September 17, 2002

• this is a repost of something i wrote earlier this year:

  
  

  hey kids, guess what? i'm at work right now. i have an excel spread sheet open and i'm pretending to look at it. my job is based on mostly...waiting for people. i do about 10 min of work for 30 min of waiting. i've mastered the game bejewled in the last week. so. the subject of this essay?

  
  

  
  shoelaces, sobriety and false advertising.

  
  

  
  yesterday, being mothers day, i washed and detailed my moms car for her. before hand, i realized that i needed armorall. while at the store i also realized that i needed mouthwash. deodorant. napkins. beer. upon returning home, mouthwash and deodorant get chucked into the bathroom. napkins on the table. beer in the fridge.

  
  

  outside i go, washing the cars. i need a beer! a freezing cold beer is just so damn good when it's hot out and you're sweaty and doing manly things like washing cars or hitting things with hammers or kicking your dog while your wife is screaming at the neighbors about their chickens under your doublewide and you're telling her to shut her damn yap up, you don't mind the chickens but her Winstons and wine cooler screech is splitting your brains in half.

  
  

  into my 3rd beer, i stop and think....nope, i haven't eaten anything all day. half baked from the heat and half drunk and washing cars. the hose is pretty fun when you're not sober.

  
  

  [at this point the woman in the office behind me has gone into a kind of frustration induced tourrettes episode. "son of a bitch! what the fuck! GOD!". her running comentary will be inside the brackets from this point on]

  
  

  so the cars are done and i'm done as well. and i'm thinking, hey, i need more beer. while i'm at the store, looking for the ever elusive Beer Aisle, i see the shoelaces. this sets off a chain reaction of thoughts that result it "i should buy those for my friend. she needs shoelaces." so i find the biggest pair - 54 inches - and buy them along with the beer. i figure almost 5 feet is long enough for her boots, which reach roughly 4 inches above her head.

  
  

  [what the fuck? i'm not duct taping my damn sunroof! you're the dealer! you FIX the cars! not DUCT FUCKING TAPE THE CARS!]

  
  

  so i go home, and begin to drink even more beer - still on an empty stomach. stumbling about, armed with a squeegee, rags and windex, i begin to clean everything but the cars. my mailbox has never been so shiney. nor has my neighbors mailbox. or their daughter.

  
  

  i decide it's a little too hot outside for me to continue so a nice nap is in order! i'll wake up around 6 and it'll be a bit cooler. i should eat too. as planned, i wake up around 6 and crap....i'm still drunk. how do i fix it? more beer! sweet!

  
  

  i finally finish the cars and all my beer and eat something and it's about 11pm. i'm still drunk even though i've eaten and right now is a fine time to call my friend and tell i found laces long enough for her boots. 54 inch laces! i open the package to marvel at their gargantuan length while i'm dialing the phone. unravelling the shoe laces.....

  
  

  *ring*

  
  

  *click*

  
  

  i hang up. the shoe lace is only 27 inches long. 27!!(??). er. the package says 54" shoelaces. i guess they meant 54 inches of shoelace...total.

  
  

  *redial*

  
  

  *ring*

  
  

  *ring*

  
  

  *ring*

  
  

  hey it's me leave a message blah blah blah *beep*

  
  

  "HEY! uhm.............it's me. iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.......guh.....i got your shoelaces. the fuckers lied to us. dirty liars. they're not FIFTY FOUR INCHES ...............EACH!....fuh...false averdising, man. bastards. we we we we we. should sue. ca...i'll call you tomor....row.

  
  

  *click*

  
  

  [duct tape. duct tape. i'll duct tape your ass together. see how that goes, ok buddy?]

  • 3:16 pm
  • 22 Comments