Saturday, September 23, 2006

Post Office Theater - The Matinee

my mom and i share a house and we have our own division of labor that works well for us. she does the yardwork and i balance the checkbook. she handles calling repair guys and i promise not to attempt to cook, thus not burning the house to the ground. she does most of the housework and i run most of errands, like grocery shopping, paying bills in person and going to the post office. now, i hate going to the post office, but i hate mopping even more, so it's the lesser of two evils for me. (speaking of which - mom, the entertainment center is looking a little dusty. get on that, would ya?)

so, this afternoon, i had to go to the post office to mail two packages for her. i walked in and saw a customer arguing with one of the clerks. now, there is nothing i love more than watching people make asses of themselves in public, so this put a little spring in my step. i got in line and this argument was already well under way, but i was able to catch up fairly quickly. the customer had purchased a few postal money orders and now decided he didn't need them after all and he wanted his money back. the woman at the counter told him he could get his money back, but that did not include the processing fee. that was nonrefundable.

he was FURIOUS! and outraged that they would not refund this fee. how much money was this guy out to incite such rage? would he not be able to make his rent this month? would the kiddos go to bed hungry tonight because daddy wouldn't have enough for the happy meal? those must be some steep fees.

then the clerk said, "sir, you can get all your money back, but the 95 cent processing fee is not refundable."

95 cents.

so, they go back and forth, and everyone in line is riveted by this asshole and his 95 cents. the argument escalates and the clerk threatened to call the authorities at one point. he backed down after that.

that's when the clerk asked if he lives in (insert name of my city). he said he did and she asked to see his ID. when he handed it over, she asked if the address was current. after he confirmed it was, she proceedes to write down his name and address.

i turned to the guy next to me in line and said, "he is never getting his mail EVER. AGAIN. in fact, i think he will be getting all of our junk mail from now on."

the downside to this little spectacle was the fact that mister 95 cents was hispanic. i am mexican-american and was raised in the mexican culture. so, when i see hispanics acting like ignorant fools i just cringe and think, "you are making the rest of us look bad, asshole." then i figure they are probably puerto rican. and don't anybody jump my ass for that last comment. in the hispanic cultures, the brazillians look down on the mexicans, the mexicans look down on the puerto ricans and the puerto ricans look down on the salvadoreans. it's just the way it is.

on a side note, i took this pic outside the post office.


nothing had been freshly painted, certainly not the goddamned window. why was this sign there? it is still bugging me.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Fat Kids, Dead Dogs and Cheap Ass Beer - A Photo Essay


this is an actual school that is near my house. can you see the name of the school? yes, the Lewis Carroll Academy. looks to me like someone didn't do their homework. opening soon next door, the Michael Jackson Day Care Center.


words on the ass of your pants or shorts are never a good idea. ever. sparkly words are grounds for capital pinishment as far as i am concerned. i spend most of my life making sure people aren't looking at my ass, so i don't understand why anyone would want someone else to actually read theirs.

the worst offense i ever saw was in iowa, land of the large women. we saw a gal that was easily a size 24, wearing blue sweat pants that read "baby girl" across her ample ass. this was made worse by the fact that basically there was one word on each ass cheek. and when she walked, her ass cheeks and the words moved up and down in tandem. it was dizzying to watch. yet, also mesmerizing. just say no to ass cheek art, gals.


i took this picture in an elevator in cancun last month. look at the stick figure family at the bottom. dad looks normal enough. sadly, mom is a peg leg. and the little boy is a tub! he looks like Violet Beauregarde after she ate the blueberry gum. poor, fat little junior.


ok, now this is just 12 kinds of fucked up and wrong. Old Yeller Dog Food. who would feed that to their dog? i fully expected to see Mama Cass Brand Sliced Ham in the next aisle. which is three aisles down from the Karen Carpenter laxatives.


here's how you can tell i was at the gross, ghetto Sav-On yesterday. on it's own grand display, for all to see, was Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, Old Milwaukee and Old Milwaukee Light beer. topped off with generic label cheez-its. i hauled ass out of there because i was scared to death that i might run into one of my paternal relatives.