hot/fire sauce than they'll ever use, etc...

Cell phones, however, seem to be one of the main distractions for most white male and female customers, as you can see by this fictional dialogue of a customer pulling up to the drive-thru:

Customer: *talking on cell phone* Yeah honey, I'm on my way to pick up your industrial size pantyhose...I'm at the drive-thru right now...I'm at Taco Bell...No I didn't pick up Timmy yet...No I don't think you look fat...Honey, really, I've gotta go now...I have to order my food...No I'm not getting you twenty tacos...What do you mean it's just a light snack? That's enough food to last me a week!...Yes, I know it's glandular...Ok, I need to order now...BYE!

Me: *sleeping*

Customer: Hello? Hellllllo? Hello?!?!

Me: Hi, welcome to the Taco Bell Phone Booth, how can I help you?

Next, we have our black customers. One thing I've noticed that is almost always true about them is that they love anything that is not good for them. They will ask for extra meat, extra cheese, extra sour cream, extra everything. Sometimes I think we should offer little packets of Crisco instead of taco sauce for those people who just aren't getting enough cholesterol in their diet.

Also, black customers will often ask for fruity sodas, like Fruit Punch, Hi-C, Lemonade, Orange, Purple, OranguTang, and other sugary drinks. So basically, black customers will typically order the most unhealthy, cholesterol-filled, and/or sugary food they can get their hands on.

Coming in at number three are the Asian customers, or should I say, Asian customer. For some reason, many Asians do not pronounce the letter "s" when it used at the end of a word to show plurality. This can make it especially hard for the person taking their order, because on top of the lost "s", Asian accents are not the easiest accents to understand sometimes, so this oftentimes results in some greatly botched orders.

Fictitious Example:

Customer: I want two taco, three burrito no onion, two cheese "qwessadilluh", and two coke.

Me: Ok, what size Pepsi's did you want?

Customer: No Pepsi! Coke!!

Me: We don't have Coke.

Customer: Ok fine, two medium Pepsi.

Me: Ok, so I have a taco, a green burrito with no onions, a quesadilla, and two medium Pepsi's.

Customer: NOOO!!! Two taco, three burrito, two quesadilla, two Coke...or Pepsi!

Me: Ok, would you like any hummus with that?

Last but certainly not least, we have our good friends, the Mexicans. Oftentimes, Mexican families are very big and have a lot of mouths to feed, so they come to the drive-thru looking for a lot of food, and even more hot sauce. And since they are coming to a Mexican restaurant, many times they are under the false impression that the drive-thru order taker can speak fluent Spanish. Take myself for example. I can speak enough Spanish to take most orders, but when they start using really complicated vocabulary and phrases, sometimes there can be some problems.

Customer: Me da tres burrito supremes sin cebollas, un taco con crema, dos tacos suaves con pollo, y dos Cokas medianas sin hielo. (Give me three burrito supremes without onions, a taco with sour cream, 2 chicken soft tacos, and two medium Cokes without ice.)

Me: Algo mas Senorita? (Anything else Ma'am?)

Customer: Yo soy un hombre!!! (I'm a man!)

Me: Lo siento Senor! Me encanta su perro! (I'm sorry sir! I love your dog!)

Customer: Mande?!? (What?!?)

Me: Me gusta bailar. (I like to dance.)

Customer: Da me mi comida! Andale! (Give me my food! Hurry up!)

Me: Salud! (Gesundheit!)

Lastly, I have one pet peeve that I have come to realize over the years, and it isn't specific to any particular race of customers. I hate it when people lick their fingers in order to separate their money. I mean, I can understand how it does help, and it's fine if people can do it while controlling the amount of saliva they are spreading around that dollar bill which I am going to have to touch. But what I hate is when people generously lick their thumb, as one would do if there was some spilled BBQ sauce on it, smear it all over the bill, and eagerly hand it to me as if they think I'm just waiting to touch their dinero drool.

In fact, I'd prefer that they smear BBQ sauce on the money instead. At least that way I could have something to eat while I'm waiting to go on my break.

How To Age 5 Years In 5 Seconds And Still Look Young

Last Tuesday, I was talking to one of my bosses at work, Reyna. I don't remember what we were talking about, but at one point, she asked me how old I was. This is how the conversation went:

Reyna: How old are you? 15?
Me: *raises eyebrows*
Reyna: 16?
Me: *blank stare*
Reyna: 17?
Me: *blank stare*
Reyna: 18?
Me: *starts to laugh*
Reyna: 19?
Me: *shakes head*
Reyna: 20?
Me: Do I look 15 to you?
Reyna: *laughs* Well, I don't know.
Me: I'm 20.
Reyna: *looks surprised* Really? You look younger.


Maybe that's why kids seem to be magnetically drawn to me, because I look so young that they think I'm one of them. I even took out my wallet and showed Reyna my driver's license, because she didn't believe I was 20.

I guess I should be flattered, but I'm just confused as to why she started at 15. Taco Bell doesn't even hire at 15, unless they are illegal aliens with fake IDs, then it's fair game.

In fact, other people at my work have asked me what high school I go to. And when I tell them I'm in college, they are surprised that someone as wacky as I am at work can sit still long enough to even attend clown college.

Speaking of college, did I mention...?


THE SEMESTER IS OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SCHOOL IS OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!! PARTY TIME!!!!!!!!!!!! EXCELLENT!!!!!!!!!!! WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO *PICK SLIDE*

Illiteracy For Dummies

Let me preface this by saying that I love to read and write. I taught myself how to read at an early age, and though I haven't been reading as much as I would like lately, I still enjoy the experience of reading a book cover-to-cover, which is the style nowadays. I've enjoyed writing since 11th grade, when I wrote the poo-flinging monkey story, and I've been writing more seriously ever since I started this blog, which was nearly a year ago.

I guess I just have a knack for reading and writing. I don't know how else to explain it. All I know is, I must have something at least remotely special, because from what I've seen in my creative writing class this semester, reading and writing does not come naturally to a lot of people.

Take for instance our good friend, who will henceforth be called Evian. Or should I say, evïaN?Evian's writing talent has been mentioned on this blog once before, in my "The Grammar Police are on Duty" blog. He is a bright young man in my class who wrote the following educated comment about my short story, Darkside.

He wrote: "I came in late to class and only herd 1/4 of it. and new what this story was aimin toward. Awsome delivery soft and the begging hard punch in the middle and smooth drive at the end."

So when I heard that Evian was going to have his own short story read in class, I simply couldn't wait. And believe me, it did not disappoint. Well, grammatically, it was a travesty and an insult to the entire English language and all things sacred, but in the terms of being nonsensical and absolutely laughable to read, it did not disappoint.

Before I get to the main point of this blog, I just wanted to share some actual quotes from Evian's story, and analyze them. Rest assured that I have proofread these and they appear on this page exactly as they were "written" by Evian.

"We awoke in the morning so tired from the week we woke up at 12:00pm we went to hike up to a mountain that was only 20 minutes from the cabin and we toke two roles of Film in each camera we had two."

"We awoke in the morning so tired from the week"
OK STOP!!! The sentence actually makes sense up to this point, and is grammatically correct, more or less. Actually, compared to the rest of the story, this is a Pulitzer Prize quality sentence. But no, Evian had to continue on...

"We awoke in the morning so tired from the week we woke up at 12:00pm"
Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but since when did 12:00 pm, AKA "noon", become "the morning"? I was under the impression that 12:00 pm was the start of a time of day called "the afternoon", also known as when Sean prefers to wake up. Personally, I don't think that the day should start until 12:00 pm, to ensure that all us night owls get enough sleep every night. But like I say, sleep is for the weak.

"We awoke in the morning so tired from the week we woke up at 12:00pm we went to hike up to a mountain that was only 20 minutes from the cabin"
It is unfortunate that poor Evian had to type this masterpiece on a computer that was made before punctuation was invented. Otherwise, this essay might actually make an itsy-bitsy, teensy-weensy, itty-bitty, teeny-weeny bit of sense.

"...and we toke two roles of Film in each camera we had two."
First off, if you write like that, film isn't the only thing you're toking. I guess all that talk about film and cameras made Evian confused and thought he was talking about movie roles for a second. And why he took the time to capitalize Film when the rest of the sentence is already beyond repair baffles me.

Although I am impressed that he stayed in the past tense throughout the entire sentence. I'll give him that much.

As if that sentence wasn't bad enough, it is time for quite possibly the most ambiguous sentence ever written, courtesy of Evian.

"The wolf made a weird growl like two snowboarders around November I knew it was close to Christmas."

I love this sentence. Let's take a look at this as it is literally written.

First off, we have the wolf. The wolf made a weird (very descriptive word choice there, Evian) growl. The growl sounded like two snowboarders. Not only did it sound like two snowboarders, but it sounded like two snowboarders during the month of November, implying that snowboarders make different growling noises depending on what month it is. Because the narrator knows what the weird growl of two snowboarders in November sounds like, he is able to discern that Christmas is close, because he is also equipped with the knowledge that Christmas occurs sometime around the month of November.

Believe it or not, Evian wrote a 7 page double spaced story, with sentences just like those. What's even more amazing is that he actually figured out how to include double spacing in his paper when he can't even figure out how to use a comma.


Which brings me to my point. How can people get so far in school and yet be so ignorant when it comes to writing a simple sentence that doesn't contain glaring errors such as these? So I thought about it. I think the reason is that they goofed off too much in their earlier years of education, so that if and when they actually get to college, they are so far behind that they are actually more ignorant now than they were several years ago. So I think I may have come up with a solution.

Continue teaching English classes in junior high and high school for the few students who actually come to school to learn. But, in addition, for the less motivated students who maybe don't do as well in their English classes because they don't take the time or effort to do the work and learn the material, require them to take a class in the ever-growing field of Illiteracy. In this course, students will be taught how not to read and write, and they will be assigned homework requiring them to not read or write at all.

Now, you may be wondering what my reasoning for this is. As you know, students hate homework, just like cats hate dogs, fat people hate stairs, democrats hate republicans, ignorance hates knowledge (What? I didn't mean anything by putting those last two sets right next to each other! How dare you suggest such a thing!), and so forth. And if you are a fat democratic teacher who loves dogs, I'm sorry, but no one likes you.

Anyway, my reasoning for wanting courses in Illiteracy taught in school is that the students who don't do their work in school will be totally thrown off by this class. Their rebellious nature will become so confused because they want to do the exact opposite of what the teacher wants, but in this case, the teacher wants them to learn poorly and do nothing, so what are they going to do? Naturally, if they truly want to keep their rebellious allure, they'll have to do the opposite of what the teacher wants. That means they have to learn the correct way to read and write, and to practice reading and writing outside of class since their assigned homework is to not read or write.

Because you see, teenagers, for the most part, are idiots. And seeing as how I'm now 20, I can finally say this without insulting myself. I hated being associated with the word teenager, because it had such negative connotations that I didn't follow, like hating your parents and doing drugs for example, and I didn't like being blindly put in that generalization since those things didn't apply to me.

But anyway, back to my plan. Since teenagers are too busy trying to act cool, and since rebelling is cool, they'll get so caught up in rebelling that before they know it, the semester will be over and they'll have done more homework and learned more in their Illiteracy class than in all previous grades combined. It's almost too simple.

And for the people who don't feel the need to rebel in order to be accepted, they can continue on taking their normal classes and learning their way to college, so they can be the ones laughing at the "cool" rebellious kids who have suddenly made the awkward transition into "stupid" young adults. I'm so glad I'm not cool.

Adolescence

Last Tuesday, my two plays that I wrote were acted out in front of my creative writing class. "Meet the Blogs", and "Adolescence". I have never heard my teacher laugh so hard during the entire semester as she did when "Meet the Blogs" was read and acted out by a few of the students. She was laughing uncontrollably during a few parts. She said that she loved the Volkswheel part, and she really cracked up at the "stoned" part. Gee, I wonder why? At the end of the Blog play, the whole class let out a long, "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww".

The entire class really enjoyed both plays, and I had several students come up to me during the break and after class to say how much they enjoyed them and how good they were and how funny they were. One of the girls who acted out the Blog play told me how easy it was to read.

So, before I say anything more about my second play, Adolescence, here it is.


Adolescence

While walking around the grounds of a local middle school, three friends are talking. Fred, Billy, and Wayne have known each other since elementary school, and have hung out with each other nearly everyday for the last several years. They are still at that tender age where they are trying to figure out how to be cool and accepted by others, especially girls, yet, like most teenagers, they don’t have the slightest clue about how to be “cool”.

Billy: So…what did you end up doing with all those goose feathers?
Wayne: We chased down that Johnson kid when he was riding his bike home and glued them on him.
Fred: Stupid nerd. He got what was coming to him...Always wearing those stupid glasses.
Wayne: Yeah seriously, we should have made him eat the feathers instead.
Billy: Why do you guys always pick on little kids like that? What did he ever do to you?
Fred: He breathes my air, doofus. I don’t share my air with nerds.
Wayne: Yeah, he’s a little punk, he wouldn’t let me copy his homework today, so Mrs. Bungmeyer sent me to detention for not turning in my 17th straight assignment.
Fred: And I saw him eating an apple the other day. An apple! Give me a break, I’m surprised his mom doesn’t follow him around school so she can change his diaper too.
Billy: What’s wrong with apples?
Fred: Apples are fruit. Fruit is nerd food. If you eat apples, you are a nerd. Do I need to draw you a diagram?
Wayne: Hey look, there’s Donna!
Fred: Oooooh, she’s wearing that red shirt again.
Wayne: Are you ever going to ask her out?
Fred: Oh come on Wayne, she isn’t the type of girl you just ask out.
Billy: What do you do then? Wait for her to ask you out?
Fred: No dingwad, if I just went up and asked her, she would probably say no. She doesn’t know me well enough to understand the Fred Charm.
Billy: The Fred Charm? Are you kidding?
Fred: What Billy? You think you can get a date with her?
Wayne: Billy couldn’t get a date with a calendar.
Fred: Haha, burn!!! High five!
Wayne: Shya!

Billy: You guys don’t think I could get a date with Donna?
Fred: Billy, let’s put it this way. Donna is a majestic blue ocean, and you’re pond scum left over from a rainy day.
Wayne: Whoa Fred, where’d you come up with that gem?
Fred: It’s the Fred Charm baby. Whenever it kicks in, it makes my vocabulary…bigger…by…a lot.
Billy: Uh huh…
Fred: What’s your problem Billy? Just because I’m a super stud doesn’t mean you have to be jealous.
Billy: How can you be a super stud if you’re too much of a pansy to ask out Donna?
Fred: Who’re you calling a pansy? You’re just a stupid dinglewuss know-nothing.
Wayne: Hey now, let’s keep the profanity down to a minimum here guys, no need to get all excited over nothing?
Fred: Billy’s dissin’ my manhood dude, he called me a pansy.
Billy: Oh get over it Fred, Donna doesn’t want to date a crybaby.
Fred: Don’t make me beat the snot out of you Billy. You know I can too.
Wayne: Come on Fred, anyone can beat up Billy. He’s half the size of anyone in sixth grade. Even the girls push him around sometimes.
Billy: Can we just drop it and move on?
Fred: Once you say that I am a super stud.
Billy: (sarcastically) You’re a super stud.
Fred: You didn’t mean that!!! Say it like you mean it, or I’ll give you a dreaded Rear Admiral.
Wayne: *gasps*
Billy: You wouldn’t dare.
Fred: I’ll do it if you don’t say it.
Billy: Y-Y-You’re a s-super s-s-stud.
Fred: Scream it at the top of your lungs.
Billy: YOU ARE A SUPER STUD!!!!
Wayne: Fred! Donna looked over!
Fred: Oh crap, act cool, act cool. Be calm…
Wayne: Dude, she’s coming over here.
Billy: What’s the matter super stud? Got your panties in a bunch?
Fred: Shut up, durfwad.

Donna: Hey guys, what’s up?
Wayne: Hey.
Billy: Hi.
Fred: H-H-Hiiiiiii…
Donna: *looks at Billy* So, I hear you’re a super stud.
Billy: Wha? I…uhh…
Fred: NOO!! I’m the super stu…I mean, uhh, hi, my name’s Fred.
Donna: *keeps looking at Billy* Uh huh. So, what’s your name?
Billy: Billy.
Donna: Billy? I like that name. I’m Donna.
Billy: That’s a nice name too.
Donna: Thanks! You’re so sweet.
Billy: I, uhh, like your shirt too.
Donna: Do you?!?! Red is my favorite color! Say, do you want to come over to my house after school and hang out for a while maybe?
Billy: Sure, that would be cool.
Donna: Ok great, I’ll meet you outside in the amphitheater after lunch.
Billy: Ok…bye.
Donna: Bye bye Billy. *leaves*
Fred: *mumbling* You piece of monkey puke…
Wayne: Way to go Billy!!!
Fred: …kill you and your stupid name…
Billy: Thanks Wayne, I can’t believe that just happened!
Fred: …rip off your arm and shove it…
Wayne: So what do you think you’ll do at her house?
Fred: …twist it so far you’ll have to have it surgically removed…
Billy: I dunno, maybe watch a movie, go get something to eat.
Fred: …never walk the same way again…
Wayne: That’s so cool dude!
Fred: …dogs will look at you and run away whimpering…
Wayne: Fred! What are you mumbling about?
Fred: Oh, nothing.

Billy: He’s just jealous. Don’t mind him.
Fred: Shut up turdmeister.
Wayne: Billy and Donna sittin’ in a tree…
Fred: Shut up dorkwang.
Billy: Well, looks like I’d better get ready to go on my DATE with DONNA.
Fred: I’m gonna beat you so hard…
Wayne: Ok, bye Billy, have fun man.
Billy: See ya Wayne, farewell Fred. Don’t wait up. *leaves*
Wayne: Don’t worry Fred, there will be plenty of other girls for you. You’re only 13.
Fred: Only 13? You mean, I’m already 13 and I haven’t even had a girlfriend yet!
Wayne: I’m 14, and I haven’t had a girlfriend.
Fred: Yeah, but I’m a super stud, and it’s different, and…*trails off*
Wayne: Life goes on Fred.
Fred: But why does my life always have to suck though? I hate being a teenager.



My class actually liked this one more than I expected. I wrote this play rather quickly. I basically just came up with an idea and started writing, and in less than a couple of hours, I was finished.

They really laughed at the whole "apples are nerd fruit" part, Fred's uncharacteristic metaphor, and Fred's mumbling. When Donna ended up ignoring Fred and going for Billy, a few girls in the class gasped and got all excited. And at the end of the class, if you remember my blog about the comments I got from my Darkside short story, the "Flaming Cross" guy stood up and said, "Sean is busting out this drama stuff...A+ for that man!"

I guess you could say...

*In a Garth voice* "I like to write."

Meet The Blogs

It is finally finished. My first screenplay, written for my creative writing class. It will be acted in front of my class this coming Tuesday, and I will make a blog with reaction from my classmates when that happens. This took way too long to write. I hope you enjoy it!


Meet The Blogs

Narrator: After a hard day working in the local cavern, Blog the caveman returns to his cave. He lives in prehistoric times (the Stone Age to be exact) with his wife, Blogerella, and their daughter, Blogetta. Blog is of less than average intelligence, Blogerella is his overly critical and nagging wife, and Blogetta is their talkative teenage daughter. The scene begins as Blog enters the cave…

Blog: Hullo dear.
Blogerella: Blog!! Did you wipe your feet before you came in the cave? You got mud all over the dirt!
Blog: Blog sorry, Blog step in doo-doo.
Blogerella: Well, get the broom and clean it up.
Blog: Yes dear.

Narrator: Blogetta enters the cave.

Blogetta: Hi Daddy, hi Mommy, I…eww, what’s that smell???
Blogerella: Your father stepped in a brontosaurus burger.
Blogetta: Ohh Daddy, not again!
Blog: Blog no fall in this time.
Blogetta: Eww, I remember when that happened. Mom wouldn’t let you in the cave for two weeks! Your stench withered the plants in the garden!
Blogerella: Not to mention scaring half of our neighbors away.
Blogetta: I know!!! How was I supposed to get a date when my dad was sitting outside the cave, covered in dino dung?
Blogerella: There there honey, you’ll find someone soon enough.
Blogetta: Yeah right, I’ll probably end up with that guy who throws rocks at pterodactyls for fun…what’s his name?
Blog: Bloggo, he have good aim. Blog try to throw rock one time, but Blog miss and hit neighbor’s Volkswheel.
Blogetta: That’s nice dad. Anyway, I’ll see you guys later. I’m going to a rock concert with my friends and afterwards we’re gonna go get stoned.
Blogerella: Excuse me young lady?? What do you mean by “get stoned?”
Blogetta: C’mon Mom…Getting stoned is slang for a game I play all the time with my friends where one person has to avoid being hit by small rocks that are thrown by everyone else. It’s not like we have any good games to play – it’s the Stone Age. Why? What did you think it was?

***************

Narrator: Later that night, Blog and Blogerella are sitting at the dining room rock, having an argument.

Blogerella: …and if you don’t clean up that mess right now, when I’m done with you, you’ll need to see a roctologist to remove all the boulders from where I’m gonna stick them!!!
Blog: Yes dear! Blog go clean up now!!

Narrator: Blog leaves the room. Blogetta enters the cave.

Blogetta: Guess what?? I have a boyfriend!
Blogerella: You have a boyfriend???
Blogetta: Yeah!!! Isn’t it great?!?
Blogerella: Who is he?
Blogetta: I…uhh…well, he’s really nice, I met him tonight.
Blogerella: Uh huh, and what is his name?
Blogetta: His name? Well, umm, his name is…umm, Flog.
Blogerella: FLOG?!!?!!?
Blogetta: Yeah…he’s really not as bad as you think…
Blogerella: Not as bad as I think?!? Flog is a rocksucker! He beat my pet saber-toothed kitty with a stick and then drank the mammoth milk I put out for her.
Blogetta: Well, he is a little immature at times, but…
Blogerella: At times? I saw him moon a triceratops once! I’ll bet he learned his lesson after that one though. That poor dinosaur’s horn got lodged in so far that it nearly broke off when…
Blogetta: Oh Mom!!! That’s disgusting!
Blogerella: I know it is honey, that’s why I don’t think you should be dating him.

Narrator: Blog enters the room.

Blogerella: Blog! Our daughter wants to start dating Flog.
Blog: Blog no like Flog. Flog throw rocks at Blog all the time. Bad Flog.
Blogerella: Yeah, see? C’mon Blogetta, you can do better than Flog.
Blogetta: I knew you guys would act like this. Just because he’s a little different doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.
Blogerella: He’s more than a little different. He has a boar tusk nose piercing! He even braids his armpit hair for crying out loud!
Blogetta: Yeah well, so he is a little eccentric…
Blogerella: He eats raw woolly mammoth eggs, shell and all.
Blogetta: Eww, really?
Blogerella: I even saw him drinking out of the tar pits once.
Blogetta: Hmm, maybe you’re right Mom…
Blog: She always right.

***************

Narrator: The next day, Blog goes outside to go hunting for dinner. As he hunts, he chants this prehistoric song to himself.


Blog: Blog go hunting for triceratops
So family can eat dino chops
Blog run up to try and hit it
Blog no look and fall in a pit

The pit wasn’t so bad per se
Except for the spot where Blog lay
Piles and piles of dung
This’s where it gets flung

Blog escape from pit and decide to go hunt brontosaurus
Less chance of ending up with a horn wound and a sore ass
But Blog realize brontosaurus are big
They make Blog look like a little twig

Maybe Blog will go hunt something smaller
Instead of hunting something much much taller
Blog better hurry up and get something fast
Then maybe Blogerella will be happy at last

Narrator: Blog returns home to his cave after the sun has set, carrying something indistinguishable in his arms. He is greeted by Blogerella. Blogetta is also in the room.

Blogerella: You stupid Neanderthal! What could you have possibly been hunting that it took you all day?
Blog: I bring many tasty stones for you to cook your famous Rock n’ Casserole.
Blogerella: And it took you that long to bring home a few measly rocks?
Blog: But…Blog…
Blogerella: But nothing! I have had it up to here with…
Blogetta: Mom, why are you always so hard on Dad? He always tries his best and I think that you should be more understanding of him and less critical and negative.
Blogerella: Who asked you? This doesn’t concern you!
Blogetta: Yes it does Mom, I’m a part of this family too. And there are better ways to solve problems than yelling and criticizing.
Blogerella: I don’t have to listen to this. I can’t believe it, my daughter is telling me how I should live my life. Since when did you become Miss-Know-It-All?
Blogetta: I’m just saying you’ll get a better response from Dad if you stop yelling at him. I don’t even remember the last time I heard you say “Thank you” when he did something for you, or even a simple “I love you” from time to time.
Blogerella: That’s because he never does anything for me besides screw things up!
Blogetta: Come on Mom, you know that’s not true. Look, all I’m asking is that you’ll try to be more positive with Dad. Congratulate him instead of criticizing him. If he does something wrong, help him learn the right way to do it, instead of yelling at him for being ignorant.
Blogerella: (Sighs) Okay fine. Blog, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ll try to be more understanding and positive with you in the future…I…love you.
Blog: Blog love you too.

In Cest We Trust

Sometimes I forget whether I live in Huntington Beach, California or Hicksville, Louisiana.

Case in point, I had a customer come through the drive-thru yesterday and order a chicken grilled stuft burrito with nacho cheese in it. He came up to the window and said the following to me:

"You gonna put that nacho sauce in there right? I like the cheese, I just can't have the chips because I ain't got no front teeth."

First of all, I'm loving that double negative. Second, after he said that, he opened his mouth and flashed me a very disturbing smile where he gave me a front-row view of his toothless upper gum, as if he thought I didn't believe that he ain't got no front teeth, or maybe he thought I needed further visual aid in order to get his dilemma across to me. In any case, I'm scarred for life. You would be too if you had this leering at you a mere couple of feet from your face.






I done seen you starin' at mah tooth!

The Grammar Police Are On Duty!!

About a week ago, I wrote my first attempt at a "serious" short story for my creative writing class. It is entitled Darkside, and you can read it if you haven't already by scrolling down past my last two recent posts. Today, it was read out loud in class by a girl who volunteered, since my teacher doesn't allow the authors to read their own story in class. I had to make 25 copies of the story so each student could have one to read along with and make comments on.

We spent from 11:30 AM until 12:10 PM on it. The girl read it, and then the teacher and my classmates discussed it and made comments about what they thought of it. Afterwards, everyone gave me back their copies so I could read the comments they wrote.

First of all, while it was being read, the class was pretty much silent while they listened and jotted down comments on their copies. Everyone was pretty much engrossed in the story as far as I could tell. And then we got to the part where the main character sat down to watch some television.

At first, with the Jerry Springer excerpt, only a few people chuckled, because not everyone was fully aware that this whole half of a page was put in as comic relief to give the reader a chance to relieve some tension, or to wake up and yawn, whichever. Then the soap opera excerpt drew a few more people into laughter, as they realized what was going on. And then the knife infomercial excerpt was read, and the whole class just became unglued. My teacher was laughing so loudly that the girl who was reading the story was drowned out, and she had to stop reading for a second because she was laughing too hard also.

So yeah, it is a "serious" story in that its overall plot is serious. But because I wrote it, it can't possibly be 100% serious. And I guess my class liked it, because they were discussing and praising it for nearly half an hour. One older student came over to me and said, "I thought yours was the best one of all the stories we've read." And there were just a whole lot of good things said about the story in general, and I really enjoyed hearing all their different perspectives.

Now, on to the more personal comments that my classmates wrote on their papers. Please bear in mind that this is a college level English course, therefore I assumed that most of the students enrolled in the class have at least a decent grasp on basic English grammar, and the English language in general. I had no idea just how wrong I was.

These are actual comments written by actual students on the actual copies of my actual story. I have meticulously copied everything exactly as it was written by the students. Have fun.

"I came in late to class and only herd 1/4 of it. and new what this story was aimin toward. Awsome delivery soft and the begging hard punch in the middle and smooth drive at the end."

"Dude, I loved the story. I loved the ending even more. Its hard to write about things using the first person perspective, bravo. Crazy to think something like that can actually happen. But yeah great dialog and once again awesome ending. Jesus Rocks." (And then he drew a picture of a cross with flames shooting out of it from all sides)

"I can see his point of view. Good persceptive."

"Good Beginnig"

"Your writing is very witty and I like that. This story scares me though! That this could happen maybe even from drugs - A lot of other people never even think of that - I like your message of awakeness." (Awakeness?)

"I've been waiting for a person to say all this! Thank You!" (Someone wrote this next to my TV excerpts part)

"it was a good story it was unicue and creative I hope their is no truth in it. I liked it :)"

"I like how it is so suddle" (Nice phonetic spelling...)

"The story leaves people wondering about wether or not such a possibility is possible + about the important things in life...which is the sign of a good story!" (Hmm, a possible possibility...)

"I like the honesty you can tell this character isnt completely sain"

"Does street monkey pay very well?"

"Right f*ckin' on!" (A girl underlined street monkey and wrote that above it, except it wasn't censored. Then, at the end of the story, she drew 2 crosses and in the middle of them wrote, "AWESOME". She must be a sweet and moral Christian girl...)


2 students underlined the part where I wrote "cherry-red Porsche" and wrote "Nice car" next to it. Yes, they were both guys. In fact, they were the same two guys who wrote the first two comments above (The guy who came to class late, and the "Jesus Rocks" guy). Great minds think alike, no?

Also, the girl who read my story out loud (and I must say that she did a really good job too) wrote this on her paper at the end of the story:

"I wasn't expecting that @ all. I love your story and the weirdest thing...recently, I found out what my "void" was as well. =) "

Taco Bell Stuffs, and Things to Come

If you know me, you know I like to see people ask/do/say stupid things, because it makes me laugh, and I like to laugh, hence the reason I write this blog. And tonight at my work, a customer took the proverbial cake for the Taco Bell Award for:

Winner of the Award for the "Stupidest Question Ever Asked"

I was at the first window tonight where I collect the money, juggle rolls of paper, twiddle my thumbs, and sleep. My manager, Reyna, was at the second window, taking orders. A lady came through the drive-thru, and was looking at the menu, trying to decide what to get. I could hear some inaudible whispering going on as the driver was talking to someone else in the car to try and figure out their order. After 15 seconds or so, the lady pipes up and asks Reyna a question.

"What's that thing with the sauce on it?"

As I peel myself off of the ground from laughing, I realize Reyna has finished taking the order, so I collect the money, and turn around to see Thaddus, my other manager, walking towards me. I meet him halfway, look him in the eye, and ask him, "What's that thing with the sauce on it?!?!?!!?" He just laughs and says, "That's half our menuboard."

If you ever want to make a drive-thru restaurant worker's day, stop by and make a total fool of yourself so we can laugh at you. C'mon, what was that lady thinking? Anything? Could she possibly have been anymore vague? Can anyone ever top that level of ignorance? I suppose only time will tell...

_-^-_-^-_-^-_ (Nice topic break, eh?)

At Taco Bell, we have tray liners which are pieces of paper that cover the dine-in trays to avoid contamination or something. I mean really, is a thin piece of paper going to protect you from anything? If there's some big ugly germ festering on the tray, it's not going to be deterred by a flimsy piece of paper. It will just laugh at you as it seeps through, jumps on your food, and makes its home in your intestines for the next month.

Another thing, that piece of paper gives people the impression that the tray is no longer just a convenient plastic barrier between your food and the table. It is now a trough with a replaceable covering that gives them implied permission to toss all manners aside and go nuts. Not only that, but the entire restaurant turns into a squalid farm where you can finally fulfill all your piggish fantasies. Suddenly, you become too lame to find one of the 7 trash containers in the store and are forced to throw your trash on the ground, or leave it on the table next to you thinking no one will be the wiser. You leave spilled taco sauce, soda, burrito squirtings, half-eaten food, and other inhuman messes for someone else to clean up. You begin to enjoy wallowing in your own crapulence, you notice a curly tail sprouting out of your behind, and you discover that the only audible sounds you can make are "Oink, oink, OINK!!!!"

Anyway, here's an interesting tidbit about the tray liners. They advertise the steak soft taco and have pictures of some of the ingredients that come on it. And there is a slogan in Spanish written on the lower right-hand corner of the paper. It reads, "No solo de pan vive el hombre". For those of you who don't remember your Spanish too well, or were foolish enough to take one of the joke foreign language classes in school, like French, Pig Latin, or Geometry, it means "Man shall not live by bread alone".

Now, I know Taco Bell means something else by it, but when I first read it, I thought about how interesting it was to see that at my work. Too bad they didn't finish it..."Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God" (Matthew 4:4). So Taco Bell is using it as a slogan to try and get more business, oh well. Maybe someone like myself will read it and be reminded of the Bible verse it comes from and be inspired by it.

_~-~_~-~_~-~_

Lastly, my story, Darkside, has not been read in class yet. Hopefully it will be this coming Tuesday though, and I will update with how my class liked it. Also, I am in the middle of working on a 3 minute play for the same class. I had a writer's block while trying to work on it, so I decided to come blog. Go figure. I will post it here when I am done with it in a day or two. I don't want to give too much away (considering I haven't gotten too far on it yet anyway), but lets just say it involves our good prehistoric friend, Blog the caveman. It will also be read outloud in class. I can't wait.

Who Needs Drugs?

So today, an hour before I went to work, I had a big slice of double layer chocolate cake that my mom made during one of her routine cake-making celebrations. These usually fall somewhere between her brownie-baking bashes and her pie-cooking parties. In other words, almost never.

But that's understandable. She has to work 12 hours days, which in the nursing world, means from 7 AM until a) All your patients have either died or escaped, or b) It's getting close to that time where the hospital has to pay overtime, so you'd better get your butt outta here...I don't care if you're in the middle of giving that old man a sponge bath, you can bathe our elderly patients on your own time if you care that much! What do you mean he isn't a patient?

Anyway, I had that piece of chocolate cake. And for the first time in quite a while, I was reminded of the simple joys of a sugar high. I got to work, and I was practically running from place to place, my hands were shaking, I was jumping up and down, bouncing off the walls, whistling, talking loudly, and just being extremely hyper and happy. I had the energy of a four-year old and some to spare. Not that I'm not energetic normally, it's just that I felt like I had my personal energy tank filled with Liquid Schwartz. But, just like there's a downside to every Schwartz, no sugar high lasts forever. (By the way, if you haven't taken the hint already, go watch Spaceballs. Right now. Well, after you finish reading this.)

So it occured to me that sugar could be the answer to many of life's problems. Don't get me wrong, I have lots of fun at my job, but having that extra energy boost really made things a lot more enjoyable during the couple hours I had my sugar high. Maybe you should try it sometime. Just eat a bowlful of sugar before going to work and see how much differently you act.

Something else I don't understand...when I was a kid, I ate candy like there was no tomorrow, and never got a cavity. As I got older, my candy eating days grew shorter and less frequent, especially when I got too old to go trick or treating anymore. I loved to go trick or treating, but I used to hate it when some little old lady would answer the door and ask you some smartass question like, "Aren't you a little old to be trick or treating?" But hey, that's why God made toilet paper, eggs, and fragile pumpkins.

But somehow, even though I ate less candy than when I was younger, I still managed to get my first cavity a few years ago, as my little diagram illustrates the progression of events:

Increase in Age ---> Decrease in Candy Intake ---> Baby's First Cavity

My mom said it's probably because my teeth don't have the same protection from cavities as they used to when I was younger. Personally, I think my diagram holds the real answer. The reason I got a cavity was because I ate less candy, so my teeth were not able to build up a candy-based cavity-immunity from other harmful cavity-causing substances, like celery and spinach. So to all you soon-to-be parents out there, let this be a lesson to you. Learn from my mistakes. Never let your kids stop eating candy or sugar, unless you want them to have poor cavity immunity. Season your food with powdered sugar, stuff your Thanksgiving turkey with Milk Duds, spread icing instead of butter on your bread, make a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and Jelly Sandwich, and never ever drink milk without chocolate syrup. Just be creative. Soon you'll be confectioning like a pro. Be sure to invite me over for dinner.

Oh, and speaking of sweet... (Check out the nice Paint editing)


Happy 17th Birthday Erica!!!!!!!!

Darkside - A "Short" Story

This is a short story I just finished writing yesterday for my creative writing class. It will be read outloud in my class by a volunteer (The author is not allowed to read his own paper) either Tuesday or Thursday. Once that happens, I will update this post with the reactions I receive from the class. Until then, enjoy the story. It is my first real attempt at a "serious" short story, so it was a real learning experience for me.

DISCLAIMER: This story is 8 pages long when double spaced, so if you have a short attention span, please take this opportunity to set aside the next 5 minutes of your life and glue your head to your monitor so you will not get distracted while reading it. I appreciate any comments you might have since short stories are new writing territory for me, and I can use any advice I can get. I hope you enjoy it...


Darkside


“Good night Anna.”

“Good night Dr. Stevens. See you in the morning.”

Anna is a good secretary - very organized, prompt, and reliable. She was the only one who didn’t make a pass at me during her interview. I do all the job interviews myself, seeing as how I’ll be working with them five days of the week, and considering how this is my own practice – Dr. Russ Stevens, Psychiatrist. That’s right, I’m a head doctor. My job is to deal with all the loonies of this world and somehow alter their self-perception to the point where they swear I’m a genius and practically throw their pocketbooks at me. I’ve always liked helping people, even if they are stark-raving mad. In fact, that just makes it more fun. I’ve always been proud of being level-headed, rational, and sober-minded, and I think that rubs off on my patients and is part of the reason my practice has been so successful.

I am 29 years old and have been told I am rather physically attractive, but I am not married nor am I looking. After having to listen to so many stories of heartbreak and ruined relationships in my six years of practice, I am of the belief that having a significant other just isn’t worth the emotional baggage.

I get into my cherry-red Porsche and drive away towards my house. I live alone in a nice neighborhood in Southern California, in a gated community. My house is big enough to comfortably have another person live in it besides myself, but not big enough to make it seem lonely or empty. I park my car in the middle of the 2-car garage, and enter the house from the adjoining door. I look at my watch. It reads 8:37 PM. I am not physically tired, just mentally tired from having to converse with so many patients today. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have such an easy job. All I have to do is listen to and talk with people. But what if I had some ball-busting-manual-laboring-type job, like a construction worker or a street monkey? Although I suppose even those jobs have their upsides…I could go on disability the minute after I break my legs from falling down an open sewer, or possibly after getting hit by a wrecking ball, and never have to work again. Ah, the tough decisions we have to make throughout our lives. I decide to grab a bite to eat, and go to bed.

As I lay in my bed, I think to myself. I think of myself as being a rather witty and smart person, always using humor to my advantage to get the best of any situation. But there’s a part deep inside of me that just feels empty, like I’m missing out on something critically important in life. I’ve been trying 29 years to fill that void with alcohol, drugs, women, work, school, anything - I’ve tried it all, and nothing has filled it for more than a few fleeting moments before it empties out and makes the void even deeper. Sometimes I wonder how I ever made it as far as I have. Sometimes I feel like I should be the one lying on the couch listening to the psychiatrist, instead of the other way around. Don’t get me wrong. I am a happy person. I enjoy life and am generally a nice person; it’s just that everyone has a dark side to them.

******************

I wake up, drenched in my own sweat; my heart feels like it’s trying to rip itself out of my chest. I look at the clock that sits on the nightstand next to my bed; it reads 11:57 PM. I have just been disturbed from my sleep by a recurring nightmare that I have been having at least once a night, without fail, for the last eight years…

My older brother Jason and I went to a local club, the Drug N’ Chug, to celebrate my 21st birthday. It was his idea. I didn’t know at the time since we were never very close, but Jason was dropping acid and doing other dangerous drugs on a regular basis, and he brought some acid with him to the club that night. Jason and I both dropped the acid together. This particular trip, combined with all his previous brain-alterations, caused his brain to short-circuit as he freaked out at all the excitement and activity inside the club. He pulled out a knife and just began slashing at anything, and anyone, within reach. The last thing I remember before passing out was seeing my brother being restrained and beaten to submission by the club security. I don’t remember much else about that night, but I remember waking up in a hospital bed, my shirt and jeans covered in someone else’s blood, and having a nurse tell me that my brother was dead. It was at that moment that I decided I would never try to fill that void inside of me with drugs again.

The recurring dream I have been having that has just woken me up again tonight was a short reenactment of that moment, only I am the one wielding the knife. And the part that scares me the most is that I have this leftover feeling of bloodlust and rage each night I wake up from the dream, and I really enjoy the feeling, even though I know I could never do something like that in real life. I wipe the sweat off of my brow, and return to sleep.

“Aggghhhh…”

A painful groan escapes my lips as I roll over onto my side to look at the clock. The luminous red lights say that the time is 8:13 AM. It’s too early. I roll back over onto my back, and in the process, I discover that not only am I exhausted, but my entire body is aching. I try to sit up but a sudden pang shoots through my abdominal muscles, encouraging me to stay right where I am. I place my hand on my stomach and discover I am wearing a T-shirt, even though I don’t remember putting one on when I went to bed. As I feel the shirt, I notice that it is a little damp on the front. As I lift off my covers to inspect it, I let out a scream.

The entire front of my white T-shirt is dark red, saturated with what looks like blood. Momentarily forgetting about my soreness, I quickly jump out of bed as if it had suddenly burst into flames, and discover that I am fully clothed – with a bloody T-shirt, a pair of jeans also complete with blood stains, and a pair of my old tennis shoes. I lift up my shirt to see if the blood is my own, but I have no lacerations that would constitute that amount of blood; however, I notice several bruises on my stomach, and as I inspect myself further, I find many other bruises and small cuts along the length of my body. Baffled, I try and remember what happened last night. I think back to my haunting nightmare, and wonder to myself if just this once, somehow, it hadn’t just been a dream.

******************

Unable to accept the notion that somehow I may have done the unthinkable last night without even having the slightest memory of it, I stumble out of my room into the living room, and plop myself down onto the couch. Still dressed-to-kill so to speak in my bloodied attire, I turn on the television to try and take my mind off of my worries and suspicions, not to mention my aching body.

“…walked in on mah girlfriend and I done saw her getting’ it on wit’ mah cousin, and…”
Jerry Springer, what a load of crap. I change the channel.

“…right Chet, we need to tell Bubbles that she is carrying your child…”
Soap operas. Seriously, who watches that crap and thinks up those names? Those writers need to be fired. Next channel.

“…demonstrated, this revolutionary knife can cut through shoes, bricks, telephone poles, bowling balls, and even this slab of cement! Watch how easily it *SNAP* …oops. Bill, is it supposed to do that?”
Idiots. I could sell elephant dung in bulk better than those numbskulls could sell that flimsy knife. I never realized how much daytime television really sucks. One more channel.

“…police say they have obtained the license number of the suspect’s car from a witness and are in the process of tracking him down. Witnesses describe him as being a white male, in his 20’s or 30’s, of average build and height, wearing a light-colored T-shirt and jeans. The name of the bouncer who was murdered at the Drug N’ Chug has not been released to the public yet.”
I turn the television off and set the remote down on the couch. It couldn’t be. It must be a coincidence, a horrible coincidence. My head starts to spin and I become disoriented. My head suddenly feels extremely heavy, as if my neck can no longer hold it up, and I rest it on the back of the couch. I wish I had someone to talk to.

******************

I am awakened by a loud rapping at my front door, and I hear someone yell, “Police, open the door now!” This is not happening. I pinch myself to try and wake myself up from this dream, but the very real pain greets me as I realize that in fact, this is no dream, but is surely a real life nightmare. I am still wearing my bloody shirt and pants. I’m as good as convicted if I open the door right now. I decide my only option is to get out of sight, and quick. I run as fast as my body allows me into my room, open the closet door, squeeze in amongst my formal suits and shirts I have to wear everyday, and close the door.

Seconds later, I hear a loud crash as the wood that used to be my front door shatters. My heart races as I hear footsteps pounding their way through my house. I hear voices shouting to one another, but I am too scared and confused to make any sense out of them. Soon enough, I am able to catch the tail end of an exclamation, “…out, we will release the dog.” Oh great, just what I need - bite marks to go with my bloody clothes and bruised body. I figure I’ve been through enough today, so I open the closet door, stick my hands in the air, and surrender myself voluntarily.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak with an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your rights?”

“Yes sir,” I replied to the officer who had placed the handcuffs on me.

“Do you know why you are being placed under arrest?”

“No sir, I do not.”

“You don’t? Well, why don’t we ask your shirt?”

“I don’t know where that blood came from.”

“Probably from the bouncer you murdered at the Drug N’ Chug last night.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what you did.”

I didn’t. I don’t remember a single thing about last night besides the dream I had. I’ve read of people experiencing altered states of consciousness where they are awake but are unaware of their actions. But most of those people are druggies or mentally retarded or both, and I am neither. Could it be that my job is finally getting to me? After hearing so many stories of things that have gone wrong with other people’s minds, has my own mind lost its grasp on what is reality and what is fantasy? Being a construction worker doesn’t sound too bad right about now.
I arrive at the police station a short while later. After what seems like an eternity, I am brought into a small room presumably for questioning. A short and stocky man enters the room a few minutes later. He introduces himself as Lt. Perkins, and says that he will be conducting the questioning.

“Mr. Stevens, where were you last night at 2:10 AM?”

“In my bed, sleeping.”

“Is there anyone who can verify this?”

“Just myself.”

“I see. And how do you explain the blood stains on your shirt and pants?”

“I…can’t explain them. I don’t know how they got there.”

“Oh, well let me enlighten you. According to the police report and witness testimonies, you were seen at the Drug N’ Chug last night at 2:10 AM. Apparently, you drove there, parked your car in front of the club, walked up to the bouncer standing at the door, and stabbed him with a knife repeatedly. In case you don’t know where all those bruises on your body came from, you apparently took a pretty good licking from the other bouncers who were trying to restrain you, before you were able to get in your car and drive off. Fortunately for us, a witness remembered your license plate number, and we tracked you down in no time.”

“If you’re so sure I did it, why am I being questioned?”

“It’s standard procedure. If you’d like to forego the questioning and proceed right to jail, be my guest.”

And so I did. I was sent to jail for a murder I have no memory of ever committing. Some quack later diagnosed me with a neurochemical imbalance thereby supposedly explaining my altered state of consciousness. It seems like just yesterday I had everything I could ever want – A good job, a big house, lots of money, a fast car. It amazes me how fast it was all taken away from me on that infamous night. It made me think of how fleeting life is, and I started wondering if all those material things in life were really worth wasting 29 years to get when they could be taken away in an instant. I began to wonder if there was more to life than just pleasing oneself. And then it dawned on me. I remember one of my patients telling me once that she was a devout Christian and that whenever there was something wrong in her life, she would pray a certain prayer, called the Jesus Prayer, and it would fill her with hope and help her through her daily struggles. That concept has baffled me up until this point in my life, but I think I’ve finally found the thing that I’ve been searching for to fill that void in my life with…

“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”