December 20th, 2002

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

Dreams, Burgers, Bums, Pottymouths and Merwhores

I was awoken from my pre-work nap a while ago by an imperative! Alas, I don't recall the details, but the result was that I woke up with a yearn — a neeeeed! — for a Rally burger.

If I could remember the details of the dream that instilled such a biological DRIIIIIVE!!!! in me for those damn things (okay, and their fries), I could take over the marketing world and begin the Fast Food Fourth Reich.

Instead of plotting a coup de cuisine, I biked to the local Rally's. Grade-A class customers there, as always. Tonight, there was a natty bum with a beard in which was grizzled I-don't-care-to-speculate-what-before-I-eat.

"Ahkahava dallah?"

"Sorry, dood."

Then he turned to the porcine woman standing at the window: "Ahkahava dallah?"

"Mmm-mmm, hoan-ay."

Then he turned to me: "Ahkahav turdy cent?"


To the woman: "Ahkahav twennyfie cent?"

She ignored him and fussed with her rugrat.

I turned my attention elsewhere. To "mom," if you can call her that. She was spewing a stream of drivel at her four year old son. I couldn't understand a bloody word she was saying, except every third word was, "FUCK!"

To a four year old.

"Mazzah FUCKIN' habba zabba doowee FUCKIN' HAZZA mazza!"

I cringed involuntarily, wincing my eyes shut in a painy-face. The woman saw this. She turned to me and fairly screamed, "I'z knowz hotta take care o' mah chirren! SHEEET!"

Then she left. The four year old shouted out after her, "Momma, we fo'got dis," indicating a pile of napkins.

"GITCHO ass ovah heeah boyah. FUCK!"


From the bum: "Ahkahav seventeen cent?"

Got home, a little sadder, a little wiser, but damn those fries are delish. Studies don't lie, Bob.

What kind of mermaid are you?

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“Whore mermaid. Every merman, every human, every damn fish
wants to look under those sea shells. And you'll let them too.”
I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

(no subject)

Okay, when I linked to the Burgers n' Fries survey in my charming Rally's anecdote, I had no idea what establishment I was linking to.

After doing approximately 11 seconds of research, I found the 8th graders' home page.

What the fuck kinda slogan is that on their "PRECIOUS PAGE"? "8th Grade Class of 2000, Breakin' Through the Chains" ?????

Well, like Mr. Bradley sez, They're Bringing SMOKE!

(I'm so glad I was born in the 60s.)