posted by Daryl Scroggins in alcohol, anger, assholes, calm the fuck down, civics, dear clusterflock, fuck all y'all, help me jesus, language, let's go drink, randy taylor, shouldness, sisyphean, war, yep, you're welcome | * | 30 comments
Oh, man. Hey, Flannery. Your father is calling you.
Okay, let’s see what I can remember.
1. Fort Worth Modern Art Museum for “They didn’t learn a fucking thing.”
2. Baylor Emergency Room for “Fuck you, motherfuckers.”
3. Chocolate Soup Children’s Clothing for “Because it’s illegal, assholes.”
Hmmm. That can’t be all. I need to let it all come rising up.
I got 86-ed from Austin, Texas once.
Wait. There’s more.
The Chase Bank branch on Greenville and Mockingbird
Two (2) Bank of America branches in Las Colinas
Borders Books on Preston and Royal for a few years
The JCPenney corporate offices
Bruce’s old dog boarding place
and (almost) High School
Ryan frequently starts nervously inching toward the door and then it’s “Shit, we’ve gotta go.”
Oh, and T-Mobile. That one involved actual security guards. The other places I was able to leave before the cops showed up.
We Scrogginses sure are an interesting bunch.
Some more of mine are rising to the surface.
The now defunct Taylor’s Books on Northwest Highway (for quitting in a dramatic fashion).
The now defunct children’s resale shop on Mockingbird that didn’t deserve Flannery’s used clothes.
That Walmart in Richardson with the broken self-checkout system where the officious assistant-assistant manager thought she could condescend to me.
I’m going to go out and start a list today.
The Container Store on Northwest Highway where they asked for my phone number before I could pay.
I’m sure Amy can add to my list. Also, I thought Daryl was the one with the anger problem.
I don’t have an anger problem. Just a zero tolerance policy for dumbass-ness.
I have an anger problem.
There are several people at a Ford dealership on Garland Road who would run if they saw me coming. Here’s the gist: “I am definitely not interested in leasing a truck.” Deal made, I go to the bank and withdraw the down payment and go back. “Well! We’ve signed you up on a lease here that’s going to save you all kinda money!” Bad words follow, trailing on across the crowded showroom floor. Cindy–stunningly beautiful–gave everybody a little wave goodbye.
Ask Cindy about the Acura dealership. My part of it was: “She’s gone, chief.”
Oh, Daryl has a few for the list. Don’t worry.
And, Deron! The Chocolate Soup “Because it’s illegal, assholes” was the same thing as your Container Store situation. They demanded a telephone number of the woman ahead of me in line, who was paying with a credit card. She politely declined and said that she would show them ID but that she wouldn’t give them her phone number. And the shithead manager proceeded to tell her that it was store policy, and the woman said that they have no legal right to require a phone number, and the shithead manager kept arguing with her, and the woman simply left. And the shithead manager tried to engage me in disparaging the woman who had been correct, and I said that I didn’t blame her for leaving, and the shithead manager said we have every right to make and enforce our own store policies, and I said not that one, and she said why not, and I said because it’s illegal, asshole, and then I threw the really cute bunch of clothes I was going to buy at her and left.
Hey, Deron. You still want to go laptop shopping with me?
Oh, yeah. The Acura. That guy pissed me off.
Man, that guy was a jerk.
Woe to the person who assumes Cindy will join him or her in prejudicial conduct.
Okay. I’m not always problematic. Really. Hardly ever, in fact. Shouldness, you know.
I’m never going to a bank with Flannery, though.
At ease, Sargent? Is that what you told that guy?
Stand down, Major
Oh, that was just me being funny. That time the old fart who looked like Charton Heston walked right out in front of our car and glared at us, and I rolled down the window and said “Stand down, Major.” I probably won’t do that when we’re out.
Shit. Okay. Do things with me at your own risk.
That’s fucking perfect.
She said that and the guy looked like he was ready to come out of retirement.
“Where’s my goddam hat!”
This is good. This has made me glad.
At the risk of surprising nobody: nowhere.
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