Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: fashion

Winter Is Coming

How do I know? School supplies are edging out the sunscreen at Walgreen’s.

SEEN ON T-SHIRTS

“Scream While You Can While We Rip You To Shreds.” That’s what this country needs–more hostility. I assume this sentiment was promoting a video game, because it was worn by a nerd I couldn’t imagine ripping anybody to shreds.

Black t-shirt with bald eagle, except the eagle was red, white and blue: “I Couldn’t HEAR You Over the Sound of My FREEDOM.” Well, why is your FREEDOM so fackin’ LOUD?

A black t-shirt featuring a Native American smoking a joint, and the exhaled smoke turned into galaxies and stuff.

“This Is What Epic Looks Like.” Epic looks like a skinny girl with pink-tipped red hair. Of course, these days, maybe her name was Epic.

And a guy in a neon-orange t-shirt and camo cargo pants. Apparently he only wanted his upper half to be seen.

THIS JUST IN

Fiona and Archer are now 7, and are into metaphysics.

Fiona: “Everything has a shape.”

Archer: “Not God. He’s everywhere.”

F: “OK then, well, everything has a color.”

A: “Not a black hole. It has all the colors.” Wouldn’t it actually have none of the colors? I don’t know. I’m no physicist. Or metaphysicist.

CRISIS IN PROGRESS: CRIME IS COMING TO A LAWN NEAR YOU

I promised Trexa I would tell this story eons ago. And you’d think I would have, since I’m always whining about lack of material.

Trexa woke up one day recently and saw that part of her lawn was brown, but in a weird pattern. She called the lawn service to come out. Pointing it out to the guy, she said, “It almost looks like some design, doesn’t it? Maybe like a scissors.”

The lawn guy said, “Or…something.” He was hesitant to tell the nice lady that a drawing of male genitalia had been etched on her lawn with weed killer. Apparently vandalism (or, as the law calls it, Criminal Mischief–I’ve always liked that term, along with Maintaining a Common Nuisance, which is what they charge you with when other people were doing drugs in your house, but you weren’t doing them yourself) (and it’s great to be a former 911 dispatcher, so no one will wonder how I know all this) with Round-Up has become a thing.

 

 

 

 

 

Inflation Will Get Us All

First off, my thanks to whoever read, um, 37 previous posts on the 13th.

The inflation I speak of is not the financial sort (that would be boring, though accurate), but creeping slippery-slopism in other areas.

FASHION INFLATION

An ad on Facebook said, “We’ve perfected the no-show sock!” I commented, “What’s wrong with socks, that you want no one to know you’re wearing them?” but went unanswered. Yes, I’m the only person who can’t start an argument on the Internet.

Once upon a time, no-show socks (we called them “footies”) were solely worn by women. Now they are routinely worn by men, including fashion icons like Nick. Socks have now become unmentionables, except for…wait for it…WITH SANDALS, BY MEN. This used to be the sole province of nerdy old men, but now young men do it too. I’m not sure what weather conditions would call for sandals with socks. Of course, I’ve asked the same question about wearing a sweatshirt with shorts, and got the answer, “Because it’s cute.” If you say so.

This isn’t inflation-related, but why do the same women who obsess about panty lines not care if their bra straps are showing?

I had another example of cultural inflation, about something other than fashion, but I can’t remember it. Perhaps I will do so in the future.

COSMO ASTROLOGY, 1983

Romantic Rendezvous for Scorpio–“On the deck of an ocean liner, during a storm at sea.” Really? “All hands on deck! Just work around these two people doin’ it!”

I’m Gonna Complain

…inspired by a woman on the bus, who used “Well, I’m not gonna complain” to wrap up a lengthy complaint.

WAR ON WORDS UPDATE

Yes, it’s not just a war on parts of speech. I saw an ad for cottage cheese that said, “A Whole New Way To Cottage.” By which they meant, “to eat cottage cheese.” Because who has time to say two more words? We’re approaching point-and-grunt territory. Speaking of which, I saw a game on Facebook–“Write the name of a band using only emojis and let us guess who they are!” See, a means of communication shouldn’t make me have to guess what you mean. I don’t think the Sour Neon Crawlers could be represented solely by emojis.

Courtesy of Rom: “The erupting volcano in Guatemala is called Volcano del Fuego. As opposed to…?”

Also courtesy of Rom, things that have been forever ruined for me…

“Old Rugged Cross”= “On a hill far away stands an old Chevrolet”

“Ring of Fire” = “I keep a close watch on this heart of mine. I hold my pants up with a piece of twine.”

And the auto-parts place–“When the name is Napa, the quality’s crappa.”

LETTING US LOOSE IN SOCIETY

There is an autistic guy working at McDonald’s (I know this because he says so), who reminds me of myself at his age. He was telling a work buddy, “Yeah, I’ve tried applying for other jobs, but at the end of the interview I tell them, ‘I’m autistic, just so’s you know,’ and I never get a callback.” Oh, dear, as Nick would say. (This phrase inserted for the sake of Nick, whose eyes well with tears whenever a post of mine doesn’t mention him.) Now, I never applied for jobs at fast food places when I was his age and looking. They all knew me as that weird customer. Black biker t-shirts! Big rings! And other stuff that doesn’t go with glasses!

 

 

 

 

 

I Remembered To Show Up

…belatedly.

OBSERVATIONAL HUMOR

…is what Rom says this is.

Brought to you courtesy of Nick, who showed up at my door on my birthday with a gift bag full of apple ale clenched in his teeth, before flying away. The bag was black and had scratchy glitter on it. I suspect this was deliberate. Have you noticed that such bags always have the scratchy glitter on one side, but are smooth on the other side, so that glitter doesn’t rub off on your clothes? Why do I always have to touch the glitter anyway, even though it makes me shudder?

I have had 2 cans of ale (my normal dose), which makes me want to spend money on something self-indulgent. Last year it was green-and-white gingham shorts, but I resisted the temptation. (I love green-and-white gingham, and plaid with a black background. These prints give me a feeling of security. They’re like the opposite of the Baby Corn and the Union Suit. Anyone remember those? Check the posts under Conspiracy News for more info.)Now am tempted by some Keds in Iris Shimmer, and an Almond Cucumber perfume sample, even though I tried the AC perfume before and it didn’t work for me. Almond and cucumber are my comfort notes (kind of like the Magic Prints noted above), so I keep thinking, But it has to work! Sometimes perfume just refuses to cooperate.

OK, I hit some key that keeps deleting stuff I didn’t intend, and I don’t know what I hit, so I can’t correct it, and that is why the above paragraph is incorrectly punctuated.

SONG LYRIC ANALYSIS–MOODY BLUES

“Schoolwork, one and one is two

But you know that now that’s just not true”

Yes, it is true. Your ingestion of LSD does not affect its veracity.

AND THE DOORS

Rom says that “When the Music’s Over–turn out the lights” makes him think, “turnip delight.” You’re welcome. I hope I can forget that before I listen to it again.

Today is the 2nd anniversary of Alien Finger, which is celebrating by being stiff and sore, which I suppose is appropriate. I keep reading about people who dislocate a finger, pop it right back in, and it’s good as new. What’s their secret? Youth, probably.

Today is Pentecost, which makes me think, “Here he comes to save the day! That means the Paraclete is on his way!”

Long ago, my cousin Becky (hurray for Facebook and cousin Linda, who helped me discover cousins on the Forbidden Side of the family!) asked me, “Do you miss working?” After long thought, I can say I sometimes miss having a job (a Purpose in Life and all that, though I never thought of 911 as that purpose), but I don’t miss having that job. As I think every time I go by Dispatch on the bus and think, Glad I’m not answering phones in there.

IT HAS TO BE CLASSY, IT HAS CARPET–TACO JOHN’S

I visited this fine establishment on Cinco de Mayo. Since it was Saturday, I had church, and couldn’t go to Hacienda and have a strawberry daiquiri, which would have been the logical thing to do. Although people might have been drunk at St Boniface Church before.

Taco John’s has been around since 1969, although Rom can’t remember it the year he graduated from high school. The identity of Taco John is mysterious. I imagine him being kind of like Johnny Appleseed.

TJ’s is the only carpeted fast-food place I know of. Like the Women’s Hospital, the addition of carpet adds a certain cachet. It’s almost like you’re at home, except that someone cut into your abdomen. At the hospital, I mean, not at Taco John’s.

My softshell taco was very good, especially since the clever person who assembled it added a tuck-and-fold technique that meant I didn’t have to balance it carefully to keep everything from falling out the end. That must have been a Cinco de Mayo special, though, since it has fallen out the end every other time I’ve been there.

Ah, Potato Ole’s. The old Mexican classic of disc-shaped Tater Tots sprinkled with Lawry’s seasoned salt. Cinco de Mayo marked the first time I have ever finished an order. And if you put cheese on them, you are gilding the lily. And if you put bacon bits, donut bites, icing, and chocolate on them and EAT THEM FOR DESSERT, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

TJ’s has a senior discount of 10%. I forgot to add discount information when I wrote about Taco Bell, but that was because I got 10% off there once, and the next time I requested it, the manager said they didn’t have a discount. Maybe I just looked too young.

LEGGINGS AS PANTS UPDATE

I am actually not against leggings as a lower half, as long as you wear a butt-covering top. But today I saw a woman who did wear a butt-covering top, but then knotted it up in the back, because she got dressed and thought, “Oh no! Now no one can see my butt!”

Speaking of entities trying to defy me, the roses in my yard, which normally bloom in mid-May, burst into glorious bloom simultaneously on THE DAY AFTER MY BIRTHDAY.

Spellcheck thinks “donut” is not a word. I don’t know what to tell it.

WordPress has an icon in the corner that says “Stress-Free Writing Experience.” I have to find out what that might be, but I am too stressed-out at the moment. As is Alien Finger.

 

 

Dreaming is Free

…to quote Blondie. Speaking of which, the song “Rip Her To Shreds” always reminds me of Nikki the Tragically Hip. I can just picture her being in a band and singing that.

WordPress is inviting me to attend a “Word Camp” near me. That sounds scary. Luckily, “near me” is defined loosely.

YOU KNOW THE PEOPLE IN THE BOOTH BEHIND YOU AT MCDONALD’S ARE NERDS WHEN:

First topic of conversation: What you should trade your PS4 in for. The fact that you should trade in your PS4 was not open to question. (Note: I only know what a PS4 is because of South Park.)

Second topic: “I think Cambridge Analytica should be in trouble, not Facebook.” (Note: Spell-check says “analytica” is not a word, and I agree.)

Third: “The only reason they had so many Ewoks was because they couldn’t put in that many Wookies, because of the expense for the costumes.” (Note: I have never seen a Star Wars movie.)

YOU KNOW YOU’RE MILDLY INTOXICATED WHEN:

I’m sitting here feeling daring because I’m wearing a tank top. Yeah, it’s 56 degrees, but I’m inside.

I REITERATE MY YEARLY PROMISE THAT IF SOMEONE BUYS ME A FORD MUSTANG FOR MY BIRTHDAY, I WILL LEARN TO DRIVE.

PRODUCT REPORT

Seen at CVS–fake succulents. Just grow some facking succulents! It isn’t hard.

And…”Sour Neon Night Crawlers.” As you know, Sour Neon Crawlers is the name of my imaginary band. “Night Crawlers” would be a good name for our second album. People would know what the band was about by then, and we could just stand there on the cover wearing leather and looking ironic.

DREAMING IS FREE

I dreamed that I was about to die, and they told me, “We have technology now that can bring you back to life, but only for 24 hours, and you can only do it once. You’ll need to wear makeup, because you’ll still look kind of greenish, and you’ll have to wear perfume, because you’ll still smell just a little bit like a dead body.” I chose Avon Timeless, because I thought an old-timey scent would be a witty touch. I’m sure Avon would be flattered. And how did I spend my precious 24 hours? At a party with my former co-workers, and I insisted on telling everyone, “You know, I’m actually dead,” and then feeling hurt because they all looked horrified and backed away from me. It’s not easy being dead.

No, I do not wear perfume because I’m trying to cover up the smell of a dead body.

 

 

 

Ours Is Not To Reason Why

I am full of opinions today, and you need to hear them.

Leggings are still not pants, no matter how many women wear them. “I work out, so my butt is cute” is not a counterargument.

It occurs to me that my plan to grab the pervert’s cellphone from under the restroom stall is actually a pretty good one. I’d be barricaded in my stall, and I’d use his phone (with the incriminating evidence still on it!) to call 911. I now yield the floor to Officer Nick, who will explain why my plan wouldn’t work.

By the way, that last sentence is the only time you will see me use the words “I yield to Nick,” under any circumstances.

PROGRESS FAILS SPECIFIC SENSE

That is an R.E.M. line which often occurs to me these days.  Ways in which progress fails:

–The new buses have computerized change-counting machines to put your fare in, which, I suppose, enabled them to lay off the person who’d been counting it all at the end of the day. This means that only one coin can be allowed to pass through it at one time, so the machine can keep track of it, and this means the slot had to be made extra-narrow to ensure that only one coin goes in. Which, of course, means that if you put more than one coin in at a time, it jams up.

–Why, in this age of environmental correctness, are even more things made out of plastic? Fences, mailboxes, grocery bags…? I was reminded of this when a fellow bus passenger’s Walmart bag, being made of plastic, sagged and dumped his purchase of Axe body spray (in the Anarchy scent) onto the floor. Axe is the biggest-selling line of men’s grooming products in the world, but it’s called Lynx in every country but the U.S. Why? Do they think we won’t know what a lynx is, even though they live on this continent?

Why is the sky blue? I know, the visible light spectrum reflects blah blah blah, but that only explains how it’s blue.

This Blog Won’t Write Itself

…as I realized earlier today.

THE SAGA OF THE CASHMERE TWINSET

I once read that “every woman should have a cashmere sweater in her signature color.” My signature color is periwinkle, so the closest choices were either Lilac or Paradise Blue Heather, and only the latter came in size L, so that’s the one I got. Ssso soft….

THE WORK ETHIC IN ACTION

…well, aside from expecting the blog to write itself.

The woman in front of me on the bus started her phone conversation with, “They can’t get mad at me for not coming in today.” I’m betting they can, especially when she continued with, “I need to get someone to call my work on Tuesday and act like my kids are sick and it’s an emergency, so I can leave work at noon. I gotta go trick-or-treating with my kids.” Because you shouldn’t let your job get in the way of the traditional trick-or-treat hour of NOON. She finished up with, “This job is gonna get me in trouble.” No, you’re doing that quite well on your own.

Commercial: “It’s the Halloween weekend!” There is no Halloween weekend. This ain’t Labor Day. This year Halloween isn’t even contiguous to a weekend. Wonder what they’ll say when it falls on a Wednesday.

I suppose I shouldn’t expect Walgreen’s to be anatomically correct, but not only do they have skeletons of spiders, but the things that do have skeletons–dogs, cats, rats–all have skeleton ears. I thought it was for cuteness’ sake, but the inclusion of rats suggests they did it so that people would know what it was a skeleton of.

What does it mean when the “Scary Witch Hair” wig looks suspiciously like mine? WELL?

THE WAR ON PARTS OF SPEECH CONTINUES

“Tell us how you burger.”  Or just point and grunt.

STAB FROM THE PAST

My first post from March ’13 marked the first mention of Nick as a beast, and the introduction of “Theater of Cruelty” to describe our interactions. I excoriated him for referring to me as “abominable” on Facebook, and for misspelling “abominable.”

ASTROLOGY ’74

Beauty for Taurus: “Tuck a rose in your cleavage.” Ouch.

Favorite Fantasy for Cancer: “Having him carry you off to the bedroom while the steak burns.” Um, shouldn’t you do something about that fire first?

Passionate Setting for Capricorn: “At the base of a gnarled oak tree in a bed of daisies.” I can actually provide that in my front yard, if any Capricorns want to get in touch with me.

Against Everything

“There’s an improved way to post on WordPress.” No, there isn’t, just a newer way. It is unfamiliar, therefore I fear it.

Faced with an expectant FanBase, I am forced to admit I do not have the cashmere sweaters in hand as yet, so no picture has been taken. I am also bemused by the varied reactions to my appearance in general. A guy who works at Thornton’s said, “You’re the last person I’d expect to have a snake tattoo,” while others seem to think a cashmere twinset is equally unlikely, so perhaps my personal style is not as well-defined as one would hope. Well, as would hope. I try.

CONTINUING OUR CANNIBALIZATION PROGRAM

I forgot to mention, reading my 4th post in Feb. ’13 (called “Trifecta” something, it’s all a blur)–I was basking in compliments as a new blogger (well, ASIDE from the fact that I invented the blog in 1990, and I’m going to keep mentioning that, so get used to it), and someone asked, Why am I not a newspaper columnist? The short answer is that the paper already has Jon Webb and Stan Levco. The long answer is that I’m autistic. (Doesn’t seem like a long answer? Watch me.) I actually had some professional connections in my youth, since my stepfather was in broadcasting, but I was no more able to network than I was able to fly through the air by flapping my arms. (To give you an idea–I worked at a factory for a couple years, and, after calling me into the office to ask if there were “any problems they should know about,” a question which baffled me, they moved me to a department where I could work by myself, since other people had been complaining about me, for reasons They wouldn’t reveal. And yes, I showered every day. So you can see how networking might be a problem.) I might have more of a clue now that I’m older, but I can’t guarantee it. How does one get started writing professionally these days?

Speaking of compliments, I was discussing the tooth fairy with Nick. Aside from the fact that inflation will get us all (I only got a dime or a quarter from the tooth fairy–something silvery and disc-shaped, at any rate), I remarked that kids must sleep more soundly than adults, since someone sticking their hand under my pillow now would probably wake me up. He said, “Probably not. I’m sure you sleep suspended from the ceiling upside down, wrapped in a cocoon of your own wings.”

And speaking of that ancient post–I really regret the demise of the WordPress feature that would recommend illustrations based on words you typed. (Well, except when my post title was “Spiders and Dead Bodies.”) You can sign up for illustration services, but they work by sending hundreds of pictures to your email inbox, and who has time to sift through those? Not me, I’m almost famous.

And speaking of fame (the title of this post should have been “Raging Segues”), the soundtrack at McDonald’s today included “The One I Love” by R.E.M., a song which proves that people only listen to the first 2 lines of anything. This is a popular romantic request number on radio stations, BUT–

“This one goes out to the one I love

This one goes out to the one I left behind

A SIMPLE PROP TO OCCUPY MY TIME…”

Anyone see a problem with that? It’s about casual sex on the road, hard though it may be to imagine R.E.M. engaging in the practice. Unlike, say, the Sour Neon Crawlers, with their army of groupies.

 

 

No Title

MORE WAR ON WORDS

“This is how well gets done.”

TV AT OUR HOUSE

Commercial: “Us lives here.”

Me: “DID THEY JUST SAY ‘US LIVES HERE’?!”

Rom: “We be them.”

EASIEST-TO-UNDERSTAND COMPANY NAME

On tanker truck: “Evansville Water Transportation.” Well, now I don’t have to wonder what’s in the tank.

ASTROLOGY IN ’72!

Cancer woman with Scorpio man: “Be the milkmaid with a secret financial ability who wears a tiny silver chain around her waist in bed.” This may be my favorite sentence in the entire collection. Because, what?

Leo: “You could give a winter party for 500, insisting that everyone come in bikinis while you wrap yourself in furs. No one would bat an artificial lash–it’s your style.”

Leo woman with Pisces man: “He wants to run barefoot through your hair. But don’t wait for him to speak up.” Yeah, just say, “You wanna run barefoot through my hair?” It’s your style.

Aquarius: “You’ll spend your last dollars on a quadrophonic tuner even though few radio stations are equipped to broadcast quad.” I believe that is still the case.

AT LAST!

The latest Lands’ End catalog has cashmere sweaters on the cover. I glanced at it and thought, “I’d like to have a cashmere sweater, but they’re so expensive.” Then I realized, don’t I have retirement-gift money I’ve been wondering what to do with? And with their current 40% off sale, I could buy a twinset! How classic of me! So I did. I promise to post a (rare and therefore valuable) picture of me on Facebook wearing my new sweaters. Yes, I should post it directly on the blog. No, I do not know how to do so, having no smartphone. Nick, shut up.

Life’s Rich Pageant: McDonald’s

I bring you the first of my Unwanted Restaurant Reviews. Any typos are the responsibility of Redd’s and not, for example, me.

No sooner did I say that there was probably already someone on YouTube doing this same thing, than I saw someone, a guy who wears an over-sized suit and Brylcreem in his hair while he criticizes Domino’s Pizza for being too doughy. (Pizza can never be too doughy, in my opinion.) Instead, you will have to visualize me in a t-shirt and hair without any styling product, and indeed, without any style.

Jimmy Fallon once said, “‘Thank you for choosing McDonald’s?’ You don’t choose McDonald’s. You end up at McDonald’s.” Aside from not being exactly true (Rom observed the other day, “I could go for 10 McNuggets right now,” without actually being moved to do anything about it), this is actually a plus in my book. Why do I like McDonald’s? Because of the ambience, believe it or not. Everyone ends up there eventually. This is where you can observe the difference between a Hippie and a Hipster, as follows:

Hippie: dreadlocks, full beard, tie-dye t-shirt

Hipster: goatee, backwards ball cap with lightning bolts on the back (thereby revealing that you’re supposed to wear it backwards and be ironic), black t-shirt with kittens fighting on the front upon a background of flames (you can only wear this ironically–the irony is built in)

COMMERCIAL BREAK BECAUSE 2 CANS OF REDD’S HAVE MADE ME THIRSTY BUT I AM ALREADY DRUNK ENOUGH, KTHNXBAI WHILE I GO GET A CAFFEINE-FREE DIET COKE BECAUSE I AM LAME

ALL-CAPS VISION BROUGHT TO YOU BY CAT TOWN, A HUMOROUS SITE WHICH STOPPED POSTING IN 2005 AND IS SORELY MISSED

By the way, this subject matter, if I ever get around to it, is brought to you courtesy of Nick, whom I unwisely notified that I was going to do this, and is now not speaking to me so I won’t be distracted. I feel used.

For a representative experience, you should go to McD’s on a weekday. Saturday is Baby Daddy Day, and Sunday is Everyone Is Eating Somewhere Else Day.

I gave my order to an employee who then said, “I hate McDonald’s food. Can’t stand it.” Way to insult the customer’s tastes right out of the gate! In fairness, she wasn’t speaking to me, but to a colleague who was ordering their employee meal.

Speaking of which, I witnessed a guy getting his Employee Evaluation (something we never got at 911, by the way). He got a good review, since he had corrected his previous problem of neglecting to wear his apron regularly.

WHAT I GOT:

Fish sandwich, no tartar sauce, because that is just mayo with boogers in it. This menu item is brought to you courtesy of the Catholic Church–one franchisee was finding Lent was cutting into his sales, so he came up with a Lenten-friendly entree (Ray Kroc’s suggestion was a pineapple slice on a bun). HONORABLE MENTION: McNuggets. These are useful, because I don’t have to make any special requests. They’re acceptable even without sauce. This comes in handy when I’m not alone, because being with someone rattles me just enough that I’m prone to forget my special needs, and end up having to scrape boogers off my sandwich. Speaking of which, McD’s current menu board is not autism-friendly, nor even friendly to other people. Not only is it constantly flashing and changing in a sensory-overload sort of way, but it will change to something else just as you’re trying to figure out, for example, what the price of an item is. There is also an apparently-still picture of a Coke, but I thought, “Are those soda bubbles moving? They are!” and there proved to be a moment when an ice cube enters the frame and dumps itself into the drink, and then I get fixated on staring at it until the ice cube falls into it again, so it’s a good thing they know what I usually order.

Speaking of innovations, I have spoken of their Retro Moderne remodeling before. I have not encountered chartreuse chairs at any other establishment. There is a middle area I call the Senior Corral, where the village elders speak of the issues of the day. (Is Obama a Muslim? Are Catholics brainwashed?). Rom hates the Senior Corral, and positions himself as far from a colorful wall covering as possible. There are two of these, one in the Corral and one on a side wall. I was greatly disoriented the other day when I went in and the central Corral one was gone, replaced by a plain white wall. I thought, That wasn’t white before, was it? No, I know it wasn’t, because I remember comparing the two walls and thinking, It’s OK that they are two different patterns because they use the same colors. This is what I do when I wear my navy-and-white-striped pants with my navy-and-white circle-print shirt. (This is called having a Fashion Sense.) Then, because they weren’t finished facking with me yet, the colorful design reappeared on that wall the other day. You gotta wonder.

My seating preference is to wedge myself into a corner, but the current free-form seating arrangement makes that more difficult, so I usually sit by the window.This has the advantage of swivel chairs, so I can make myself my own fidget spinner.

YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT FOOD, DIDN’T YOU?

McDonald’s fries are consistently good. Rom insists they have never been worthwhile since they stopped frying them in beef tallow. I can’t really tell the difference, but he is a professional cook, after all.

McDonald’s sodas (or soft drinks, as we call them in this part of the country–I didn’t know anyone outside of commercials called them that) are also good. However, at the St Joe location, the right-hand Diet Coke spigot tends to give you more carbonated water than syrup, and the center one is prone to splash all over you. You want the left-hand one for optimal performance.

I cannot report on the sweet tea, tea being loathsome.

I finished with a hot fudge sundae. Running an ice-cream machine is a skill McDonald’s is having trouble mastering. I remember reading about a DQ that put out a sign “OUR ICE-CREAM MACHINE WORKS, UNLIKE THE GUYS ACROSS THE STREET!” until the DQ lawyers made them take it down. However, it was working on this occasion, and as good as the equivalent item at DQ.

FELLOW-DINERS’ FOLLIES

–Rhetorical question from parent to a heck-raising child: “You ever had a spanking?”

–Another parent to a toddler: “Why are you crying? Because you want my newspaper? Really?”

IT’S FRIDAY AND PIZZA TIME SO I AM GOING AWAY NOW

 

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