Suck it Quiznos

I've always had a distaste for the Quiznos franchise. I like to consider myself somewhat of a sandwich connoisseur- a sub fanatic, a hoagie extraordinaire. Going to an establishment such as Quiznos is about as infrequent as I wear lingerie these days......

Every once in a while I like to give places such as these a fair chance, so I stopped into one to grab a turkey sub on a desperate afternoon. I walked in and read the menu. It was loaded up with all sorts of specialty sandwiches- none of which fit my fancy. I am a bit of a picky eater I suppose- I like only a few items on a turkey sub and I hate condiments (much to the dismay of Edna - the sub lady at my local publix- much love, Edna!). So I ask what I believe to be a perfectly normal question: Can I make my own sub? To which the cold hearted skank..er girl behind the counter replied: why would you want to do that? Um.... because I don't like any of the 'creative' sub choices you have on the menu!?!?! to which she utters the magical phrase in her most annoying 80's valley girl voice "Well, this really isn't Subway ya know".

The absolute retardedness (new word alert) of her 'justification' for not wanting to make me a custom turkey sub resulted in my COMPLETE AND TOTAL HATRED FOR THE QUIZNOS FRANCHISE and my vow NEVER TO STEP FOOT IN ANOTHER CRAPPY STOREFRONT AGAIN. You insulted this bread, turkey, cheese, lettuce, onion, and a dab of oil, sub eater!

So a big SUCK IT to you, Quiznos. I'd go to Subway any day over your pathetic "mmmm..toasty" lame-slogan-havin'-chiponyourshoulder-valleygirlhiring-nonaccomodating -preservativestuffed-wannabesubshop.

"Still Here, Out Smoking"

OK-- I am not going to lie and say that I have never enjoyed a nice cancer stick while downing a few cocktails over the years, but I AM going to complain about smokers who think they have the the right to occupy two areas in a restaurant JUST because they happen to have a nicotine craving. Last night, I wanted a margarita (well, another margarita)!! We stopped at a bar/restaurant so that I could fulfill my craving. It was 7:30ish and prime Orlando-time to eat. I had already eaten so all I wanted to do was sit at the bar and enjoy a cold mind-altering beverage. I walk in, the bar is PACKED........ except far in the distance, I see a glimmer of hope! Two empty chairs at the opposite end of the bar near the bathroom. YES!!! seeeeeee.... God WANTS me to have a margarita. That is, until I reach the empty seats just to see a sign reading: STILL HERE. OUT SMOKING. What the fuuuuuuuuuuck?! That's IT people: I say it's time to revolt!! If you're a smoker you will just have to accept the fact that your seat will be given up if you HAVE to go outside and inhale tobacco. Plain and simple. Nothing against you as a person- but damn... restaurants should not allow you to occupy two seats for you to bounce back and forth as you please. How I wanted to sit in your seat and wait for your return you greedy greedy smokers.... I hope you know how close you were to my buzzed wrath.

I'm convinced that some people talk just for the pleasure of hearing their own voices. Thinking aloud, making odd gestures and noises, pulling movie quotes out of their ass when it's not relevant to the conversation at hand (or any conversation had in the last 2 years), and my personal favorite: asking questions that any conscious living person could figure out on their own should they have half a brain. Such questions include, but are not limited to, "Where's the milk?" and "what happened to my shoes?". One might think these are natural questions to inquire about.........after one has been SEARCHING for these items for quite some time. But when they are asked while your ass is sitting on the couch or while in a part of the house they would not be (say, the bathroom or the driveway), then it causes the listener to naturally fume with rage.

Perhaps your shoes are in the closet where most normal people house their shoes. And just maybe the keys are on the key rack that has been hanging by our door for 2 years. Could it be possible that the milk is in the fucking refrigerator?

Flush it Down, Brown.

My cat likes to drink out of the effing toilet because apparently he does not like his water bowl that I clean and refill with fresh filtered water every freaking day.

Why can't I drink the fresh water either? It's given to me everyday.... but I generally opt for the toilet, too. Rather than taking and running with what is given to me free of charge, I keep seeking out the filth that just makes me rotten inside. Am I conditioned that way? was it learned? I don't know. I need to stop drinking from the toilet.

I have GOT to learn Photoshop!

Thanks to Paul, I do own Photoshop, but dang... I can't work this type of magic yet!! I need to get with the program. Oh and by the way.... does Faith really look THAT bad in the original photo???? Sweet Jesus.

Marketing Geniuses!

So for those of you without the pleasure of receiving my myspace bulletin, here is a gem that I found yesterday: A "Kwik-E-Mart"!! Technically a transformed 7-11 in an (awesome) attempt to promote the upcoming Simpsons movie. There are only 11 of them in the US and one of them is here in Orlando. I just happened to drive by it yesterday and had to turn around for a picture. They sell Buzz Cola, Krusty-Os cereal, pink frosted donuts, and slushies-- sadly, I could not find any Duff Beer. Regardless, how cool is this?

No Grunting Allowed

Somewhere, some place in any gym you go to you will see a sign that explains that loud noises and/or swearing is disruptive to others trying to work out around you. You'd THINK that this was common sense-- who REALLY grunts while they work out?!?!? I mean, besides the creepy bald guy at MY gym... who, despite, the posted "no grunts, swearing, loud noises" allowed sign, continues to make the most offensive noises while he is bench pressing. I swear he is doing it on purpose... nobody makes those sounds uncontrollably.... do they?? and is it a coincidence that he just happens to always be on machine near ME?!? I hate you bald creepy grunting bastard, I hate you!

P.S. I googled creepy gym guy and up came this pic of carrot top.... what a FREAK!