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Strange daze are theez

weird, Boston, strange

 

Working in Boston there are things that happen on a daily basis that defy any logical definition.
Although I haven’t chronicled all these weird/blessed events, they do play out daily/nightly in my brain like
a bizarre Charlie Chaplin movie.
A guy came running into the store today and yelled to no one in particular,
“There’s a pig outside! I’m not kidding! There’s a pig outside! You gotta see this!”

I said, “Dude, this is Park Square. There are pigs everywhere.”

It was then that I saw a little white pig with a curly tail waltz his fat ass by the open front door.

White, well behaved pigs on a leash.
I wondered what would have happened if I approached said hog with a bottle of ‘Sweet Baby Ray’s’.
My mind wanders.

Then there’s the guy that walks into the store, waits patiently for 15 minutes and then asks me, “Where can I get tour of Germany?”

“Dude. I sell cigars. And pipes. And tobacco. I don’t sell tours. You’re in the wrong store.”
He looks at me as if I just spoke Latin.
Tours?
Germany?
Do you see a fucking beer stein here?
*sigh*

Now I will move on to a regular customer that I will refer to as ‘PhillyCheese’.
This is a guy that has confessed to wearing panty hose, heels and a wig while he vacuums his home.
I hear the neighborhood has taken up a collection to allow/force him to put up curtains.
His dialect changes on any given day from stoutly English to a NY Brooklyn accent.
He’s like a box of fucked up chocolates when you never know what you’re going to get.
Run, PhillyCheese, Run!!!!
PhillyCheese was engaging an unknowing customer the other day when I heard him say this:

“I collect jock straps sir, and I like to wear them around the house when I’m doing something pleasurable.”

What activity would be more pleasurable when wearing a banana hammock?

I can’t make this weird shit up.
It just happens.

Had a weirdass oriental dude come in one late Monday morning and asked/said, “Save Lenny?” [Save Lenny?]

“Save Lenny?” I asked.

“Yeah, save Lenny,” he said.

“I got nothing dude, hang on.”

I called on my friend and colleague Charles to make the situation right.

“What do you want?” [said Charles]

“Save Lenny.”

“What are you talking about?” [said Charles]

“Save Lenny.”

“We’re all out.” [said Charles]

*customer shakes head and leaves withoutsave lenny‘.

Whatever the fuck ‘save Lenny’ is.
I guess.

This is the proverbial tip of the weirdness iceberg that is 100% Park Square.
As I always say, “Everyday is Halloween.”
Bring on the crazy.
I’m ready every day.
Most peculiar, mama . . .

~m

Boston Strong

anguish, Boston, Marathon

When I got into Boston on Monday morning I took a different route walking to work.
I usually slip out the ass end of Back bay station and walk through the alleys and quiet streets to Park Square
but today was Marathon Monday and a great day to walk through Copley Square on my way to work.
The sun was shining, the temps were comfortable and runners were everywhere running for buses to take them to
the Marathon starting line in Hopkinton.
Walking through Copley I saw hundreds of palettes of spring water,
King’s Hawaiian Sweet rolls, pretzels, Smart Food, Vitamin Water and on and on.
People working in the many tents along Boylston Street were obviously happy to be there as they went about their preparations.
There was a palpable lilt in the air that could not be denied.
We all hate Mondays but Marathon Monday in Boston is pretty damn cool for many damn reasons.
I also remember thinking how awful it would be were something catastrophic to happen.

 

At 2:55PM, a woman came in for some rolling tobacco and asked if I’d heard the ‘bangs’.
She was wondering if they were firing cannons for Patriots Day.
I told her I hadn’t heard a thing.
I was alone in the store and went to Google after she left.
I typed in: Boston Marathon 2013 /Bombs
I came up with 2 results.
Links to a few runners’ websites that simply said;
“unconfirmed reports of two explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.”
The links would not open

Bullshit, I thought.
Not here.
Not today.
Not in Boston.

10 minutes later the city was cracked open like an over ripe pomegranate.
Sirens, police cars, ambulances too many to count,
unmarked cars with blue flashing lights and a feeling of dread as I watched thousands of people dripping their way towards South Station.
Most were crying; some were simply distant with no facial expression at all.
You know the rest of the story; probably more so than CNN, a current font of reporting mediocrity.

I took a walk around 4PM yesterday and went down to the corner of Berkeley and Boylston Street.
National Guard would not let you go any further as everything was blockaded.
It was a big crime scene.
I looked down at a usually frantic Copley Square that now seemed post-apocalyptic, empty and dreadfully silent. My heart broke just a bit as more reality drained into my psyche.
It was not unlike a scene from ‘Walking Dead’ or ‘I am Legend’.
The word ‘nothing’ came to mind.
I watched paper and debris flying through the air looking to get out of the dead space that was Copely.

That’s how my eyes saw it and my brain interpreted it.
It made no logical sense to me.
Still doesn’t.

On my way back to Park Square I noticed the omnipresent media camped out at the corner of Arlington and Boylston. It seemed to me to be a media freak show/ circus with bright lights and cameras going while reporting half myths and hearsay from who the fuck knows.
Homeless people were probably contributing their stories and ideas. (they may have been closer to the truth than CNN, ffs)

I am a Bostonian and I love this city. (Even though I live in the burbs)
I went to school here and currently work here and no one will ever take away the fact that this place was built on guts, strength, love, and a work ethic like no other place in the world.
This IS my backyard.
Sadly, the landscape has changed, for now . . .
Know that We are Boston.
We are Many.
And We are Pissed.
But I have a good feeling that many beautiful flowers will blossom this same time next year.
Because that’s how we roll . . .

~m

ps. Photo courtesy of John TLumacki, Boston Globe

Feb 9, 2012 - chances, dark, dickheads, Funny, Humor    5 Comments

Odd Noggin Land for Lollipops & Virgins

girl scouts, weird, cookies, humor

A co-worker was walking back to the store last week after lunch when he was approached
by a grown man dressed as a Girl Scout.
Dress, hat and all.
Around Park Square in Boston, freaks like this elicit little but a glance.
This freak spoke to my colleague in passing and said,
“I always wanted to be a Girl Scout. If you could buy a box of cookies you could make me really feel like one.”
Really?
These people exist, folks.
We get phone calls from people looking for K2, Salvia and numerous cannabis alternatives.
The latest is ‘Kush’.
I took a call yesterday from some bonehead that asked, “You guys have any kush?”
I said, “Try ‘Bed, Bath and Beyond. They sell it by the boatload.”
Click.
Dial tone.
I think BB&B sells bath salts too.
We hear you can smoke those and get off with the right pipe.
Christ save us all.
Off to snort some totally rad solid Degree deodorant.
Pass the aaa batteries . . .

~m

He is the Reason

It is about this time of the year that my spirit usually spirals seriously downward.
NIN downward.
Christmas commercials that are out of whack with reality and songs that say I should be happy do anything but depress the living shit out of me.
That said, I am fortunate and blessed although I don’t often realize that I am.
I have family.
I have three beautiful daughters that love me and are home on Christmas.
I can hug them and tell them that I love them.
I can cook delicious foods that we will all share.
I have friends that stop by on Christmas Eve to join in a celebration of the simplicity of love.
And yet I continue to bitch about anything and everything.
It takes a very special friend to tell you that you are a total Holiday tool.
And I am.
Why I am the Grinch that I pretend to be sometimes eludes me.
Maybe it’s easier being Grinchy than happy.
Or maybe I have to look at the true meaning of the holiday.
This video touched my inner core.
I cried and had goosebumps all over my body.
He is the Reason for the season.
The sooner I truly accept that in my heart, the better off I will be,  I guess.
Seems I have already accepted.
That didn’t take long . . .

~m

 

ps. Thanks to my friend GerryM for the video link!

 

Linear Beercan Language

A guy comes into the store today and says,
“I want 4 packs of American Spirit Yellow.”
We ring him up, take his money and say, “Would you like a bag?”
He says, “No thank you, I have gloves.”
I have gloves?
More like you have a frozen mush of a cerebellum.
Jesus Krispies.
It must be the cold here in New England, huh? (7 degrees)
That would be like ordering at a drive-thru Burger King
and telling them, “I want to eat it here though, thanks.”
A definite WTF moment.
Damn, I encounter far too many these days.
Maybe it’s me.
Not!

Douchebag Theory

I am quite sure that there are many people that live in a fantasy world
and know little to nothing about the real one.
They seem stuck in a time and place where common sense is about as real as the tooth fairy;
a really dumb tooth fairy.
I’m not telling you something you probably didn’t already know but when you run into these jamokes
(and I do, multiple times, daily)
you want to whack them in head with one of those huge Acme Co. (Wiley Coyote) hammers.
Then there are those that are in the real world but seem almost oblivious to the obvious.
I was working last Sunday when the phone rang.

This person asked, “Are you open?”

I said, “Hmmmm, hang on, let me check.” (5 second pause)
“Yeah, we are!” I said trying to sound almost surprised.

If a retail establishment answers the phone on a Sunday afternoon chances are pretty damn good that they’re open, capice?
And I’m pretty damn sure that when I hung up the person was thinking one of two things:

Wow. What an asshole.
Or . . .
Wow. I’m a ding-a-ling for asking such a dumbass question. Of course they’re open . . .

Now and then I have to blow out my retail pipes because if I don’t . . . well, let’s not go there just yet.
I sell tobacco and all things tobacco.
Here are some questions that I am just plain sick of answering:

Q. “You guys got Cubans?”
A. Obviously J.F.K and the Cuban Missile Crisis wasn’t covered in your American History class.
We haven’t traded with Cuba since February of 1962.
A huge mistake for the USA, as we continue the endless Cold War.
We’ve lost out on an incredible island and amazing people but a country governed by Communism will never be accepted here. Long story.

Q. “How much for these bad boys?”
A. You are a douchebag of magnificent proportions for calling them ‘bad boys’ to begin with.
They’re called cigars.
That’s one strike.

Q. “How come these ‘bad boys’ are so expensive?”
A. Ask the new administration, the change you can believe in thing.
Does the word“ ‘tax’ mean anything to you?
Do you ever read a newspaper or anything on the internet regarding tobacco/cigar regulation and the unfair taxes levied against this industry?
You, my friend, are a super douche for having no clue about the things the liberal wing has done to screw up this industry. I won’t even get into the debacle regarding the new  FDA’s regulation of tobacco.
Yes, we can!
No we can’t, my  brothers.
That’s two strikes.

Q. “Do you guys sell blunt wraps, digital scales, screens, glass pipes, Salvia, Black & Milds or Dutches (Dutch Masters)?”
A. Uh . . .  no.
Strike three, douchebag.

Innings over.

For today . . .

Lumbricus Terrestris

Edward Hopper, Nighthawks, late night, morning people

I am not, I repeat, not a morning person.
Never have been, never will.
Ask my wife.
Ask my kids.
Hell, ask Bill the conductor on the 6:30am train I take into Boston.
He checks my ticket and says, “Have a nice nap, sir.”
Bill would honestly say, “Definitely NOT a morning person.”
(*should be, “Not a person at all. He’s more of a thing at this time of the morning.”)
Some of you are ‘morning people’, happy, cheerful and ready to greet the new day with vim and vigor.
Sorry, you people suck.
Vermin.
You probably do 800 sit ups before your first cup of coffee too, right?
“Good Morning!”
If this phrase is spoken to me and shouted from the fiddler on the rooftops with verve and effervescent happiness,
it makes me want to do one thing:
punch the face that’s brave and stupid enough to utter it.
My God, what are you thinking?
I’m still sleeping for Christ’s sake and you are seriously getting on my nerves.
I need about 4 hours to wake up.
Why the hell can’t you ‘roosters’ get that?
I need coffee, juice and a personal five-minute sitdown on the porcelain throne before someone thrusts the ‘happy’ shit on me, okay?
Ease the hell up, all you happy morning people.
You’re messing with my head.
I just choose to burn the candle at the other end (as I do a blog post at midnight).
You, on the other hand, have been sleeping for 3 hours.
But do I call you and say, How are Ya! Good Evening!
No.
I don’t.
I may send a totally incoherent email or two but that’s another story.

We all have trolls inside of us that make us act as we do.
You morning people have Richard Simmons.
Us nighthawks?
We have Ed Asner (Lou Grant) from the Mary Tyler Moore show and he hasn’t taken a decent shit in 2 years.
(click on Lou up above for a classic MTM moment)
Take two steps back until my green light comes on, okay?
That’s all I’m saying.
This morning I poured orange juice into my coffee.
Mr. Grant was not real impressed.
I’ll try again tomorrow morning but it will probably be the same.
Epic Michael Fail.
My brain is chemically challenged in the morning is all.
As Huey Lewis once sang, “I want a new drug . . . “

I’m Thinking

*Am I the only one that finds it mildly ironic that Ted “Chappaquiddick” Kennedy
gave the Obama’s a Portuguese Water Dog?
Kennedy supposedly owns three.
Where were they when he needed them?
Wwwwwwoof.

*Here in the US of A we give free needles to junkies and
charge diabetes patients up the wazoo for the same damn needles.
Huh?
Someone pinch me.
I must be dreaming.

*In Massachusetts, I saw a headline today that read –
Study: Tobacco funds not curbing smoking

Turns out that only $13.5 million of the annual $700 million the Baystate receives
was used for smoking cessation programs.
Well, yank my doodle, it’s a dandy.
You gotta be kidding me.
Where’s Nancy ‘MadDog’ Lugosi?


I mean Pelosi.
She’s gotta have a hand in this somehow.
What an ugly woman, inside and out.
And those choppers . . .
Nancy needs to be promoted to ‘Subterranean Truffle Inspector’ tomorrow.
Beech.

*The groundbreaking and intellectually provocative Hannah Montana movie hit theaters over the Easter weekend grossing over 34 million dollars.
For your entertainment ‘bang for the buck’ wouldn’t staying home watching the grass grow be a bit more stimulating?
It’s probably me . . .

*Tiger Woods lost in the final round of the Masters yesterday due to a pair of late bogies.
Why does this not make me feel bad?
I must be a rotten human being.

*And lastly, I thought Gmail’s *new feature ‘Auto-Pilot’ sounded really cool.
But it was only available on April Fool’s Day. {sigh}

Just my mind at play folks . . .

Blogging in 2009

I wish I was being funny.
I’m in a nasty mood tonight, sorry.
Thomas Jefferson said it best when he said,

“A government BIG enough to give you everything you want, is STRONG enough to take everything you have.”

Fuck the government and all their high paying ‘no-show’ jobs, bullshit posts and meaningless rhetoric.
I have had it.
There is a backstory but you won’t read it here.
Christ in a sidecar . . .
And as far as blogs being taxed, just wait . . .
These assholes will eventually tax excess pubic hair, if  they get their way, and they always do.

God help us all.

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