Monday, March 27, 2006

Vino Vengeance?
An excerpt from a scribbled note found 'glued' to the underside of bar stool

"...and the damn bowls of beernuts and pretzels and what-not are always sodden with, one can only assume, some damn fellow's spilled beverage of choice or the expectorated depths of some bastard's lungs, I swear to fuck...hell, maybe even the flop sweat from some over-cholesteroled fat fuck's freakin' flop sweat raining down on the tavern's finger food. It's not like these damn snacks make their own damn gravy if you add fluid, you know what I mean? Whichever moistening agent it may have been, it got to the point where I had to do SOMETHING to protest the condition of the noshes (since the proprietor doesn't take kindly to helpful suggestions--like a sneeze-shield or something for the bowls--nor has a Comment Card box...not that he'd listen anyway, harrumph); and I wasn't about to let him WIN by taking my business elsewhere...no sirreeBob.

I ain't no Mathemagician or nothin' but I've employed to following equation over the last couple of weeks (thus far to no avail...but I'm a patient fellow):

Guzzle 5 boxes of wine
Go to bar
Load 50 quarters into Jukebox, choose TIny Bubbles by Don Ho to play 50 times consecutively
Wet self to the chorus each time it comes on

Sooner or later someone's going to get the meaning behind my performance-art-as-snack-protestations, I swear to God..."

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