double the throwback does not mean we go further into the past

so, after finding out my weekend was gonna suck ass with me running all over SA (and not for the reason i prefer to be in SA), i head out, work the hockey playoff game, and junior and i decide to go eat. he was craving a chocolate milk shake, and was eager to redeem himself from earlier (went somewhere, ordered, and when it was handed to him in his car he realized he’d left his wallet at home; but hockey games pay in cash…don’t tell the irs), so i took him to the only sonic i knew with a dining room (he wanted to sit somewhere and eat). the dining room ended up being closed, but there was a kfc next door, so i suggested that. junior said, “no way dude…i don’t like fried chicken.”

WHAT?!?!?

junior was born in oklafuckinhoma, but we’ve forgiven him since he WAS raised in texas. or so he claims. but to not like fried chicken? that makes me suspicious. hell, i know a health-conscious transplanted californian who thought it was down-right bad ass that i could get fried chicken delivered to my door, and junior won’t touch the stuff when it’s RIGHT there? that’s denying one of the big three.

“the big three” has been used to describe everything from automakers to tv studios, i admit, but in this case it fits with texas diet. and this is NOT college hoops, so you can’t take two outta three and still win the trophy. still claim to be the “genuine article”. it’s all or nothing, baby. learn, live, and love these three types of food or you WILL be known as a foreigner on texas soil and that is never a good thing. the three types? hell, half of you already know (more than half, i’m hoping)

1. bar-b-que
2. tex-mex
3. fried chicken

that’s it. simple food for us simple folk. there’s no, “how would you like that cooked” question when it comes to the number two dinner, ’cause we all know that the entree is enchiladas and they only come cooked one way. same question applies to brisket, ribs, pork loin, etc…it’s smoke it with mesquite, shove it in front of us, and stand back. and fried chicken? that’s the one that gets the worst rep, and that is just so wrong.

remember when we had kentucky fried chickens all over this country? now they’re called KFC. if the old man were still alive today you KNOW he’d take back at least eight of the eleven herbs and spices just for the shame of it. and church’s fried chicken? now it’s just church’s chicken. even with aunt esther from sanford and son doing their spots, that’s just wrong. and then central-texas based golden fried chicken became golden chick, which to me sounds like the statue they give out at the porno oscars. oh, how the mighty have fallen.

but the chicken that gets delivered to my house? dobb’s FRIED chicken. no shame in the game there. the way it was meant to be to round out the big three. try asking them at kfc if they have any FRIED chicken. they’ll say, “original recipe or extra crispy?” ask which one is FRIED the most. they’re not allowed to use that word. it’s the “fuck” of the fast food industry. the dirty word.

we need more women in my office building. well, to be more honest, more thin (or trying to become thin or just addicted to nutrasweet) women. or more homosexuals. or whoever the hell it is that drinks diet pepsi, ’cause that’s all the machine has left downstairs. pepsi. coke. mountain dew. red mountain dew. bottled water. even that nasty-ass lipton brisk tea. ALL sold out, and they have been all week. all we have is diet pepsi. i just wish somebody would come and drink that nutrasweeted-up crap so we could say we drained the machine. it’s kinda like the soda equivalent of floating the keg, ya know? but to no avail. nobody wants that disgusting nutrasweet taste haunting the back of their throat, and who could blame them? that’s one lingering taste that just doesn’t leave you. and i have one smell in this world that’s the same way for me…

hair dye.

my sophomore year in high school, i decided to dye my hair jet black. unlike jim in our phone room, my hair actually came out black instead of dark eggplant purple. it was also longer than his is (and still is, actually). i had never dyed my hair before (except for a blonde bangs excursion a couple years prior…it was the 80s…let it go) and therefore had no idea how much it burns when you whip your head forward and your chest-length bangs slap across your eyes (again, with the bang length, it was the 80s…let it go). so that burning kicks in, and i start whipping my head around in pain, splattering the pristine, white bathroom walls and shower curtain with black hair dye. when my mom saw this, she about died (pardon the pun). the only color paint she had dark enough to cover the dye was a nasty turquoise/sky kinda blue (mom’s original plan was to do every room in the house a different color…kinda like i’m doing, except i’m going more with earthy tones, and she wanted to go with canary yellow and sky blue). so anyway, when i got back to the house the next day (trip to schlitterbahn with some friends) the bathroom was blue as was the shower curtain (i’ve since repainted it a much cooler, cadet blue..and gone with a tiki theme..but never mind that now). and the one thing i couldn’t shake after that? the smell. that hair dye smell will apparently never leave me.