Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Friday, January 09, 2004


Sadly, for your first helping of Possumblog this morning, you must endure a particularly pointless bit of self-centered indignation.

{WARNING: The following episode contains references to certain items commonly sold as "food", which may or may not be an accurate description. Ingestion of these substances on an unregulated, ongoing basis may lead to breathing through your mouth and watching "The Apprentice" on NBC. Remember, all food intake on Possumblog is conducted by trained personnel.}

Anyway, I ran to the bank around 10 this morning in order to deposit my paycheck and stave off the sheriff for another two weeks. I skipped any sort of breakfast this morning because the kids were SO INCREDIBLY LATE getting ready and getting out the door, and it was rainy and I knew there were going to be wrecks, and I had to make an out-of-the-way side trip to mail some letters at the post office. Sometimes I will stop on the way to work and pick something up, but not today.

So, by the time I got to the bank and got back a few pennies for my allowance, I was nigh onto hungry.

Hungry enough to stop by...McDonald's. [insert sound of clashing organ chords]

I stopped at the one right in the heart of the UAB Medical Center area--across the street from Spain Rehab, squished in between a Captain D's and an Arby's. Hmmmm. What to order, what to order--it wasn't yet 10:30, the magical witching hour when all breakfast food must be destroyed, so I figured I would get something full of good, hot, breakfasty-type cholesterol. Eggs, sausage, cheese--all wrapped up in a convenient, edible wrapper. That's right, a BREAKFAST BURRITO! [Yet again with the bad spooky music]

A grainy voice came over the speaker and asked my selection. Being a Very Smart Person, I made SURE to ask if breakfast was still being served. Ahhhh. Sure was. So I ordered the Number 8, consisting of TWO Breakfast Burritos (and by the way, never has there ever been a food more insulting to breakfast or burritos--McD's are like cadaverous hunks of steaming...anyway, remember, I was hungry, so I was not in control of my faculties) and a hash brown (mmmm--FORBIDDEN CARBS!) and a Diet Coke because I have to watch my figure.

The scratchy voice told me the total and to drive around to the first window. It's best to just do as they say, so I did. Waited. Waited. Waited. The car in front of me finally pulled away from the cashier and I pulled up, eagerly waiting to hand over my hard-earned lucre for something to sate my gut.

"You ha the Big Breffus wit pancakes an coffee?"

"Uhm, ah, ye--NO, no. I had the burritos and Diet Coke."

"Oh sir, I am SO sorry, but we out of burritos. She just told me."

AAAGGGHHHHH! How dare She. Well crappity-doo. I tried to figure out what else would be similar in fat and calories and artery-clogitude. "Oh, ahhhhmmm. Ahh, oh, just give me a steak and cheese biscuit with a Diet Coke. And hash browns."

"You wan a steak biscuit wi a Coke."

"A steak and cheese biscuit, Diet Coke. AND a hash brown."


Paid her my money, got back my change. Wait. Wait. Wait. Watch a pigeon pick up a french fry and drop it. Wait.

Finally get to pull forward again to the Wondrous Window Two.

"You ha the steakeggcheese?"

::sigh:: Whatever. "Yes, ma'am. Steak, Diet Coke, hash brown."

"We ain got no hash browns--we just run out. You wan grits?"

Why sure, because grits are so handy to eat WHILE DRIVING!! I laughed out loud at her question--"Nooooo ::snort:: no, no grits! I...I...uhhhh..." I tried to figure out something else, but for some reason, the whole experience had now just been all messed up for me. The mood had passed.

She stood there looking off somewhere far beyond me. "Look. Just give me my money back--it was $3.37."

She turned around wordlessly and consulted with someone back out of view. She distractedly turned back and said, "She say you pull up there by the cur and come insigh."

You know, "SHE," whoever She might be, has really gotten on my very last nerve. I let out one of my patented exasperated ::sigh::s and angrily moved the van up to the Wait Here Because of Our Poor Ability To Serve You Your Order Quickly Line, slammed it in park, yanked the key and went inside and stood at the counter, fuming like I actually had reason to be miffed.

Stand. Stand. Stand. The kids behind the counter lackadaisically throw food into paper sacks, shoving errant garbage and bits of food on the floor aside with their feet, moving at a pace between glacial and death.

The Window Two Associate studiously avoids turning around, and then another girl looks out the window toward my van, then back at me, then announces, "Hey, he come inside," to no one in particular. Then, I see an employee whom I take to be She. A large, pleasant-looking young lady, moving about the crusty floor with serene ease. She wanders past the counter and barks at the Window Two Associate, "Where the receipt!?" She is handed the paper and hoves about while keeping her stern towards me, and steams majestically back to Window One. She disappears around the tip of the penisula.

I stand there. Wait. Wait. Wait. Finally, her bowsprit appears around the corner, and she stands there with my money in her hand. She stops an older woman and puts the money in her hand and points up to the counter in my general direction. The old woman obediently comes up, hands out the money, "Here."

Thanks. Grr.

Boy, I sure am hungry for lunch.

[/rant ]

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