Thu, 6 Jan 2005
All right sports fans, I'm back from my almost one month hiatus!! So, two nights ago my friends Chris and Gary came into town and we were sitting around wondering what we should do about dinner. We finally came to the conclusion that Red Robin would be the spot to go since our good friend Becky was supposed to be managing and it would be nice to see her and our other friends. When we got to Red Robin at about 5:15 PM we noticed that our other good friend Paige was behind the refreshment center bartending, so we decided to go sit at the bartop and hang out with her. This was going well for awhile when all of a sudden the ginormous assistant manager Lori was standing right next to me, she didn't look too happy when she said, "So, you have the nerve to come in here and eat even after protesting?" I just turned back around and said, "yeah, what can I say, I love the fries." I could tell that things were going to be pretty icy between us, but she then turned he attention to Chris and Gary and began striking up slightly more cordial conversatinos with them about what was new in their lives.
She talked to them for awhile and then left and I thought that was the end of it, but then a couple minutes later I felt a tap on my right arm and there she was again. That's when she told me, "I'm going to try to be as polite about this as possible, but you are not welcome here, so finish up your fries pay for them and then leave." I was kind of shocked, not only because such a big girl had snuck up on me so stealthily twice, but also because I thought that was kind of ballsy for Lori. Paige later suggested that she probably went in and called Sabrina, the general manager, about what she should do about me sitting at the bar. Good call Paige. So there I was looking like a dumbass who just got kicked out of Red Robin, not knowing what to do because my friends had just ordered big beers so I basically just left and then came back 10 minutes later after Lori had left and my friend Becky had taken her spot. While I was gone I guess Lori took Paige into the office and told her that me sitting at the bar was a big "slap in the face" and that they should just all know from now on that I'm not welcome there. To which Paige reportedly responded that she wouldn't kick me out and did not want to get involved after which Lori responded that the next time I protested she would be calling the cops because I guess her boss, Stephanie, had been getting calls about my protest. WOW, I had no idea that going in to get some fries and some lemon water would cause such a big fuss, but oh well.
So it goes without saying that I HAD to continue my protest the next day, which is what I did yesterday from 6:08ish to 6:40. Chuck, one of the regulars at Red Robin, was walking by and told me that I should get a lawyer after I told him I was kicked out the night before, and then he asked if he could get a picture of me protesting so that he could give a copy of the picture to Lori. I was kind of surprised by Chuck's support because I guess I always just assumed that I annoyed him whenever he came in. I got a couple of honks for the short time I was out there and a girl that was looking for a job asked to hear my story and told me that she was planning on going in to apply for a job at RR. I told her it was lots of fun and that I would not be offended if she went in and got an application.
So that's the latest kids, I pretty much plan on picking up where I left off and plan on continuing being a pain in Red's ass. I just got done sending an email to corporate asking them what their policies are on kicking people out of the restaurant with a short summary of what happened to me. If they didn't know about what was going on before, then I guess they'll find out now. They said it should take about 2 days to reply, but I will keep you posted.
Cheers and Happy New Years all around,
Joe
Monday, January 13, 2025
RRR 6/7
Thu, 9 Dec 2004
Day six was pretty mild and uneventful. I got to my corner around 6:18ish and left by 6:54 because Elias came to hang out with me and we were getting bored and wanted to get some coffee.
I did have one guy roll down his window as he was turning the corner to tell me that "Life's not fair man." Eli and I just cheered as he went by.
And one of the regulars, Chuck, told me to "hang in there." I'll try Chuck, I'll try.
What do you calll cheese that isn't yours?
Joe
"Nacho Cheese"
Day six was pretty mild and uneventful. I got to my corner around 6:18ish and left by 6:54 because Elias came to hang out with me and we were getting bored and wanted to get some coffee.
I did have one guy roll down his window as he was turning the corner to tell me that "Life's not fair man." Eli and I just cheered as he went by.
And one of the regulars, Chuck, told me to "hang in there." I'll try Chuck, I'll try.
What do you calll cheese that isn't yours?
Joe
"Nacho Cheese"
Sunday, August 7, 2016
"Listen" by Randy Robbins
Randy Robbins is an exceptional friend of mine. When I caught myself replaying his latest track "Listen" over and over again with a tear in my eye and a revitalized heart, I knew it had touched a special chord.
Randy and I met in 2006 when I literally fell into him during our training as waiters at a large chain Italian restaurant. He was a fairly athletic dude and a stranger. I remember being worried in that first moment of his reaction. However, instead of getting irritated with my clumsiness, he greeted me with a hand up and a grin. Since then he's been one of the truest friends that I could ask for.
He's the kind of friend that will roll out for a Halloween party in homemade costumes with full confidence. The kind of friend that doesn't need to sugarcoat his feedback. The kind of friend that will beat his chest to remind you he's a man and get you fired up as well when you need to get in touch with your inner caveman. The kind of friend that challenges you to an impromptu wrestling match and still gives you grief for the souvenir mark on your wall. The kind of friend that will drop what he's doing and come down to help you pack up your mother's house without asking for anything in return. He's an exceptional friend.
Since our days of waiting tables for tips our professional paths have taken different directions. My road has taken me down a fairly safe, yet still exciting route. I've been blessed with several opportunities that were a function of timing as much as my own ability to end up in my current role, a position with a great company that allows me to focus on a passion.
Randy's main priority has always been his music. All of his actions have an end game of "how will this help my music?" That focus is something I've always admired. A lot of us have had stray thoughts enter our heads of "Oh man, wouldn't it be cool if I could just sing/act/draw/write/work out/etc. all day for a living?" Few of us have the stomach to follow this through and endure all the highs and lows of that rollercoaster. Randy is strapped in and fully committed to his ride. He's willing to do what it takes to get by (building fences, cutting concrete, working for a wholesale supercorp) while pouring his heart into doing what it takes to progress his craft. He has great highs like networking with top talent in the industry and getting glimpses behind the curtain most of us won't get. He has great lows like having to get up at 4 AM for a job he's not really jazzed about or bouts of self doubt that can randomly punch someone in the gut and take you down for months at a time.
Through the highs and the lows though he is following his own path and chasing down his passion with the tenacity of a stubborn bulldog. He won't let this go. He won't sell himself, his talents, or his opportunities short. His journey is a reminder of prioritizing why we're all here.
This song is haunting in its frustration, it's hope, it's tenacity. Even if you're not out there completely on your own, it's message of being true to yourself and leaving it all out on the field resonates. The spritzing of your soul that the smooth bars and bright delivery leave behind can't be denied. It's a refreshing feeling when you feel like you could use some relief from carrying the weight of worldly expectations on your back.
The world does a job of beating us up, of taking people that don't follow traditional paths of success and just slamming them day after day with doubts, rejection, frustrations that would subdue normal people into getting in line. This song is an anthem to those weary travelers. It's an inviting cabin with a wise old woman that has a bowl of stew, a hug, and a reassuring "you're doing the right thing" whispered in your ear as you rest your feet and get out of the storm for a bit. It's a reminder to follow and chase down the message in your own heart, not to be bound by the expectations of others.
I'm thankful for friends like these. These are the kind of people that are going to leave their mark. They aren't the ones on their deathbeds with "if only I had..." on their lips. We've all made enough mistakes to give in. The ones that don't are the ones that inspire. Their journeys make the risks and stretches that I take in my own life small in comparison. They remind me to pop my head up every once in a while to ensure the finish line I'm heading toward is something I can be proud of once I arrive.
Thank you to all I know out there that are following it in.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Ice Bucket Schmice Bucket
I’ve seen a new trend lately. Starting off slowly, but growing in frequency, articles of derision/annoyance/disappointment toward the recent ice bucket challenge meant to raise awareness for ALS.
The world does a pretty good job of grinding us down, it doesn’t need our help. There’s no need for people to passively aggressively insinuate the participants of the ice bucket challenge on their FB feeds are missing the point/sheeple/cheap. (If you are upset by what you are seeing in your FB feed, I’d invite you to read this).
A campaign to raise awareness has done just that. People are talking about ALS like I’ve never seen, I myself didn’t know that ALS was the same thing as Lou Gehrig’s disease until a few weeks ago. It’s also accomplished to raise 9x what it normally raises during a similar time frame (source). I’ve seen a myriad of year over year claims that vary widely, but I’ve yet to see one that says ALS is raising less money than this same time last year.
Before you express disgust/contempt, let’s ask how disgusted these charities have been with the influx of incremental capital. If they’re not bothered by it, what right does anyone else have to be? It’s not our call to decide who should be offended by something and decide to speak up on their behalf when they have no qualms. Let’s put the role of umbrage by proxy to rest. If the people you are offended for aren’t offended…..let it go (words included).
We should be less concerned about poking holes into something and wanting to be able to say “See I told you that was dumb/that wasn’t going to work/that was bogus” first. The moment when creative ideas are met with more people willing to tear it down than build it up will be a sad moment in human history. Small ideas can have huge impacts. Yes they can. We should be encouraging people to dream and take risks rather than seek shelter on the banks of the “I told you so” shore. I know it’s safer there, but you see so much more if you dare to venture into uncharted waters.
The world does a pretty good job of grinding us down, it doesn’t need our help. There’s no need for people to passively aggressively insinuate the participants of the ice bucket challenge on their FB feeds are missing the point/sheeple/cheap. (If you are upset by what you are seeing in your FB feed, I’d invite you to read this).
A campaign to raise awareness has done just that. People are talking about ALS like I’ve never seen, I myself didn’t know that ALS was the same thing as Lou Gehrig’s disease until a few weeks ago. It’s also accomplished to raise 9x what it normally raises during a similar time frame (source). I’ve seen a myriad of year over year claims that vary widely, but I’ve yet to see one that says ALS is raising less money than this same time last year.
Before you express disgust/contempt, let’s ask how disgusted these charities have been with the influx of incremental capital. If they’re not bothered by it, what right does anyone else have to be? It’s not our call to decide who should be offended by something and decide to speak up on their behalf when they have no qualms. Let’s put the role of umbrage by proxy to rest. If the people you are offended for aren’t offended…..let it go (words included).
We should be less concerned about poking holes into something and wanting to be able to say “See I told you that was dumb/that wasn’t going to work/that was bogus” first. The moment when creative ideas are met with more people willing to tear it down than build it up will be a sad moment in human history. Small ideas can have huge impacts. Yes they can. We should be encouraging people to dream and take risks rather than seek shelter on the banks of the “I told you so” shore. I know it’s safer there, but you see so much more if you dare to venture into uncharted waters.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Surfing Analyzed
I'm in Hawaii. I've just wrapped up a 2 day conference sitting in an auditorium....inside. It's 5 PM on a Friday and I fly out back to the mainland early in the morning. I've been in meetings all week and have yet to enjoy any of the sensory pleasures that one enjoys when they are in Hawaii.
I feel the regret begin to seep through my capillaries. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" my body screams. "YOU'RE IN HAWAII, BUT YOU COULD JUST AS EASILY BE IN BETHESDA. EXPERIENCE YOUR ENVIRONMENT!! THERE WILL BE TIME TO SIT IN ANOTHER CONFERENCE ROOM WHEN YOU GET HOME!!"
I power down my laptop, pack my notepad away filled with forecasts, trends, and a handful of interesting numbers I will soon forget and I fully accept my new mission of immersion. Flee the scene, shirts get untucked, and I am back in my hotel room with a sense of purpose.
Seconds after the door closes behind me, clothes are gone. I can no longer be encumbered by buttons, belts, deadlines. Primal caveman mode has kicked in. I grab the essentials (cash, my ID), begrudgingly put on my swim trunks and make my way through the lobby shirtless, shoeless and on my way to the closest surf shop.
I exchange paper with a merchant and he agrees to let me borrow his finest apparatus for 2 hours. I walk through the tourist-trap that is Waikiki with a sense of "look at these corporate drones" and I'm in the water in less than 6 minutes (or 1.8 Jack Johnson songs.)
I've never surfed before, but that doesn't seem to concern me as much as it probably should. I can snowboard and wakeboard and am filled with the arrogance of a typical American male. I'm resigned to the fact that I may fall a couple times, but I'm sure I'll be a pro by wave 5.
Mother Nature and Experience are a humbling combination.
The waves aren't particularly "epic" this evening, but don't let me convince you that was the only thing holding me back. I discovered pretty quickly that my balance was nowhere near where I thought it was. After paddling out to the waves, most people calmly straddle their boards, relax and wait for a wave to approach that they think will be worth pursuing. My approach is more of a sloppily slap my way out to a spot I think looks about right and try to look graceful as I convulse back and forth like I've got the only board that is possessed by an despotic, mechanical bull. While everyone else enjoys their quiet, self-reflecting, zen moments, I'm flailing around like a panicked hen.
When the occasional cease-fire between my cerebellum and surf board takes place and I'm able to serenely sit on my board like a sane person, I wait for waves to come at me and lift me into surfing folklore. "There was this guy, right. He was this surfing prodigy that couldn't stay on his board when it was still, but when he got up on a wave.... oh bruddah, watch out. That mainlander could carve!"
"Wave" I've discovered is its own separate language. And I don't know how to read it. It is truly an art to know where to position yourself and be able to sense with your soul when a wave is going to grow into something worth pursuing. As I paddled around like an idiot chasing inconsequential swells down with maximum effort, the locals just sit and calmly wait. I spend the next 90 minutes misjudging my reads and marveling at those around me that seem to be making something out of nothing. People are popping up all around me riding the water with ease. If the winner is the chef that makes the best dish with the same ingredients, then I'm in trouble...
I spend the last 20 minutes on the water trying to appreciate the moment for what it was, reflecting on how this experience could be an allegory for my own life, and worrying that with all the splashing around I'm doing a shark would obviously pick me as the fattest, slowest, most vulnerable seal.
I decide to paddle in and find myself lingering 20 yards from shore where a paid instructor is giving his pupils some basic tips. I make a pact with myself that next time the $30 investment for a lesson will be worth the price. He flashes me a quick, "You going to pay for this brah?" look. I continue my paddle to shore.
I come out of the water humbled by the ass-kicking, but grateful for the opportunity. I take a couple steps and put my chin up. I realize something. No matter how pathetic my attempts were out there in the surf, everyone looks the same walking out of the water to the people that are stationed safely on the beach. I'm wet and I have a surfboard under my arm, who the hell knows how well I did out there beside me? I went out there and gave it a shot, the people on land watched. We are all bound by the same limits of ability, our willingness to test those limits is what differentiates us.
I catch the eye of a cute tourist. She smiles.
"How was your day?" the shop owner asks as I return my board.
"No regrets," I grin in reply.
I feel the regret begin to seep through my capillaries. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" my body screams. "YOU'RE IN HAWAII, BUT YOU COULD JUST AS EASILY BE IN BETHESDA. EXPERIENCE YOUR ENVIRONMENT!! THERE WILL BE TIME TO SIT IN ANOTHER CONFERENCE ROOM WHEN YOU GET HOME!!"
I power down my laptop, pack my notepad away filled with forecasts, trends, and a handful of interesting numbers I will soon forget and I fully accept my new mission of immersion. Flee the scene, shirts get untucked, and I am back in my hotel room with a sense of purpose.
Seconds after the door closes behind me, clothes are gone. I can no longer be encumbered by buttons, belts, deadlines. Primal caveman mode has kicked in. I grab the essentials (cash, my ID), begrudgingly put on my swim trunks and make my way through the lobby shirtless, shoeless and on my way to the closest surf shop.
I exchange paper with a merchant and he agrees to let me borrow his finest apparatus for 2 hours. I walk through the tourist-trap that is Waikiki with a sense of "look at these corporate drones" and I'm in the water in less than 6 minutes (or 1.8 Jack Johnson songs.)
I've never surfed before, but that doesn't seem to concern me as much as it probably should. I can snowboard and wakeboard and am filled with the arrogance of a typical American male. I'm resigned to the fact that I may fall a couple times, but I'm sure I'll be a pro by wave 5.
Mother Nature and Experience are a humbling combination.
The waves aren't particularly "epic" this evening, but don't let me convince you that was the only thing holding me back. I discovered pretty quickly that my balance was nowhere near where I thought it was. After paddling out to the waves, most people calmly straddle their boards, relax and wait for a wave to approach that they think will be worth pursuing. My approach is more of a sloppily slap my way out to a spot I think looks about right and try to look graceful as I convulse back and forth like I've got the only board that is possessed by an despotic, mechanical bull. While everyone else enjoys their quiet, self-reflecting, zen moments, I'm flailing around like a panicked hen.
When the occasional cease-fire between my cerebellum and surf board takes place and I'm able to serenely sit on my board like a sane person, I wait for waves to come at me and lift me into surfing folklore. "There was this guy, right. He was this surfing prodigy that couldn't stay on his board when it was still, but when he got up on a wave.... oh bruddah, watch out. That mainlander could carve!"
"Wave" I've discovered is its own separate language. And I don't know how to read it. It is truly an art to know where to position yourself and be able to sense with your soul when a wave is going to grow into something worth pursuing. As I paddled around like an idiot chasing inconsequential swells down with maximum effort, the locals just sit and calmly wait. I spend the next 90 minutes misjudging my reads and marveling at those around me that seem to be making something out of nothing. People are popping up all around me riding the water with ease. If the winner is the chef that makes the best dish with the same ingredients, then I'm in trouble...
I spend the last 20 minutes on the water trying to appreciate the moment for what it was, reflecting on how this experience could be an allegory for my own life, and worrying that with all the splashing around I'm doing a shark would obviously pick me as the fattest, slowest, most vulnerable seal.
I decide to paddle in and find myself lingering 20 yards from shore where a paid instructor is giving his pupils some basic tips. I make a pact with myself that next time the $30 investment for a lesson will be worth the price. He flashes me a quick, "You going to pay for this brah?" look. I continue my paddle to shore.
I come out of the water humbled by the ass-kicking, but grateful for the opportunity. I take a couple steps and put my chin up. I realize something. No matter how pathetic my attempts were out there in the surf, everyone looks the same walking out of the water to the people that are stationed safely on the beach. I'm wet and I have a surfboard under my arm, who the hell knows how well I did out there beside me? I went out there and gave it a shot, the people on land watched. We are all bound by the same limits of ability, our willingness to test those limits is what differentiates us.
I catch the eye of a cute tourist. She smiles.
"How was your day?" the shop owner asks as I return my board.
"No regrets," I grin in reply.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Two Different Ways
Most people are lucky to have a strong female influence in their childhood. I was lucky enough to have two. One was my mother, a single woman running her own business, living on a farm with a myriad of animals and taking care of a human son. The second was my great aunt, Mona, in Los Angeles. She never had any children of her own, but spoiled me like a mo-fo. She would use any holiday as an excuse to ship boxes of presents up my way. She would write letters to me as herself, her pets, and other random characters so I always felt like I had an army of love behind me. This gift of confidence was invaluable to the shortest kid throughout his school years, the weirdo that came to school with patches on his jeans before they were cool. My favorite athlete growing up was Joe Montana. She got me a signed, framed Joe Montana picture for my 10th birthday. She finally came clean a couple years ago that it was forged, by then I appreciated the gesture more than the resale value.
Both have now passed on. My mother 5 weeks ago and my aunt just over a week ago. I just got the call about my aunt today. With both happening so closely to each other, it definitely gets a person thinking about all kinds of things. One of the questions that comes up is which type of departure is easier to deal with: a quick, unexpected death or a drawn out, bed-ridden ordeal?
After you accept that there is nothing you can do or say to the person anymore, you can only make sure you did the best with the moments/interactions you had. Without being able to ask the person posthumously on how they would rate their moments/interactions with you, you are left to your own imagination. This can open the door for uncontrollable waves of guilt to smash you to the floor. Without the person there to shut the door, your mind can conjure all sorts of "If I had only..." scenarios. This can be crippling.
In answering this "which is worse" question, I recognize how lucky I have been in both of my female influences. The last note that my mother sent me in the mail was, "Joseph Michael Mangan you are a good person/kid. I love you, Mom." She also left a note for me to find if I ever had to go through her things telling me how proud she was of me. One was a lucky coincidence, a small expression of love. The other was a planned, planted note that would have otherworldly powers to dispel any shrouds of doubt or guilt. These are both great individually, but to have both of these gifts is something I know many people do not get to experience.
My aunt was strong until the end, she has been bed-ridden for the last 3 years. She was able to hang onto her mind the entire time and even wrote down family history accounts about my grandmother, etc. that would have gone extinct with her. Transferring this tribal knowledge was something I would not have thought of, but I am grateful she had the foresight to put pen to paper. She was always blunt with me during our conversations, letting me know that she was ready to go. In her words, it could not come soon enough. She never let me worry about her. She did not want her health to impact my life in any way. Even at the end, she wanted to protect me. I learned today that even as her health was failing, she would not let anyone reach out to me because she did not want to cause any additional stress in my life.
In the end all you can hope for is closure. Whether it is a random freak accident or a 3 year battle in a bed, I think either scenario has equal potential for everlasting heartache and years of regret. In my situation, with my separate cases coming to a end so closely together, I cannot help but feel fortunate. Soaking it all in, I cannot help but look at things through this perspective. When you know you are loved despite your sporadic call record, you becoming your own person, your spotty visiting schedule, what else do you need?
Why let people wonder if you love them when you can tell them?
Both have now passed on. My mother 5 weeks ago and my aunt just over a week ago. I just got the call about my aunt today. With both happening so closely to each other, it definitely gets a person thinking about all kinds of things. One of the questions that comes up is which type of departure is easier to deal with: a quick, unexpected death or a drawn out, bed-ridden ordeal?
After you accept that there is nothing you can do or say to the person anymore, you can only make sure you did the best with the moments/interactions you had. Without being able to ask the person posthumously on how they would rate their moments/interactions with you, you are left to your own imagination. This can open the door for uncontrollable waves of guilt to smash you to the floor. Without the person there to shut the door, your mind can conjure all sorts of "If I had only..." scenarios. This can be crippling.
In answering this "which is worse" question, I recognize how lucky I have been in both of my female influences. The last note that my mother sent me in the mail was, "Joseph Michael Mangan you are a good person/kid. I love you, Mom." She also left a note for me to find if I ever had to go through her things telling me how proud she was of me. One was a lucky coincidence, a small expression of love. The other was a planned, planted note that would have otherworldly powers to dispel any shrouds of doubt or guilt. These are both great individually, but to have both of these gifts is something I know many people do not get to experience.
My aunt was strong until the end, she has been bed-ridden for the last 3 years. She was able to hang onto her mind the entire time and even wrote down family history accounts about my grandmother, etc. that would have gone extinct with her. Transferring this tribal knowledge was something I would not have thought of, but I am grateful she had the foresight to put pen to paper. She was always blunt with me during our conversations, letting me know that she was ready to go. In her words, it could not come soon enough. She never let me worry about her. She did not want her health to impact my life in any way. Even at the end, she wanted to protect me. I learned today that even as her health was failing, she would not let anyone reach out to me because she did not want to cause any additional stress in my life.
In the end all you can hope for is closure. Whether it is a random freak accident or a 3 year battle in a bed, I think either scenario has equal potential for everlasting heartache and years of regret. In my situation, with my separate cases coming to a end so closely together, I cannot help but feel fortunate. Soaking it all in, I cannot help but look at things through this perspective. When you know you are loved despite your sporadic call record, you becoming your own person, your spotty visiting schedule, what else do you need?
Why let people wonder if you love them when you can tell them?
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Joesop Fable: Mr. Bull and Mr. Sloth
Mr. Bull and Mr. Sloth are good friends. They work together in an advertising office and often eat lunch together. One day at lunch Mr. Bull looked at his phone, snorted his nose, and started hoofing the ground. Concerned, Mr. Sloth asked, “Why Mr. Bull, you seem very upset about something. Please proclaim your concern. I would be very interested in reversing your mood so we can continue with our delectable lunch.”
To which Mr. Bull replied, “Oh, it is election season and I
am so sick and tired of my newsfeed being overrun by everybody’s vapid
political opinion. The cacophonous
clamoring enrages me tremendously! Their
updates make the capillaries in my corneas pulse with ire. I am not concerned with their thoughts on
politics and do not appreciate my newsfeed being overrun with condensed bile.”
Mr. Sloth listened to Mr. Bull vent as he masticated his maple
leaf and sunflower petal whole wheat pita.
After chewing thirty two times, swallowing, and chasing it with a swig
of chocolate mole milk Mr. Sloth asked, “These opinions that you are
complaining about overtaking your newsfeed, who forms them?”
“Peers that I have identified in one way or another as a friend,”
Mr. Bull replied.
“Well if their opinions make your blood boil so forcefully,
have you considered reevaluating why you are friends with them? If the content on your newsfeed is formed by
animals you have confirmed as friends, then are you not responsible for what
you are seeing? ”
With that Mr. Bull’s horns went flaccid with introspection
and he moved on with his day.
Moral of the story: Complaining
about something you can act on gets you as far as words will go.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Life Lesson...
When people say, "Don't even get me started..." they usually want you to get them started.
It can be confusing, but don't let it ruin your day.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
My New Jacket
About 4-5 years ago my roommate, Andrew, and I went to a snowsports expo. The kind of thing where they put a tent up in a parking lot and tout "Super Savings!" on snow gear. I didn't really need anything, but decided I would go.
He found this jacket and tried it on. I laughed at him. It had comic book characters in the lining and studs on the back. I tried it on to show him how ridiculous he looked and a "Super Cute" girl coyly swam by and said "That jacket looks really good on you." After some playful banter back and forth I figured out that she was a sales girl there, but she informed me that shouldn't take anything away from her compliment. I looked good.
I told her I was just busting my roommate's chops for even thinking about that jacket, I mean comic book character lining and studs on the back? How ridiculous. Well I guess I didn't know that comic book characters were cool and studs were tough. I am sure you all can see where this is going... to Andrew's irritation I ended up buying the jacket .
As we were leaving, Andrew was shaking his head in disbelief that I stole the very jacket from him he was interested in and bought it for myself and I was kicking myself for not asking for her number. We were in the car ready to leave and I was trying to talk myself into going back into that tent for another assault. Andrew fed my delusion by encouraging me (I am convinced that he did not have my best interest at heart, and was still irked about losing the jacket to me.) I marched back in, walked up to the register where she was having a conversation with somebody and tried to hop back into that groove that we were in minutes ago. It is difficult to try to recreate lightning striking, but I gave it a good try. When I could see that the border between sweet and creepy was being tested, I threw out my last grenade from my belt, "So do you want to come over and watch some Saved by the Bell sometime?" (I had just gotten 4 seasons on DVD) I realized this was an all or nothing kind of move. I knew the risk I was taking. Well bunkered safely behind her "No Returns. All sales are final." sign she let out one loud "Ha" and said "No thanks" and turned back to her convo.
I still have that jacket and it is one of my favorites to this day.
He found this jacket and tried it on. I laughed at him. It had comic book characters in the lining and studs on the back. I tried it on to show him how ridiculous he looked and a "Super Cute" girl coyly swam by and said "That jacket looks really good on you." After some playful banter back and forth I figured out that she was a sales girl there, but she informed me that shouldn't take anything away from her compliment. I looked good.
I told her I was just busting my roommate's chops for even thinking about that jacket, I mean comic book character lining and studs on the back? How ridiculous. Well I guess I didn't know that comic book characters were cool and studs were tough. I am sure you all can see where this is going... to Andrew's irritation I ended up buying the jacket .
As we were leaving, Andrew was shaking his head in disbelief that I stole the very jacket from him he was interested in and bought it for myself and I was kicking myself for not asking for her number. We were in the car ready to leave and I was trying to talk myself into going back into that tent for another assault. Andrew fed my delusion by encouraging me (I am convinced that he did not have my best interest at heart, and was still irked about losing the jacket to me.) I marched back in, walked up to the register where she was having a conversation with somebody and tried to hop back into that groove that we were in minutes ago. It is difficult to try to recreate lightning striking, but I gave it a good try. When I could see that the border between sweet and creepy was being tested, I threw out my last grenade from my belt, "So do you want to come over and watch some Saved by the Bell sometime?" (I had just gotten 4 seasons on DVD) I realized this was an all or nothing kind of move. I knew the risk I was taking. Well bunkered safely behind her "No Returns. All sales are final." sign she let out one loud "Ha" and said "No thanks" and turned back to her convo.
I still have that jacket and it is one of my favorites to this day.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Hugs
Using nature as the ultimate professor, I have developed a theory on why hugs are such an intimate expression between 2 humans.
If you think that we all evolved from animals and then link that to bellies being the most vulnerable spot on most animals (cats, turtles, porcupines) then it makes sense that 2 animals trusting each other enough to touch each other’s bellies is a special moment.
XXXX!
If you think that we all evolved from animals and then link that to bellies being the most vulnerable spot on most animals (cats, turtles, porcupines) then it makes sense that 2 animals trusting each other enough to touch each other’s bellies is a special moment.
XXXX!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Aggressive Driving
We are animals. Animals with millions of years of instinct bred into our bones. It can be argued that “civilized” man has existed for hundreds maybe even thousands of years, but I think we can all agree that whatever that time may be it is only a drop in the bucket compared to the millions of years that animals have occupied this earth. At times I try and observe some of our actions in society and try to see if I can apply a natural world spin. You know why it is so easy for us to eat an entire box of macaroni and cheese in one sitting or bag of jelly beans? It is because for millions of years we have been programmed to eat whatever we can, whenever we can because you were never sure when the next Mastodon would be slain or when you would be lucky enough to catch a fish with your bare hands. It is in our DNA to plump up as much as possible. We were born to be insatiable. We gorge to survive.
So it is with this kind of eye, that I approach another curious habit of man: aggressive driving. The early forms of my theory were constructed while driving with my friend Debbie one day. She was telling me about a report that she was writing for a class about a society in South America where the boys are brought into manhood by being mounted by an older male. She explained that it was a similar action observed in roosters. When I thought about it myself and reflected on my life growing up on a farm, suddenly images of male dogs, goats, sheep, horses, bulls, and ducks trying to mount other animals made sense. They were trying to prove who is in charge. It’s an animalistic instinct to conquer and dominate as much as possible. And what is the simple and most effective way to prove dominance? To tackle a weaker creature and have your way with them (in a not very personal but very intimate way.)
It is with that logic that I turn to the road. Aggressive motorists experience driving in a different way, driving is a sexual experience to them. Passing somebody in a car is a very similar experience to mounting somebody. The moment that you hit the gas enough so that no part of your vehicles are side by side anymore is the automobile equivalent to penetration.
There is no sating this desire in a dominant hungry specimen because as soon as you penetrate/pass one car there is another car seductively winking its backside/taillights at you. In nature that is called “presenting.” The animal behind the wheel thrives on the rush of pouncing on his prey and having their way with it and then moving on to the next. If you look at a pride of lions or a pack of elk, the males must mount several females to claim them. It is kind of like a little kid going around touching things and saying, “that’s mine, this belongs to me, I’ll take that, etc…”
So the next time you see a car recklessly zip in and out of traffic, just laugh. Take solace that you are an evolved being that is cultured enough to control their animalistic desires. Questioning our actions is the only thing that keeps us from throwing feces at each other.
So it is with this kind of eye, that I approach another curious habit of man: aggressive driving. The early forms of my theory were constructed while driving with my friend Debbie one day. She was telling me about a report that she was writing for a class about a society in South America where the boys are brought into manhood by being mounted by an older male. She explained that it was a similar action observed in roosters. When I thought about it myself and reflected on my life growing up on a farm, suddenly images of male dogs, goats, sheep, horses, bulls, and ducks trying to mount other animals made sense. They were trying to prove who is in charge. It’s an animalistic instinct to conquer and dominate as much as possible. And what is the simple and most effective way to prove dominance? To tackle a weaker creature and have your way with them (in a not very personal but very intimate way.)
It is with that logic that I turn to the road. Aggressive motorists experience driving in a different way, driving is a sexual experience to them. Passing somebody in a car is a very similar experience to mounting somebody. The moment that you hit the gas enough so that no part of your vehicles are side by side anymore is the automobile equivalent to penetration.
There is no sating this desire in a dominant hungry specimen because as soon as you penetrate/pass one car there is another car seductively winking its backside/taillights at you. In nature that is called “presenting.” The animal behind the wheel thrives on the rush of pouncing on his prey and having their way with it and then moving on to the next. If you look at a pride of lions or a pack of elk, the males must mount several females to claim them. It is kind of like a little kid going around touching things and saying, “that’s mine, this belongs to me, I’ll take that, etc…”
So the next time you see a car recklessly zip in and out of traffic, just laugh. Take solace that you are an evolved being that is cultured enough to control their animalistic desires. Questioning our actions is the only thing that keeps us from throwing feces at each other.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Atlanta Adventures
I arrive in Atlanta, home to Outkast, Ludacris, The Falcons and my good friend Randy Robbins. When booking my flight to Honduras I was first rather peeved at the thought of a 15 hour layover in ATL, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. One could even say that the experience of hanging out with Randy in ATL for a night should have actually cost me a little extra.
I get off the plane, grab my bags, made a phone call to Randy and went and waited on the curb. After about 5 minutes he rolls up in his crisp ’99 Cadillac with some of the wettest tires I’ve seen and a custom plaid sunroof shade that just screams originality. Seeing him pull up in his Cadillac is a good sight and reminds me that dreams do come true. I’ve heard Randy talk about a getting his own Cadillac ever since I’ve known him (about 4 years when we literally ‘ran into’ each other while working at Maggiano’s.)
After getting some initial greetings out of the way, we hop in the car and begin our mini-adventure. Randy explains to me how the 2 main highways in ATL run like the seams of a baseball and meet in the middle. Interesting I think, but where are we going to eat? Randy had 2 places mapped out for us, choice 1: a sushi joint, choice 2: a New Orleans style grill. I am not sure how to politely say that I am not about to eat any sushi that needs to get imported into ATL while I’ve got fresh Seattle Sound sushi at home, but I get my vote out there and we head toward Front Page News (supposedly a great NO grill.)
Randy takes this time to catch me up in his life. This guy is a really solid human being, really involved in his church, strong values, a great personality, and probably the best Colonel Sanders looking broom on his chin out of any of my other friends. Things are going well for him.
I catch him up on my life: travelling super hero, selfless devoter of time to my local orphanage, modeling contracts…. I also think this is a good opportunity to share some of my new knowledge that I had acquired from my new book (230 Things you Thought you Knew But Actually Didn’t.) Turns out Randy didn’t know who was America’s first president or who invented the telephone. You probably don’t either though so let me tell you: Peyton Randolph and Antonio Meucci respectively. Open a book.
We get close to where we are trying to get for dinner and start looking for parking. We see a sign for “complimentary valet” and pull in. Turns out though that the restaurant we wanted to go wasn’t park of the parking HMO and it was $15. After Randy talked with the attendant for a minute to get the scoop on some cheaper alternatives we ended up handing the keys over. I was just about to say something about his sign being false advertising, but then he said that Randy had really deep eyes and I technically could not call him out anymore.
On our way to the restaurant some promoters outside of a new Latin club told us about some drink specials they were running that night and when we asked them where the Front Page News was, the washed out boxer looking promoter pointed us up the street and said, “don’t eat the food.” Randy brought up a really good point that that is probably not the best way to make friends with your neighbors if you were a new club in the area. By the time we sit down it is about 10:10 PM and all they are serving is their Late Night Menu (chicken fingers, jalapeno poppers, etc.) We decide to bail and get a hot tip on a place called Vortex that serves late.
The food at Vortex turns out to be really good. I guess they have won a bunch of awards for their burgers and Randy and I try 2 of their finest. I get a Raging Cajun burger (pepper jack, spicy sauce) and Randy gets an Elvis Burger with a bison patty (peanut butter, bananas, bacon, tomato.) He jokes with the waitress that he thought bison were extinct, she lets out a laugh and says, “nah, they grow them just for us.” Our waitress was a definite character and there were definitely awkward moments in my mind when I wasn’t sure if she was enjoying talking to us or just waiting to jet. Randy broke out his best Michael Jackson food poisoning joke involving a five year old wiener and that seemed to help things. After she left the table I told him my new favorite pickup line, “Do you have any raisins?Then how about a date?”
On the way back to the car Randy ended up recognizing a local rapper and belted out some lyrics with him. When we got back to the car, a different valet came up to us and handed over the keys, Randy started talking with him and ended up going back and forth with some freestyle. Randy also was asked by 2 girls if his name was Scott Johnson, I told them that his name was Scott Tompson. I guess he looked like a guy named Scott that they worked with and they decided they had to have a picture of him.
Rolling down the street Randy brings up trying my pickup line on ATL girls. Randy was up first and he pulled up next to 2 girls walking down the street, “Hey do you have any raisins? Wanna date?” I think her reply was something like, “No, no raisins, but I do have a middle finger for you.”
The pair that he finds for me to talk to is much friendlier and with my perfect delivery, they quickly find themselves laughing. “How do you do it?” Randy asks.
On our way back to Randy’s we get a little lost in the seams of ATL highway system and find ourselves needing to take a toll. Randy decides to give the raisins one more try and belts the following out over 3 lanes of traffic, “You have any raisins?You trying to get a date?” Smile achieved!
It turns out that Randy had just moved into a new house with 2 new roommates. His room had a standard number of corners, 4, but he chose to make a floor-bed for me in the one that had previously been occupied by a ferret. I guess he was excited to test whether he had done a good job of masking all the rodent urine or not. After a good night’s sleep, Randy decides we have time for one last Southern experience before dropping me off at the airport. To the Waffle House!
We roll up to the Waffle House in the Cadillac, stroll into the building and are told to seat ourselves at the jam saturated booth of our choice. Our server comes to greet us and is very pleasant. Her name is Ashley and she is friendly enough to agree to answer some trivia questions. Ashley gets one point for guessing that George Washington was not America’s first president, but she immediately loses that point when her guess for most dangerous animal to man is dinosaur. Most dangerous animal to man.
A ride to the airport later and after a couple of chest bumps I was leaving Atlanta and on my way to Honduras. I know it’s hard to believe that we were able to find so many memories in a time span of less than 12 hours, but hey that’s what you’re going to get when you two playmakers together…. life experiences.
I get off the plane, grab my bags, made a phone call to Randy and went and waited on the curb. After about 5 minutes he rolls up in his crisp ’99 Cadillac with some of the wettest tires I’ve seen and a custom plaid sunroof shade that just screams originality. Seeing him pull up in his Cadillac is a good sight and reminds me that dreams do come true. I’ve heard Randy talk about a getting his own Cadillac ever since I’ve known him (about 4 years when we literally ‘ran into’ each other while working at Maggiano’s.)
After getting some initial greetings out of the way, we hop in the car and begin our mini-adventure. Randy explains to me how the 2 main highways in ATL run like the seams of a baseball and meet in the middle. Interesting I think, but where are we going to eat? Randy had 2 places mapped out for us, choice 1: a sushi joint, choice 2: a New Orleans style grill. I am not sure how to politely say that I am not about to eat any sushi that needs to get imported into ATL while I’ve got fresh Seattle Sound sushi at home, but I get my vote out there and we head toward Front Page News (supposedly a great NO grill.)
Randy takes this time to catch me up in his life. This guy is a really solid human being, really involved in his church, strong values, a great personality, and probably the best Colonel Sanders looking broom on his chin out of any of my other friends. Things are going well for him.
I catch him up on my life: travelling super hero, selfless devoter of time to my local orphanage, modeling contracts…. I also think this is a good opportunity to share some of my new knowledge that I had acquired from my new book (230 Things you Thought you Knew But Actually Didn’t.) Turns out Randy didn’t know who was America’s first president or who invented the telephone. You probably don’t either though so let me tell you: Peyton Randolph and Antonio Meucci respectively. Open a book.
We get close to where we are trying to get for dinner and start looking for parking. We see a sign for “complimentary valet” and pull in. Turns out though that the restaurant we wanted to go wasn’t park of the parking HMO and it was $15. After Randy talked with the attendant for a minute to get the scoop on some cheaper alternatives we ended up handing the keys over. I was just about to say something about his sign being false advertising, but then he said that Randy had really deep eyes and I technically could not call him out anymore.
On our way to the restaurant some promoters outside of a new Latin club told us about some drink specials they were running that night and when we asked them where the Front Page News was, the washed out boxer looking promoter pointed us up the street and said, “don’t eat the food.” Randy brought up a really good point that that is probably not the best way to make friends with your neighbors if you were a new club in the area. By the time we sit down it is about 10:10 PM and all they are serving is their Late Night Menu (chicken fingers, jalapeno poppers, etc.) We decide to bail and get a hot tip on a place called Vortex that serves late.
The food at Vortex turns out to be really good. I guess they have won a bunch of awards for their burgers and Randy and I try 2 of their finest. I get a Raging Cajun burger (pepper jack, spicy sauce) and Randy gets an Elvis Burger with a bison patty (peanut butter, bananas, bacon, tomato.) He jokes with the waitress that he thought bison were extinct, she lets out a laugh and says, “nah, they grow them just for us.” Our waitress was a definite character and there were definitely awkward moments in my mind when I wasn’t sure if she was enjoying talking to us or just waiting to jet. Randy broke out his best Michael Jackson food poisoning joke involving a five year old wiener and that seemed to help things. After she left the table I told him my new favorite pickup line, “Do you have any raisins?
On the way back to the car Randy ended up recognizing a local rapper and belted out some lyrics with him. When we got back to the car, a different valet came up to us and handed over the keys, Randy started talking with him and ended up going back and forth with some freestyle. Randy also was asked by 2 girls if his name was Scott Johnson, I told them that his name was Scott Tompson. I guess he looked like a guy named Scott that they worked with and they decided they had to have a picture of him.
Rolling down the street Randy brings up trying my pickup line on ATL girls. Randy was up first and he pulled up next to 2 girls walking down the street, “Hey do you have any raisins? Wanna date?” I think her reply was something like, “No, no raisins, but I do have a middle finger for you.”
The pair that he finds for me to talk to is much friendlier and with my perfect delivery, they quickly find themselves laughing. “How do you do it?” Randy asks.
On our way back to Randy’s we get a little lost in the seams of ATL highway system and find ourselves needing to take a toll. Randy decides to give the raisins one more try and belts the following out over 3 lanes of traffic, “You have any raisins?
It turns out that Randy had just moved into a new house with 2 new roommates. His room had a standard number of corners, 4, but he chose to make a floor-bed for me in the one that had previously been occupied by a ferret. I guess he was excited to test whether he had done a good job of masking all the rodent urine or not. After a good night’s sleep, Randy decides we have time for one last Southern experience before dropping me off at the airport. To the Waffle House!
We roll up to the Waffle House in the Cadillac, stroll into the building and are told to seat ourselves at the jam saturated booth of our choice. Our server comes to greet us and is very pleasant. Her name is Ashley and she is friendly enough to agree to answer some trivia questions. Ashley gets one point for guessing that George Washington was not America’s first president, but she immediately loses that point when her guess for most dangerous animal to man is dinosaur. Most dangerous animal to man.
A ride to the airport later and after a couple of chest bumps I was leaving Atlanta and on my way to Honduras. I know it’s hard to believe that we were able to find so many memories in a time span of less than 12 hours, but hey that’s what you’re going to get when you two playmakers together…. life experiences.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
RRR 5/7
Sun, 28 Nov 2004
We made it to day five!!!
I read in my protesting book that if you make it through day five of a protest, then that means you've made it over the hump and everything is downhill from there.... whew!
So today, Sunday November 28, I arrived at my corner at around 5:14 PM after picking up my friend Dan AKA Massachussets Fats. He had offered to go out and support me the previous day and actually called me up and got me motivated to go out to the streets tonight (before he called I had wasted most of my Sunday watching old O.C. episodes and eating Cookies and Cream frozen yogurt.) So I was excited to be mildly productive with my Sunday.
We got to the corner in high spirits and I had given Dan one of my old Red Robin polos so that we could both be in full uniform. The honks were few and far between tonight (I think we only got three) and one ass clown had his girlfriend lean on her horn while he tried to get me to admit that I was fired for smoking too much weed. Despite the low crowd participation Dan and I still managed to have fun by making small talk and deciding that it would be a bad idea to get my hair cut and that I should sport the longness for awhile.
Well about half way through my shift on the street my friend Paige showed up for her shift at work, but she made sure to stop by and say hi before she went in. Immediately after Paige came up to a, some crazy guy with open lacerations covering his face walked by and said something about "argh You got fired from red robin for the truth argh huh?" And I kind of just nodded and went back to talking to Paige because it was obvious this guy was not big fan of showers or being sober. But while he was waiting at the corner for the light to change to cross the street he started talking to Dan. Now I can hear Dan talking to this guy and I can tell that he is uncomfortable and the noble thing for me to do would have been to turn around and help Dan get out of this unwanted conversation, but instead I tell Paige not to move so that I can fake that we're are in a deep discussion so that I won't be bothered. Well this guy "Cuts McGee" starts asking Dan why he's protesting and I hear Dan say, "Well, I'm not the one that you should talk to, my friend here has more of the facts." And this is followed by a not so gentle poking to get my attention, well I knew what Dan was up to and I was not about to get sucked into a conversation with Cuts so I held my ground and continued talking to Paige.
Sometime around then Paige tells me that if I'm nice to the guy maybe he'll give me "Bush." And I was kind of confused, I didn't know what she was talking about. Was "Bush" the new street slang for oral pleasure or did she mean that the smelly ole Cuts might try to offer me a marijuana cigarette if I was nice enough? Well turns out she was referring to neither of these scenarios and actually was suggesting that if I was nice to Cuts, then maybe he'd give me one of his Busch beers that he was carrying around......Well the guy caught his light eventually and ended up leaving but I guess he was trying to get the inside scoop about working at Red Robin from Dan (a person who has never worked at a Red Robin) because he, Cuts, was seriously considering thinking about maybe going in to see if they might be hiring at Red Robin to which Dan's internal reply was "Dude maybe you should think about sealing up some of these gaping flesh wounds on your face first."
Shortly after that and Paige had gone to work and told people that we were protesting, people started gathering at the window to sneak a peek. At one point I turned around at thought I saw a model of the moon rotating around the earth, but it was just our diminutive kitchen manager, Francisco, being dwarfed by our not so diminutive assistant manager, Lori.
The music started acting up after that and the CD wouldn't play any songs after #12 so after I tinkered around with that and Dan let me know he was cold, we called it a night.
Possible slogans:"Sabrina the burger witch" and "King: A Royal Pain" (those being appropriate because our general manager's name is Sabrina King) Any suggestions?
Thanks to Dan!!
Joe
We made it to day five!!!
I read in my protesting book that if you make it through day five of a protest, then that means you've made it over the hump and everything is downhill from there.... whew!
So today, Sunday November 28, I arrived at my corner at around 5:14 PM after picking up my friend Dan AKA Massachussets Fats. He had offered to go out and support me the previous day and actually called me up and got me motivated to go out to the streets tonight (before he called I had wasted most of my Sunday watching old O.C. episodes and eating Cookies and Cream frozen yogurt.) So I was excited to be mildly productive with my Sunday.
We got to the corner in high spirits and I had given Dan one of my old Red Robin polos so that we could both be in full uniform. The honks were few and far between tonight (I think we only got three) and one ass clown had his girlfriend lean on her horn while he tried to get me to admit that I was fired for smoking too much weed. Despite the low crowd participation Dan and I still managed to have fun by making small talk and deciding that it would be a bad idea to get my hair cut and that I should sport the longness for awhile.
Well about half way through my shift on the street my friend Paige showed up for her shift at work, but she made sure to stop by and say hi before she went in. Immediately after Paige came up to a, some crazy guy with open lacerations covering his face walked by and said something about "argh You got fired from red robin for the truth argh huh?" And I kind of just nodded and went back to talking to Paige because it was obvious this guy was not big fan of showers or being sober. But while he was waiting at the corner for the light to change to cross the street he started talking to Dan. Now I can hear Dan talking to this guy and I can tell that he is uncomfortable and the noble thing for me to do would have been to turn around and help Dan get out of this unwanted conversation, but instead I tell Paige not to move so that I can fake that we're are in a deep discussion so that I won't be bothered. Well this guy "Cuts McGee" starts asking Dan why he's protesting and I hear Dan say, "Well, I'm not the one that you should talk to, my friend here has more of the facts." And this is followed by a not so gentle poking to get my attention, well I knew what Dan was up to and I was not about to get sucked into a conversation with Cuts so I held my ground and continued talking to Paige.
Sometime around then Paige tells me that if I'm nice to the guy maybe he'll give me "Bush." And I was kind of confused, I didn't know what she was talking about. Was "Bush" the new street slang for oral pleasure or did she mean that the smelly ole Cuts might try to offer me a marijuana cigarette if I was nice enough? Well turns out she was referring to neither of these scenarios and actually was suggesting that if I was nice to Cuts, then maybe he'd give me one of his Busch beers that he was carrying around......Well the guy caught his light eventually and ended up leaving but I guess he was trying to get the inside scoop about working at Red Robin from Dan (a person who has never worked at a Red Robin) because he, Cuts, was seriously considering thinking about maybe going in to see if they might be hiring at Red Robin to which Dan's internal reply was "Dude maybe you should think about sealing up some of these gaping flesh wounds on your face first."
Shortly after that and Paige had gone to work and told people that we were protesting, people started gathering at the window to sneak a peek. At one point I turned around at thought I saw a model of the moon rotating around the earth, but it was just our diminutive kitchen manager, Francisco, being dwarfed by our not so diminutive assistant manager, Lori.
The music started acting up after that and the CD wouldn't play any songs after #12 so after I tinkered around with that and Dan let me know he was cold, we called it a night.
Possible slogans:"Sabrina the burger witch" and "King: A Royal Pain" (those being appropriate because our general manager's name is Sabrina King) Any suggestions?
Thanks to Dan!!
Joe
Sunday, September 7, 2008
RRR 4/7
Tue, 23 Nov 2004
Today was a very good day. I arrived at my corner at about 6:33 PM on Monday and stayed till 7:54 PM. I got four honks from people driving south, four from people going north, 8 from people going east and 1 from someone going west. I also got three thumbs up (2 from cars and one from a pedestrian.)
Shortly after setting up shop Clint, an employee of Red Robin, came out in his street clothes to shoot the breeze with me for awhile and ask me if I wanted to go to a Health Card class with him the following day.
Then after that I got many more visitors. Becky, the manager for the night, came out to see me, Marissa, the creepy girl down the street, brought her equally creepy roommate to meet me and try and convince to come home with them, and then the highlight fortnight happened.... My friends Nate, Elias, and Andrew stopped by. They (Elias and Nate) came out and did cartwheels and held signs and yelled at cars passing by while Andrew stood in the back with his arms tucked into his T-shirt (I guess he was cold or something and didn't really want to be seen with us since he still works for the Red Robin we were protesting in front of.) Anyway it was great to have a big crowd and that's when the people from the restaurant (employees) came out to kick it, we even had a cameo by freaking MARIETTE GUIDRY!!! It was great, I wish all my days could be that fun. So after Nate, Elias, and Andrew left Clint came back out to stand with me until my CD ran out and we were harmonizing to Oasis' "Wonderwall."
So after I left my corner, I went to work out, and when I got out of the gym I saw that I had a new voice mail. When I listened to it I was elated to hear that it was some guy from Red Robin Inc. telling me that he was calling in response to some complaints he had heard and to give him a call at some 1-800 number. At the time I didn't really think it was weird that he was calling me at 10 at night or that his message was somewhat mumbled, I was just excited that I had got a reaction out of the company. It wasn't until later that evening at our poker game that I realized/found out that it was actually Nate who had called and left a bogus message on my phone. I was slightly crestfallen at the time, but hopefully with a little time I'll be able to get a genuine angry message of my very own.
Shout outs:
I just want to say "what up" to melissa. It was really cool of you to come and make amends after you made a huge Samoan ass out of yourself.
To Carhart and KEXP for sponsoring me in my time of need. For today's best mix of oldies and newbies make sure to tune to KEXP!!
And to Ms. Guidry: Good luck with that new phone, make sure you store me under ASIAN DREAMBOAT.
Joe
Today was a very good day. I arrived at my corner at about 6:33 PM on Monday and stayed till 7:54 PM. I got four honks from people driving south, four from people going north, 8 from people going east and 1 from someone going west. I also got three thumbs up (2 from cars and one from a pedestrian.)
Shortly after setting up shop Clint, an employee of Red Robin, came out in his street clothes to shoot the breeze with me for awhile and ask me if I wanted to go to a Health Card class with him the following day.
Then after that I got many more visitors. Becky, the manager for the night, came out to see me, Marissa, the creepy girl down the street, brought her equally creepy roommate to meet me and try and convince to come home with them, and then the highlight fortnight happened.... My friends Nate, Elias, and Andrew stopped by. They (Elias and Nate) came out and did cartwheels and held signs and yelled at cars passing by while Andrew stood in the back with his arms tucked into his T-shirt (I guess he was cold or something and didn't really want to be seen with us since he still works for the Red Robin we were protesting in front of.) Anyway it was great to have a big crowd and that's when the people from the restaurant (employees) came out to kick it, we even had a cameo by freaking MARIETTE GUIDRY!!! It was great, I wish all my days could be that fun. So after Nate, Elias, and Andrew left Clint came back out to stand with me until my CD ran out and we were harmonizing to Oasis' "Wonderwall."
So after I left my corner, I went to work out, and when I got out of the gym I saw that I had a new voice mail. When I listened to it I was elated to hear that it was some guy from Red Robin Inc. telling me that he was calling in response to some complaints he had heard and to give him a call at some 1-800 number. At the time I didn't really think it was weird that he was calling me at 10 at night or that his message was somewhat mumbled, I was just excited that I had got a reaction out of the company. It wasn't until later that evening at our poker game that I realized/found out that it was actually Nate who had called and left a bogus message on my phone. I was slightly crestfallen at the time, but hopefully with a little time I'll be able to get a genuine angry message of my very own.
Shout outs:
I just want to say "what up" to melissa. It was really cool of you to come and make amends after you made a huge Samoan ass out of yourself.
To Carhart and KEXP for sponsoring me in my time of need. For today's best mix of oldies and newbies make sure to tune to KEXP!!
And to Ms. Guidry: Good luck with that new phone, make sure you store me under ASIAN DREAMBOAT.
Joe
Saturday, August 30, 2008
RRR 3/7
Sat, 20 Nov 2004
All right burger friends here's the saga of day three:
arrived at my corner of Eastlake and Fuhrman at about 6:23 PM on Friday evening and left at the end of my new CD which was about 7:48 PM. I was working for a good part of the day on my newest addition to my protest, a pretty big banner that was formerly a sign displayed on the roof of the restaurant but now displays my rage. It was made in response to Sabrina's claim that my signs were "too small" and that "nobody could read them."
Javier, one of the bussers at Red Robin, came out to talk to me for a good while and explained to me his plans to go back to Peru for Christmas and work on his 20 acre rice farm there. He doen't know if he'll be able to return. I'm going to miss him. Tim Ausink, one of my old roommates, came and introduced me to Sunny, his girlfriend. I asked him to take a picture, but I left my camera in the car.
Some guy from WASH PIRG came by and noticed my progress in sign size and gave me some advice on what I should do. He told me that I actually needed a permit for my banner because I had to attach a post to it to get it to stand, but that my music was probably okay. He also suggested that I should call a group called H.E.R.E. to gather support for my cause so that it's not just me standing out on the street by myself. I don't think I'll do either.
I think people going south on eastlake are more prone to honking than those going north.
I'm connecting with the young people in the shitty cars and with the older people who have the nicer cars, but still get high.
I can tell when I'm making people uncomfortable. I try my best to keep a disarming smile on me at all times so that people don't think I'm too crazy, but my message does not always get across to them.
Peace to all my Pig Latin speaking peeps,
Joe
All right burger friends here's the saga of day three:
arrived at my corner of Eastlake and Fuhrman at about 6:23 PM on Friday evening and left at the end of my new CD which was about 7:48 PM. I was working for a good part of the day on my newest addition to my protest, a pretty big banner that was formerly a sign displayed on the roof of the restaurant but now displays my rage. It was made in response to Sabrina's claim that my signs were "too small" and that "nobody could read them."
Javier, one of the bussers at Red Robin, came out to talk to me for a good while and explained to me his plans to go back to Peru for Christmas and work on his 20 acre rice farm there. He doen't know if he'll be able to return. I'm going to miss him. Tim Ausink, one of my old roommates, came and introduced me to Sunny, his girlfriend. I asked him to take a picture, but I left my camera in the car.
Some guy from WASH PIRG came by and noticed my progress in sign size and gave me some advice on what I should do. He told me that I actually needed a permit for my banner because I had to attach a post to it to get it to stand, but that my music was probably okay. He also suggested that I should call a group called H.E.R.E. to gather support for my cause so that it's not just me standing out on the street by myself. I don't think I'll do either.
I think people going south on eastlake are more prone to honking than those going north.
I'm connecting with the young people in the shitty cars and with the older people who have the nicer cars, but still get high.
I can tell when I'm making people uncomfortable. I try my best to keep a disarming smile on me at all times so that people don't think I'm too crazy, but my message does not always get across to them.
Peace to all my Pig Latin speaking peeps,
Joe
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
RRR 2/7
Hello friends! I am going to continue with the RR saga. There are 7 days total (days 5 & 7 are my favorite.)
"Fri, 12 Nov 2004
Day Two:
I arrived at the corner of Eastlake and Fuhrman tonight at about 7:38. I was afraid that I wasn't going to be able to make it tonight because I had to go up to Alderwood for training on my other job, but luckily it was cut short.
I have to say that day two went a lot better for me and I had a lot more fun. More people came out from the restaurant to find out what I was doing and let me know they are rooting for me. Even the manager that was on duty that night came out to shoot the breeze with me. Rumor around the office is that Sabrina, the GM, DID see me on my first night, only I guess she was talking shit and said that my signs were too small and were not legible, bad move. I guess I'll just have to get a HUGE banner and display that with bigger and bolder letters.... I think some protestin' tunes would be a nice touch too, yeah... next time I'll bring my boombox with some choice tunes, a BIG banner, and some bigger more legible signs. Thanks for the tip Sabrina!
Tonight I stayed out for about 53 minutes because I still wanted to make it to the gym later. I came to the conclusion out there tonight that since I have 4 jobs now, I need to treat this one man protest as a hobby, I need to keep it fun. So any ideas that you have out there to keep it fun would be appreciated. Maybe I should dress up like a big red bird and flail around ......? We'll see.
Shout outs:Mad ups to my boy L-dizzle in Raq-town and his boy Justin, I hope that rash clears up for you J-dawg it's a shame to bench a playa like you just cuz your boys are a little red.
Linda, I didn't mean to call you fat I just meant to say that a girl of your "size/proportions" has NO business wearing spandex... I hope we're cool now.
Until next time little ones, same bat time, same bat channel,
Joe"
"Fri, 12 Nov 2004
Day Two:
I arrived at the corner of Eastlake and Fuhrman tonight at about 7:38. I was afraid that I wasn't going to be able to make it tonight because I had to go up to Alderwood for training on my other job, but luckily it was cut short.
I have to say that day two went a lot better for me and I had a lot more fun. More people came out from the restaurant to find out what I was doing and let me know they are rooting for me. Even the manager that was on duty that night came out to shoot the breeze with me. Rumor around the office is that Sabrina, the GM, DID see me on my first night, only I guess she was talking shit and said that my signs were too small and were not legible, bad move. I guess I'll just have to get a HUGE banner and display that with bigger and bolder letters.... I think some protestin' tunes would be a nice touch too, yeah... next time I'll bring my boombox with some choice tunes, a BIG banner, and some bigger more legible signs. Thanks for the tip Sabrina!
Tonight I stayed out for about 53 minutes because I still wanted to make it to the gym later. I came to the conclusion out there tonight that since I have 4 jobs now, I need to treat this one man protest as a hobby, I need to keep it fun. So any ideas that you have out there to keep it fun would be appreciated. Maybe I should dress up like a big red bird and flail around ......? We'll see.
Shout outs:Mad ups to my boy L-dizzle in Raq-town and his boy Justin, I hope that rash clears up for you J-dawg it's a shame to bench a playa like you just cuz your boys are a little red.
Linda, I didn't mean to call you fat I just meant to say that a girl of your "size/proportions" has NO business wearing spandex... I hope we're cool now.
Until next time little ones, same bat time, same bat channel,
Joe"
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Red Robin Reminiscing
Hello friends. As some of you know, I used to work at Red Robin. The story of how I got the job as the yellow-tight wearing mascot is an interesting tale in its own right. That is not the journey I'll be sharing with you today. My 3 years at Red Robin were filled with many, many, many memories (mostly pleasant,) however my departure from that company was less than sweet. I came across some old emails of that experience and thought that I would share.
"On Wed, 10 Nov 2004, Joseph Mangan wrote:
So today was the first day of the big one man protest against Red Robin, so I'd thought I'd try and keep you guys posted on the progress.
For those of you who don't know, I don't work at Red Robin anymore because I got fired. Long story short, ever since we got our new General Manager (about a year ago) we've been butting heads and work has not been the fun eutopia it once used to be. On the day I got fired I came in for my shift that I was scheduled for and then Sabrina (the GM) sat me down in the middle of the restaurant to let me know that she was going to be suspending me for three shifts. Her reason for this was because I did not RSG (a thing that is done at Red Robin before our shifts where we go in the back and look over what we are currently focusing on) with a guy named Mike during my shift. The thing is we're supposed to RSG before our shift so that we know what's up, but since we haven't been doing that with a trainer in awhile, I've just been doing it on my own after I clock in. Well anyway I was in the middle of my shift and Mike tells me to go in the back and RSG with him, and I don't for three reasons:
1. I don't really like the guy (think half Snidely Whiplash and half Jar Jar Binks.) Total annoying, snake in the grass, turd burglar.
2. I had already done it. I think the focus that day was 30 second greets.
3. And I was in the middle of getting beverages for my guests.
Well anyway he ends up telling the GM that I refused to go in the back with him and so this is why we were now having this little talk in the middle of the restaurant. So when Sabrina lays out her plan for me, naturally I'm a little upset because I felt like I took care of my shit and if I had been in the back RSGing I would have been neglecting my tables and we would've then been having a conversation about how I need to not neglect my tables. (anyone that knows about the crazy metrics that RR servers are judged on understands)So at the end of her speel she tells me that I'm suspended for three shifts and asks, "So do you agree what you did to Mike was disrespectful?" And of course I said "No" because at Red Robin we are supposed to have an "open door" policy where we are supposed to feel safe saying whatever we want without fear of retaliation, but I guess they changed that rule sometime while I was out because right after I said that she told me that I was fired. So in my mind I ended getting suspended for not RSGing with Mike, but FIRED for telling her my honest opinion. So that's when I decided to stage my one man protest.
The timing of the protest to start today was strategic because tonight was the night of our all team party, so the restaurant was filled with people from other Red Robins who were filling in. It was my hope that they'd see me protesting and then take it back to their restaurants that everything was not OK at the University Red Robin. So I get there all pumped to start protesting, pull up in the Pathfinder at around 5:58 pull out my signs, and am on my corner by 6:00. Within one minute of being out there the first person to respond was some old man in a white car that managed to both honk and flip me off at the same time he was turning a corner. After that though things picked up and people were honking and giving me thumbs up instead of flipping me the bird. I had a couple of people ask why Red Robin was unfair? and it took me awhile to figure out how to explain my plight to the common man, but by the fourth person I had a pretty good version of the story down. My friend Eli even stopped by to show his support and stood out there with me for a good 9 minutes. And at around 7:00 Lori, one of the managers, drives up to the restaurant, sees me, and makes sure to walk on the complete opposite side of the street as she entered. But by 7:30 I was getting pretty cold because I didn't bring a jacket and was only wearing a Red Robin polo team member shirt. So as I started to get the sniffles I figured I call an end to day one and pack it up so that I can be back on the street on Friday.
It wasn't the big media event that I had hoped for and none of the 4 tv stations I called actually showed up, but it was just day one. So here's the start of the great Red Robin Protest and I knew you'd all want some sort of documentation of it. Whenever you drive by someone holding up a sign, just give them a little honk, it's not too much from you but it sure makes being out there a lot more bearable.
I'll be sure and keep all of you posted as my uphill battle progresses."
Let me know if you want me to post how day 2 went....
"On Wed, 10 Nov 2004, Joseph Mangan wrote:
So today was the first day of the big one man protest against Red Robin, so I'd thought I'd try and keep you guys posted on the progress.
For those of you who don't know, I don't work at Red Robin anymore because I got fired. Long story short, ever since we got our new General Manager (about a year ago) we've been butting heads and work has not been the fun eutopia it once used to be. On the day I got fired I came in for my shift that I was scheduled for and then Sabrina (the GM) sat me down in the middle of the restaurant to let me know that she was going to be suspending me for three shifts. Her reason for this was because I did not RSG (a thing that is done at Red Robin before our shifts where we go in the back and look over what we are currently focusing on) with a guy named Mike during my shift. The thing is we're supposed to RSG before our shift so that we know what's up, but since we haven't been doing that with a trainer in awhile, I've just been doing it on my own after I clock in. Well anyway I was in the middle of my shift and Mike tells me to go in the back and RSG with him, and I don't for three reasons:
1. I don't really like the guy (think half Snidely Whiplash and half Jar Jar Binks.) Total annoying, snake in the grass, turd burglar.
2. I had already done it. I think the focus that day was 30 second greets.
3. And I was in the middle of getting beverages for my guests.
Well anyway he ends up telling the GM that I refused to go in the back with him and so this is why we were now having this little talk in the middle of the restaurant. So when Sabrina lays out her plan for me, naturally I'm a little upset because I felt like I took care of my shit and if I had been in the back RSGing I would have been neglecting my tables and we would've then been having a conversation about how I need to not neglect my tables. (anyone that knows about the crazy metrics that RR servers are judged on understands)So at the end of her speel she tells me that I'm suspended for three shifts and asks, "So do you agree what you did to Mike was disrespectful?" And of course I said "No" because at Red Robin we are supposed to have an "open door" policy where we are supposed to feel safe saying whatever we want without fear of retaliation, but I guess they changed that rule sometime while I was out because right after I said that she told me that I was fired. So in my mind I ended getting suspended for not RSGing with Mike, but FIRED for telling her my honest opinion. So that's when I decided to stage my one man protest.
The timing of the protest to start today was strategic because tonight was the night of our all team party, so the restaurant was filled with people from other Red Robins who were filling in. It was my hope that they'd see me protesting and then take it back to their restaurants that everything was not OK at the University Red Robin. So I get there all pumped to start protesting, pull up in the Pathfinder at around 5:58 pull out my signs, and am on my corner by 6:00. Within one minute of being out there the first person to respond was some old man in a white car that managed to both honk and flip me off at the same time he was turning a corner. After that though things picked up and people were honking and giving me thumbs up instead of flipping me the bird. I had a couple of people ask why Red Robin was unfair? and it took me awhile to figure out how to explain my plight to the common man, but by the fourth person I had a pretty good version of the story down. My friend Eli even stopped by to show his support and stood out there with me for a good 9 minutes. And at around 7:00 Lori, one of the managers, drives up to the restaurant, sees me, and makes sure to walk on the complete opposite side of the street as she entered. But by 7:30 I was getting pretty cold because I didn't bring a jacket and was only wearing a Red Robin polo team member shirt. So as I started to get the sniffles I figured I call an end to day one and pack it up so that I can be back on the street on Friday.
It wasn't the big media event that I had hoped for and none of the 4 tv stations I called actually showed up, but it was just day one. So here's the start of the great Red Robin Protest and I knew you'd all want some sort of documentation of it. Whenever you drive by someone holding up a sign, just give them a little honk, it's not too much from you but it sure makes being out there a lot more bearable.
I'll be sure and keep all of you posted as my uphill battle progresses."
Let me know if you want me to post how day 2 went....
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Memory Lane....
The year was 2000. The city Seattle. I was a new college freshman at the University of Washington and living with 3 people that I knew from high school in a 2 bedroom apartment. Being an only child for such a large part of my life, living with 3 other people was definitely a new adventure. From time to time memories of that year of my life flash through my head and it is one of these memories that I thought I would share today.
We moved into a fairly new apartment complex. The location was really close to the University and as a result there were several college students in our building/floor. Since all of us were from Yakima, it was only natural that our apartment became the social center of our building. People were constantly stopping by to check in and see what we were up to. Us country boys gots mad social skills yo!
On one balmy Seattle evening my 3 roommates and I were sitting around our living room wondering where the night was going to take us. We heard a knock on the door and were glad to see our neighbor/friend, Emad. Emad was half Persian Prince and half hood hustler. He not only showed us how to dress fly and adjust our plumage to attract the hottest birds, but he also showed us how to scam department stores into giving you free Xboxes with no receipt. He was kind of our hero. He stopped by our place often, so when he knocked on our door, asked what we were up to and headed to the bathroom, we did not think twice about it.
So while we continued to debate what mischief we would be up to that night, Zac (one of the roomies) asked us a question, "Hey have you guys been using my mouthwash?"
The three of us looked at each other a little confused... "No Zac, none of us have been using your mouthwash."
Well that answer was not good enough for him, "Well I know that someone in here has been using my mouthwash because I've been monitoring the levels and it has definitely been going down quicker than I have been throwing it back."
The three of us continued looking at each other and wondered how hard times must be for Zac (whose father was a doctor and mom was a nurse) that he would be making such a fuss over a $2.99 bottle of mouth wash.
Nobody fessed up, which led Zac to pull out his big card, "Well, I've got a surprise for whoever has been using my mouthwash. I peed in it about 3 weeks ago so you have been rinsing your mouth out with my urine."
All of us erupted and were frantically trying to read each other's faces to try and get a read on the guy that had been swishing and gargling with Zac's pee. It was at about this time that Emad came out of the bathroom, wiped his mouth and asked, "Did you guys say something about the mouthwash in the bathroom?"
It turned out that Emad had made prepping himself in our bathroom before going out part of his routine for the last couple of months. And you guessed it... rinsing out his mouth was the last step of his ritual. Needless to say, he was not pleased to hear why we were all laughing so hard. The look of betrayal/confusion/disgust that crossed his face could be described as the look someone's face would have if they had walked in on their parents and then been caught in a perma-sneeze. Dry heaves could be heard shortly after Zac's big reveal.
That is not the best part though. After Emad and Zac talked out their differences and Emad was made to understand the importance of asking before putting things in his mouth, Zac had another reveal. Apparently after Zac peed in his own mouthwash, he continued to use it himself!
This latest detail brought the apartment into a raucous laughter and "no you didn'ts" that is only heard when Maury says the following phrase, "D-kwon, you are NOT the father."
Zac's "if it's yours it's sterile" argument did not cut it.
Ahhh, memories...
We moved into a fairly new apartment complex. The location was really close to the University and as a result there were several college students in our building/floor. Since all of us were from Yakima, it was only natural that our apartment became the social center of our building. People were constantly stopping by to check in and see what we were up to. Us country boys gots mad social skills yo!
On one balmy Seattle evening my 3 roommates and I were sitting around our living room wondering where the night was going to take us. We heard a knock on the door and were glad to see our neighbor/friend, Emad. Emad was half Persian Prince and half hood hustler. He not only showed us how to dress fly and adjust our plumage to attract the hottest birds, but he also showed us how to scam department stores into giving you free Xboxes with no receipt. He was kind of our hero. He stopped by our place often, so when he knocked on our door, asked what we were up to and headed to the bathroom, we did not think twice about it.
So while we continued to debate what mischief we would be up to that night, Zac (one of the roomies) asked us a question, "Hey have you guys been using my mouthwash?"
The three of us looked at each other a little confused... "No Zac, none of us have been using your mouthwash."
Well that answer was not good enough for him, "Well I know that someone in here has been using my mouthwash because I've been monitoring the levels and it has definitely been going down quicker than I have been throwing it back."
The three of us continued looking at each other and wondered how hard times must be for Zac (whose father was a doctor and mom was a nurse) that he would be making such a fuss over a $2.99 bottle of mouth wash.
Nobody fessed up, which led Zac to pull out his big card, "Well, I've got a surprise for whoever has been using my mouthwash. I peed in it about 3 weeks ago so you have been rinsing your mouth out with my urine."
All of us erupted and were frantically trying to read each other's faces to try and get a read on the guy that had been swishing and gargling with Zac's pee. It was at about this time that Emad came out of the bathroom, wiped his mouth and asked, "Did you guys say something about the mouthwash in the bathroom?"
It turned out that Emad had made prepping himself in our bathroom before going out part of his routine for the last couple of months. And you guessed it... rinsing out his mouth was the last step of his ritual. Needless to say, he was not pleased to hear why we were all laughing so hard. The look of betrayal/confusion/disgust that crossed his face could be described as the look someone's face would have if they had walked in on their parents and then been caught in a perma-sneeze. Dry heaves could be heard shortly after Zac's big reveal.
That is not the best part though. After Emad and Zac talked out their differences and Emad was made to understand the importance of asking before putting things in his mouth, Zac had another reveal. Apparently after Zac peed in his own mouthwash, he continued to use it himself!
This latest detail brought the apartment into a raucous laughter and "no you didn'ts" that is only heard when Maury says the following phrase, "D-kwon, you are NOT the father."
Zac's "if it's yours it's sterile" argument did not cut it.
Ahhh, memories...
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Have you ever?
Have you ever gone to the gym, had a workout, hit the showers, and then realized that you forgot your towel in the car? You then are faced with that difficult decision of either putting on clothes wet or using the hand dryer by the sinks in a way that they were not designed for (maybe even getting two of them going at once and contorting your body to be as air efficient as possible?(think skin-sail)) You feel all right about yourself until you sense the judging glances of the people that remembered their towels and are trying to get their shave on.
Yeah, me either.
Yeah, me either.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
My New Boss
I must be very clear about this. The following lines after this statement are not misguided fabrications, they are solid fact.
This is my new boss at Expedia: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=og0LWQVIpug. He is riding shotgun and wearing sunglasses. Or with a doo rag: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMGUFbsU9oY.
Butch Mosby is apparently one of the founding members of a European rap group called Black Attack.
My new job is incredible.
This is my new boss at Expedia: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=og0LWQVIpug. He is riding shotgun and wearing sunglasses. Or with a doo rag: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMGUFbsU9oY.
Butch Mosby is apparently one of the founding members of a European rap group called Black Attack.
My new job is incredible.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
