Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Rockstar, Yeah Right

Last night I ran out to get some grub for the kids as the wife was working late. I usually try to get something semi-healthy, so I ran over to Boston Market. BM is one of the best places to get a home cooked meal without doing the cooking, and I make too much playing poker to waste my time cooking. The only problem with BM is that although their menu is pretty simple, it seems to take a long time to get your food, especially during the dinner rush between 5-7pm.

On this night, it was past 7 so I had some hope for a rare quick in and out at BM. As I pulled into the parking lot, it was pretty empty. Looking through the glass, there was no evidence of a line. Too cool. I walk in and there is a couple making their order up front and no one else. Sweet! However, it started taking a long time to place the order. WTF. It was an elderly couple. The lady weighed something like 300-400 lbs, and was wearing what looked like a patchwork country quilt that she had cut a hole out off the middle and squeezed her fat head through. Some black leggings and Birkenstock sandals completed the ensemble. The husband was a tall, skinny lurch looking guy, with long grey hair down below the shoulders (Jack Spratt?). Patchwork quilt lady (I will call her tent lady from now on), was angrily barking orders at the cashier, and berating the old lurch looking guy (I will call him 65 year-old rock star from this point). To complicate things further, the cashier was a trainee and had someone over his shoulder barking orders. So tent lady barks at 65 year old rockstar, who says something meekly that tent lady then barks at the trainee, who is confused and asks the manager for help, who tries to explain, but apparently the two don't speak the same language so nothing seems to be getting done so why not try choosing a couple of fricking sides tent lady and completing you fucking order so that you can fatten up and explode leaving this pathetic 65 year old rock star with a shot at banging some hippo in the 250 pound range with less of an attitude. Pointing at them might work! After what must have been 10 minutes, they work things out and I get to make my order.

While I am waiting for my food I start thinking about the 65 year-old rock star. This guy rolls into BM with a 300+ pound waste of human existence, barking orders from a hole cut in a patchwork country quilt serving as a dress/tent. Does this guy actually think he is cool with the long hair and all? Listen 65 year old rockstar, you are NOT COOL. Rockstars don't take orders from their groupies, and tend to have groupies who weigh less than 300 pounds, and have some sort of fashion sense. Cut your hair, forget about thinking you’re cool, and start considering suicide. It's your best bet at this point. Rockstar, yeah right!


At 1:42 PM, Blogger TripJax said...

I believe those types of dresses, if you can even call them a dress, are usually referred to as MooMoo's.

I recall the Simpsons episode where he was trying to become morbdly obese so he could go on disability and he solely wore moomoo's. Good stuff.

I like the use of Tent Lady though. I may have to use that one some time...


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