Some vegetables are better freshly frozen than canned, for instance, peas, carrots, and corn. Canned corn is disgusting; I don't care how many of you who share the sentiment, "they taste the same," peas, carrots, and corn are better frozen than canned. Peas-from-a-can taste like piss. When you open that can and pour out its contents, the canned peas are swimming in a mucky cesspool of swampy, syrupy-thick pea-water, like the peas were Asian stowaways on a cruise liner during the 1930's. An aroma of shame and undernourishment fill your nostrils. Your brain instantly thinks of the scene from "Schindler's List" when the orphan Jewish boy climbs into the toilet to hide from the Nazis, as if you indistinctly know if you were to not drain the pea can of its pond-scum bath water it has been wading in for a good decade or so, you would probably contract dysentery or some other form of pea-diseases (AIDs). Something is not right when you open the can of peas to find fifty or so of them mashed against the inside of the can. Maybe you should try buying baby-food instead - it's cheaper than a can of peas and it won't give you diarrhea. A can of peas should come with a Surgeon General's warning. Eating the aluminum can the peas come in is more healthy than eating the actual vegetable. If canned peas were a race Sally Struthers would be too ashamed to visit their country. A can of peas should be considered a national threat if it tried to board a plane. If a can of peas were transformed into a human by a wizard, Cano Peas could be Mexican, or a poor and homeless drunk with a vicious bladder and bowel problem...
And I'm done.
Frozen peas are not soggy, in fact, they are what fresh vegetables should taste like. And they come in a bag. Many good things come from bags - hardly do they ever come from a can. And within that pea-bag, there is no sight of mucky, green seamen left behind by erotic, sweaty, distrustful canned peas. If only you could create genocide against canned peas.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Outlander!
Remember when the train industry was pissed off that gangs or just silly people in general would come by their loading cars and spray graffiti all over them!? That, to me, is retribution - piss those bastards off as much as you possibly can, this all coming from the grandson of a railroad worker.
About every morning, while either driving in to town or just simply awake for the hell of it, and out for a walk, I spot a behemoth - simply put - a lummox, just idly resting on the railroad tracks about a quarter mile from my house. Every morning, that locomotive just sits there, blocking the road to a very useful highway I used to take to school/work, I USED to take! Not anymore; not since that fucker has barricaded the road every morning and made it impossible for anyone to ever take the highway into town.
Why, this very morning, I awoke, washed my hair and body and face, brushed my teeth, gums, and tongue, crept downstairs to retrieve a pair of slacks and a t-shirt I had only worn the night before that I planned to wear today as well, grabbed my keys, wallet, and cell phone, and before exiting my home, I took a long swig of water from the bottle it was resting in - I passed on grabbing a glass from the cupboard, and just drink straight from the bottle (I'm sometimes at a loss for sanitation when I have only had a few hours of sleep). Unlocking the door to my car, I hopped in, found a jam or two to listen to from my iPod for the drive up to work, and backed out of my driveway. Upon looking both directions down the road I was backing into (because I'm a safe driver!) I spotted it - that mother fucking train sitting on the tracks again, blocking my favorite means of driving into town. I honestly feel like those conductors love to play "trains" by just pulling forward a few feet, then backing up a few feet, continuously blocking the road they cross-over.
Delving into the past just a few years, I remember, just after receiving my license, I was headed to meet some friends in town, and low-and-behold, a train was blocking my way, in fact, it is the same way I have been explaining since paragraph two. You see, the street I live on continues to the north of us a mile or so, and it crosses a set of train tracks, the very tracks of evil I despise! Back to my memory, I remember thinking, "Fuck! Now I will just have to take the long way into town...," which is through South Hutch, and onto Avenue A street (completely irrelevant if you do not live anywhere near Hutchinson, Kansas)
That damn train just sat there then, as it did this morning. Upon taking the long way into town, I reached another destination where that same set of tracks crosses (4th and Adams if you are a local) and guess what!? That same God damn train was slowly moving across the tracks, blocking my way of path again. I remember thinking, "Don't tell me that's the same fucking train that was asleep on the railroad tracks a quarter mile from my house...." It was, and I was pissed.
This post is more about me just bitching about one incident in my life that cannot be changed. I have heard a time or two that you can call-in, and complain to the city about this subject because somewhere in some by-law or thick, leather-bond book of Kansas law that is collecting dust somewhere in the county courthouse, under section 13 or 6-B (some made up, official-sounding bullshit) trains are not allowed to block an intersection for a set amount of time, and therefore, the railroad commission can actually be fined if they violate this law. Now, I have no idea if that is true or not, and I am too lazy and pissed to give a shit to actually look the law up, but, back to the subject at hand, this, apparently, is the only way to "tattle" on the railroad commission of Reno county. I think anyone who has the nerve to call up the city office, and ask to speak to someone about this vary subject, and complain, and just ruin someone else's day, should be tied behind a government-issued Hummer, and dragged through the Australian outback for six straight hours, then have someone pour salt on their wounds. It's a bunch of horse shit to have someone call you up and just give you an ear-full of swear-words with a side of piss-poor attitude, when it isn't any one's fault a train is stalled on the railroad tracks for too long.
I have a pretty extensive history of naming a few of my friends in my blog. Here is the story of my friend Tess, and her experience with a woman who bitched her out at work because her dumb-ass son checked out a shitload of books and has yet to return them; it has been months upon months since her son checked out the books, and now they are horribly overdue, and her child has fines on his account. So his mother called up and wanted to know the amount due, well, since the books had been out for months upon months, the library had labelled them "lost," which means you either replace the books or never check out another library book again until you have paid-in-full. Well, the mother didn't understand how Tess didn't know the full amount that was owed. Tess told her to try back tomorrow or Monday, and talk with her supervisor Diane (GREAT! Another name to fucking remember) to get confirmation on the actual cost of the books. The mother acted belligerent, asking for Tess' name as well, to, most likely, bring up while in conversation with Diane, to probably relate to Diane that Tess was an awful human being, and a shitty worker who should be castrated if she were a man, and fired and never allowed to work again EVER as a librarian in the city of Hutch, when such accusations are ludicrous. The general public who call up the library are not the brightest people, and frankly, a lot of them have piss-poor attitudes they better correct before I beat a smile out of them! They BETTER be laughing while I am breaking every bone in their face, or so help me God...HUMMER + AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK = EXCRUCIATING PAIN...AND LOTS OF RED DUST, THAT'S NOT CAUSED BY BLOOD! So again, don't ever begin to threaten someone over a phone about a problem you have. I have total sympathy for my friend Tess who had to deal with a bad patron like that over the phone.
Back to my "people-who-like-to-fuck-with-me," thread, I think it is fair to say that the railroad has it coming when hoodlums and fuck-ups stroll by their box cars, and doodle a little puppy dog or mushroom or a "Hail Hitler!" or, the general slang and gang-related graffiti mostly seen on the side of each car. I have yet to see someone write on a box car, "Railroad Workers Love Anal" or, for someone to draw a penis-resembling-a-train, defacing both property and owner, the railroad. I think if I ever saw a penis-resembling-a-train stalled on the train tracks north of my house, I might not be as pissed off with the railroad; I would take pictures, and most likely post them on my blog, instead of a rant about trains. One question still remains, though: who writes "Hail Hitler!" on a train anymore, that's not a skin-head? Well, to answer that question....
About every morning, while either driving in to town or just simply awake for the hell of it, and out for a walk, I spot a behemoth - simply put - a lummox, just idly resting on the railroad tracks about a quarter mile from my house. Every morning, that locomotive just sits there, blocking the road to a very useful highway I used to take to school/work, I USED to take! Not anymore; not since that fucker has barricaded the road every morning and made it impossible for anyone to ever take the highway into town.
Why, this very morning, I awoke, washed my hair and body and face, brushed my teeth, gums, and tongue, crept downstairs to retrieve a pair of slacks and a t-shirt I had only worn the night before that I planned to wear today as well, grabbed my keys, wallet, and cell phone, and before exiting my home, I took a long swig of water from the bottle it was resting in - I passed on grabbing a glass from the cupboard, and just drink straight from the bottle (I'm sometimes at a loss for sanitation when I have only had a few hours of sleep). Unlocking the door to my car, I hopped in, found a jam or two to listen to from my iPod for the drive up to work, and backed out of my driveway. Upon looking both directions down the road I was backing into (because I'm a safe driver!) I spotted it - that mother fucking train sitting on the tracks again, blocking my favorite means of driving into town. I honestly feel like those conductors love to play "trains" by just pulling forward a few feet, then backing up a few feet, continuously blocking the road they cross-over.
Delving into the past just a few years, I remember, just after receiving my license, I was headed to meet some friends in town, and low-and-behold, a train was blocking my way, in fact, it is the same way I have been explaining since paragraph two. You see, the street I live on continues to the north of us a mile or so, and it crosses a set of train tracks, the very tracks of evil I despise! Back to my memory, I remember thinking, "Fuck! Now I will just have to take the long way into town...," which is through South Hutch, and onto Avenue A street (completely irrelevant if you do not live anywhere near Hutchinson, Kansas)
That damn train just sat there then, as it did this morning. Upon taking the long way into town, I reached another destination where that same set of tracks crosses (4th and Adams if you are a local) and guess what!? That same God damn train was slowly moving across the tracks, blocking my way of path again. I remember thinking, "Don't tell me that's the same fucking train that was asleep on the railroad tracks a quarter mile from my house...." It was, and I was pissed.
This post is more about me just bitching about one incident in my life that cannot be changed. I have heard a time or two that you can call-in, and complain to the city about this subject because somewhere in some by-law or thick, leather-bond book of Kansas law that is collecting dust somewhere in the county courthouse, under section 13 or 6-B (some made up, official-sounding bullshit) trains are not allowed to block an intersection for a set amount of time, and therefore, the railroad commission can actually be fined if they violate this law. Now, I have no idea if that is true or not, and I am too lazy and pissed to give a shit to actually look the law up, but, back to the subject at hand, this, apparently, is the only way to "tattle" on the railroad commission of Reno county. I think anyone who has the nerve to call up the city office, and ask to speak to someone about this vary subject, and complain, and just ruin someone else's day, should be tied behind a government-issued Hummer, and dragged through the Australian outback for six straight hours, then have someone pour salt on their wounds. It's a bunch of horse shit to have someone call you up and just give you an ear-full of swear-words with a side of piss-poor attitude, when it isn't any one's fault a train is stalled on the railroad tracks for too long.
I have a pretty extensive history of naming a few of my friends in my blog. Here is the story of my friend Tess, and her experience with a woman who bitched her out at work because her dumb-ass son checked out a shitload of books and has yet to return them; it has been months upon months since her son checked out the books, and now they are horribly overdue, and her child has fines on his account. So his mother called up and wanted to know the amount due, well, since the books had been out for months upon months, the library had labelled them "lost," which means you either replace the books or never check out another library book again until you have paid-in-full. Well, the mother didn't understand how Tess didn't know the full amount that was owed. Tess told her to try back tomorrow or Monday, and talk with her supervisor Diane (GREAT! Another name to fucking remember) to get confirmation on the actual cost of the books. The mother acted belligerent, asking for Tess' name as well, to, most likely, bring up while in conversation with Diane, to probably relate to Diane that Tess was an awful human being, and a shitty worker who should be castrated if she were a man, and fired and never allowed to work again EVER as a librarian in the city of Hutch, when such accusations are ludicrous. The general public who call up the library are not the brightest people, and frankly, a lot of them have piss-poor attitudes they better correct before I beat a smile out of them! They BETTER be laughing while I am breaking every bone in their face, or so help me God...HUMMER + AUSTRALIAN OUTBACK = EXCRUCIATING PAIN...AND LOTS OF RED DUST, THAT'S NOT CAUSED BY BLOOD! So again, don't ever begin to threaten someone over a phone about a problem you have. I have total sympathy for my friend Tess who had to deal with a bad patron like that over the phone.
Back to my "people-who-like-to-fuck-with-me," thread, I think it is fair to say that the railroad has it coming when hoodlums and fuck-ups stroll by their box cars, and doodle a little puppy dog or mushroom or a "Hail Hitler!" or, the general slang and gang-related graffiti mostly seen on the side of each car. I have yet to see someone write on a box car, "Railroad Workers Love Anal" or, for someone to draw a penis-resembling-a-train, defacing both property and owner, the railroad. I think if I ever saw a penis-resembling-a-train stalled on the train tracks north of my house, I might not be as pissed off with the railroad; I would take pictures, and most likely post them on my blog, instead of a rant about trains. One question still remains, though: who writes "Hail Hitler!" on a train anymore, that's not a skin-head? Well, to answer that question....
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