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Working that shit 9 to 5

Lizzie is a working girl.

Correction, Lizzie WAS a working girl. (And if you are unsure of the meaning of the term “Working girl”, take a second and google it. Otherwise, a lot of this makes no sense.)

I was sitting in one of my favorite Starbucks near my house.

It’s one of the larger Starbucks. About a dozen small tables, and about another dozen barstool with a long shelf spots.

But the busiest section is a 15’ long chain of tables. Holds about 20 people and is always full.

I am at the big table and the crowd is perfect. 

A few odd personalities to write about, but everyone being quiet and doing their own thing.

And then Lizzie sat down. 

“My name is Lizzie.” She looked straight ahead as she spoke smiling. (Typically, when someone says anything beyond “Are you in line?” Or “Are you using that chair?”, there is usually a pitch for money not far behind.)

Lizzie was one a very pretty young lady. Emphasis on the word WAS. Life and it appears to be drugs have aged her fast. There is a tweaker vibe that surrounds her like one of those weighted blankets. Heavy, constricting.

No one said anything. 

“I used to do drugs and escort, but I don’t do any of that anymore. I am sober and trying to get my life together.”

And, no one said anything. (Basically the same protocol as a bear coming into camp but without the falling to the ground to play dead. We all just sat there, playing dead and avoiding eye contact.) 

She went on to tell all of us everything she is up to in her efforts to stay sober.

It suddenly occurred to me that Lizzie is full of shit and tweaking as we speak.

Finally, she wound down and got to the point. 

“Could you gentlemen spare a few dollars to help someone trying to do better?” (When I begin guessing, I am shockingly correct most of the time.)

As far as lines go, its a strong one. I haven’t seen this pitch before. (You could fill an old school set of encyclopedias with the amount of cheap pitch’s for money that are out there.)

I ponied up a couple of dollars, just in case karma is paying attention on a Saturday.

The guy next to me had been scowling the whole time and his scowl only deepened.

Finally, he sighed and reached into his wallet, pulling out a few bills. 

One of them that I could see was a twenty dollar bill. (Now I feel bad for giving just a few dollars.)

He held them up for Lizzie to see.

“My van is right outside.” (Now I don’t feel bad for giving just a few dollars.)

“Yeah, ok.” Lizzie smiled and pretty much bolted for the door, followed by her “John”.

Huh, go figure. 

The guy who had been sitting next to “John” reached into his jacket and pulled out a buzzing cell phone. 

“Hey Lonnie, what’s up?” Even quiet speech carries indoors.

“Naw, just me, Kennie is in his van screwing Lizzie again.” (Switching gears, “John” is now Kennie.)

Lonnie must have asked about Kennie.

“Nope, they always get high after, he’s useless for the rest of the day.”

More conversation I can’t hear.

“I’m leaving here, I’ll meet you there.”

With that, he was up and out the door. Maybe not as quickly as Lizzie abandoned her sobriety and rejoined the working class, but fast enough.

I heard on the news that the economy is booming and people are going back to work.

In more ways than one.

 

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Posted by on December 29, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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The Empire of the Fussy Shitter.

Some kids are fussy eaters. They have a whole list of shit they won’t eat, most of which, they have never tried.

Others are fussy dressers. Colors and styles have to match…etc. Otherwise they aren’t going anywhere.

And, rarely, you run into a fussy shitter. The name is descriptive enough, don’t you think?

I am posted up at Starbucks at one of the larger tables with some ambitious nursing students.

They are working on nursing degrees and a career while I am working on a snotty little blog that no one reads. 

The door opens and a couple comes in with a child. The parents are in their early 30’s? And the little boy is about 5. 

Dad and the somewhat frantic boy beeline for the bathroom while mom stops nearby and makes a call on her cellphone.

“Hi mom, its Tanya.” (The name Tanya went thru a wildly popular period than it ever should have. Seriously. And they are always trouble. Its like the name summons some ancient goddess of cheesy drama or something.)

“Rog is in the bathroom with Tyler. Its bad today, this is the fourth place we have been to so far.” She looks back at the bathroom with the look of hope tinged with fear. Whatever is going on there, its got her fairly beaten up mentally. 

“No, we have been to 4 different bathrooms so far and there has been something wrong with each one. We are still an hour from home.” She listens to the phone.

“We tried that mom, he shit his pants. And we will not put pullups on him. The other kids might find out and make fun.”

Good lord.

I don’t know that I have run into the parents of a fussy shitter before. 

That is a whole new brand of oddity. 

On the one hand, you do what you have to when your kids are little. There are parents who never raise their voices or tell them no. It is a whole thing that wildly over indulges and leads to the creation of millennials. 

On the other hand, beat your kid, lady. 

5 is way too early to be knuckling under to whatever the kid dictates. 

You are setting yourself up for a lot of future shitty happenings. (Pun kind of intended.)

I went to high school with someone who went home at lunch to use the bathroom. She lived nearby and was pretty hot, so no one gave her any trouble.

I found out years later from a guy who dated her for awhile, she had some sexual issues revolving around defecation. (The home town version of 2 girls, one cup. Google that one at your own risk.)

And here it is, happening right in front of me. 

I realize how harsh it sounds, especially given the ridiculously over-compensating that parents and opinionated shitheads without kids nonsense out there.

But if they would simply sit his fussy ass on the toilet, telling him to shit or sleep there, they would be on the road. 

It’s not a quick fix.

It’s a habit they allowed to form and it will take awhile to break, but it can be done. 

One of my kids was a fussy eater. Had a whole list of shit they would not eat, all of it never tried before. 

So I made a rule. 

You can decide you don’t like something, but you have to try it. Not a nibble, a loaded spoonful.

You can only force yourself to dry heave so many times before it wears on you. 

They eventually expanded their menu nicely and it stopped being a problem. 

A few minutes later, Dad and Tyler came out, mission accomplished.

Lucky number 5. 

As they left, I was tempted to share my wisdom with them.

And then I realized that they were on their own journey.

Sigh.

Being enlightened can be a burden at times.

Mmmmm coffee.

 
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Posted by on December 22, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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The Turd Burglar

Usually, I get to Starbucks and then things happen.

But today, everything started without me. 

When I got to Starbucks, the police had been there for awhile. 

Nobody got hurt, but it was an odd little shit show for a brief period.

Now, I am not one to judge…..

Ok, even I can’t bullshit that one, I am nothing but judgement. 

I think I would be happier if I could add jury and executioner to the list. 

But let me continue. 

In my completely unbiased opinion, the tweaker piece of shit in the back of the patrol car was not a good looking guy before he discovered his deep and abiding love of meth.

Let’s call him El Diablo.

The broken table I am still trying to figure out.

The urine on the sidewalk is also a mystery. 

According to several people who responded to my inquiry of – “What the hell was that?”

  • El Diablo was briefly in line at the cashier and was “Gacking bad”. (Still Googling that one, no clue.)
  • El Diablo may or may not have had his dick hanging out. (The couple that told me this are split on this. She says no, he says yes. My opinion? Why is he checking out El Diablo’s package?)
  • El Diablo (Let’s jump the gun and just call him The Suspect, shall we?) anyway, the Suspect then knocked  over a display of expensive coffee beans, then began screaming and cursing until the police arrived. (Actually, it was just a display of coffee beans, they are all expensive. When was the last time someone said “I can’t believe how cheap coffee is these days.?”)
  • The Suspect, when officers were taking him to the car, stopped in one spot on the sidewalk, refused to move, then pissed himself. (This is one of the greatest protest moves ever. Kind of like a karmic “You can’t fire me, I quit!”)

Police officers are notoriously closed mouthed about what goes on when they are investigating something.

However, you catch the right cops on the right day…

I walked by two cops laughing quietly off to the side. 

“So I told him that if he has any drugs on him, its a felony to take them into the station. He immediately ponies up that he has a baggy up his ass. I ask why, and he says – I always keep my drugs in my ass, then I can’t be robbed!” (This sentence is just wrong. I keep looking at it to see if there is spelling or grammar issues. There are none, my mind is just balking at the content.)

Then the other cop’s reply made my day.

“Except by the turd burglar!” 

Oh my God.

I almost pissed the sidewalk myself.

Take him away boys.

 
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Posted by on October 14, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Book #4 is out!!!

The 4th book of the Caffeinated Humor series!!!

All the content you love, packaged together for your entertainment.

Get yours now!

Click this link! ——>It’s the Coffee Talking: Caffeinated Humor 4

 
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Posted by on July 18, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Let’s all cry together in a safe space.

“If you have a feeling or an emotion, you don’t HAVE to freeze in place until you figure out who to blame.”

That’s my quote, I threw it out there in my last post.

And got some complaints about it. 

There was 3 in total and they all boiled down to the same thing.

“Walk a mile in someone’s shoes before you talk about it.”

They didn’t use that phrasing, but theirs sucked and this is my blog.

Several things.

First, I don’t need to even try someone else’s shoes on much less walk in them to know that they won’t fit me.

Second, not everything is about you. 

And if you think the walk a mile comment is not self-centered at its core, let’s all hope you marry money because the whole thinky thing is not your specialty. 

We live in an age of outrage.

You name it, someone is outraged about it.

There are 2 types of outrage.

The first is that honest old-school outrage. 

They are pissed and let you know it. 

On social media, it looks like this: “Hey asshole, F-you and F your opinion.”

I can respect that one, at least it’s up front and not hiding.

The second kind is the most common form of outrage.

Passive aggressive. 

“I think its funny how people like to make fun of _____.”

It’s preachy, a touch whiny, and basically goes down a bunny hole of political correctness that you either “Get it” or you start to get compared to “Nazis”.

And the list of things you are never allowed to talk about in anything but a reverential tone is as long as your arm.

The recent earthquakes, being bullied as a child, being underpaid, being discriminated against for any reason, not getting what you want and claiming its discrimination, being tall/short/male/female/old/young/Christian/Muslim are all on the list. 

If you are still having the issue, I wish you well on your road to getting that fixed. 

But, if this happened more than a decade ago? 

Let it go.

Stop letting your past define how you react to the present and the future. 

I have a good friend that has about a foot of scar tissue on his arm from a dog mauling when he was a child. 

The only time in the last decade or more that I have heard him mention it was to shut up some guy and his girlfriend when they commented on his joke about an attack dog. 

My friend is also a fisherman.

So when he began playing out the line for dipshit and his girlfriend, I sat and listened.

“You ever been attacked by a dog?”

“Plenty of people have and they probably wouldn’t think it was as funny.”

“But have YOU, ever been attacked by a dog?”

“My mom used to have this little dog that used to snap at us all the time.”

“So that is a no?”

“If you want to be technical…”

And then my friend pulled up his sleeve and shows the gnarled flesh.

“Let it go, stop bitching at people, move on with your life.”

Except that we have conditioned people to feign outrage over anything and everything.

I have always found those that feel it’s their job to chastise everyone else to be profoundly offensive.

The narcissism involved in assuming that you are the only one with any sort of emotional content in connection to some sort of life event is stunning. 

Yes, sweetie, we realize that it’s all about you. 

But, you need to look in the mirror and forgive someone, smack your inner toddler on the ass, call mom/dad/sibling/ex and forgive them.

And leave the rest of us alone. 

Please believe my sincerity when I say this.

Shhhh, nobody cares.

(Sidenote: My test reader just texted me and commented “Wow, who shit in your Cheerios today?)

(Good question.)

 

 
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Posted by on July 8, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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Too little, too much and too dumb to know either way

Boxer Joe Tory once said “Pizza is like sex. When it’s good, it’s very good. When it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.”

And I believe that. 

You get what you give. 

Here’s why. 

Mandy.

Who’s Mandy?

Mandy is the 40 something woman on the patio of Starbucks who is on her phone, having a thoroughly rude conversation about her sex life and believes my headphones being on mean I cannot hear her.

But there is no music playing in my headphones, I can hear Mandy loud and clear.

So listen I did.

And what follows is a 20 minute description of Mandy’s sex partners for the last year, evidently there are more than a few.

And her final description of all of them, the summing up, the “review” of her carnal playmates?

“They all suck in bed!”

Wow. 

All of them?

Well, if anyone would know, it would be Mandy. 

But I do have one question.

It’s for Mandy, but you can mull it over if you like. 

Once you’ve had sex with the first couple dozen guys, and they ALL SUCK.

Doesn’t the thought occur to you that, maybe it’s you?

Mandy’s bed may be the killing fields of sex, the place where good sex is sad and without hope.

I honestly have no way of knowing I am just guessing at this point. 

But my accuracy when I begin guessing is legendary. 

But maybe I am biased and more than a little jaded.

So, I checked with the internet and did some quick and dirty research about what makes good sex. (Don’t Google “Hot Sex”. It’s a LOT of video research plus you risk carpal tunnel.)

I found a Millennial blog ALL about how to have great sex.

Here are the top three pieces of advice:

  • Meditate. (They even specified that you are NOT meditating about sex. Being at peace gives you the “Dick of death” or something.)
  • Masturbate a lot. (I actually exploded with laughter on this one, snotted myself and everything. The level of stupid here is frightening.)
  • “Understand that, for most women, sex is a violation.” (Great, sex tips from someone who hates sex. I am getting a semi as we speak. 

Mandy is going to be fine, she is just shitty in bed. 

But the Millenials are going to die out as a generation. 

Kids, you don’t have to freeze in place every time you have an emotion and refuse to move until you have figured out who to blame for it. 

What started out to be a fun little romp about Mandy and her revolving door panties has taken on an even sadder edge as we contemplate that a huge amount of the 20-somethings out there will be the last of their bloodline, dying out without an extinction level event as its cause. 

But I am sure the kids will figure out who to blame. 

 

The books are out! Check them out here! The Caffeinated Humor Series

 
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Posted by on July 5, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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The performer enters the stage

It’s Armageddon my friends.

The world is ending, the seas are drying up, the animals are all extinct and all of humanity will perish.

All for the lack of a power outlet.

There is a meltdown of sorts going on in Starbucks.

Not some random, out of the way, middle of nowhere Starbucks, but my favorite one, close to home.

I will call him Power Tie.

Power Tie is important, you need to know that, first and foremost. 

Power Tie is wearing a 3 piece suit on a hot day. (For the record, its a cheap suit.)

Power Tie has 2 laptops because he is SO FUCKING BUSY! (However, they are really old laptops. I checked the model when he went to use the bathroom and Googled it. It was originally sold in 1997 and used Windows 95.)

That is where the problem came from, the old laptops. 

There is an excellent chance that the batteries no longer hold a charge, so they need to be plugged in at all times. 

When Power Tie first came in, he set up shop on a double table and began to unpack.

It took him 10 full minutes to completely unpack and set up his 2 laptop setting. (External mice on both, mainly because one of the laptops didn’t have a touchpad. Power cords carefully plugged into a power strip.)

And then he realized that the spot he had chosen didn’t have an outlet.

What started as a low level rumbling mumble with the occassional “Fuck” thrown in, has become a full blown obscene hissy fit that would embarrass a retarded sailor. (I have a friend who is a marine and is of the opinion that all sailors are retarded. Seems to have a grudge there.)

I rarely get involved, but I am a little shocked at the severity of the butt-hurt display in front of me.

“There are outlets right there.” I point at the tables across the way.

Karma loves a good joke as much as anyone. 

The tables across the way just opened up and no one has taken them. 

Power Tie eyed them for a long moment with that look you get when you are contemplating some shit on your shoe.

What follows was the oddest combination of grown man/petulant child throwing a fit and stomping his whiny ass back and forth, each trip taking only one item to the other table. 

The scene was a cautionary tale for how not to raise a child to become this kind of a pathetic adult. 

But, to be honest, there was a part of me that was honestly enjoying it along with my coffee, like a flakey pastry.

I felt like I was witnessing a fine performance art piece, majestic and raw. 

And Power Tie stayed in character, truly committing to the scene.

Bravo, artiste, bravo.

 

The books are out! Check them out here!The Caffeinated Humor Series

 
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Posted by on June 28, 2019 in Uncategorized

 

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