Thursday, March 29, 2007
There Are Assholes, And There Are Assholes
Our good phriend Unruly Julie has certainly earned her nickname. It was demonstrated to me multiple times on the Parrothead Cruise, but none quite so endearing as her performance on the flight home.
We first met the guy referred to henceforth as The Asshole at the Ft Lauderdale airport. He was seated with an exceptionally homely but unobtrusive woman right across from us at the departure gate, reading a "People" magazine over her shoulder. There's your first clue - "People" magazine is a brainless rag unfit for human consumption, and reading that drivel over the shoulder of another is grounds for a sound beating - both rude and stupid.
The Asshole was outfitted in traditional "dork" attire. Slacks hitched up around his armpits, button up shirt a size too small, so that the buttons strain at the fabric when seated, horn-rimmed glasses, cheap sneakers with velcro closures. Unruly Julie said he reminded her of "Urkel." Good observation, but to his credit, he did forego the suspenders.
Poor TFMCD (hereinafter know by her new nickname, simply abbreviated to "TC". Due to concerns of my personal safety, that's as far as I'll go right now) was coming down with what turned out to be a pretty nasty case of bronchitis, and had the cough to show for it. The Asshole asked "have you been in contact with anyone sick in the past one to two weeks?" Fuck you, you pretentious prick. It was a cruise ship. How the hell does anybody know who they were or were not in contact with?
"Well," The Asshole announced, "I haven't been sick in a year and a half." Smegmabreath.
Of course you haven't. No one will get close enough to your nerd ass to pass an illness along, shithead.
So we boarded the plane, and guess, just guess, out of 200 seats, who gets the seat directly in front of TC? Yes, The Asshole. He refused to sit there. "She's coughing her head off!" Dickwad.
So, they moved The Asshole to the next row over. Which put him in front of Unruly Julie. Nice move, dillweed, out of the pan and right into the fire. The Unruly one was 100% healthy, but still managed to fake cough for about 1,000 miles or so. TC wrapped up in a blanket, went to sleep, and bothered no one.
A bewildered Mom a couple of rows up had a toddler who was just having a bad day, as kids sometimes do. No rhyme or reason to it - they're just pissed off at the world. It happens. This kid could go from zero to insufferable in just under 2.5 seconds, with what is best described as a piercing shriek that could curdle milk. You know the sound I'm talking about, right? It's the one that somehow finds your tailbone, penetrates to your spinal cord, and then travels upwards as an electrical impulse until reaching your head, where it explodes inside your brain in a shower of light, pain, and a hypothermic shiver.
But The Asshole clearly was not a parent. Who'd have sex with that douche bag, anyway? Unruly Julie surmised his homely companion must have been a mail-order bride, for no woman would select him voluntarily. The Asshole didn't understand that kids are just kids. They are what they are, and that means sometimes they're a giant pain in the ass. He wanted to know the passenger's name, and who to call to complain about this woman who could not control her own child. Shithook.
Here you go, pal:
Just call 1-800-IM A FUCKING ASSHOLE. They'll have the kid's mouth duct-taped, give the mom a good caning, fire the flight attendants, and have the pilot shot. Anything else we can do for you?
As we were preparing to de-plane in Phoenix, the beleagured Mom was cleaning up after her child, and went rearward to throw some trash away. On her way back, she got stuck behind some folks who got out into the aisle a bit too soon. I guess The Asshole missed that bit of information, because he was running his mouth about the "new Mom" who had no clue about how to handle that child and made everybody miserable, blah, blah, blah, not knowing the "New Mom" was basically standing right behind him. She finally said "I'm standing right here. I can hear everything you're saying. And I'm NOT a new Mom." The Asshole had that "deer in the headlights" look that gave me great pleasure. The Unruly One later told me The Asshole slept through virtually all of the munchkin's tribulations, anyway. Asswipe.
Dude even bitched about wasting money on a magazine he wouldn't have needed had the flight left Ft Lauderdale on time. News Flash: It's "People" asshole! Your money was wasted no matter what. Plus, the pilot made up so much time, we actually arrived in Phoenix early.
I looked for The Asshole at baggage claim. I desperately wanted to "accidentally' turn around and strike him with my backpack, knocking his ass onto the baggage carousel. Thankfully, I never found him. Assmunch.
Feels good to get that off my chest......Now, if I could just find the worthless prick who farted all the way home, I could deal with him as well.
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We first met the guy referred to henceforth as The Asshole at the Ft Lauderdale airport. He was seated with an exceptionally homely but unobtrusive woman right across from us at the departure gate, reading a "People" magazine over her shoulder. There's your first clue - "People" magazine is a brainless rag unfit for human consumption, and reading that drivel over the shoulder of another is grounds for a sound beating - both rude and stupid.
The Asshole was outfitted in traditional "dork" attire. Slacks hitched up around his armpits, button up shirt a size too small, so that the buttons strain at the fabric when seated, horn-rimmed glasses, cheap sneakers with velcro closures. Unruly Julie said he reminded her of "Urkel." Good observation, but to his credit, he did forego the suspenders.
Poor TFMCD (hereinafter know by her new nickname, simply abbreviated to "TC". Due to concerns of my personal safety, that's as far as I'll go right now) was coming down with what turned out to be a pretty nasty case of bronchitis, and had the cough to show for it. The Asshole asked "have you been in contact with anyone sick in the past one to two weeks?" Fuck you, you pretentious prick. It was a cruise ship. How the hell does anybody know who they were or were not in contact with?
"Well," The Asshole announced, "I haven't been sick in a year and a half." Smegmabreath.
Of course you haven't. No one will get close enough to your nerd ass to pass an illness along, shithead.
So we boarded the plane, and guess, just guess, out of 200 seats, who gets the seat directly in front of TC? Yes, The Asshole. He refused to sit there. "She's coughing her head off!" Dickwad.
So, they moved The Asshole to the next row over. Which put him in front of Unruly Julie. Nice move, dillweed, out of the pan and right into the fire. The Unruly one was 100% healthy, but still managed to fake cough for about 1,000 miles or so. TC wrapped up in a blanket, went to sleep, and bothered no one.
A bewildered Mom a couple of rows up had a toddler who was just having a bad day, as kids sometimes do. No rhyme or reason to it - they're just pissed off at the world. It happens. This kid could go from zero to insufferable in just under 2.5 seconds, with what is best described as a piercing shriek that could curdle milk. You know the sound I'm talking about, right? It's the one that somehow finds your tailbone, penetrates to your spinal cord, and then travels upwards as an electrical impulse until reaching your head, where it explodes inside your brain in a shower of light, pain, and a hypothermic shiver.
But The Asshole clearly was not a parent. Who'd have sex with that douche bag, anyway? Unruly Julie surmised his homely companion must have been a mail-order bride, for no woman would select him voluntarily. The Asshole didn't understand that kids are just kids. They are what they are, and that means sometimes they're a giant pain in the ass. He wanted to know the passenger's name, and who to call to complain about this woman who could not control her own child. Shithook.
Here you go, pal:
Just call 1-800-IM A FUCKING ASSHOLE. They'll have the kid's mouth duct-taped, give the mom a good caning, fire the flight attendants, and have the pilot shot. Anything else we can do for you?
As we were preparing to de-plane in Phoenix, the beleagured Mom was cleaning up after her child, and went rearward to throw some trash away. On her way back, she got stuck behind some folks who got out into the aisle a bit too soon. I guess The Asshole missed that bit of information, because he was running his mouth about the "new Mom" who had no clue about how to handle that child and made everybody miserable, blah, blah, blah, not knowing the "New Mom" was basically standing right behind him. She finally said "I'm standing right here. I can hear everything you're saying. And I'm NOT a new Mom." The Asshole had that "deer in the headlights" look that gave me great pleasure. The Unruly One later told me The Asshole slept through virtually all of the munchkin's tribulations, anyway. Asswipe.
Dude even bitched about wasting money on a magazine he wouldn't have needed had the flight left Ft Lauderdale on time. News Flash: It's "People" asshole! Your money was wasted no matter what. Plus, the pilot made up so much time, we actually arrived in Phoenix early.
I looked for The Asshole at baggage claim. I desperately wanted to "accidentally' turn around and strike him with my backpack, knocking his ass onto the baggage carousel. Thankfully, I never found him. Assmunch.
Feels good to get that off my chest......Now, if I could just find the worthless prick who farted all the way home, I could deal with him as well.
