- Joined
- May 11, 2010
- Messages
- 20,703
- Location
- Charlotte, NC
- Display Name
Display name:
Snorting his way across the USA
You know, like how you can pre-apply with the TSA for priority boarding and security checks. And how you can buy 'A' seating on Southwest Airlines.
I am making an appeal to the MC.
Yes, the MC. You guys need the equivalent of TSA pre-check and Southwest pre-board. It's a paid, one time per payment, get out of jail card when you make a drunk posting.
Okay it's like... wait, I can't text @Everskyward about it because she is in Colorado. I can't text @Ted DuPuis about it either. Mainly because I don't have his text and if I did have his text he would think it was creepy because frankly...
It would be creepy.
Here's the dilemma though. We have had a few hot dog threads. I don't generally participate in hot dog threads as I don't generally eat them. I participate in threads in which I don't eat but have interest but hot dogs generally don't interest me.
Until today.
"Uh, these are Costco 1/4 lb hot dogs. We are leaving to go somewhere. That is dinner. Bye."
That was like... 4:45 PDT. 4:45 PDT. Who eats at before five o'clock. Why.
Well it threw me. I came back to work early not expecting to find some overweight Saudi ontop of whomever working the Camel while the little Camels looked on but rather I wanted to beat traffic and say f it.
But the hot dogs.
Wait on the hot dogs.
Let's start with the vodka. Truth be told, I'm not a Russian. This is a new venue for me.
Okay we started with the vodka.
Now on to the hot dogs.
They were 1/4 lb Costco things. Normally I hate hot dogs and I view them like fat chicks. Well not really, actually these hot dogs WERE like fat chicks. The ones that normally get served are like skinny crack hos. Malnourished. Diseased. But you can have them whenever you want.
Unlike these freakin' phat azzed quarter pound monstrosities that would have put John Holmes to shame. 'You probably don't want the buns but...'
I ate the damn buns. I felt like I was in a ballpark someplace in either Cambodia or Chicago and home runs were hit and stuff like that and I just said 'whateva' and just did it. Big azz hot dog, steamed, bun, relish, mustard, (ketchup? HELL no.) Mayo? Damn, forgot it.
But anyway what I left out was the vodka. No, that's not the problem. I didn't leave it out. I was so flummoxed with the situation that I downed half a 55 gallon barrel without even noticing. Then I got hungry and ate another hot dog.
Anyway where was I going with this. Oh yeah... so... I felt compelled to relay my story yet I have some verbiage shaking out of my hindquarters that I can't quite get to land perfectly in the repository literary stall. I need a pass. Not even a free pass. I'll pay for it dammit.
I wonder if I can make cole slaw with butter lettuce.
I am making an appeal to the MC.
Yes, the MC. You guys need the equivalent of TSA pre-check and Southwest pre-board. It's a paid, one time per payment, get out of jail card when you make a drunk posting.
Okay it's like... wait, I can't text @Everskyward about it because she is in Colorado. I can't text @Ted DuPuis about it either. Mainly because I don't have his text and if I did have his text he would think it was creepy because frankly...
It would be creepy.
Here's the dilemma though. We have had a few hot dog threads. I don't generally participate in hot dog threads as I don't generally eat them. I participate in threads in which I don't eat but have interest but hot dogs generally don't interest me.
Until today.
"Uh, these are Costco 1/4 lb hot dogs. We are leaving to go somewhere. That is dinner. Bye."
That was like... 4:45 PDT. 4:45 PDT. Who eats at before five o'clock. Why.
Well it threw me. I came back to work early not expecting to find some overweight Saudi ontop of whomever working the Camel while the little Camels looked on but rather I wanted to beat traffic and say f it.
But the hot dogs.
Wait on the hot dogs.
Let's start with the vodka. Truth be told, I'm not a Russian. This is a new venue for me.
Okay we started with the vodka.
Now on to the hot dogs.
They were 1/4 lb Costco things. Normally I hate hot dogs and I view them like fat chicks. Well not really, actually these hot dogs WERE like fat chicks. The ones that normally get served are like skinny crack hos. Malnourished. Diseased. But you can have them whenever you want.
Unlike these freakin' phat azzed quarter pound monstrosities that would have put John Holmes to shame. 'You probably don't want the buns but...'
I ate the damn buns. I felt like I was in a ballpark someplace in either Cambodia or Chicago and home runs were hit and stuff like that and I just said 'whateva' and just did it. Big azz hot dog, steamed, bun, relish, mustard, (ketchup? HELL no.) Mayo? Damn, forgot it.
But anyway what I left out was the vodka. No, that's not the problem. I didn't leave it out. I was so flummoxed with the situation that I downed half a 55 gallon barrel without even noticing. Then I got hungry and ate another hot dog.
Anyway where was I going with this. Oh yeah... so... I felt compelled to relay my story yet I have some verbiage shaking out of my hindquarters that I can't quite get to land perfectly in the repository literary stall. I need a pass. Not even a free pass. I'll pay for it dammit.
I wonder if I can make cole slaw with butter lettuce.
