Sunday, September 30

Ten past Three

The answer to every question I've been asked this weekend.

Anne and I went to see Jack White Friday night, and he turns it up to 11.

I'm sure the tinnitus will eventually leave.

We had weed smokers behind us, and a speed user in front of us.

Being rock n roll Anne and I split a beer, mainly because Anne forgot to bring her ID. I'm at the age where I don't want my wife to look 20.

Saturday, September 29

Monk Spa

Anne and I went to a spa in Boston today.

As is common at all spas you have to fill in the waiver that stipulates it's not their fault if you die during one of their soothing procedures.

Only at this one they have you undress and put on a brown knee-length robe BEFORE you fill in the form.

Imagine a room of people dressed like this (without the cross), asking how you spell reiki.

As a bonus for fans of 80s UK TV, the monk photo looks like Alan Bradley, who tried to kill Rita Fairclough in Coronation Street, before being comedically killed by a tram on Blackpool sea-front.

And while on the subject of shitty TV from England, I feel vaguely vindicated that my long-running 'Jimmy Savile is a paedo' campaign is finally being shown to be true.

Freddie Starr, Gary Glitter, Michael Barrymore, Frank Bough. Is there any 80s Entertainer who wasn't a deviant?

Jim Bowen. Lovely, smashin', super.

Friday, September 28

Dead to me

For years the burrito-chain Chipotle was of no consequence to me.

I knew there was one in the mall close to where my in-laws live, and that my mom-in-law pronounced it wrong, but even that was tempered with the thought that a spry and feisty woman in her 80s had a certain amount of disdain for  the place.

Then a few years ago, some dreadful network TV show tried to find an entrepreneur who would create the next national fast-food joint. One of the show's judges was the fucktard who found Chipotle, and what he called 'a casual dining experience'.

I've had a burrito from there a few times since, and although I'm never transported to some delicious street stand in Mexico City, I've also never being sick afterwards either.

Today I decided to buy lunch for my fellow 4th floorers. And logging into Chipotle.com you can send out an invite to each co-worker who in turn plug in their order. 40 minutes later you swing by Chipotle to pick up 10 burritos and a lifetime supply of chips and salsa.

Only it didn't work out like that.

"Did you fax us?", said the guy behind both, the counter, and the times.

"No, we e-mailed it in", said this casual diner.

"Erm, we don't have e-mail", said the 4 Non-Blondes fan from 1993 when the fax machine ruled.

"I used your on-line ordering system that generates an e-mail to you", I said, already knowing where this was going.

20 minutes later, after a phone call to work and a collective re-ordering in the office I received an e-mail from my co-worker that was titled, "Stupid Chipotle fucked up our order".

I chose to copy and paste the order without the headline onto a new page so that I could hand my phone over to the lady behind the counter with the plastic gloves.

5 minutes, and 10 burritos later I handed back their sharpie pen ... because why would Chipotle keep a track of what's inside the aluminum covered sacks of meat and veggies?

As I paid, the guy who receives the faxes said, "You should work here".

It'll take a while to close down my businesses, but once I've laid off all 75 of my employees it's good to know there's a job working the e-mail machine at Chipotle.

Tits.

Thursday, September 27

Middle Aged

I was playing Yahtzee on my iPad last night. I looked up to see Anne playing Yahtzee on her iPad too. On TV we were watching Dancing with the Stars ... on DVR ... yes we record it.

It's gotten chilly the last few nights so we were both in sweatpants.

Also, we bought a shed.

Friday, September 21

Peapod

I had my first experience of Peapod tonight.

Peapod is our supermarket's on-line shopping offering. You pick your groceries, a time for delivery and boom they show up with bags of your stuff.

I picked between 7 and 9pm on Friday night, because what else would I be doing other than waiting for my groceries?

When the doorbell rang I opened the door and screen and the kid just walked straight in with 6 bags and headed for our kitchen counter.

If I'd known he would be so familiar with the layout I wouldn't have paused the movie we were watching (Cast Away ... Anne is contractually bound to watch a Tom Hanks movie each week).

I tipped the kid and returned to watching one of Hanks' many tour de forces only for the bell to ring again. He'd found a potato in the back of his van, and presumed it was mine.

That's why you tip them folks.

Wednesday, September 19

But Man













I got stuck behind this diamond geezer on my commute home last night.

Sunday, September 16

Unfortunate

I took my parents to visit the Mt Auburn Cemetery last night.

Naturally I made fun of the dead.


Friday, September 14

United fuckwitery

Scene: Chicago O'Hare Airport, at United Gate Boston bound.

United Airlines Gate Agent (UAGA): "Boarding Groups 3, 4 & 5"

6 people including me get up and walk towards the Gate

UAGA: I didn't call Boarding Group 5

3 people in unison: Yes you did.

UAGA: No, I didn't

Me: What are the chances that 6 people misheard you?

UAGA: I will call you in a minute or 2.

6 people take 3 steps back

UAGA: Boarding Group 5

6 people sigh and internally mumble, "What a fucking kooz", and walk the 3 steps back to where we were.

UAGA: Left side of the rope please.

6 people go to the left of the 3' long rope.

C***.

Wednesday, September 12

Any chance you could fuck off?

Tonight we dined at the excellent Topolobampo. The upscale Rick Bayless joint in the heart of Chicago.

7 of us were dining, and combined we could use the following titles; mum, dad, son, daughter-in-law, husband, wife, nephew, niece, cousin, aunt and uncle.

After a great dinner of elevated Mexican food, we continued to chat at our table.

To get us off the table, the maitre d pulled this move.

"Would you like a VIP visit of Rick's office space where he dreams up his Mexican recipes?".

An elevator ride, a couple of photos, and 5 minutes later we were outside on the sidewalk saying our goodnights and smiling at the ruthless efficiency of the restaurant's ability to free up our table.

Vete a la verga, as they might say in Mexico (according to the internet).

Monday, September 10

Do I get Reward Points at the Hotel California?

Close your eyes and think of the stereotypical guy who would play The Eagles at full volume in his beat up Toyota Corolla.

That's right, our African-American Boston taxi driver was a massive fan. Even after we jumped in the cab for the airport, he continued to play Hotel California turned up to 11.

Every time I get annoyed with Glenn Frey for rhyming wine, with 1969 ... wine's not a spirit you douchetard ... I try to distract myself with something amusing.

Today it was this pink haired goth on a bicycle. You don't usually pair shoe-gazing suicide-girls with healthy outdoor pursuits, but this chick was rocking her two wheels.

Maybe she was about to bike off the road into the Charles River.

If the radio was playing an Eagles "three-for", I might have joined her.

Wednesday, September 5

And we're off!

Football kicked off tonight, and I'm in 4 leagues this year.

My 3 head-to-head teams all made good starts.

And my league team - The Golden Helmets, are already top of the table!


Tuesday, September 4

Who is she meeting?

Anne and I hit the airport tonight to pick up my parents from Terminal E.

As we waited I scanned the area for the usual suspects.

• Man with bunch of flowers from gas station.
• Kids with home-made sign displaying a poor use of typography
• Indian man pacing back and forth with phone clipped to Chinos
• Bitch with clipboard containing tour details and list of names

But suddenly an emaciated chick walked in front of me and stood gazing at the board.

She wore a synthetic-chiffon leopard-skin dress with a gusset. I'm sure there's a name for that, but that's my description and I'm sticking with it.

The usual oversized designer bag was slung over the shoulder sitting next to hair extensions which un-seamlessly mixed with her chemical damaged hair.

The heavy on the eye-liner look perfected the heroin chic, and at the bottom end she wore high heel ankle boots with a fluffy top!

And the fake tits on her 100 lb frame looked like someone had duct taped 2 candlepin balls to her chest.

For perfume she went with passionfruit-whorehouse.

We never got to see who she met. I was hoping for an over-weight middle-aged Middle Eastern gentleman.