So there I was.  I was just starting to enjoy my lunch.  I'd gone through the drive-thru at McDonald's.  I had my $1 double cheeseburger with cheese and ketchup only.  God help them if they put anything else on it.  I fucking hate nothing more than getting home/back to work/where ever and biting into my double cheeseburger and feeling the crunch of a pickle or tasting the oral rape that is mustard.  I hate drive-thru but what can you do?  When I'm hungry, I'm hungry now.  Fuck waiting.  Sure you are playing russian roulette with your stomach but it's better than going in and eating with all the geriatrics and busloads of retarded people stopping for lunch while on their way home from watching Amish dudes make candles or some shit.  I don't have anything against retarded people but fuck if they don't make me uncomfortable as hell.  I guess I haven't been around enough of them.  But one time I went to the zoo as a kid and this retarded guy whipped his dick out in the snake barn and I've been mentally scarred ever since.  My point is drive-thru is cool as long as they don't fuck up my shit.  I worked a drive-thru at Frisch's Big Boy for awhile when I was in college.  Pretty cool deal.  It gave me a bit of a "god complex" though.  I was like the soup nazi with that shit.  You'd better have your shit ready when you got to my box.  I couldn't fucking stand when people would pull up and waste like 20 mins going "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, let me get theeeeeeeee, ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm...."  You are begging for a health code violation at that point.  To this day I make sure that I and everyone in my car KNOWS what the fuck they want when we get to the box.  I'm always afraid of running into a fast food worker who, like me, is about one "ummm, just a second..." from wiping his ass with your sesame seed bun.  Anyways, I'm just ranting now and this really has little to do with the point of this post.  So I get my food and I go home.  I bust out my tray that I use when I eat in the living room in front of the tv.  I grab some tea out of the fridge and a new bottle of Hunt's ketchup.  I know a lot of you are probably saying "Did he say Hunt's??  No way Jose, Heinz baby!!"  That's right, you keep pouring that shit down your gullet.  You people are like hobos drinking Mad Dog 20/20.  Hunt's is the Christal of ketchup.  Hunt's is the shiznittle.  McDonalds uses Hunt's.  I don't think I need to say anything else about that.  Anyways I squeeze a generous portion of ketchup...Wait a second, is it KETCHUP, CATSUP, or what the fuck.  What is the difference?  Does anybody know?  That has bugged the shit out of me for like years.  Anyways, I dip my fry in the ketchup put it in my mouth and in about 2 seconds I'm spraying half-chewed french fry all over my carpet.  "What the fuck was that??"  I ask myself.  I cannot describe the taste other than "unholy abomination/this must be what hell tastes like/why is this happening to me?/I think the taste is making me sterile/somewhere my mother is vomiting/I want to chew off my own tounge".  Something along those lines.  So for a minute I think that I am the victim of some cruel prank at the hands of my wife.  I try to think of what I've done to her to deserve this sick punishment.  Her birthday is still a week away so it can't be that.  But I take my eyes off the reddish potato chunks on the floor that the cat is now licking and look at my wife who appears equally puzzled.  So I know it's nothing that she did.  But upon further inspection of the bottle, I find, in small letters underneath "Hunt's Ketchup", the words "No Salt Added".  What in THE fuck is this?  The people at Hunt's MEANT to do this?  Sure I could understand some new guy leaving the salt out of a few hundred bottles because his coworkers dared him to do it and we wants desprately to "fit in" at his new job.  Or if some guy was ticked because he had to work on a Saturday night at the ketchup factory instead of going with his buddies to the Dokken concert at the local indian casino with Quiet Riot and special guest Skid Row so he pissed in one of the bottles as it rolled by on the conveyor belt even though later he realized he didn't mind missing the concert that much because Sebastian Bach is a total pillowbiter.  But it was neither.  Hunt's had done this on purpose.  There has to be millions of these poorly labeled bottles of shit out there on the shelves of America. Something must be done.   I tried to fix the problem by pouring salt into the bottle but without any kind of idea how much salt is actually in an entire bottle of ketchup, I was woefully ill prepared to make this right.  So I just dumped a bunch of salt in the top of the bottle and shook it up.  I popped the cap and tilted my head back and squirted some of it in my mouth (get your minds out of the gutter homos) to test it and almost vomited.  Apparently, regardless of my vigorous shaking, all of the salt remained together in a clump and had worked its way to the top of the bottle so I got a mouthful of ketchupy salt.  That's when I said, "fuck this" and pulled some spare packets of ketchup that had been in the butter tray of my fridge for the last 4 years that I had been planning on folding up and sticking under my neighbor's tires because she's such a noisy bitch.  So tomorrow I'm calling the "questions? comments?" phone number on the back of the bottle and I'm getting some fucking answers.  I'll provide a transcript of the call later.  But in the mean time check that bottle of ketchup you just bought and take that "no salt added" bullshit back to the store and demand reparations!  If they won't take your opened bottle back, squirt it in the manager's fucking face and set fire to the store.  If the cops give you any shit tell them you are Muslim and you are offended by those cartoons on the news and that they have to respect your beliefs.  P.S. Fuck those motherfuckers.  It's just cartoons.  Nothing to start killing people and beating yourselves over the head about.  You're going to anyways but I just had to say something.  Vandy, OUT.

It appears like it is some type of blog that was created by me and some crotch crazed movie fanatic. I vaguely remember this place! It is not kept up that well though. Just look at that pathetic attempt at putting links to other places! The only good thing that I see is that some hot British chick keeps stopping by which is probably actually sad because she leaves unfulfilled each time and most likely spends at least a half an hour trying to stop crying because she is so saddened by this pathetic splotch on the web! I am leaving! This is crapety crap crap crap!

Peas and your vegetable rights to a blog worth visiting!

slim

BTW

I swear if I hear the comment “Check out the size of that bulge!” one more time someone is going to get it!


I am sorry if shirt fits to tight and you can see my belly! I am working on it! JERKO!

It'll

Say it a few times and you will find the funny part!