ARRRRRRRRG, and other pirate jargon.

People are always searching for good diets and tricks to lose weight. Well, I think I have found mine: the Work Pants Diet. My Chick-Fil-A pants just came in. They came in a size too small. When I expressed my worries to my co-workers, they assured me that my pants were just the right size, but I’m not really into the whole “I Stole My Pants From An Anorexic Dwarf” look. So, now my weight loss goal is to fit comfortably into my Chick-Fil-A pants. It’s a great diet plan, because whenever I am wearing the pants (all day, every day) I am constantly reminded of my mission.

*Watch This Transition*

Californians like rules, especially about the food service industry. Every “food handler” in California has to take a special course, and acquire a nifty certificate. A couple nights ago, I spent 2 hours learning stuff I already knew about proper hygiene, along with some facts I never needed to know about temperatures of food (“The Temperature Danger Zone,” doesn’t that sound like something from Schoolhouse Rock?). Before, you get too nervous, I passed with flying colors:

The main thing this course did, apart from making me waste time and money, was shatter my faith in American society.

This illustration indicates bloody diarrhea with a red arrow away from her butt, so that there is no confusion.

Wow, I’m glad they told me not to wash my hands in the dirty mop water.



The commentator literally said, “Picking your nose is rarely appropriate, especially in public.”

There was even a question on the test about picking your nose. Really? I don’t think I need a 2 hour course in order to know not to pick my nose while in public. working. with food. This is what is wrong with America.

Speaking of patriotism, yesterday was the 4th of July (incase you hadn’t noticed). I celebrated by:

1. Helping with the free bible booth in the street fair—I didn’t actually give any bibles away, but I did test my bible IQ on the board. I don’t want to tell you my score.

2. Registering to vote—I got the democrats at the democrat booth to help me. It was a little awkward telling them my party affiliation.

3. Selling chicken to all the people too communist to barbecue—One customer asked me what I was doing after work. When I told him I was going to bible class, he scoffed and questioned, “Why? So you can learn how to pray?”

4. Attending bible class—Class was, in fact, not a lesson on how to pray, but a lengthy debriefing on the success of the aforementioned bible booth. It was during said debriefing that my mom texted me and said “I wish I were a pirate so that I could talk like one.” When I asked what on earth she was talking about, she texted back, “AAAARG.”

5. Searching all over town for a fireworks observation station—Cooper did not want to watch fireworks, but when she realized Barnes and Noble was closed, he said we could go watch the fireworks. I took a wrong turn that was actually a right turn, and we ended up catching the “finale.”

6. Throwing poppers in the street, with my hood rats—At the tender age of 16, Maris wasn’t allowed to buy the poppers. I had to help her stick it to the man, by using my age to purchase the explosives. I wrote a haiku for you. I like to call it “Patriotic Pyrotechnics.”

Stick It To The Man
Maris And I Buy Poppers
Pop Pop Pop Pop Pop
Today, the gang drove down to Malibu, to meet an old friend and do a drive by tour of Pepperdine. Lunch outdoors was nice, and the cupcake place “Crumbs” was super yummy. The whole town was very surreal, though.
First, I was nearly knocked over by Gary Busey. I’m talking, full on shoulder contact and no apology. Thankfully, Mike got back at him by abruptly shaking his hand and loudly inquiring, “How are you doing, sir?!” Gary did not seem to appreciate the encounter. If you are a little confused, and wondering if Gary Busey is maybe a gospel preacher or something, I will not laugh at you too much. I didn’t know who he was until he football tackled me today. Apparently, he is kind of a creepy actor guy, and relatively famous. Don’t kick yourself for being sheltered. You’ve just been in the bubble too long, probably. Pretty sure he was making this face as he bowled me over:
Next, I spotted a much more pleasant Gary. Embarrassingly enough, we were taking a picture, doing a high kick with a pig statue. Next thing I knew, we were with my new roommate and her boyfriend, who are both much more enjoyable and polite than Mr. Busey. They happened to be going to the cupcake place that we had just left. I suppose this story is rather anticlimactic, but it just seemed rather weird and fateful. Except, it wasn’t really fateful, it was more just weird. That makes them my first FC friends I have seen since FC. Special.
Like I said, Malibu was surreal: running into angry actors, future roommates, and a lot of really skinny women with floppy hats. I am not sure how places like Crumbs stay in business, since all the people in Malibu must not eat.
I noticed something funny on the 4th. It was difficult to GIVE people free bibles. We might have given out 30 during the entire course of the day, and we were really surprised with that high number. However, it was not difficult to SELL people highly priced chicken. We sold a lot more than 30 chicken sandwiches, and that was a slow day for us. What are you hungry for? It seems like most people are hungry for food. They’ll pay big money, and drive out of their way, and wait in line, for chicken. But you could stick a bible in their face, and they wouldn’t take it. Are you hungry for God’s word, or are you hungry for physical food? You’ll do a lot for a good chicken sandwich, but what will you do to get God’s word? How much is it worth to you?

2 thoughts on “ARRRRRRRRG, and other pirate jargon.

  1. This is fabulous. Love your blog, love that you’re selling chicken again, love that you’re certified in the food handling business, love the last paragraph especially, and love you.

  2. Pingback: This post is rated A for Awkward « Cannedjello

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