Dagwood Weeps

For lunch, I got my sandwich on at Subway. Everyone always seems pissed at that place. The customers are agitated because they are in a hurry. Subway employees are either stoned college students with bad attitudes or middle-aged functioning alcoholics that hate their lives. It always seems that my sandwich is being rushed through the construction process, too. I am always getting yelled at from the toppings station: “What do you want on the spicy?” I am sorry, but I do not feel good about my sandwich unless I see the toppings being applied. One of those fucking junkies could be out of their mind and slip some onions or olives into my sub. Then, when I pull out my credit card to pay and ask for stamps, the people in line behind me have conniption fits. Hey mister and misses irritated corporate executive, a credit card is a widely used monetary unit and I collect sub stamps in order to one day obtain a free sandwich. I am poor, I do not carry cash and I like free shit, so quit getting your panties in a twist. I should have just gone to Quiznos with Jake.

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Food Holocaust

If this new PETA ad campaign is indicative of its views, then they have successfully alienated every normal vegetarian not wanting to be associated with an organization that compares the plight of cows and chickens to the atrocities committed in World War II concentration camps. For the last time PETA; fire your marketing and creative directors and get some common sense. Cows are not people, they are baseball mitts.

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Nude Female Gymnastics

There are not many things I could love more than nude female gymnastics. I would probably love a 24-hour soft core porn television network, a reclining toilet seat and a lifetime supply of steak more, but nude female gymnastics is definitely on the top of list. Then again, nude female figure skating would be more awesome. Those ladies are less butch. Michelle Kwan and Katerina Witt doing a bare-assed Triple Lutz? Yes, please.

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Hat Tricks Are The Poop

Last night I came home from work and made an exquisite meal; a grilled steak that I had let marinate all day, a baked potato, steamed broccoli and a cucumber and tomato salad drenched in Wishbone Italian dressing. It was as heavenly as it was succulent. I than put my dishes in the dishwasher and sped off to my hockey game. On the highway, my lower intestines began rumbling telling me to relieve my bowels immediately. I arrived at the rink late, with barely enough time to get my gear on and drop a deuce. So I tempted fate and decided to play with full insides. I tallied a hat trick and an assist in the contest and attribute it to the upset nature of my large intestines as I played the game with a sense of urgency that only a man who needed to take a shit could. From here on out, if I feel the tickle before any game, I will not close the deal until all is said and done.

On A Related Shit-Versus-Performance Note: If you are ever betting on hounds at your local dog track, keep your eye on the dogs before they reach the blocks. The first dog that stops to take a dump on the track before the race is the one you want to bet on.

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Appliance Outage, Part II

Last night I purchased my new oven-range combo. My mom and dad floated me the cash for an “early” Xmas present and I blew it all at Sears. I would have rather spent the Xmas cash on lap dances and whiskey but I am grateful nonetheless. I am taking off work next Monday because Sears will deliver said appliances between 10am and 4pm (thanks for nailing down a time, jerks). When everything is installed and ready for use, I am going nuts right out of the shoot. I intend to simultaneously fry bacon, cook a pot of chili and make some scrambled eggs on the burners, throw a twenty five pound turkey and a Totino’s Party Pizza in the five cubic foot oven and make an industrial size batch of Top Ramen in the microwave.

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Appliance Outage

My oven and microwave died over the holiday weekend. It was the original appliance that came with my town home (circa 1983; an era renowned for flip-clock displays and record players). On Friday night, She Who Will Not Be Named and I rented a movie, made a few rum and Cokes and threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. After attempting to cook the bag of popcorn for half an hour, I concluded that the microwave no longer worked. Last night, after my hockey game, I came home to grill a steak and attempted to make a baked potato in the oven. The oven door got stuck and would not open. Tonight I am heading over to Sears to purchase a new oven-range combo. It will be refreshing to have appliances with digital displays and timers that I do not have to wind.

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Top Of The Food Chain, Ma!

Humans share the planet with many living beings, plants and animals and our relationship with them is symbiotic; we use them to sustain existence. If I had to, I would go out and kill for my food. Thankfully, I live in a capitalist society and the advent of labor specialization keeps me up to my tits in lean ground beef provided by animals that were kept in pens and treated as commodities. All economic systems exploit people, animals and environments. No amount of holier-than-thou liberal rhetoric is going to stop people from eating meat. It is unfortunate that animals do not have opposable thumbs and the ability to reason, but that is why humans are on top of the food chain and animals are not. So once again PETA, shut your filthy grass-eating sewers and let me enjoy some delicious meatloaf in peace.

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Jesus, PETA Do Not Dig On Swine

Bacon is an amazing greasy and crispy treat that makes life worth living. I love eating bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, bacon strips and steaks wrapped in bacon. Apparently, Jesus and PETA do not want me to eat bacon. I urge PETA to quit influencing the Lord in order to make one feel guilty about their bacon consumption. PETA should eat their bean sprouts and tofu, help the asexual panda copulate, finger-bang a vegan and save the world in silence and peace. I did not get to the top of the food chain to gnaw on grass, leaves and berries. Our species has survived eons on this planet by jabbing a giant, meaty animal with a spear and eating the fuck out of it. I understand PETA’s stance; they want animals to be treated with dignity and respect. Until humans start treating each other that way, however, cows are baseball mitts and pigs are lunch.

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