But then again, if I did, things wouldn't be half as much fun. And hey, sometimes it's fun to be an asshole.
Yesterday after work I was craving some big, fat, nasty fast food. Something along the lines of a (insert burger here) value meal. So I went to my nearest fast food establishment and ordered myself a (insert burger here) value meal. I'm waiting patiently for my food to arrive -- as is this six-and-a-half foot tall prostitute. Well, she was probably only about five-foot-ten or so without the 8-inch platforms she was wearing. But, make no mistake, this woman was a prostitute. She was all decked out in a black mini-skirt over hot pants, a half shirt and a push-up bra.
"Man, we ho's gotta stick together" she said to the unassuming young gentleman next to her.
Se said some other things too, but I wasn't paying much attention. I was too focused on my upcoming delectable Dinner O'Crap I was about to receive. She started going on about how she serviced the Hispanic community, the black community, and -- being black herself -- had to problems servicing the white community.
"'Cuz you see," she said to the man behind her in the receiving line "It's that guy right there."
She pointed at me.
"He controls the food. He controls the jobs. He controls the money. And even after 400 years of oppression from him, I'm gonna love him."
Great. Just great.
Now usually I would just stand by silently and try to distance myself from the situation. I didn't want to call any attention to myself. I just wanted my damn burger, fries, and coke. But now she made it personal. And after spending 8 hours in a basement and going home to my depressing little apartment, the last thing I was going to do was allow myself to be held up as an example of "The Man".
So she's goin' on and on, so I walk over to introduce myself.
"Hi! How you doin'?"
She didn't stop, she just kept rambling on.
"Man, what a tough day! First of all, I control all the food. And man, there's a LOT of it, let me tell you. I mean, you don't KNOW just how much food there is until you control it all. I have to make a lot of decisions you know. Like, a) where does the food comes from, b) who to give the food to and who to deny, c) oversee supply-and-demand infrastructures... damn! There's a LOT of work to do." "And not ONLY that, but I also control ALL the jobs. ALL of 'em. Do you know how many jobs there are in the world? A LOT! Just like there's a lot of food. And I control them all. You know, people tell me all the time that there aren't enough jobs to go around -- but they don't have to keep track of them all! I mean, if there were any more jobs around, I'd probably have to hire an assistant to help me keep track of them all! So between the jobs and the food, I've had one hell of a day."
The prostitute doesn't listen to a word I have to say, but her little gentleman friend is cracking up.
"Take you, for instance." I said to the inattentive hooker. "See, like, tonight I had to figure out how many johns you were gonna take in tonight. Now, it's a Monday, so don't expect much. So there's that. But THEN, see, I knew you were going to Burger King. So I had to control how many whoppers the store had on hand, cuz I can't have you eatin' all them whoppers and growin' love handles n' shit. Nobody wants to solicit a fat hooker. Well, okay, not "nobody". But the people who do, girl, you don't want anything to do with them. Trust me on that one."
I guess I expected some sort of fiery response. Maybe. I don't know what I expected. I don't even know where that outburst came from.
My Dinner O'Crap arrived and it was time for my little tirade to end.
"Okay guys, my food's here. It was nice chatting and all. I hope everything turns out well for you. But now I have to go and control my dinner."
