La Chancla

You can learn very interesting things when you find the time to sit and listen.  This applies in most earnest to the lives of your coworkers - in this case, our Mexican cooks.  This tale revolves around our bus boy, to whom we refer as La Chancla (the Slipper, in mexo-spanish slang) and how he got his nickname.

 

"You know why we call him Chancla?" says Diego, in his moderately broken English.  "Because when we go to San Antonio, his cousin...  his, how you say, wife?  He make the..."  Diego makes a vulgar hand-and-hip gesture which we men readily translate in to copulation.  "He make the...  with his cousin wife!"

 

"Si!" Elian, our bar back, affirms.  "When we go San Antonio and stay in my house with my girlfriend, I..."  Elian points two fingers at his eyes, and then simulates sending laser beams from them to Chancla.  "Because if I don't, he fuck my girlfriend!"

 

We discussed this at great length, and I was much amused.  For some reason, our cooks open up to me more than our other staff - and this is the kind of stuff that makes me glad to be a people person.

Now We Know Global Warming's Cause

Racism.  The earth is clearly racist.

 

Fucking earth.  Jimmy Carter, save us!

The Handicapped Stall

Working in an office again - and it's an interesting return.  Things never really seem to change between offices, even those of completely different organizations.  Sure, there are small edits to the "Culture" section of your Orientation binder, but they aren't exactly massively different.

 

One thing that never changes is Man's preference for the handicapped stall.  I was just using one to balance my body's food intake/outtake levels, and I heard the guy who walked in behind me mumble, "God DAMMIT..." as he took his place on the throne less spacious than mine.

 

Now THAT shit is FUNNY.

 

No pun.

Ultimate Explosi0n Fight Battle Part One!1!

Remember how my bar manager accused me of stealing?

 

Well, Saturday he did it again!  I served (and cashed out) five shots, and he whooshed by me and said, "Where the fuck are those shots?"  I said, "They're paid out, dude."  He said, "Prove it."  I found the receipt, slapped him on the back (he's a full 6 inches taller than me) and yelled, so the whole bar could hear me - totally worth it by the way! - "Better luck NEXT time, buddy!!!"

 

He took me to the back and got in my face.  I think he realized I was going to knock his big ass the fuck out, because he backed up and asked me to talk to him out back.

 

I said to him among the meanest things I've ever said to anyone in my life.  Horrible, wretched things like how much I hated working with him, how I thought he was a garbage human being;  how I think it's bullshit that he's an asshole on PURPOSE...  but much meaner than that.

 

Man.  I felt great.

 

Anyway, let that be a lesson to you guys.  Don't accuse me of stealing, or I'll say really, really mean things to you!

 

 

Texas Weather

There are many things about Texas that are different from the country I grew up in - (namely Germany);  the dead grass everywhere...  the flat land...  the lack of thousand year old castles randomly bespeckled about hilltops...  oh, and the massive rivers cutting through rolling hillcountry.

 

But I tell you, there are few things in Texas as awe-inspiring as the weather we see here.  I was driving along the highway last night watching the massive black storm clouds plowing their way to the edge of our city, and I couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.  The electrical storms we have here are wild - thick white bolts of lightning hammering down to earth from the dense blackness above stirs something in me.

 

I dunno..  but I think our weather could kick your dad's weather's ass.