Why?

Because you can’t find this photo in your inbox and NOT post it to the internet, now can you?

Look at these beautiful creatures, driving down I90 just waiting to jump out of the hatchback and murder you.  Can you even imagine? What if you couldn’t speed because you’re on probation and any offense would throw you in jail and so you had to be stuck behind this van for three hours on the way up to your fancy lake house in Wisconsin? It’s enough to drive a man/lady insane. Not to mention, what are the people that own this vehicle hiding behind these murder dolphins? I’d like to bet that it’s either lawn darts, an endangered animal, or a three year-old that just learned how to flip people off and now his parents are too embarrassed to have translucent windows.

photo by: bad guy sister

My high school reunion that I won’t attend is quickly approaching. I recently came across the official website for the event and have a few questions regarding the menu.

HIGH SCHOOL REUNION MENU

“2 Meat buffet dinner includes: Sliced roast beef, broasted chicken, real mashed potatoes, home-made stuffing, gravy, vegetables, coleslaw, coffee, rolls, milk and cake!”

*Could anything on the planet sound more unappetizing than a “two meat buffet?” Let me think. Off the top of my head are: beef balls, barf juice, dead farm animal line-up, and lard slag. So, no, not really.

*”Real mashed potatoes.”  As opposed to fake mashed potatoes? What the hell kind of world is it when you have to specify that the food you will be served is “real”? Is it the year 40450? Are we space robots? Nevertheless, I’m certainly glad we’re having “real” fucking mashed potatoes. Could you please specify that the “two meat buffet” is also real because I can’t think of anything else than a fake broast, can you?

*Speaking of broasted chicken, what are you? I’ve never broasted anything before nor am I familiar with the technique but it seems like a wildly unnecessary and confused food trend. Let’s roast it or bake it. There’s no need to make a hybrid. Wait. What? Braosted means it’s partially fried? Why isn’t it called froasted chicken then? Putting two words together isn’t that hard, last I checked. Douche bags from gossip magazines have been successfully putting celebrity names together since 2003, and if they can do it any moron can.

*Gravy AND coleslaw. So, are we at Thanksgiving or a Southern BBQ? Let’s pick a theme and stick with it, shall we?

*Milk. Who the fuck orders milk with dinner? Are we all five years old? When is the last time you’ve sat down for dinner and looked up at the waiter and asked for a giant glass of milk? I’ll take a glass of wine, please, because the only way I’m eating gravy coleslaw is if I’m wasted.

*I’d like a specification on “vegetables.” Are they bought from the local farmers market and in season? Orrrrr does it come from a can and called, “ canned corn?”

*High School Reunions. A time when everyone wants to go and show off how skinny and hot and attractive they are. So, of course it makes sense to serve a dinner of potatoes, gravy, stuffing, rolls, milk and cake.  Jesus Christ. I just fell asleep typing that. I know, let’s all eat this food, take a nap, barf, and roll our fat, full stomachs on to the dance floor for a good old-fashioned prom.

No, I did not get voted “perkiest cheerleader”  in high school, in case you were wondering, but I am actually really friendly if you don’t feed me fake broast with cake gravy. Maybe I’ll show up to the reunion with a sack lunch and  just sit at the nerd table with my brown paper bag filled with a pbj and fruit snacks just like in high school.

NOTE: My intent was not to offend my classmates who planned this reunion, as I’m sure they have worked very hard putting this all together. My intent was,  however, to offend the Executive Chef at chosen restaurant. Milk.

A different man at a coffee shop this afternoon who can only be described as “Ben Linus meets John Locke”, amidst crowds of people holding coffee, tea, sandwiches, cookies on plates, and biscotti, carries nothing but a single item: a clear cellophane bag filled with tiny Crest toothpaste containers, floss, teeth stickers, and a toothbrush. He leaves without purchasing anything, presumably, on his way to Starbucks, where coffee is $1 cheaper.

A woman in the Walgreens pharmacy check-out line who can only be described as “showered Courtney Love,” amidst crowds of folks buying prescription medication not covered on their insurance plans and allergy medication, carries nothing but a single item:  a coupon for the “morning after pill.”  She gets her discounted medication after a lengthy discussion with the clerk about how not many people know there is a coupon for the morning after pill and how you can print it out online. She leaves the store, presumably, to cry and call her friends, seeking reassurance that she is not, in fact, as promiscuous as she is currently feeling.

Shit motha fucka! I’m gonna steal the shit out of this soap. I’m going to walk into Walgreens, look around, see some Oil of Olay Body Botanical Fusion Body Wash Hydrate Plus Body Butter Ribbons and steal the shit out of it.

And then I’m gonna run from the cops, change my shirt while in pursuit, climb over some fences, go home and take a nice, hot, relaxing bath with my new, stolen motha fuckin’ exfoliating, age-defying skin care product with anti-mothafuckin’-oxidants, vitamin E and Retinal.

A three year-old GIRL wearing a pink dress stands while her ghetto-riffic MOTHER gets out of their car. A piece of paper falls to the ground.

GIRL

Mom, you dropped something!

MOTHER

No. I littered. Let’s go.

THE END.