Thursday, February 10, 2005

monsters Today, me,  Bob Bandit and Joe Venuti had lunch at the Ellenton Mall food court.  As always, I was suckered in by the Chinese lady waving a piece of bourbon chicken on a toothpick.  It was pretty good, but the fried rice had a hint of spoiled seafood taste in it somehow. Normally in a food court we'd be ogling at all the women passing to and fro.  But the average age in the food court seemed to be about 94, and there were no good women to be seen. "You know," Bob Bandit said between bites of his taco, "if you really think about it...(munch, munch)...old people look a lot like...(munch, munch)...monsters.  They look like monsters in people clothes." I immediately spit up a mouthful of my bourbon chicken at the statement, since I just happened to be studying the face of a particularly craggled and gruesome old lady that was seating herself in front of me.  I looked at her friends, both men and women, that were seated around her.  They all did sort of look like monsters dressed up in people clothes. 9:10:48 PM    comment [] punkesthesia Tonight I was hunched over my coffee table, shoveling forkfulls of Thai peppersteak into my mouth while watching Dirty Harry's infamous "do you feel lucky, punk?" monologue. 8:21:22 PM    comment [] today's tid-bits *I almost got caught by the empty toilet tissue roll trap today.  But fortunately I found a scrap of paper towel down by the bowl brush.  (One side of it looked a little used, so I flipped it over. *Bob Bandit and I spent three hours driving around the Bradenton area trying to cash a check, from a job that was already a terrible pain in the butt. The first bank lady said she couldn't cash it unless she could get the customer on the phone for verification.  The customer was unreachable by phone, so it seemed like we would be denied our $2,000. (For some reason deposting checks is not as fun and unacceptable to us). So Bob Bandit took a gamble, got the banks number through 411 and called in pretending to be the customer.  When he made the call--using his best disgruntled depositer voice--he even mentioned that he was having a hard time with his cell phone and that the call might get dropped at any moment.  This way if the bank lady asked for something tough, like the last four digits of "his" social, he could make the call end instantly without much suspicion. The contrived call seemed to work, and I went back into the bank to cash the check.  Unforunately, Bob had called a branch of the bank that was another 30 minutes  away.  From there, another wild goose chase ensued, to find the bank he had gotten approval from.  (My life is filled with lots of wild goose chases). Two hours later, just when we were about to give up the hunt, the real customer called and said he'd worked out everything with the bank.  Fortunately, the customer had called the original branch, and not the one that Bob Bandit had fooled, or serious eyebrows would have been raised. It's seems ludicrous that anyone would have to resort to fraudelent means to cash a legitimate check, but such is life in the greedy, cash hungry life of tree people. (All of these stories are pure fiction, of course, and do not reflect any true events in my life or any other person's). *Pictured above and to the right is the nascent form of my first TLOMM publicity project.  I'm dusting off my old sign painting skills to make an eye-popping, hit boosting sign.  Stay tuned. 7:54:24 AM    comment []

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