Doughnuts: A Passion Gone 2 Far?

To tell this story properly I must start before the beginning.

Several months ago I got lost with friends who could not decide where to eat. We (I) picked the first roadside eatery we found somewhere between the “next to nowhere” and “fumbuck.” After dinner we stopped by the bakery in the diner, and I read a sign that said “Special: Apricot Doughnuts”

I am a sucker for doughnuts. I have been known to stop drag racing to go to Krispy Kreme for a dozen. I do goofy things when “on” or “feaming for” doughnuts. Like: have a conversation with a girl for so long that she is now forever known as “Krispy Kreme Kowgirl” Also, going out the night before a friends wedding in search of doughnuts, finding them and being so happy that I bought 3 dozen and I gave a dozen to the hotel staff and bar patrons. I had to force the maintenance staff to take some… It was 1AM I wanted doughnuts, fucking sue me.

But back to our prequel: So I bought said apricot doughnuts after asking the teenie bopper counter girl if they were any good. She coyly said they were very good, I then threatened to come back if they were not.
They were not, not good. I ate the dozen that night.

…..

Our story begins-

Months later. The Apricot Doughnuts were now part of the menu and so popular that they had sold out the day I went back. The girl behind the counter had not changed. My need for Apricot Doughnuts had grown. So you can imagine my anger which turned into depression as soon as the girl flashed a smile and an apology. I asked for a big box of dissapointment. The cook laughed. The other counter girl laughed. I overhear the two girls talking about a guy they liked. The manager comes out to see the commotion becuase I have not left yet refuse to order anyting else.

Manager explains that they make them and sell out quickly, and the baking schedule is up to the baker…whom luckily was not there lest he/she be drug across the counter, out into the parking lot and beaten until agreeing to make me all the Apricot Doughnuts in hell. … So, logically I ask if I can ‘reserve’ a dozen…or two. She says that I would have to make sure they had baked them, but if available they would place my order on hold for 24 hours…
No problem, I take a card and ask if I can call an order in. The kitchen starts laughing. Apparently as popular as the Apricot Doughnuts are no one has desired them enough to call in an order, let alone demand they hold a dozen for pick up.

“If you give me doughnuts there is almost no limit to the favors I’ll do for you, if you have doughnuts and are an attractive woman, I’ll follow you into hell.” –Me

So let the moral be: If you want me to come to your wedding, you had damn well better have doughnuts, lest I go out drag racing to get some.

Monkey Boy!

So say you have a coworker... a new coworker... picture yourself working for a horrible company that reminds you of the Vietnam Conflict. The people in charge are old, out of touch, and do more damage than good. The veterans have been there for a year or more, but no more than 2.5 years... here you are new-no one wants to know your name, they make it a point to vilify your honest mistakes... And then weeks later, you are over the hump, experienced. You've already seen 4 other people come and go, either being fired, or not coming back...or in the case of Vietnam, seeing them killed or maimed. They were the lucky ones.

You always work at night, you have this tired desperation about you. Work is 7 days a week, no breaks, very little pay, no hope for escape... But I digress.

Say you have a coworker, a new coworker, whose name you do not know. You make no effort to to know his name, because every time he opens his mouth to speak to you, he either tries to insult you in an effort to be funny that isn't, or he has some inane comment that has nothing to do with anything like "cheese is good." Other coworkers notice this behavior also, in fact one was so insulted the first time this new coworker spoke that the veteran has refused to acknowledge his existence.

You try to tell the new coworker how to do his job better, to help make your job easier. He looks at you with big black dumb eyes, not even blinking. So you name him Monkey Boy. He resembles a silver back gorilla anyway, and it fits. He moves slowly, plodding along, breaking things or ignoring them entirely as he passes, only stopping to utter some incomprehendible
statement that might as well be "Oog oogh"

This of course is extremely insulting to monkeys and gorillas because, as we all know, they are intelligent, articulate and coordinated. This man, Monkey Boy is like a human bowling ball. Round, unsophisticated, and good only to knock things over, in a ham-fisted Monkey Boy sort of way. And occasionally he will look over as if to say "who me?" as he is slowing everyone else down or destroying something else.

If this were Vietnam you would hope Monkey Boy steps on a landmine, or someone in the platoon would do everyone else a favor and shoot him in the back while on patrol. But then again who knows. Most people quit or are fired...but he plods along leaving pestilence and ill-will in his silver back wake.

Gas Shortage?

On the way back from the Faire.

So gasoline prices have shot through the roof. I am fueling up my dead dinosaur powered 4x4 that goes offroad and to the drag strip too. When I pull up I notice some genius has pulled forward 35 feet from thier rear bumper to the front of the pump. No problem I back it...

I also notice said car, a chrsyler convertible, is idling...with no one in it. After a minute a woman comes out, gets in the car...and sits there. I think she's trying to balance a checkbook on her nose like a trained circus seal...and failing miserably becuase I keep seeing her dissappear under the dash. The car windows up, AC blasting..idling...

Now I fuel up 33 gallons and 98 dollars later... Shes still there! Now that the checkbook has bounced, shes gone on to sorting a bag of M&Ms... apparently me loudly complaining about gas shortages and wasteful stupid people has not fazed her.

ok so there is a small child in the back seat... which i did not notice before, maybe she was helping with the checkbook?
Woman prepares to leave as I do, 15 minutes later. Apparently the 8 inches I gave her between our bumpers was not enough for her to pull out. Go figure... So she backs up. I see her drive off, in her convertible with the top up, kid in the back, AC on and WINDOW OPEN SO SHE CAN SMOKE A CIGARRETTE! I guess I should have thanked her for not smoking and blowing us
up...?

Paul's Day at the Faire (Fair)

So you have a kilt and a Scottish accent, where do you go besides weddings and funerals?
Now where do you go where you 'fit in' and people don't ask you if you're really from Scotland?
Where can you amuse friends and strangers alike all day long in a Scottish accent???

The Renaissance Farie, or Ye Old Fairy as the sign says.

At this particular Faire, in upstate NY, you will have to drive through New Jersey, which will piss you off, putting you in the right mood to be Scottish and deal with thousands of people in period costume. (to answer another question of how to make the 'welcome to pennsyltucky' sign
attractive: drive through New Yawk and Noo Jurzee)

Prepare yourself for the following: women dressed like wenches. women dressed in leather corsets, women dressed like pirates, women dressed in armour, women with swords, women with axes, women with chain mail underwear...and not one of them over 130 pounds and all between 5/4 and 5/10... black hair, blue hair, purple hair, brown hair, green hair. Now pick
one and obsess over her until you see another that strikes your fancy.
Because they ALL speak with an english accent!!

Upon entering said Faire, waste no time in hitting on the first beer wench you see. Ask for meade, tell her you've never had it before, prepare to be yelled at and embarrassed as a Meade 'virgin', be 'forced' to drink said Meade with both hands tied behind your back, accept a second Meade as a 'prize' then order another. IMPORTANT: do not have breakfast before the
Meade, it will spoil the hallucinations.

Next walk along with your 'friends' whom you've only known for 18 hours, being led by your tongue as you just saw a girl dressed like a pirate... Stop to be insulted by a shop keeper "why do the Scots wear kilts? because sheep can hear zippers. Why do Irish wear kilts? because Scots can hear zippers" insult the shop keepers mother thus surprising him, then give him a hug-he's your new best friend for 35 seconds...forget all about this until reminded 14 hours later. Ask the friends if the Meade at 10AM was a good idea, when they answer "yes" ask them what meade is.

Now, Every time you pass by "your" meade wench scream and point "Ewe did this to me, its all your fault." to which she will always reply "It wasn't me it was him" pointing to anyone nearby.

Find the fellows playing the bagpipes, dance in front of them, and then stand next to them when they finish. Converse with Angus Lochinrad convincing him that you were born in Oban Scotland and enjoyed his show. He will is so pleased he will sign the CD you just bought. Stand next to him some more. When tourists, thinking you're part of the show, asking you where
the bathrooms are, randomly point towards the woods.

Approach the Queen, (Note: every Labor Day the Queen has a birthday, she is now like 400 years old, funny she doesn't look a day over 40...) (Also Note: the Queen an 'escort') Ask the Queen if she got the sheep you sent her for her birthday. When she says 'no' reply loud enough for the nearest hundred people can hear "No, oh I remember I had to EAT it because of your bloody high taxes!!!" Continue with an ad lib from Braveheart... Notice that the 'escort' that is supposed to keep the Queen moving forward, has not stopped you because they are laughing too hard. Tell the Queen you she can make it up to you by buying you a Meade.

Get shooed away from the Queen by your 'friends' who now realize that Meade and a Scottish accent are a dangerous, yet funny, combination.

Dance with a 'peasant' performer at the Maypole dance because...she asked you too. See 'Captain Jack Sparrow' dancing next to you...blink hard. He's still there...see him blinking hard at you...you're still there.

Eat "Steak on a Stake" for $6.

Walk through the "enchanted forest" with fortune teller shops. Realize that $20 dollars to have your palm read exclusively so you can try out "Do you see me in your future" joke is not worth it. Now realize that you're starting to sober up.

Sober up, but continue to ask every flower girl, beer wench, body artist, and chain mail model if you can take them home. .... Wait for it.... Get slapped a total of 0 times.

-Have one performer dressed like a sheep ask you to chase her.
-Have one flower girl ask if you want to feel her wet beaver, have another
ask you to pet her furry dragon. To each of this hold up your seal skinned
bag...have them feel it, to which one replies "that's a furry sack".
-Also allow one performer to fall so she can look up your kilt. Tell her the "sweet and innocent routine" would get her more money at a strip club than a ren faire, then after she does the mock cry routine, tell her she's evil, and after the mock surprise routine ask to take her home.

Go home wenchless, sober, and depressed because you are wenchless and sober, but be happy because you found a place to be Scottish.