Crazy (Not Sexy or Cool)

I want to ask you a question if I may. Why do all of the crazies in this town gravitate toward me? Is there something about me that acts as a magnet for nuttiness? Now, sure my family is wacko, but why do I constantly encounter crazy people? I'm like a freak beacon lately.

For instance, this morning I had to stop and get gas at ARCO. Now normally, I wouldn't stop at this station because of the inferior gas they offer. However, my gas tank was emptier than my stomach...and it was 5:30AM. Not many gas outlets are available at this time of the morning. And why the hell aren't allgas stations 24 hours?

Anybody who knows me knows that I am not a morning person. Far from it. Random strangers think I smoke pot, co-workers think I'm an asshole. It's the time when my lazy eye is at its laziest. I try to avoid people during this time of day. It's one of the few times I can be by myself and gather my thoughts. I don't want to talk to you AT ALL.

So as I stroll into the AM/PM to pay for my gas, I stop at the drink case and grab an energy drink that I desperately need. The new Monster Rehab. It's an Arnold Palmer in Monster form. I've been on a lemonade/iced tea kick this year for some reason. Nevertheless, I approached the counter and stood behind a woman who seemed to be having an argument with the Arab gentleman working the register.

I'm a pretty observant person when I'm out and about. Even in my altered state of awakeness, I could tell this fuckin' twat was giving this guy shit. He was trying to help her, there's no doubt. Why would the guy NOT want to get her in and out of that place? Yeah, he's purposely trying to piss off the crazy chick. That's how he wants his day to go.

At this point, I've already reached my maximum annoyance level. I'm about twelve seconds away from screaming at this lady. After (I think his name was Saveen) ran her EBT card twice, and both times it came back declined (for one reason or another; she stole it, spent it...use your imagination). Then she starts laying into poor Saveen (sounds like a made up name and he should be working at Saveen-Elaveen) because she has no money. She's raising all kinds of hell in the place. She claims that he's discriminating against her (because she's white?) and that she wants his supervisor's name and he can't do his job right.

He finally agrees to run it a third time and as he does it, this bitch turns to me in the middle of one of her rants and says, "This guy (referring to me) knows what you're (Saveen) doing to me. He'll (me) tell y-"

...And that's when I just had to interject. I didn't choose my words wisely. My filter was removed. I lacked decorum. I just said what I thought. "I don't fucking care lady. I really don't. Hurry the fuck up." She appeared puzzled. I was slightly concerned. My neighborhood isn't the greatest. It's not uncommon for people to be shot around these parts. After accepting the fact that I wasn't going to side with her, she turned back to Saveen, who also seemed surprised at my response, and continued with, "I EARNED this money and you won't help me."

...

My mind was sufficiently and effectively blown. I almost spoke up again. My filter returned. My words were muted. Shit.

If I had said something, it'd probably have sounded something like, "Are you fucking insane? YOU earn the money for that card? Really? Do you know why I'm half-awake right now? Because I have to go to the job that pays for that card. So, in effect you lazy twat, I earned the money for that. Money that you've obviously blown on L&M lights and wine coolers. Now take you're broke ass out to your fucking car and get out of my way, so I can continue to fund your drug habit."

Saveen finally ended it all by writing down his supervisor's name and phone number. She got into her pieced together Geo Metro and left. Her car was an interesting side note to the whole experience. The body was obviously pieced together with parts from fellow Geos that are in car heaven.

She probably wasn't going to call the supervisor. She just wanted to raise a stink so that maybe he would cave and let her have free gas. I will never understand the mind of a crazy person. My brain can't decode their irrationalities. Maybe I'll just start using the tactic described above. It just might keep my brain from overheating.

Reloaded

Yes, I am excited to announce that the blog is back and better than before (if that's possible). It seems like once a year, I get all amped to start the blog again, then I peddle my thoughts for about 2 or 3 months, and finally get distracted by shiny butterflies or sparkling rabbits and I stop production. No more I say.

A lot has changed since September 2nd, 2007. I bought a house with the only woman who'll have me, and we are getting hitched on September 6th of this year. And I grew facial hair!!! (I have to make up for the stuff missing on top of my head). I guess that's not a whole lot of changes, but they are pretty big, important changes for me.

Now you might say, "Hey Dex, do you still work at Fred Meyer? I notice you didn't list a occupation change in your tiny, little list of changes." Thanks Dick! No I'm still employed by that division of Kroger, but I'm no longer in charge of the people. I stepped off of my throne and decided to deal with a smaller part of the store. I just couldn't take the praise and thanks I got everyday. To tell you the truth, the hours were shitty and I had to get out before committing manslaughter and/or possession of a controlled substance.

So although my blogging comrades have fallen (Amy, Carly) and non-blogging friends have come and gone, I am back and ready to tackle the weird and hairy, the small and furious, the Greek and homeless. Nobody will be safe from my intense scrutiny, satire and otherwise hilarious commentary.

...And From Left Field

Now this is something that Nikki and I stumbled upon over at The Superficial website. It's a site that Nikki frequents to learn of all the celebrity gossip that makes my eyes roll (kind of the same way ESPN makes hers roll). Anyways we saw this entry and I just had to blog about it.

It seems that an inmate in the South Carolina prison system named Johnathan Lee Riches claims that Michael Vick stole two of his pit bulls and used them for dog fighting. After he was done with the dogs, he sold them on eBay "and used the proceeds to buy missiles from the Iran Government." He also claims that Vick stole his identity to open credit cards at PetSmart and DoggieWarehouse. Also Vick is accused of selling apparel and other merchandise bearing the name of Johnathan Lee Riches.

It turns out Riches has a history of suing famous people and places. You have to check this out.

The plaintiff asks for $63 billion backed by gold and silver to be delivered to the South Carolina Corrections Facility.

...After reading this...I really don't...I'm having a hard time...trying to understand...WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS GUY?? I know I'd be the guy in jail egging him on and telling him to make his handwritten lawsuit "look real" because that might convince the District Attorney to take the case and prosecute Michael Vick for "using drugs in school zones" and because he "subjected me (Riches) to microwave testing."

Ha.

I hope Carly gets a kick out of this.

An International Duel of Guts

Tomorrow marks the 231st anniversary of the day we told the British to take their taxes and shove 'em in an uncomfortable place (like the backseat of a Volkswagen). And what better way to celebrate our independence then by watching 17 people eat as many hot dogs and buns (or HDB's as they're referred to in the competitive eating world) as humanly possible in twelve minutes.

I can't find an escape from all the hype the 2007 edition of Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest held at Coney Island, NY is getting. It's all over ESPN about how red-blodded American and current world-record holder, Joey Chestnut, is going to dethrone six-time Nathan's Champion, Takeru Kobayashi. Now if I were to compete, I could probably take down 12-15 hot dogs no problem, followed by a vomit session that would leave me gasping for air and looking for a spot to lay down. The fact that Chestnut, who is also 23, ate 59 1/2 hot dogs AND buns in 12 minutes is amazing. For six years now, nobody has come even close to giving Kobayashi a challenge...but this year is different. I'll be rooting for Chestnut (I'll dub him Mr. America) to bring the title back stateside where it belongs.

Wow, you look retarded!

I'm not sure if anyone knows this, but I am no trendsetter or dictator of popular fashion...but there is one trend I may never understand. Maybe my 23 years have made me wiser and more mature. What's with the kiddie backpacks on teenagers? It is not cool to sport a Dora the Explorer or SpongeBob SquarePants backpack in high school. I don't care what you say, you look absolutely fucking dumb!


And to reiterate how retarded you are, your disregard for a common sensical dress code is a bad move because you sure as hell can't fit more than a day planner in those tiny satchels. Where are your notebooks and pens, your books and highlighters, your white-out and calculator? I'll tell you where they are...in a normal sized backpack!

I'm glad I could express my opinion on this matter, as it has bothered me for some time now.

Your Body is a Wonderland?..Mine isn't.

If there's an event that I am guaranteed to tell everyone I know about and could possibly tell the same person two or three times, it's when somebody's body does something it normally would not do. Somebody pees their pants? Awesome! Somebody crapped in the hallway? Excellent! Somebody tore three of the four ligaments in their knee? Ouch!

I had a front row seat to one of these gems while riding the MAX on Tuesday night. You may have read an earlier blog about my "fascination" with the Metropolitan Area eXpress. I had another run-in with "The Person Who Couldn't Hold Their Liquor." (Scroll down that entry and you'll know what I'm talking about.) This one was pretty "up there" as far as sick shit is concerned. Although it's nowhere near what Carly had experienced on the Skytrain, it's still an experience. So I'm on the MAX with Nikki. It's about 11:30PM. A girl stumbles onto the train, escorted (or carried) by a gentleman who was about my age. "It's her 21st birthday," he exclaims as he plops her down into a seat. She is virtually dead except for a little groan here and there. I believe I turned to Nikki at this point and said, "she's gonna puke here in 2 minutes." Scratch that shit, it wasn't 90 seconds later and she started to pull herself forward while drooling on her own leg. "Here we go," I said as I moved my feet as far away from this girl as possible, fearing my awesome white Nikes would be abused by a bile and alcohol mix that would overcome me and make me vomit in my mouth.

As the first shots of liquored-goodness came flowing out of her mouth and hit the ground, people started to disperse! Like a damn fire alarm went off! It was madness. I got up and moved toward the door, wanting to fling myself out rather than watch. I almost grabbed my phone to take a picture, but I felt that wouldn't be fair to the poor girl who wanted to pickle her liver on her first night as a legal drunk. I'll spare my loyal readers a description of the puddle this girl was leaving not only on the floor, but in her own shoes, on the guy's pants next to her, on her clothes, etc..

Our stop was next thank God, as the foul odor of vodka and God knows what was invading the other passengers airways. I jumped off the train as it stopped, gasping for fresh air and watching the disgusted faces of the passengers who weren't quite home yet. Then Nikki and I laughed. Then she said, "I think I saw a boot come out of her," (from the Wedding Singer) prompting me to burst into laughter.

It was sheer horror and comedy all rolled into one as another memorable moment on the MAX ended.

The image below made me laugh....plus he's wearing a Hartford Whalers shirt. Honoring the Whale the only way he knows how.

Sad, but true...

It's kind of interesting to find weird stuff on the Internet. Stuff, that when you see it, you ask yourself, who made this site and why do so many people visit it? I don't know how she did it, but Nikki found a site dedicated to finding pictures of cats that look like Adolf Hitler. Basically the only requirement is that the cat has a mustache that somewhat resembles a Hitler 'stache. You may be asking yourself what would one call such a website? What clever name did they come up with for this site? It's called "Cats That Look Like Hitler.com."

And since Nikki and I are proud owners of one of the fattest cats in the world, we had to get him on this most awesome site. See Charlie as one of the newest "Kitler's" here.

This is his natural state. If you touch him, he rolls over so you can rub different areas. ;I