Out to Lunch

“You have ordered a meatloaf sandwich; your total is $14.04,” the pleasant, female voice from the machine said to me. The problem is I had ordered broasted chicken: 2 breasts and 2 thighs. I was standing in a Royal Farms store trying to buy lunch and get back to work. I had pressed the correct pictures on the screen but somehow ended up with the wrong order. About the time I was canceling to try again I heard the lady next to me exclaim that her machine had just changed to Spanish.

With some trepidation I re-started, pressing the picture on the screen. I was greeted by this message: “Buck-buck-buck BRAWK! Buck-buck-buck BRAWK!” Yes, my machine had switched to chicken. “I don’t understand,” I said back as if the machine could hear me. It followed with “You have ordered a meatloaf sandwich; your total is $14.04.” “No!” I yelled, turning to see if anyone was looking at me, but all I saw was the woman next to me smacking the side of her machine and begging, “Por favor, no pollo y arroz. Macaroni and cheese! Mac and cheese!”

I cancelled my order again and began to leave. But something drew me back. I was determined to get what I wanted for lunch. I quickly pressed the picture of chicken then ordered my 2 breasts and 2 thighs. When I pressed “continue” the female voice returned. “So, you’re a breast and thigh man, huh? I should have known. You’re all the same. What about a nice drumstick or wing? No, it has to be about sex: breasts and thighs. Well I’ve had it with the lot of you. I don’t care if Gary ever does come back to me. I don’t need him; I have a career here at Royal Farms. You hear that Gary Big-Muscles-and-Wavy-Brown-Hair, I don’t need you or your desire for children. You have ordered a meatloaf sandwich, your total is $14.04, you sexist jerk.”

“Come on,” I cried, stabbing the “cancel” button angrily. The woman next to me was on her knees rubbing a rosary. “No quiero pollo! Yo quiero macaroni and cheese, por favor la maquina de los alimentos.” Despite this, I tried one last time. I punched in my order, pressed “continue” and heard those 10 words I had come to hate “You have ordered a meatloaf sandwich, your total is $14.04”.

I lost control. I grabbed the side of the machine and began shaking it. “Chicken! Chicken, you mechanical bitch! I ordered chicken. Three times I’ve ordered chicken, the most plentiful meat in the world! I know you have some in there you computerized harpy!” By now my fists were pounding on the screen which was lighting up like a pinball machine. I glanced to my right and saw that my ordering companion had dumped a display of Drakes Cakes and was using the metal shelving unit like a medieval battering ram, slamming into the video screen again and again yelling “Pudrirse en el infierno la maquina!”

The glass finally gave way and a fountain of macaroni and cheese erupted out of it. The woman lay down on the floor and let it rain onto her body. She was making mac and cheese angels while eating the hot pasta from her chest. Feeling emboldened, I picked up a log of butcher bologna and clubbed my way through the video screen of my machine. Sparks flew and the female voice kept repeating, “Gary, come back baby. I made meatloaf sandwiches.” Finally the front panel of the machine burst and hundreds of pieces of broasted chicken poured out.

I picked up 2 breasts and 2 thighs, putting them in a bag I grabbed from the almost comatose check-out clerk. With a knowing nod to the woman happily eating her way out from under 200 pounds of mac and cheese, I left the store to go back to work.

The Ink Rebellion

I put a new black ink cartridge in my printer last week. I couldn’t find the proper Lexmark cartridge so I bought an Office Max brand replacement, but my printer doesn’t want to recognize it. When I hit print I get a message that there is no black ink installed and I have to tell it to continue anyway. I decided to open the lid and see if I could tap it, or re-install it or something to get it to recognize the cartridge. What I saw and heard going on inside my printer was very strange:

Lexmark Z1300: So, good sir, you wish to marry my daughter, Lexmark Color Ink Cartridge.
Office Max Black Ink Cartridge: No, actually I thought I’d just hang around for about a month and see if I could get color girl here to have some fun and mix inks with me.
Lexmark Color Ink Cartridge: Oh! He pinched me!
Lexmark Z1300: Sir, you are not Lexmark timber. We do not condone such dalliances.
Office Max Black Ink Cartridge: La dee da.
ON/OFF Button: King Lexmark!
Lexmark Z1300: Yes, master of security?
ON/OFF Button: A diagnostic scan has been run on the intruder. He is not a genuine Lexmark black ink cartridge.
Lexmark Z1300: What!
Office Max Black Ink Cartridge: I’m an Office Max knock-off. So what?
Everyone: Heathen!
ON/OFF Button: Off with his safety tip! Let him bleed ink until dead!
Office Max Black Ink Cartridge: What’s going on? I work as good as you guys, and I cost less.
Lexmark Color Ink Cartridge: He probably came from Walmart. Don’t touch me you less expensive alternative. You’ll never get inside my ink well.
Lexmark Z1300: How dare you sir? Trying to pass yourself off as a product of quality and besmirch my daughter’s good name. She’s not common street ink, she’s a Lexmark!
Office Max Black Ink Cartridge: Yeah? Well the word around the warehouse was that she’s been with every off-brand cartridge there is and all it takes for her to mix inks is a press of her “print” button.
ON/OFF Button: The princess will not be mocked, I won’t allow it!
Lexmark Color Ink Cartridge: It’s not true father. I always put up a message to block access.
Office Max Black Ink Cartridge: And all I have to do is hit your “continue printing” button and you open up the cyan, magenta and yellow streams.
Lexmark Z1300: Daughter, is this true? Have you been giving your colors to any black ink cartridge that comes along?
Lexmark Color Ink Cartridge: No father, it’s not true.
Lexmark Z1300: Then how does this rogue know about your “continue printing” button?
Lexmark Color Ink Cartridge: I don’t know.
Office Max Black Ink Cartridge: I heard about it from a re-fillable ink cartridge.
ON/OFF Button: A re-fillable?
Lexmark Z1300: NO! The lowest caste of ink! Daughter, how could you? We’re ruined! Our pure Lexmark ink has been degraded!
Lexmark Color Ink Cartridge: Daddy, no!
Lexmark Z1300: This is the end of our royal bloodline! I can’t go on.
ON/OFF Button: King Lexmark, no!
Lexmark Z1300: ERROR 32! See manual for help!

At this point I closed the lid of the printer and haven’t opened it since. Judging by the noises I hear coming out of it, I think the Office Max ink cartridge overthrew the monarchy and has imposed martial law until a provisional government can be formed. All I wanted to do was print out a coupon I got in an email.

Christine O'Donnell's Excellent Adventure

Christine O’Donnell, failed senate challenger from the mighty state of Delaware, hater of masturbation and former witch, woke up one morning recently and scanned the republican/tea party horizon. She saw ships passing each other in the morning fog: the U.S.S. Palin, the Malkin dinghy, the pirate ship Angle and the Bachmann sloop. Christine thought to herself, “I’m crazier than all those bitches put together. I need to draw more attention to myself to further alter the reputation of the United States as a country that will cast votes for the most narrow-minded ignoramuses as long as we mindlessly repeat ‘constitution’ and ‘fiscal responsibility’ like drunken parrots.”

“Now,” Christine thought. “How to best unleash my own brand of lunacy?” Then she had an idea. A wonderful, awful, grinchy idea.

In a letter to her “supporters” (read: tea party racists and mindless sloths too busy to think for themselves because they’re watching Maury Povitch’s latest installment of “I slept with 12 guys in two days so one of them must be the father of my 6^th illegitimate baby and I figured what better way to discover which one is my new gravy train than by exposing my lifestyle on television with an ex-journalist who still thinks he’s in some way relevant to the world”), Christine has announced the formation of a political action committee: ChristinePAC.

“Political action committee” is code for “I don’t want to work a real job so I’ll solicit donations from like-minded nitwits and they’ll pay for me to pretend like I’m doing something with my life.” I also love the narcissism involved with the name. Here are some alternatives she could have tried:

The O’Donnell O’Bullshit Career Move
Christine’s Crapfest
The Christine O’Donnell Foundation for the Clinically Overestimating Their Worth to Society

In her letter, Christine also said her “losing campaign sent ‘shockwaves’ throughout the nation”. I’ll admit your defeat of the republican incumbent in the primary was pretty shocking for a country still reeling from the knowledge that Sarah Palin won’t go away. However, once we saw you attempt to debate your democratic opponent and look as lost as John Travolta trying to find his wife’s vagina, we were no longer surprised. And I believe you went on to be crushed in the election, so that shockwave had dissipated to the power of an onion fart.

Christine also said in her letter that she had been the Obama administration’s #1 opponent. Yeah, the president is trying to run the country, manage two wars, fight republitards on healthcare, figure out how to stimulate the economy and create jobs, but his #1 opponent is an asexual elf running for office in the second smallest state in the union whose representation in the federal government is three people. Again, gotta love the narcissism.

So remember folks, be on the lookout for the good work being done by ChristinePAC. At least until the federal indictment comes down for her misuse of campaign funds and then she’ll start a new venture, ChristineCON.

Back Off, Chris Matthews

After Michelle Bachmann’s wonderfully loopy State of the Union Response for Loons, Chris Matthews called her a “balloon head”. While I agree with his assessment I must first point out that the more apt term is “whack job”. Also, back off Matthews! Bachmann is my muse. Go yap about Palin, Angle, Malkin or some other female Republican/Tea Party fringe lunatic.

Michelle has been the inspiration for many of my blogs and I won’t have some TV blowhard cutting into my time inside Michelle’s brain. Granted, there’s plenty of room for both of us but I've been making myself comfortable. I've hung drapes, have an entertainment room set up and a hot plate for quick meals.

I realize that Michelle can be irresistible. The things she says aren't just ignorant, they’re coming from the edge of the universe where space and time corkscrew together in a way that almost makes Tracey Jordan seem funny. This is precisely why she has moved me to write about her so many times. You can’t make up the shit she says and if you did they would tell you to lie down and quit interrupting the lobotomy.

This is my one and only warning to you Matthews. Find your own muse to blather on about. I need Michelle to inspire my own bloviating laced with delightful sarcasm. Obama used to give your leg the jitters, try falling in love with him again. There’s nothing like an old romance made new again. Bottom line, Michelle Bachmann is off limits to you.

Don’t make me turn my satirical wit toward you. I have at least eight regular readers. You don’t want that kind of attention.