Browne Town Surprise

I almost feel bad for the criminal who broke into our storage room because all he got for his troubles was...



...but he let us know how he feels...



Wow, I get to use the breaking & entering label again.

Why I Voted for Obama

As I was driving to work today, I ended up behind perhaps the most horrendous sight I had ever seen. It was a bright yellow hummer. I've seen hummers before and have always quietly muttered douchebag under my breath, but this time was different. The first thing I noticed were the two McCain-Palin mudflaps. These were not normal mudflaps mind you. They had constructed oversized mudflaps to accommodate the kind of signs you put up in your yard. I felt like I was driving into car wash. The back was also accented by a tasteful mosaic on the back window of pleasant nature scene. I'm kind of sad it wasn't one of the flag and eagle ones, but my head may have exploded then. As I passed the car, I noticed another sign affixed to the side door as well as one in the front window!

I tried to stop bleeding from the eyes, as I mentally recast my vote for Obama.

My Goodness! My Guinness!

So I was in an area bar recently, preparing myself for an awesome concert and enjoying a nice happy hour. I arrived their around 5 o' clock. The bar was mostly empty at that point. This particular bar has happy hour from 4 to 6 pm. That information isn't really pertinent to the story, but I gave it to you anyway.

On to the meat of the story. Around 6 o' clock, it started to pick up. I'd say slightly more than half of the bar stools were full. At this point, a middle aged gentleman enters the bar area. I am currently sitting in the bar stool next to the cash register where all the waitresses, waiters, and bartenders are ringing up their orders. It is located at the end of the bar. The middle aged gentleman saunters up next to me at the end of the bar and proceeds to greet a waiter currently ringing an order at the cash register.

"How's it going [manager's name], I haven't seen you in a while, how about getting me a guinness"

"Actually [patron's name], I'm not working behind the bar anymore. I'm a manager now, but [bartender's name] can get you one if you wish"

All of this was paraphrased from what I can remember (Apparently I can six scotches down in an hour and half at happy hour). The patron then says something about asking the manager to tell the bartender he needs a Guinness. The manager kind of nods then continues with what he was doing.

Now at this point, I am sitting there with an empty scotch glass patiently waiting for the bartender to finish with the drinks he's making and to come over. As he approaches, I start to lift my scotch glass, when he says the patron standing over me.

"Can I get you something sir?

"I thought you were getting me a Guinness"

"Oh, you would like a Guinness? I'll get you one."

The bartender proceeds to start the tap on the Guinness and walks away. The patron the remarks, I'm not sure to who, "I wouldn't mind such a bad pour if I didn't have to wait so long."

When the bartender returns, he begins to passive aggressively explain the proper way to pour a Guinness to the bartender. The bartender even offers to repour him another one.

Am I wrong in thinking this guy needs to get over himself?

1. It's happy hour at a fairly busy bar. You can't expect a bartender to spend time carefully crafting your Guinness while other people are waiting for drinks.

2. Usually there is etiquette for ordering drinks. Either you get a seat at the bar or you stand near the dripmat by the taps and place your order. You don't stand near the high traffic cash register area and force the bartender to wade over to you.

3. Just cause you "know" the manager doesn't mean he is going to place orders for you. Do it yourself!

4. Beer is beer. Drink it.

An open letter to my Spokie neighbors

Dear Neighbors,

Kathy, you've introduced yourself to me three times. Two of those times were within the span of one or two minutes - don't act surprised when I say, "I know" after you say, "I'm Kathy." And no, I'm sorry, you can't "knock on [my] door and use [my] phone" if you're "hard up later." Hard up for what, I ask you? And I know your world is much different than mine, but it made me uncomfortable that you stared at me blankly when I replied, "I'm kind of like a programmer" when you asked what my job at the software company was. Programmer = one who programs. I also won't fix the viruses on your computer. If you have a computer, why don't you have a phone? You should tell your dealer to get email.

Allen, I only knew you before as the guy who owned the creepy blue stalker van that never leaves the space next to mine. But now, you are so much more to me. Unlike Kathy's blank response, you dreamily crooned, "Cyyyyyberspaaaaace" when I told you I was a programmer. And when I was saying goodbye, that I really had to make my dinner and stop talking to you guys, you held up your open hand and said, "High five!" When I leaned in to meet it, you faked me out and slurred, "Cyberspace high five!" Yes Allen, you've gained my hesitant affection.

But please stop drinking Key Lights in mug hugs on the steps and ambushing me after work when I really just want to go inside and make my dinner.

Thanks,
Rachel

Dear Classroom Manicurist,

I know class is boring - even really boring at times - but really? Did you have to bust out the FULL manicure set? I mean, filing your nails is one thing. But clipping, filing, doing whatever to your cuticles, and full on painting is totally another. That shit STINKS, and those of us that have to sit behind you for three hours will rage if we have to smell that every week. And you could've at least picked up your nail clippings - that's disgusting. If you can afford grad school and a full manicure set, then you can afford the $5 to get it done in a salon before class. So do it.

Thankyouverymuch,
Becca

P.S. Your nails looked like crap.