Thursday, March 17, 2005

Antidote A.
Comments on commentary-

gem4evah- Um, my 'avator' is Oscar. You know? From that show on PBS that most people should know about unless they want to come off as illiterate hillbillies from Utah?

Yeah, I'm glad you liked the picture of the guy seppukuing. A good love of bloodlust makes you all the more likable.

Sen- I know, I'm such a quiz addict. I wonder if there's a support group for it. ;/

Fork and spoon.

I re-changed my layout since a guy seppukuing is apparently not that great for attracting people. Something about a person's entrails seems to drive normal people away. I'm not really sure what that is about- I mean, come on. Entrails are the coolest thing since yo-yo's. So now it's to a less-frightening picture of a guy getting shot by a firing squad which is, actually, oddly akin to several of life's happy moments. I also deleted the story that was under our seppuking friend because, well. I don't know. We'll save that story for later. I think I've discovered that people don't like blogs that have dark layouts and people dying, bleeding or getting stabbed- which is equally perplexing. Actually, no it isn't. But it lets me be a little bit sarcastic or satirical so I think I'll roll with it. I'm thinking of making this blog the brightest of bright pinks- or maybe something like orange. With a picture of a kitty on top with the words "happy :D" under it. I think I'll do that for my next update just because I think that would be very, very funny [to me] and, well- since I'm me, I like things that are funny to me. I'm not sure what I'll post but I'm sure it will be funny to me too.

Today I encountered the stupidest waiter in the history of waiters across this Earth. Nein, not just this Earth. The galaxy [at the least]. I doubt I can describe to you how baffling this young, black individual was- he seemed quite airheaded, to say the least. It was almost like those inane jokes about blondes. But, no. It was a young black guy with glasses. It was at a local restaurant chain called Jim's. They have daily lunch specials and my parents are in love with Thursday's special- a half of a baked chicken with your choice of vegetable, bread and iced tea. I don't particularly care for the special [not today anyway] but I have an extreme adoration for the Chicken Parmesan. Mmm-mmm good. I'm not sure I can exactly replicate the dialog we had with the young black man but I will do my best.

It started off suspiciously.

Waiter: Hello there, folks. What can I get you to drink?

Mom: Uh, yes. I'd like a-.. hm. Do you have Diet Coke or Diet Pepsi?

Waiter: Uh. *slight pause* *glances back at the soda fountain* We have Diet Dr. Pepp- wait, no. Diet Coke.

Mom: Ok, I'll have a Diet Coke.

Dad: I'll have some coffee.

Me: Mountain Dew.

Him: Er, sir. We don't have Mountain Dew.
--note: Unusual since a week ago they did.

Me: Oh? Then I'll have a Diet Coke.

Him: Ok. So that's two Diet Cokes and a Dr. Pepper.

Dad: Coffee.

Him: ! Right! A coffee. I got it. Coming right up.

Right now I only had a sneaking suspicion that he was an idiot or some form of one, but he seemed to be moderately capable at listing things on a tiny slip of paper and getting them. That was utterly destroyed when he tried to take our lunch order.

Him: Would you like something to eat?

Mom: Ah, yes. I'll take the chicken special and..

Him: Chicken special? *weird look* Uh, is that the Kentucky Fried Chicken or..
-note: there is only one lunch special a day and on this day it's the baked chicken so this question is mostly irrelevant.

Mom: No, no. The um, baked chicken special.

Him: Oh yeah! Ok, I gotcha. Mmk.. *writes it down*

Mom: And um, what vegetables come with that?

Him: Carrots or tomatoes and lettuce.

Mom: Carrots. Oh!! And, I'd like a side salad with it.

Him: Ok, Baked Chicken Salad.. *write write*

Mom: Nono, on the side. The Baked Special with a salad on the side.

Him: Oh, ok! I gotcha. Let's see.. what kind of dressing do you want?

Mom: Ranch. Oh, on the side please.

Him: Mmk. So that's the baked chicken salad-..

Mom: No, no. The chicken special. On the lunch.

This went on a few more times until he actually did get it. He fumbled a bit when my dad asked for an empty plate [difficult concept- sharing is very complicated]. During all of this I was drinking my Diet Coke and sort of grinning. It was funny. But, finally, it was my turn.

Him: And for you, sir?

Me: Chicken Parmesan.

Him: Hookay. Chicken Parmesan... *scribble write write* Do you want baked potato or french fries?

Me: *looks up at him with this quirky grin*

Why would you have french fries or baked potato with Chicken Parmesan? You don't. But, since the kind waiter offered and I knew he was screwing up I wondered if I could get a free baked potato out of it. It was doubtful but I don't refuse generous offers from simpletons.

Me: The baked potato will do.

Him: Mmmk. So that's a chicken special with carrots, an empty plate and chicken Parmesan with a baked potato?

Me: Ah huh.

Him: Alright! I'll go place the order.

Apparently, he was an apprentice waiter [*no shit*] under this snotty woman in her 40's who could probably have used a good slap to the face with something resembling a shovel. She walked up to me and impolitely informed me that "We don't serve baked potatoes this early, SIR." I didn't appreciate her attitude so I impolitely replied to her that "I don't even remotely care. He offered the baked potato to me, not vice versa." She walked off in quite an arrogant manner and I commented to my parents that both of them were 'stupid bastards' and my parents started laughing, agreeing with me. She came back in the same rushed, snotty tone and asked me mother what vegetables she wanted, lol. Apparently the correct choices were broccoli or corn and not carrots or tomatoes+lettuce. The waiter fails again. lol, the snotty bitch and her inept subordinate were having a discussion behind me. They didn't know the restaurant even served chicken Parmesan and checked the menu to be sure they did. Oh my, yes. A lovely couple on all accounts.

Our food arrived and it was [miraculously] intact. Intact *and* correct. But my chicken Parmesan was horrid for some reason, which only added to my current negative attitude about the restaurant's performance. I ate it without complaining because it irks me whenever I hear someone complain about their shitty food. Typical American's. Some kid in another country would kill for that food so you should shut up and eat it like I did/do. The noodles were ok but they screwed up on the breading of the chicken- it was very hard and some of it inedible. Not worth my money but I stuck up my chin and bore it. For some unknown reason my father tipped them two dollars, ugh. What a horrid waiter and waitress. I hope I don't go there next week.

I'm not sure I can be as tactful face to face with the duo from hell. But, yes. That's my weird story of the month. You can file it in with my stories from the mall about beggars and scam artists, etc. It was amusing but I think that snotty bitch I wouldn't want to meet up with again.

Last I checked aggravated assault was a crime and I believe hitting someone with a shovel would fall under that.

Flower.

There are some new people around here so I think I'll shove a small paragraph about who I am in here.

My name is Kenneth Andrew Howell. Most people call me Ken, some people call me Kenneth and an even smaller minority call me "Fluffy". I was born on August 10th, 1988 at 2:22 PM in San Antonio, Texas. I currently live in said-city although I did live for a brief period of time in a city just outside of San Antonio called Universal City. I'm a senior being homeschooled and are slated to graduate at the end of the current school year. I'm 16 years old but I probably look a wee bit older than that. I'm 6'3, 247 pounds. Built like an Ox, I guess. I don't live with my biological family. I was adopted by my grandparents who are not related to me by blood. Long story short: Grandparents adopted a little girl in the 70's, she gives birth to me when she was 16, I end up with my grandparents when I'm 8 due to events not worth mentioning here. I have at least one sibling, a little sister, whom I don't currently live with as she was not adopted by my grandparents after that event. I'm considered to be overtly intelligent by IQ test standards but do not indulge in many stereotypical extracurricular smart people activities. E.g: Academic competitions. I'm a very keen historian with a focus on modern history post-Napoleon. I'm a very silly person sometimes. Humor was/is my way of dealing with a majority of issues. I find many things funny that other people don't but they are the weird ones, not me [of course]. My hobbies are mainly writing, gaming and listening to music. I enjoy writing essays about things but I've been known to dabble in poetry or short stories before. I play mainly RPG and strategy games- god I love strategy games. Battles are addictive to me, war is an art form. Outflanking an enemy, springing an ambush, setting up lines of defense, pincer movements. I love warfare. I have a large collection of PS1/PS2 RPGs and strategy games that sap up most of my time. Musically I like anything that catches my ear but I reside mainly in the hard rock/metal areas. Mastodon, At The Drive In, Sublime, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, Pig Destroyer, Deftones, Freya, Katatonia, Queens of the Stone Age and Daft Punk are the bands I'm usually listening to. This is my diary and I don't primarily use it to tell people about my day unless it's unusually surreal or irritating. I usually write my thoughts on things in general and try to keep things deep around here. I'm sure if you wanted to hear something trite and inane you could cruise the top 100 list of MyOtaku's and find myriads of people like that, but that's not what I do. The story of my life doesn't need to be told in full. What occurred is unchangeable and it molded me into what I am. If you want the details I'm sure plenty of people know or I might have written about it in the archives.

And that is me, the writer. Most of what I write here is opinion so if you get offended I suggest you keep it to yourself because if I meant to offend you I would have done it much more masterfully than in the midst of a tangent. I don't necessarily want you to comply with my opinion- if you do, you do. I want you to tell me your opinion. And if you think my opinion is stupid, say so. I'm sure that unless you back it up with something intelligent I'll simply giggle at you but I would appreciate honesty. If you have nothing to say, then say nothing. I don't expect anyone to really enjoy deep things, but I have to write about it somewhere.

Maybe I can affect some people, maybe not. I don't think I'll change the world but if I can touch some people's hearts and minds in ways they didn't think possible then I've revolutionized who they are and hopefully they will become better for it.

Or these words will simply waste away in the databanks of servers that will eventually be shut off. Either way, I'll still be speaking.

Mannequin Republic.

I think I'll hold off on writing anything else. This is probably long enough.

Tata. *hands all of you a sombrero*

P.S. Oh my god! I agree with this republican- ack! *hangs himself*

P.P.S. The Tater Strikes Back.

P.P.P.S. *stares*

P.P.P.P.S. I'm going to fucking kill that fucking banner with the goddamn fly that buzzes. I swear to god that thing is going to be blown up with a glorious amount of C4.

P.P.P.P.P.S. Back to Star Ocean 3 I go. *trapdoor opens underneath him*
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