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Went to Chipotle yesterday.  It was Saturday, not that it makes a difference.  I walked into my local Chipotle as I do nearly every Saturday.  It was about 5:45, and as usual, there weren’t many people in line.  In fact, this is the only Chipotle I’ve ever been to where there’s almost never a line.  It’s weird.

Anyway, I was thinking “great, no line, I’ll be in and out of here.”   Wrong wrong wrong wrong.

Little did I know that I was in line directly behind two Order Takers (see old Chipotle post about various customers at Chipotle) who both happened to also be Pointers.

But these weren’t your average Order Takers.  They were Order Takers who seemed like they were also First Timers, making standing behind them incredibly frustrating.  I swear to God, each of these two guys ordered five things a piece.  And each time they ordered something new, they got so confused as to what was already being made that this shit took a half an hour.

When I walked in to Chipotle, there was literally NOBODY behind me in line.  By the time I was ordering, there were at least a dozen people.  In a Chipotle where there’s never a line.  Because these two Order Taking Pointers took FUCKING FOREVER.

Look, I didn’t say it was a good story.

I just watched a commercial for steel.

I don’t know how long this video will be up but it’s video of Mike Sellers doing what Mike Sellers does.

“Getting to Know Semin”

Yeah, I think I’ll pass.

Driving home from work today, I was stopped at a light behind what only could have been an ‘86 Chevy Celebrity and i got a little bit nostalgic.

See, my first car ever was and ‘86 Chevy Celebrity.  My cousin sold it to me for the exorbitant price of $1 (which from what I can calculate was about three times its blue book value at the time).

For those unfamiliar with what the car looks like, here’s a description:  close your eyes.  Wait, if you do that, you can’t read.  Okay, open your eyes.  Okay, now just picture a giant cardboard box.  Now put wheels on it.  Bam, the Chevy Celebrity.

My Celebrity was this beautiful shade of rust.  Among other ailments, the car leaked from just above the gas pedal whenever it rained (so your leg would get soaked), it often stalled out at red lights, and the radio was pretty much unusable since it had a mind of its own.  I’d just be driving along when all of a sudden the radio would turn itself up to full blast and would be impossible to turn down.

It also had one of those really old school speedometers that showed numbers ranging from 0 all the way up to 70.  That’s right.  Whoever thought up this car decided when building it that it would max out at about 70.  I wouldn’t know because I never got it up that fast since it would shake violently whenever I went over 50.

Oh, and the front seat was a big bench seat too, which was awesome.  For instance, if anyone was having sex with me when I was 17 (nobody was), I wouldn’t have even needed the back seat.  So yeah, I would have had that going for me too.

I also had the “Eurosport” edition.  No, seriously, it actually said that right on the side of the car.  So apparently, mine was the “sporty” version.  I’m not entirely sure what that meant, but god only knows what the standard edition was like.  For the Eurosport version I guess Chevy was like “Yeah, this bad boy will hit 70!  Not like that shitty regular version which can only do 65.”

Right before I turned 18, my mother asked me what I wanted for my birthday.  I had owned the Chevy for about a year at this point and when I said I didn’t know what I wanted she suggested the following:

“Why don’t we paint your car?  We can get it painted red with a white racing stripe down the middle.”

God bless my mother because she wasn’t joking.  This was actually her idea.  She wanted to take my rust colored ‘86 Chevy Celebrity that apparently maxed out at 70 miles an hour (again, I wouldn’t know), paint it red with a white stripe down the middle.

I really don’t know what she was thinking.

Can you imagine me pulling up to a red light next to some douchebag in his fancy sportscar in my newly painted red ‘86 Chevy Celebrity with my fancy white racing stripe?  I could have looked over at him and nodded my head and revved my mighty powerful 13 year old engine, and when the light turned green we could have raced all the way up to the next light with my car going from 0-60 in about five minutes and three jump-starts.

In hindsight, I kind of wish I had taken her suggestion and painted my car, if only for comedy’s sake.  Oh well.

No, not mine you dumbass.

The show.  The Office, one of the only shows that I have to watch every week (along with now NEW episodes of South Park and Lost if it ever comes back to television) is making me concerned.

If you don’t watch the show, don’t bother reading the rest of this post.  If you DO watch the show then you are allowed to keep reading.

I love the Office.  Honestly, I’m shocked it’s still on television considering all good and funny shows (see the Knights of Prosperity, The State, etc) usually don’t make it more than two seasons.  But somehow the Office has not only managed to make it all the way to the current season four, but it’s also really popular.  Amazing!

Unfortunately, I am a little bit worried about the show.  Namely, this whole Jim and Pam being together is just so…lame.  If you are happy that Jim and Pam are together, well, I feel bad for you.  It’s stupid.  It’s trite.  It’s boring.  And it’s totally fucking lame.  It’s almost ruining the show for me.

One thing I always didn’t like about the show was how many inter-office couples there are.  In the first three seasons we had: Dwight and Angela, Ryan and Kelly, Pam and Roy, Michael and Jan, and now Pam and Jim.  There were practically more people involved with each other than weren’t, and I’m sorry, but that is fucking stupid.

Where you work, are half of your co-workers having sex with each other?  Really, yes?  Can you get me a job?

No but seriously, it’s stupid.  And the fact that Jim and Pam are together now is really fucking stupid.

The writers better start thinking of some clever shit to do on this show because frankly, I’m not happy.

A few short things I have been meaning to put down:

I was back home a few weeks ago and I flew Southwest Airlines.  I like Southwest because I can check in online and not have to worry about getting some shitty middle seat because I always get put in the A group.  But here’s what pisses me the fuck off about traveling on Southwest: all the fucking idiots who decide to line up as an hour before boarding.  Is this shit absolutely necessary?  Okay, maybe I can understand lining up if you’re in like, group C and you’re worried about getting stuck in the middle seat between the fat guy and the crying baby or just two fat guys.  But why the fuck do A people always feel it so goddamn necessary to line up?  We’re all getting on the same plane!  You’re in group A!  You have your fucking choice of seats!  All the overhead space is available!  Why are you lining up?  The plane isn’t leaving without you!  Just sit the fuck down and when they say they’re boarding, for the fucking line.  This isn’t that difficult.

I was at Wendy’s a few weeks ago.  I ordered some food and waited.  Meanwhile, the lady behind me ordered her food and waited.  My food comes out (in a to go back), I thank the Wendy’s employee, take the bag and start leaving when I hear “Sir?  Sir?” which was apparently being directed at me.  I turn around and walk back while the employee tells me that he had given me the wrong bag (I had gotten the lady’s food by accident.”  He goes to hand it to her and she says “No, make me a new one.”  Really?  Make you a new hamburger?  Because I got handed your bag and walked maybe 10 feet to the door?  What could I have possibly done to your food in the ten feet and three seconds that I had it?  It’s not like I stuck my hand up my ass and then into the bag.  I took the bag by the paper and walked 10 feet and all of a sudden your food is contaminated?  So the guy throws away her perfectly good food and makes her a new sandwich.  Fucking people.

And lastly, men with male pattern baldness should not grow ponytails.  Look moron, you’re not fooling everyone.  It’s not like people say “Hey, that guy has a really cool ponytail, it’s almost like I can’t tell he’s bald.”  Instead, people are thinking, “Look at that bald jackass with a ponytail.”  This is not a good look.  What’s worse is that the person I saw sporting this look was apparently with a buddy of his.  If you have any friends who are bald up top but have a retarded ponytail out the bag, it is your responsibility as their friend to just say no.  No.

That’s all.

I went to Burger King for lunch the other day. I don’t go to BK that much, but one of my co-workers was going so I decided to tag along so we could talk about fantasy football for 20 minutes.

So at BK I ordered some combo meal, and was handed my cup.  At BK, they’ve got the do-it-yourself fountains.  So I take my cup and I walk over to the fountain, and I swear to god, under the guns or whatever they’re called, there was like some sort of asinine “soda-pairing” chart.  As in, there were suggestions as to what SODA to pair your BURGER KING meal up with.

For example, it was like “Coke - Goes well with Whopper.”  “Diet Coke - Goes well with Chicken Salad.”  Really?  Really?  A soda pairing chart?  What the fuck?  Whose genius idea was this?  Since when do people pair their soda up based on what FAST FOOD they are eating?  Is this BK’s way of trying to class up the place?  Was there a marketing meeting where some asshole was like “Well, rich and fancy people pair up their wine with food.  What’s the difference?”

I’ll tell you the difference, douchebag.  The difference is that it actually makes some sort of difference in your meal if you’re pairing up wine with say, a steak.  And it doesn’t make a fuck of a difference if you’re pairing up Dr. Pepper with say, Chicken Fries.  A place that sells something called a Chicken Fry should not be all that concerned with what their customers are drinking with it.

What’s next?  Is BK going to hire Soda Sommeliers to walk around with 2 liters, unscrewing the tops and pooring drinks?  “A classic 2 liter bottle of 2007 Coca-Cola, sir.”

Then he poors a taste into a 36oz paper cup as the customer swirls the coke around in it, takes a taste.  “Mmm, yes.  Delicious.  It’s got the perfect amount of carbonation…We’ll take the bottle!”

What the fuck?  Burger King.  Get out of my face.