Last week I got bored and thought this would be funny-

Aside from a marginally clever name, it wasn’t, so I did this with it

And it’s been selling pretty well. Click the picture if you think your dog can handle it.

Sometimes it’s all about context. You know, because the name alone sort of sucked, but the idea of Asians eating dogs, although a somewhat ignorant stereotype, is inherently funny if approached from a certain oh god I’m explaining a joke make it stop.

On Friday I talked an unsuspecting young lady (the same unsuspecting young lady- you’d think she’d learn, but who am I to complain) into accompanying me for dinner. We met my brother and his ladyfriend in Stockbridge for sushi because that’s one of those things guys do with girls. Being fully indoctrinated to urban snobbery due to my intown zip code and unfounded fear of change I had to make a wisecrack about catfish tempura, seeing as how we were well south of the city where they just started wearing shoes last spring.

Imagine my surprise when it was the best sushi I have ever had (and I’ve had sushi like almost five times). The Chef’s name was Joy, and I wanted to get into his head and see what made him tick. He said that a few years ago he got stung pretty badly by a catfish (reason #326 to not like catfish- they have stingers). He didn’t elaborate much, so I did it for him. I figure that once the fish tried to kill him, he made a life-altering decision that anything that swims must go under the knife. Hatred makes the meal all the sweeter. I think he liked my story and will use it from now on.

This was one of two times in my life that I enjoyed eating sushi. It was so good that in my enthusiasm I dropped a Makki Blowdown squid roll Monkeyspin into my little tub of sauce, causing a tsoynami of biblical proportions. I was pretty much covered, but relieved to see that I had taken the brunt of the wave and didn’t get any on the lady. Not like I jumped in the path of the sauce to save her or anything, but I would have.

So I got to sit in front of everyone and mop brown sauce off of my shirt with a wet rag. I know how to impress a girl. If any of you dudes out there need pointers from the master, give me a yell.

Imagine this scenario and file it under “what the hell is wrong with people”:

I’m leaving my office on Saturday, and I’m at a busy intersection on piedmont road. 4 lanes 40 mph busy. Across from me is the entrance to a big strip mall, and it is a divided entrance. Standing on the middle island with a cane is a blind and quite disoriented man in his late twenties. The opposite light turns green, and as the cars start to go by, he begins walking out in the intersection, thinking he is on a crosswalk. People slow down and go annoyedly around him, and by now I’m out of my car thinking “Why the fuck is no one DOING anything? If Jesus sees this, he’s going to be pissed.” I figured I had a better chance in traffic than he did (having fully operational peepers and all), so I went out in the middle of the intersection and irritated a bunch of people by making them stop. The poor guy was scared having just realized that he was in an active intersection. I could feel the tension leave him when I touched his shoulder and asked him where he needed to go. Bus stop across the street? No problem, my man.

Here’s the part that makes me want to cry for some of these selfish jackwipes who breathe my air and don’t get charged for it- We’re walking across this intersection and someone actually honked their horn at us for impeding their precious progress. He jumped, thinking we were milliseconds from being turned into pizza toppings, and I reassured him while being glad he could not see me, because I was using my free hand to make a pointed gesture directly into a windshield not six feet from me. Seriously probably the best middle finger I have ever delivered- straight arm, elbow locked, blazing glare filled with the kind of energy you can smell, no question about it middle finger that will make you call your dad and ask him what to do. That’s some hard core multi-tasking. If that guy had the nuts to get out of his car, the rest of his day would have been dedicated to figuring out how to walk with a blind guy’s collapsible walking cane up his ass, and I would have been shopping for a new tappy stick for my friend because he wouldn’t want that one back.

I thought this was Atlanta, not New freekin’ York.

But wait, there’s more.

I got him to the bus stop and now had to return to my car, which was across a lane of moving traffic with the door still open. Of all the people who saw what happened, do you think anyone stopped to let me get back to my car? Not unless “stop” now means “continue along your retarded path so you can get your quarter pounder and milkshake before your appearance as grand marshal of the moron parade”. My light is green now and my car is sitting at the front of the line. When I got back to it, the girl behind me honked her horn too. This time I didn’t flip anyone off. I stopped and stared at her for a long five seconds as the light poetically went from green to yellow to red behind me (gave me time to count to ten before I did anything violent. My only witness would have been a blind guy, so I thought better of it) and wondered what life must be like for people who are too damn stupid to appreciate what’s happening around them. It was a stare that I hope communicated my frustration and a certain degree of pity.

Slow the hell down and understand that there are times when it doesn’t matter where you are going or how soon you need to be there.

Gosh.

Trackback URI |