Let me paint a happy little scene in a happy little neighborhood on a happy little sidewalk - of course here I am clearly channeling the late, great Bob Ross from the PBS program The Joy of Painting to put my mind in a less hateful, angry, some might say felonious state of mind, lest I exploded in a frothy, unkempt spew of molten lava, which is somewhat hot and sticky. As you enjoy a nice leisurely stroll down the aforementioned sidewalk, singing a lilting, happy (although somewhat melancholy) tune, whilst pondering deep thoughts of orphans and hoboes, your entire demeanor is ravaged when you realize that you have just stepped in someone's discarded chewing gum. Of course, you just happen to be wearing your new tennis shoes and the chewing gum has now filled every nook and cranny of your treads. As you hop about the sidewalk on your other foot, you look and act like some sort of a deranged circus performer. People in the area laugh and gesture at you and your situation, which only stirs your pot-au-feu further. You search in vain for a stick or other pointy object to scrape the gum off your shoe. Then when you start to dig and poke and prod to extract the sticky wad, the worse of a mess you make. When you are just about to spontaneously combust from the building rage, you notice a trash can no more than 3 feet from the offending gum wad, 3 stinking feet! At this point your hair catches on fire. Of course, the pleasant thoughts of helping the woeful plight of the orphans and miscellaneous hoboes have been fire bombed with the incendiary and careless actions of the gum spitter. You start to choke and cough on your own bile you are so enraged. Why if I find the so-and-so that did this, I'll kick 'em in the slats and tell them what for. Man, people who spit their gum out on the sidewalk really grind my gears.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Grind My Gears 21
Let me paint a happy little scene in a happy little neighborhood on a happy little sidewalk - of course here I am clearly channeling the late, great Bob Ross from the PBS program The Joy of Painting to put my mind in a less hateful, angry, some might say felonious state of mind, lest I exploded in a frothy, unkempt spew of molten lava, which is somewhat hot and sticky. As you enjoy a nice leisurely stroll down the aforementioned sidewalk, singing a lilting, happy (although somewhat melancholy) tune, whilst pondering deep thoughts of orphans and hoboes, your entire demeanor is ravaged when you realize that you have just stepped in someone's discarded chewing gum. Of course, you just happen to be wearing your new tennis shoes and the chewing gum has now filled every nook and cranny of your treads. As you hop about the sidewalk on your other foot, you look and act like some sort of a deranged circus performer. People in the area laugh and gesture at you and your situation, which only stirs your pot-au-feu further. You search in vain for a stick or other pointy object to scrape the gum off your shoe. Then when you start to dig and poke and prod to extract the sticky wad, the worse of a mess you make. When you are just about to spontaneously combust from the building rage, you notice a trash can no more than 3 feet from the offending gum wad, 3 stinking feet! At this point your hair catches on fire. Of course, the pleasant thoughts of helping the woeful plight of the orphans and miscellaneous hoboes have been fire bombed with the incendiary and careless actions of the gum spitter. You start to choke and cough on your own bile you are so enraged. Why if I find the so-and-so that did this, I'll kick 'em in the slats and tell them what for. Man, people who spit their gum out on the sidewalk really grind my gears.
