Those of you who know me, even in the least, would probably agree that I'm not what is considered "normal." Apparently, I become more surreal as the night progresses. My wife makes claims of ludicrous statements, made by me, late at night. She has even gone so far as to threaten to tape record them for posterity.
It all started long ago, when I was working at a pizza joint that shall remain nameless, just because I try not to dirty my mouth with ANY pizza company from under the Yum! brands umbrella. Just sayin'. I would come home at one in the morning, smelling of garlic and spices, tomatoes and prepared meats, dealing with the general public...
An aside, then back to the topic on hand. Treat the poor wage slaves who serve you food with the utmost respect until they don't deserve it anymore. A good waiter/waitress is worth their weight in weapons grade plutonium; having worked with some of the best, I know. Unfortunately, like weapons grade plutonium, they are also volatile and need very special handling.
So there I was, tired out of by gourd, and apparently, some time in the morning, I woke my wife with the pronouncement that "the breadsticks had to come out of the oven." Apparently, I was flailing about violently, thrashing in desperation, trying to get the breadsticks out of the oven. Failed miserably, apparently.
The other night, I topped this by gibbering on at some length about an older milkmaid, ringing a bell pull with wedges of cheese twined into the rope, protesting about the inhumane treatment of the dairy cows. I have never, at least as far as I can recall, been interested in bovine rights, nor the humane and ethical treatment of tomorrow's bacon BBQ cheeseburger. Apparently, though, I have some deep seated cow issues that need dealt with. I need to grasp the bull by the horns and feed it dynamite...
Maybe not. That would be abominable. (Bonus points if you get the pun.)
There's no real point to this meditation. Some days are just like that, after all.
It's righty dountz.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the laughs.
ReplyDeleteEven funnier when I go to post this, the word I have to use as verification is cones. All I could think is that you, Ryan, would have some funny comment about that. Your friend, Laura
Joy -- I think you're precious when you just wake up.
ReplyDeleteLaura -- Cones? The verification word was "cones." I'll get back to you with a funny comment, as none is forthcoming at the moment.
I had to chuckle, because apparently I also shed my social restrictions as the night progresses. I go from pensive and progress through to making really horrible jokes. I am very grateful, however, that the years have passed during which I would wake up, terrified that I had missed something at work and some poor soldier was going to get blown up. I've had a few of those breadstick moments myself.
ReplyDeleteThat's a terrifying thought, that another person's well-being depends on a single piece of paperwork not being filled in correctly. Thankfully, the Navy doesn't have to fear that.
ReplyDeletemmmmm....Delicious animal muscle.
ReplyDeleteChuck got your bonus points...took me a minute, but he got them all before I could recover and grab some! BTW...some cows have horns as well...and when you're talking about carabou (which are classified as bulls and cows), they ALL have horns (and are equally as tasty). Just sayin'
ReplyDelete~Janananananananana
Chuck needs to share those bonus points! It models positive behaviors to Laura and Cole. And thank you for making me hungry for Caribou. mmmmmmmmmmmmm exotic meats.
ReplyDelete