Back from the doctor and things are not fantastic but better than expected. I just have to keep up with the icing and the stretching and the grinning and baring it. He's the first doctor I have been to that hasn't attributed any of my ailments to my love of Ben & Jerry's and cheeseburgers, so he can't be all that bad. He gave me a prescription for some supports, like I couldn't have walked into a medical supply store and just bought them. I think it makes this guy feel like a real doctor to use his prescription pad.
Afterward, I drove into the valley and got my hair cut at supercuts. Normally I would not have gone there but I could give a rat ass about the wedding and chances are there is going to be at least one mullet there, so my, "vacationing in Iraq" hair-do will not be the talk of the town. Still a little warm in here. Have had the fan going for like a week now. It's not Kenya hot, but still a little uncomfortable, a guy has to keep his beverage cold.
After the 7 minute hair-cut from the dude that spoke no english other than, "twelbe niney-fibe" I walked over to subway to get dinner. I know most people love Subway, they love Jared and the guise that they are eating healthy fast food but let's be honest, cold cuts are cold cuts, and who gets a 6 inch sammich with no mayo, dressing, cheese or other wise? Right, that's what I thought. So I gnash my teeth @ the thought of spending $7.00 on a sandwich for dinner. I know that's a drop in the bucket to some of my Bostonian friends, but we po' folk down here in Rhodey don't earn all the good money.
So I wait to have my sammich made and while I wait I watch the youth of today ring out another rider on the "pork-package express." She goes to get her drink and wouldn't you know it, there is no ice in the beverage machine. When the nice middle aged lady tells, "punk rock-skunk cock" there is no ice, he scratches his bleached blond mo-hawk and says, "man, that sucks. There was ice in there when I worked last night." Having some experience in both the fast and food service industries, I look at the beverage machine and know that it's not one where junior can go and get a bucker of ice and fill er' up. So...she is pissed there is no ice and wants to speak to the manager. Here we go...I think. She is gonna go gazoo over ice. What she fails to realize is that during the pm shift, in the summer, the manager in this place, is the girl two feet over to the right, two years older, counting out pieces of bologna.
So she's all I want a refund or a coupon for free food or something. Acting manager Tracy looks at the woman while she is getting my sammich ready and apologizes for punk rawk's incompetence. She tells her that she would be more than happy to go and get some ice for her, but that as far as a refund goes, that's not gonna happen. Soccer Mom gets all sorts of pissed off and fails to see the plaques on the wall, behind punk rawk's head, congratulation Tracy for highest sales volume of any Subway ever. I spy this and start to smile and chuckle to myself.
Tracy is still constructing my dinner without missing a beat and I am being to be somewhat impressed with her sammich artistry while taking heavy fire from someone who probably hasn't had the Haagen Daaz fucked out of her in at least 8 months. Soccer Mom decides to kick it up a notch and go from zero to Satan in about 2.2 seconds. Unphased, Tracy asks me if I would like any dressing on my sammich. At this point Soccer Mom pushes me out of way, to get in front of Tracy. I tell her "not to put her hands on me and to relax, cause she's acting like a cunt over ice cubes." Yeah, I did it, I used the "C" word in public. It felt so naughty, yet liberating and edgy at the same time.
Punk Rawk bursts out laughing and then gives an appropriate, "DAAAYYYUM" to Soccer Mom's gasp. She then tells me to mind my own business business, thank you very much and I give her a thumbs up and a wink....not saying another word. Part of me feels some sympathy for Tracy as she exhibits some, "Why God, why me, why today" and I have been there so I try not to fuel the fire any more. Soccer Mom demands the # for the managers manager, and Tracy hands it over, along with a "have a good night, please come again."
I wanted to high five her right then and there but I knew it would only drag shit out. I get my sammich punk rawk fucks up and rings me out for a 6 inch and Tracy throws the double middle fingers in the air and yells, "Fuck you, you big ass bitch!" She then lets out a huge sigh and promptly apologizes to me. I told her it was ok and that I would have done the same thing. She says, "I only have two more years of college left and that's it." "I've been where you are, maybe not in the same job but in similar situations." It's sucks, I tell her "but hang in there. Cause when it all comes down to it, this shit will make you stronger than all." With that I fired up the rock n' roll horns and walked out the door.
Never have I ended a day with a Pantera quote. This has to be a first.
What color is the sky in your world?
I hope you all are well.