The Fuzz

To begin today I present you with a question; who wants to grow up to be an officer of the law? And how does that conversation go with a first grader? "Timmy, what would you like to do when you grow up?" "I wanna get people in trouble!" What kind of ass hole decides to make his living off of making sure everyone stays in line? Granted, without police society would fall into complete chaos. I'm not denying that they definately serve a purpose. The problem, though, is that with great power comes great corruption. I don't know how it is in other states, but Utah cops have got to be the biggest group of more-holy-than-thou douche bags on the face of the planet. Exhibit A. A close friend of mine got picked up for posession of paraphanalia. Now, I'm not necessarily condoning the use of drugs. They definately ruin lives and cause problems. But the drugs that we need to worry about are things like crack. Heroin. PCP. Drugs that people get addicted to and cause serious health problems followed immediately by death. Pot never hurt anyone. Sure, people have been run over because a driver was high and other stupid shit like that, but marijuana is far less harmfull than, say, alcohol. Back to the point. This buddy of mine can no longer participate in smoking because he has to take a piss test like once a week. He had to pay a shit ton of fines. He has to go to group therapy with crack heads and junkies. He has to sit through individual therapy. He has to pay for individual and group therapy. Fucking bullshit. All because some dumb ass police officer decided he had nothing better to do than search a harmless dude's car. Aside from smoking pot, this guy didn't do anything wrong ever. He's got a job, goes to college, and is an all around decent human being. Way to fight crime there Johnny Law.

The Restaurant Biz

Oooookay. Dearest last woman I served today. I know you'll probably never read this. Alot of people will never read this. But on the off chance that someday your daughter finds this blog online and says, "Hey mom, this sounds like you!" It is. Never in my life did I think that one bitchy woman could affect my mood so much. Now, when I say bitchy, I say it with the understanding that there is no word in any language that can possibly describe just what a grade-A piece of garbage this old hag was. People, if you're having a terrible day then please just stay the hell away from restaurants where people are required to have more contact with you than, "would you like fries with that?" Seriously. This lady (and I use the term loosely) comes in and orders a turkey sandwich with a fried appetizer. Her daughter wants a fish dish. Now I don't know if you've ever fried anything or tried to grill fish, but it takes a minute. Not an eternity, but if you don't want to get sick and you don't want the middle of your zucchini to be cold then you get to chill there with your drink and be patient for a bit. Five minutes passes, and apparently this hag is living in an alternate universe where five minutes is enough to make that last ugly curly hair turn gray with frustration. My picture is on my profile, so tell me; do I look like a wizard? Do I give the impression that I can twinkle my eyes and make your shit magically appear? The correct answer here would be no. I'm just a guy who puts in your order and brings it out when it's ready. This bitch, though, had the grand mall freak out of all freak outs. She gets a manager and starts yelling (to the extreme discomfort of the tables around her) about how she's been here three times and on every visit she vows never to come back because the service is so slow. Darlin, if you've had your expectations dashed that many times then please, please stop coming back. NOBODY is going to miss you. You are the most obnoxious, most evil, just.... Gah. You're a bitch that makes all the other bitches step back and say, "damn." It's time to dust the cobwebs off your ancient self and get laid. Seriously. And to top it off, managers are supposed to comp meals when stupid pieces of shit are unsatisfied, so congrats you get your slow ass meal for free. Hope it tastes FABULOUS. So I get all of her food out to her table. Everything is made perfectly. Her drink never gets below a quarter of a glass. True I'm not hanging out and chatting up a storm to keep you entertained, but pretty damn good service considering I'm more pissed off at you than I've ever been at anyone I'm relying on for a tip. She finishes her meal and what happens? SHE SITS AND TALKS IT UP FOR ANOTHER FIFTEEN MINUTES. You're not even in a hurry?!? You came into a sit down full service restaurant and screamed up a scene over fish taking ten minutes and you don't even have somewhere to be? FFFFUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKK YOU! (While I know you can't see it, I'm flipping you off with both hand and dancing on a spot I'm imagining is your grave.) This all falls back into the whole "why can't you just be considerate" frame of mind. If you can't be nice to people, then don't force people to deal with you. Oh by the way, your daughter looked absolutely mortified throughout the whole ordeal. Here's the clincher... She didn't leave a tip. I don't know if anyone realizes this anymore, but servers in Utah make $2.13 an hour. Taxes take, are you ready? ALL OF IT. My paycheck depends completely on tips. What I walk with at the end of the day is all I get. I realize that you're not happy with the speed of our service, but did I miss something? Did I not do my job to the best of my ability? Did I not greet you with a smile and go through the menu with your daughter when she couldn't decide what she wanted? Did I personally offend you on some deep level? No, yes, yes, and no. When you leave a tip, you're not leaving it for the cooks who may or may not have taken their sweet time making your food. (They didn't.) Woman, this may seem rash, but I sincerely hope you get bitten by a rabid dog so some doctor somewhere can have the sweet pleasure of informing you that you'll never piss in anyone's cheerios ever again because the lockjaw has permanently sealed your fat ungreatfull mouth.
I feel better now.

Smoking

Now let me start this off by saying I have nothing against smokers. I've had my fair share of cigarettes and cigars in my time, and if the tobacco train is what floats your boat then more power to you. However, I've been stewing over some thoughts recently that have been more than just a little bothersome. Take example one. I'll call him George. George is typically in his late twenties to mid thirties. George had a hard day at work, so throughout the course of his trip to the grocery store he decides to pick up a pack of smokes. Inevetibly George loves his cancer along the lines of Marlboro Reds or something equally aeromatic and pungent. Now, George is fairly young, but apparently too old to remember what it's like to be a kid passing a smoker with his mom on his way to get some Cookie Crisps because in his impatient need to get a fix, George lights up RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE AUTOMATIC DOORS. George, I'm sorry, but you are officially an asshole. Take a minute to look around you. See the seven year old holding his breath? The old woman with the oxygen tank who has to pass you to get to the pharmacy? Hell, the EIGHTY PERCENT of people around you who are non-smokers? You're in a mormon state, friend. It's just common manners. Wait until you're in your car. Or home. Or twenty five feet away from the entrance as dictated by the damn law. You may get your panties all up in a wad over this, but seriously, everyone thinks you're a prick.
Example two. Mary is anyone, man or woman, any age. The only thing that sets Mary apart from the rest of us is that cigarette she has lit in the car. Oh, and the kids in the back seat. WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SMOKING AROUND CHILDREN? Congrats, Mary. Every time anyone passes you on the road they mentally give you the douche of the decade award. As I said, I have absolutely nothing against smoking or smokers. Turkish Golds are more relaxing than slipping into a warm bath. But smoking is a choice we all have to make for ourselves starting at that magical age of nineteen, and you're forcing your junior jazz star there in the back to inhale your death stick. You're probably not worried about the effects. You've been smoking for years and you're fine! Well I've got news for you, honey. You're not trying to steal third in tomorrows coach pitch game. You don't have to hang on the monkey bars because for the first five minutes of recess the sand in the playground is lava. You probably sit at a desk all day not worried that you're son or daughter always ends up "it" in tag because they can't catch their breath. Mary, stop being a dumb bitch.
Smokers, you've had enough. It's time for example three. Ralph is typically in junior high. If you've ever lit up in a car, you know this kid. Here you are minding your own business and enjoying a good drive home with your pack of camels when some bastard little kid yells some snide comment from the back of his mom's minivan. Hey kid? FUCK YOU. Smokers pay for your schools, your roads, your playgrounds, your parks... Everything. Take away the tobacco tax and you're screwed. But lets not overlook the real problem here, Sarah. Ralph's mom. Honey, I'm a pretty docile guy. It may not sound like it in this little rant, but in real life I'm actually pretty non-confrontational. All the other smokers, however, are not like me. Just like any group in society, we have our crazies. Someday someone is going to beat the living shit out of your kid, and the rest of us are going to applaude. Do you really not care that your son is an annoying shit? Are YOU really such a bitch that you'll just let your kids mock random people in the street? I really hope you realize what a severe fuck up you are as a parent right now. There are all kinds of people in this world, and if you can't teach your family that they need to learn how to deal with all of them, then you should have your children taken away from you.
In conclusion, why can't everyone just accept everyone and be mindfull of each other? You don't blow smoke on people just like you try not to pass gas in public. You don't break old thermometers in kids hands so they can play with the mercury, but giving them the black lung is okay? You don't yell racist comments down the street... why can't that apply to more than just color? I say live and let live. I'm not forcing my smoke on you, don't force your ideals on me.