Sunday, April 19, 2009

Creative Constipation

Is been two weeks since I "dropped a blog" and MAN does my tummy hurt. Thanks to a good dose of cyber-Metamucil, things are now flowing smoothly and I can continue to "fire off" some random crap to keep myself (and hopefully others) chuckling. Of course this comes at the expense of others.... so beware.

It amazes me how many people have chimed in with other "Ruth-related Atrocities" most of which I have either forgotten or blocked out thanks to the hard work of my therapist, Dr. Feelgood. Many have asked "What ever became of Ruth?" I am not quite certain but I imagine she is contributing positively to the community in some fashion either as a counselor at Big Brothers and Sisters or just giving blow jobs for money. In either case, I will not REST until I find my dear Ruth! and.... she really does exist.

Here's the latest on the work front. Seems my office may be about to implode - so the days of my illustrious career in over-priced snacks may be limited. However, I am going to hang on with every glimmer of hope that the Pretzel Nuggets will prevail and the Phosphorescent Orange Nacho Cheese will continue to flow (ever so slowly) through the veins of others so I can keep doing what I do. I mean, honestly, what else would I possibly be good at? It's either this or curing polio- and I really like those nachos! Such tough choices.

I suspect a Facebook "mole" that is fueling some crap at work - so with that, I have devised a plan to orchestrate a crazy (Ruth-like) story - complete with drama, scandal and despair with the hopes of having it spread throughout the office like a scorching case of herpes - thus flushing out the "mole." I could then spend my remaining days torturing them in subtle ways like gluing down the receiver on their office phone, removing one wheel on their chair or perhaps subscribing them to "Chicks with Dicks" magazine and having it hand-delivered by a messenger with Turrets Syndrome right to their desk. These are just a few subtleties that I have perfected over the years. If these fail, it'll be time for some hardball.


I have fallen off the proverbial wagon...... (no I am not hitting the sauce - it's worse than that).... I am back on the potatoes! That's right - those starchy little tidbits have lured me back into their twisted web - calling out "EAT ME" louder than a lonely Vegas hooker with Chlamydia! Lent is over and Sweet Potato Fries have replaced Tic Tacs as my #1 meal choice. One would think that a VEGETABLE! That's right a fucking VEGETABLE would not be my biggest foe. My Mom has held that position for years and is now at risk of being dethroned for some sugary brown treat and I do NOT mean Starr Jones (although I want to tear that up - lol!)!

I can honestly say that I have a problem. I would not recommend any attempt at an intervention, however, as in a moment of sheer desperation, I would secretly cook up those sinister Idaho "devils" with a crack spoon using stolen cash from an orphanage full of cancer kids.

I was reminded recently (thanks to Ilene) of my time as a bookkeeper and front end manager at a supermarket in NY. Ilene and I used to get into quite a bit of trouble making fun of customers and doing crazy things after a night of heavy drinking at the Westchester County Fair. We would run through the aisles dropping tampons and Vagisil in peoples carts and screaming loudly for a price check on Wart Cream on register 9 - just for entertainment value. There were nights when I'd be working until closing. Me and some guy (Dave??) would fling cans of food over the top of the aisle into the next - eagerly awaiting a "thud" and a scream when it knocked someone in the skull. True humanitarians. I would pack the groceries of "mean" people with the bread on the bottom and tip the dozen eggs spilling them loosely into the bag. I guess my interpretation of "mean" was a bit warped considering the chaos I was unleashing on others.

Well, it seems that one day out of sheer boredom, we decided to reprogram the registers and watch through the one-way mirrored window as guests eyeballed the display and "SHITBALLS.... $1.99/lb." appeared when they rang up Bananas. It got us both transferred or demoted or both - but it was well worth it.

The store I ended up in had some crazy girl Dolores that worked as a cashier. She was about a foot and a half tall with psoriasis, stringy hair that seemed to be falling out and she was wall-eyed. Other than that, she was hot.

I used to call her Clitoris (rhyming it with Dolores) and made her wear name tags that read just that. She'd say.... "Pat.... My name tag is misspelled again!!..." I insisted that she check the spelling on her application as there was NO way the name tag machine could be wrong.

I used to draw Satanic stick figures all over her time card - a gift from a secret admirer - and cut out magazine letters leaving delusional notes from her "stalker." I guess she was the first Ruth. Actually - I think it was some old lady Gladys at the Harrison Library and Mrs. Lumbo who lived across from the school - but that story will take some time to tell.

I am having a good time working at the comedy club on the weekends. Who woulda thunk it? Humor? Me? I am so straight-laced and serious all the time. Pardon me as I scratch my balls.... ahhhhhh..... Okay I'm back...

Like I said... Serious as the day is long.... My years of being an altar boy have paid off. Although my lingering self esteem issues still make me question.... Why didn't those priests diddle ME? Was I not cute enough? ... --- pathetic sad face inserted here :( --- Rejection at ALL levels. How rude.

I guess even back then my self image was a bit off kilter prompting me to ask... "Father, does this robe make my butt look fat?"

Issues..... Thanks Ma!

Gotta get crack-a-lackin'... Peace!

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