SCENE NO. 1: INTERIOR - EVENING. A 13-year-old boy sits next to his father and across from his mother at a neighborhood restaurant that serves Pacific-cuisine.
Boy and father are sitting on the side of a booth that allows them to watch a baseball game playing on a TV in corner with no sound as they eat. Boy digs at his hot pot as father picks through his nabeyaki udon.
Midway through the meal, the following song begins playing on the restaurant's stereo system:
FATHER: "This song makes me want to put a bullet in my head."
SON: [without missing a beat] "Then we'd miss you like crazy."
END OF SCENE.
Stopped by Godiva yesterday at the mall to shop for some Easter candy. Sampled some peanut butter truffle eggs.
Found a few things to buy, small little delicacies. Store was crowded. Two clerks behind the counter, a young man and woman, were busy trying to serve everyone. Two needy women who ordered Godiva shakes were clogging the retail pipe. The youngish male clerk tried hard to help. There was much frivolity and giggling. The three appeared to be sharing tips on bags and shoes. It was like the worst episode of "The View."
"Can I take the next customer?" the youngish female clerk asked at a second register. With spiky hair and a delicate, milky complexion that had no depth to it, she looked like an anime character, albeit one that would be working at Godiva, of course. Stepped forward with my purchases.
She rang the items, took my card and swiped. I noticed what appeared to be a rifle pendant on a short necklace around her neck.
"Is that a rifle with flowers?"
She giggled shyly.
"It's a Kent State thing," she said. "It's a hippie thing."
"I guess I was born at the wrong time," she said.
I did my best to digest the previous statement without appearing judgmental. My raised eyebrows, furrowed forehead and puffy frenulum betrayed my true thoughts.
Chaos, tear gas and pointless death apparently seem romantic 38 years later to underage clerks from within the climate-controled comfort of a gourmet chocolate retailer.
If only Godiva made dark chocolate billy clubs. That would be delicious. And on-topic.
This is nothing compared to St. Fatty's Day.
If I wanted a half-caf, nonfat, no-whip, half-pump Seth Rogan, I would have asked for a half-caf, nonfat, no-whip, half-pump Seth Rogan.
Saw this product at the grocery store.
Something about the claims on the label didn't read correctly.
Do the math with me, will you?
Sausage made with pork and chicken = 2 meats (which act as 1 meat)
Canadian Style Bacon = 1 meat
Pizza topping made with chicken, beef and pork = 3 meats
By my math, shouldn't this technically qualify as a 6-meat pizza?
Seriously, I'm asking.
Head hurting. I have to go take a nappy-nap now.