JACKASS ALERT No. 1
"Cell Phones"
Can you hear me now? Yeah, jackass! And so can the other 112 people in the restaurant.
Last Friday, I was having a nice, quiet lunch at a little Mexican restaurant near my office. Right about the time I was finishing a delightful plate of Chipotle Chicken enchiladas, the hostess sat a man at an open table right in the center of the restaurant. He quickly checked the menu, and then proceeded to pull out his cell phone and carry on a 13-minute conversation with a guy in his warehouse. I know this because he carried on the entire conversation BY WALKIE-TALKIE! You know the Sprint type phones with two-way paging? Yeah. The whole time. And the longer he talked, the louder and more mundane the conversation got. I could have handled, "...now, very carefully, cut the blue wire. Not the red. Not the green. The blue wire!" Or, "give him 40 CCs of adrenaline and get him to the OR Stat!" But not this dillweed. Instead, we got to enjoy tales of bad converters, missed shipments and Fernando's sudden need to have the weekend off to take his cousin down to the farmer's market. JACK. ASS. I really hope he got some bad guacamole.
Yesterday, I was running on the treadmill at Lifetime Fitness when this woman walked by me talking on her cell phone. As it was she was pushing 260 so it was great she was even there. But then she proceeded to get on the treadmill behind me and talk for the two miles I had left to run. Like her restaurant cousin, Jackass No. 1, my whole row of treadmills got to enjoy her entire conversation. "You know I really should go... she's sleeping with who? Oh my God, does her mother know?" No. But we do. Now as athletes go, I'm admittedly in the Clydesdale division, so I can say this. If she'd hang up the damn phone and pump up that treadmill speed past 1.3 she might find her weight loss goals a bit easier to attain. At any rate, shut up! I'm busy listening to my heartbeat to make sure it doesn't stop.
And finally, to the woman who cut me off this morning in traffic holding her cell phone in one hand and her mascara brush in the other, I can only offer my admiration. Not only did you avoid taking the front end of my car off, you completed missed the concrete retaining wall on our right and all while driving with nothing but your knees. Personally, I'm also giving you the 500 point bonus for doing all that without spilling a drop of the piping hot Macchiato you were holding between your legs. In my book, sweetheart, you are a Hall of Famer and I just wanted you to know, it was a pleasure watching you work.
"Cell Phones"
Can you hear me now? Yeah, jackass! And so can the other 112 people in the restaurant.
Last Friday, I was having a nice, quiet lunch at a little Mexican restaurant near my office. Right about the time I was finishing a delightful plate of Chipotle Chicken enchiladas, the hostess sat a man at an open table right in the center of the restaurant. He quickly checked the menu, and then proceeded to pull out his cell phone and carry on a 13-minute conversation with a guy in his warehouse. I know this because he carried on the entire conversation BY WALKIE-TALKIE! You know the Sprint type phones with two-way paging? Yeah. The whole time. And the longer he talked, the louder and more mundane the conversation got. I could have handled, "...now, very carefully, cut the blue wire. Not the red. Not the green. The blue wire!" Or, "give him 40 CCs of adrenaline and get him to the OR Stat!" But not this dillweed. Instead, we got to enjoy tales of bad converters, missed shipments and Fernando's sudden need to have the weekend off to take his cousin down to the farmer's market. JACK. ASS. I really hope he got some bad guacamole.
Yesterday, I was running on the treadmill at Lifetime Fitness when this woman walked by me talking on her cell phone. As it was she was pushing 260 so it was great she was even there. But then she proceeded to get on the treadmill behind me and talk for the two miles I had left to run. Like her restaurant cousin, Jackass No. 1, my whole row of treadmills got to enjoy her entire conversation. "You know I really should go... she's sleeping with who? Oh my God, does her mother know?" No. But we do. Now as athletes go, I'm admittedly in the Clydesdale division, so I can say this. If she'd hang up the damn phone and pump up that treadmill speed past 1.3 she might find her weight loss goals a bit easier to attain. At any rate, shut up! I'm busy listening to my heartbeat to make sure it doesn't stop.
And finally, to the woman who cut me off this morning in traffic holding her cell phone in one hand and her mascara brush in the other, I can only offer my admiration. Not only did you avoid taking the front end of my car off, you completed missed the concrete retaining wall on our right and all while driving with nothing but your knees. Personally, I'm also giving you the 500 point bonus for doing all that without spilling a drop of the piping hot Macchiato you were holding between your legs. In my book, sweetheart, you are a Hall of Famer and I just wanted you to know, it was a pleasure watching you work.
posted by Michael Tuggle at 2:59 PM
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