Friday, July 16, 2010

The Politics of Tipping

Ok this is an easy one ~ all you fucks out there that don't understand, now is the time to listen up.

First off...

There are no good tips, only good tippers. If you think you're a good tipper, you probably aren't, but don't be sad because in three easy steps I can make you the envy of your friends and the bain of your enemies ~ everytime you go out to eat.

Ok here we go...

#1. Pay in cash.

If you don't have cash, then get some, if you have a company card then you're a fuck, and are getting the meal paid for because you have a better job than your server (and you probably have health and dental insurance too, so you're actually a triple fuck in that case), and if you don't tip at least 20% you might as well just suck a dick and die. Now I know some companies put a 15% limit on what you can tip your server on the company card, but I got a solution for that ~ cough up some of your own hot wet stinky cash (yes your own cash) out of your pocket, and put a little on top of that credit card slip, if only just to say thanks to your server, for having an English degree and bringing you your food.

For all you others with the plastic, who want your reward points or whatever, just pay the tip in cash, you can suck it up I'm sure, or you can make your friends pay the tip in cash. Just make sure they're not cheap douché bags, because if they're hanging out with you, they probably are.

Now on that particular subject I have to say that if you are in a big party of people and there is one check, then you have to make sure that you understand what is going on, because chances are, nobody else does, and the first person everyone blames for not knowing what's going on is the server, and you know what? ~ You're a fuck ~ straight up no lie. Your server is your friend, and shouldn't be blamed for you, and your friends, being retarded for not being able to figure out simple math.

No seriously, you are an idiot and all your friends are idiots too. This brings us to step two.

#2. Don't be a fuck.

When it comes to those big checks that you have when you go out with all of your douchébag friends, here's the deal. First off, make sure that all of yout idiot friends figure in the tax and tip into their personal payments. I can't tell you how many times fuckin loserish peeps like you, just look at their meal and drinks in the bill and pay accordingly to just that, without considering that uncle sam will want to take his cut. Besides that, the tip is often underconsidered, mostly because you and your friends are cheap, and are pretty much unworthy of the air that we all have to share. I wake up in the morning and shudder, because I have to breath the same air as you and your friends, but you can fix this, by paying attention to a simple thing that I like to call, the lowest common denominator.

Now this is not like the math shit that you might think of when I throw around words like that. In actuality, the lowest common denominator, is more like your shittiest friend at the table. You know who he is, he's the one that leaves some cash on table and checks out before the check comes. You have his money, but you know what? - It's barely enough to cover his bill without tax or tip - he is the ultimate douché, and it's your fault he's there, so it's your responsibility to cover for him. If you don't, you're a fuck ~ Don't be a fuck!

On a related note ~ just assuming that all of you d-bags figured out how to account for tax and tip into your payments ~ make sure that the tip is in cash.

Here's how you do it (I have to explain it to you, because you are most likely an idiot).

Ok, so some people have cards, and some people have cash, that's cool, whateva ~ just make sure the cards are run for a specific amount and the cash is left over as a tip.


The bill is $120.

You and two friends are paying separately. Your douchéy friends have cards and you have cash (because you're kinda cool). They run their cards for $50 each and your drop a fifty spot to cover the difference. Do you see how that works? You all pay the same, but you're the man, because you are the one that drops the sweet tip down, in cold wet hot stinky wet (gotta say "wet" again) cash ~ thirty bones straight up. That makes you a playa ~ don't forget it. Your friends won't, because you're the man, at least in this example. Unfortunately you'll have to prove your manishness in real life before I'll give you any credit (because to me, you're still a fuck ~ get it?).

Ok, so I think you get the point, so on to step three.

#3. You are not special.

I'm sorry, your mother was wrong. You do not have the ability to compute what your service is worth. Bottom line - you are an idiot. Let me break it down to you ~ 20% MINIMUM. Who do you think you are anyway? Are you writting for a food magazine? Do you get off on pretending that you are better than people?

Unless your server spits into your food at your table, you will tip at LEAST 20%. That's it, there's really not much more I can say.

If you are going out to eat, you should be prepared for this, do you wanna know why?

Well... I don't care if you wanna know, I'm going to tell you...

If you do not tip at least 20%, you will be remembered as a fuck, and the next time that you go into that same place you will be branded as a cheap douché, and everyone will talk shit about you behind your back (I'm really trying to help you here). Do you really want to be known as a cheap douché?

So I know you're bad at math, so I'll help you out a little bit with another example...

Ok so the bill is $37.67 (I wanted to choose a hard one, so you idiots could see how easy it is to leave a decent [mark that, "decent", as opposed to "good"] tip).

First step - move the decimal place to the left so you got $3.767

Now round up and double it - that's $8 solid ~ make sense? Make it ten and you're getting there. Make it twelve and you're right on the way to being a true playa.

You know I feel like I could talk all day about this shit, but I don't have the time for that ~ let's just hope this is enough for now to help you to become the true playa that I know you can be.

I feel like we bonded here today, and now the next time I see you and your douchéy friends, I may almost be excited to sling you your brews and foos ~ but don't cross me, because I know who you are from your credit card slip, and I will not shy away from advertising your douchiéness to the whole world ~ no lie ~ mark.

Peace :)


About tipping on togo orders...

5-10% is fine, which btw is $10-20 on a $200 food order, and $1-2 on a $20 food order.

If that's too much for you to pay, then you're kind of a dick.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Heart of Darkness

Alone in life and death, our hero disturbs the mirror and the liquid ripples. He finds it humorous that the world is so easily broken and reformed. He ponders the state of the liquid as if it were himself; a pure reflection only in quiet and uninterupted space, easily rippled and distorted with only the slightest breeze or motion. He has ideas on the world, and motions his will to act on them.

He steps through the glass...

There is nothing ~ at first. And then a cloud sweeps over his perception, and he begins to exist ~ within the nothing.

He moves his hand across the space and land appears, and as if dedicated to his touch, seeds of life burgeon at his every step.

He walks further in, and finds that all that is, is what he has made ~ without thought, only his arbitrary action. So he decides to conjure up images in his mind to populate the space and to enjoy the beauty of the world around him, and they appear.

They are all beautiful as well. Maidens of refinement and culture, as well as vixens of harmonious repute, and of course virgins in white cotton, brushing and braiding eachothers hair while they giggle and look over at him.

He notices that you are watching him as well. He motions you over to him. He doesn't talk, but he does communicate, and you understand him as you would any other person, but you resist his power as he has none over you. You exist in his world, but are also separate. To be complete you must comunicate with him.

He motions over one of the vixens, and you approve of her in every respect, but he warns you of your frailty in concern to this one. He has made her special just for you; she will break your heart, and you will be destroyed because of it ~ but she will also love you unconditionally for an indescriminent period of time which he will not elaborate on. You ponder how long time is, and then receed into a deep contemplation of the matters of heart and soul, and then release your answer.

I will have her ~ for a time... I will love her ~ forever...

He respects your sentiment, and your courage, and motions her over closer. He places your hands into hers and you know her ~ instantly. She looks different from when you first saw her, like she was a cloud before and now she is fully materialized and real. More real than yourself in many respects, and because of this, you start to get dizzy from your own existensial crisis, and suddenly she pulls you back, and you are blissfully happy...

You intend to have a home for her, and he anticipates. He walks you over to a small cottage at the top of a small hill, with one apple tree growing right off to the side in a very jaunty way.

There is a lake at the bottom of one side of the hill, and if it were winter I bet you could sled all the way from the front door to the other side of the lake (providing that the lake was frozen up real solid, and cleared of all that pesky powder). On the other side of the hill was a very quaint road made of packed earth bordered on both sides by those weeping willow trees that everybody is so found of when you see them on postcards, but are in reality, a real bitch to clean up from after an icestorm.

You think about your future and wonder if you've made the right choice ~ knowing that she will break you. But you are comforted in your pleasure at the moments you have with her in the present, and would not trade them for a secure life, and a comfortable wife. You are a fool - a fool for love.

He laughs at you behind your back, knowing that his designs will win over your own. You are unaware of his intent, but he is not necessarily malignent in his intention, more like, mysterious and hard to read ~ especially in this respect, for although he has made the world you live in, he has no control over you except the art of a persuasive argument, so in many respects, you are as much of a wild card to him as he is to you... Also, since you are now bonded to her, she is now a follower of her own will as well, and not his. Although in realizing this you also remember that he did make her specifically for you, and because of this, he probably accounted for all of this in advance before he lost control ~ but all of this is just a distraction from her ~ to you right now...

To Be Continued...

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

As Controversial as Jailbait

You know me...     I don't like to tell the truth straight up...   But you know me...  I'll give you the skinny if you really want to know...


So here it is straight up.  There was a guy at Gritty's who told me that, "Drinking & not smoking is like shitting & not pissing."  I tend to agree with his sentiment for the most part, (only because i love the combinations) but i have to say that drinking and not fucking is at least as good of a combo.

I tire of idle chit chat.  I'm ready to get real with you people ("Who you callin' you people?") and really let you in on the mastermind behind the scenes.

You see there's really nothing to it ~ just a slap on the wrist and all of a sudden you're golden.  Nobody really knows how to deal with that so let me break it down more clearly. 

You gotta know when to lay the smack down, and when to lay the mack down.

It's that easy playa. [Ok, sidenote:  I met the ladies man tonight (as relayed to me from his ex_dodgeball teammate - pretty serious actually).  He was pretty cool, but i didn't see him in action - unfortunate that i don't have a story for him ~ yet.

Nevertheless ---

There were two girls from Russia, and they spoke very little english {this was at Amigo's}.  They were on the deck, and there were many admirers of their assets.

I had met a fellow earlier, his name was probably Mark, but he introduced himself to me as Marcus (this was at Gritty's).  We had hatched a plan to _________ (searching for word...) aquire the Russians, and this plan was set into motion with a swiftness that defied the laws of nature herself.

He met up with me after i made first contact.  It was an easy point.  All i had to do was find an outlet for a cell phone charger (not just any cell phone, a blackberry).  After that, my IN was sealed.  She was American, her name was Erika.  The other names i am not sure of ~ possibly...  Liaya or something?...   IDK... This shit was at the end of my understanding.

Marcus shows up and the plan that we set minutes before is coming to fruition. 

I say, "Hey Marcus! What's up!?"

He sits down and introduces himself to the Russians.  He speaks a little russian, and they like it...  I am talking to Erika at the time, who tells me the story of how she came to be in possession of two Russian girls [just barely 21].

She says...

That she has a friend who found these two girls one day, and he showed them a good time...  until...  He found out that they wouldn't put out, so he passes them onto her, who was looking for roomates at the time anyway so...   It all worked out, he even said that he would cover them if they needed it, but anyway...  Now was the first time that they ever hung out ~ the serious first day of this new deal...  And I'm telling you the truth when I say that these two spoke very little english... Like a miniscule amount at best.

To be continued...

The Statue of Limbo Nation

In essence:  The amount of time you can limbo before you have to fall down.

The "Statue" itself is crumbling into dust as you read this...


There is no recompensense for this loss - it is inevitable.  You must understand the context. 

It is this way with everything.  All that is hard is actually soft and vice versa.  The complexities of the universal constant beleaguers our science with unanswerables, and these questions plague our thoughts with images of everything and nothing all at the same time.

We are all looking for answers, but we must embrace the questions while we still have them, because truth can be very slippery when dealing with the infinite nature and propagation of carnal knowledge.

Change in Perspective: A Habitual Liar and Lover of Beauty

Being in truth, so false that you faulter in your step, floundering along in aesthetics, while ignoring the content.  You are the enemy of the state, and you are my friend, fellow citizen of Limbo Nation.

Let us go out and propagate our knowledge of the carnal in celebration of our bohemianess, and let us not faulter in living true - the ways of our brothers and sisters, and mothers and fathers.

But also, let us not forget the many who have fallen to the science of convention and standardardization.  It is to them that we owe our lives of comfort and safety, and it is to them that we must appeal in order for the dialogue to continue, so that we all may survive free.

Alternate Ending...

Let us go out and propagate our knowledge of the carnal in celebration of our bohemianess, and let us not faulter our step, but instead, follow with determination the precepts of our brothers and sisters.

But also, let us not forget the many who have fallen to the science of convention and standardardization.  To them we must stay solidly devoted to their future liberation.  For us it is a non-negotiable prerequisite to ensure that not one of our lost bretheren is left behind, although the end impact of our effort may indeed leave us wanting...   and crushed. 

For to flirt with the devil is to allow yourself lateral movement into the abyss of moral uncertainty, and ultimately - death of the mind~soul.

Maladies & Melancholy

It's pretty cut and dry.  There's a sadness inside me that grips at my soul and destroys it - on a regular basis.  There's no purpose to it, it's just there all the time, gnawing on my existence, trying to crush me.

Sometimes I think that it's cancer having a love affair with my soul, before it moves in, and takes over my body.  As if cancer was like a demon that preys on the last remnants of a broken heart.

But is my heart really broken?  All i know is that it doesn't work right.  I tell it to work correctly and love all the people in all the right ways, and it just laughs at me and reaks of Cancer's musk.  It feels indiscriminant dischord with itself, and projects its own self-loathing discrimination onto all within shouting distance.

The one, within the one, grasps hold onto the other, in order to make them all whole.  Disjointed and uncleansed in the eyes of the blanket, all is uncovered. 

Too many encryptions there to make any sense to anyone who does not already feel the same in their own hearts, but to know in the head and feel in the heart can make one dizzy in the gut, and empty in the stomach.

(This doesn't even make sense to me anymore - I must just like the sight of my own voice.)

------------pause break------------

What do you call a deer with one eye?

One eye'd deer.

What do you call a deer with no eyes?

(No eye'd deer) No idea

Please save your comments until the end of the lecture...

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Decision [and consequence]

You never know about how things are going to go down, but sometimes you get a feeling like you know for a split second what is  real  and what is  fake.

Determining the difference seems difficult at times, but is totally possible depending on your orientation towards the issue.

Take for example:  The whole oil spill deal.

This whole thing pretty much sucks.  Nobody knows what's gonna happen to the coastline.  Nobody knows how much it's going to cost.  Nobody knows nuthin.  I know even less than most.  I don't watch tv or read newspapers - i don't even google it!  I would like to remain in the darkness for this one ~ depresses me too much. 

Makes me wonder about the future, and how this present that we are constantly opening is going to effect the gift we recieve later on down the line.  Piece of coal in the stocking of our children's children mos def, but maybe not depending on the choices we make now.

I make all the wrong and some of the right.  It helps that i don't have a car because my carbon footprint is low, and that karmas' my epa rating through the roof.  Also i haven't taken out the trash in weeks (because i keep missing the day [wednesday]), so i am reducing landfill increase (albeit at my own destruction) - and i recycle, as in leave cans on the top of the garbage cans in town so the bums can get a nickle and maybe some booze ~ I'm a good person really...  No, really, I am...

Not really, but not too bad - are there gradiations?  Or is everything black and white?  I choose to believe in a gradiated moral compass that allows for flexibility in case i need to choke a bitch every once in a while.

Next point of interest - "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

The begging commences

The begging, yes the begging.  Begging for what exactly?  Let's just say for the moment, a moment - more specifically, a moment of your time...

Do i have you attention? (i dont think so, but nevertheless let's keep going)

Since this is the first entry, (and technically only useful as an introduction into the genre and style of my writing) i will make this short.

I have minimal talent, and i know it.  Like a hot girl who knows she's hot, i am a shitty writer who knows his own limitations and somehow lives within them.  Like a begger in an old refridgerator box, i survive with nothing and like it.  I live in filth proudly, and eat McDonald's cheeseburgers like nobody's buisness (that expression doesn't make sense, but i like it).  I live the life of an idiot, and am variably proud of, and quite often hesitant towards, my self proclaimed idiocy.

I love and hate my life and my friends [as far as hate goes towards my friends, i would like to say that "playa-hate" is a more accurate term to describe how i sometimes feel; as far as love goes to the same item, i would have to say that i love them as one loves skittles or cranberry juice (yeah yeah, that's about right, you know, like right after you brush your teeth)], and I'm pretty sure they feel the same about me, as for my life: I'm quite positive that it hates me half of the time whilst loving me the rest - quite fickle life is in this respect.

And you my lovely reader, you are my one true happiness.  You may yet validate my existence, or perhaps give me the power to become a real boy again, because fakery is my specialty now and i have lost the will to chastize myself against such blatent misuse of divinely inspired bs.

If you understand me at all you will keep reading, if you don't at all then you may continue, but you are mostly an idiot, so i don't need your patronage of this blog.  Go be free and love the world with the glazed over expression of someone not touched by an angel, but actually and more simply just "touched," and live like an agent of darkness keen on the erasure of inteligence through the propagation of celebrity driven reality tv, but remember to tell your friends where you were when you decided to bail out on the human condition...