Okay, Okay! First of all, if you haven't seen the "Saturday Night Live, Best of Will Ferrell" you must, it is like looking into the face of god and him looking back and saying, "You are my most wonderous creation." If you have, good. Think back to that scene where he is the dad who shouts out stuff at the dinner table like, "I drive a Dodge Stratus!" It will help you find the humor in the following story.
So this Friday night I made a visit to the infamous Chico, California to see my friends art show (side note: he used a picture of me on the shows flyer and I didn't know about it until I randomly picked one up off the ground halfway through the night while being somewhat intoxicated...unexpectedly finding yourself in print like that is sort of creepy
) . After the show thing sort of wound down a few of us walked to this shitty diner that was apperently the afterparty of all the scumbags that were just getting out of the bars. We quickly became bored consuming the only vegan thing the place had to offer...the coffee...and were getting ready to head out when these two flag waving good-ol'-boys decided to take the table next to us.
Our friend nearest to them decided to start a conversation with them, at this point I knew we would not be walking out of this place without something interesting happening. We went around the table introducing ourselves with false names which was only slightly entertaining until we reached the last one of us. This happened to be my friend who's art show we were there for, Julien. Julien is from Argentina and has a pretty thick accent to show for it. The cowboys immediatly took notice to this "foreigner". Julien decided to fire them up even more by introducing himself as Osama. Despite the fact that he is from a totally different hemisphere as the Taliban this was all that was needed to get the hicks going. So words began to go back and forth and a very uneven battle of wits, if you will, began. As the cowboy had trouble composing any good comebacks to the shit talking he reached for his last line of defense..."Oh yeah, well ummm I aahh I VOTED FOR GEORGE BUSH, I VOTED FOR GEORGE W. BUSH!!!" I guess in some cultures, totally beyond my comprehension, that is something to be proud of...oh well.
So this Friday night I made a visit to the infamous Chico, California to see my friends art show (side note: he used a picture of me on the shows flyer and I didn't know about it until I randomly picked one up off the ground halfway through the night while being somewhat intoxicated...unexpectedly finding yourself in print like that is sort of creepy
) . After the show thing sort of wound down a few of us walked to this shitty diner that was apperently the afterparty of all the scumbags that were just getting out of the bars. We quickly became bored consuming the only vegan thing the place had to offer...the coffee...and were getting ready to head out when these two flag waving good-ol'-boys decided to take the table next to us.
Our friend nearest to them decided to start a conversation with them, at this point I knew we would not be walking out of this place without something interesting happening. We went around the table introducing ourselves with false names which was only slightly entertaining until we reached the last one of us. This happened to be my friend who's art show we were there for, Julien. Julien is from Argentina and has a pretty thick accent to show for it. The cowboys immediatly took notice to this "foreigner". Julien decided to fire them up even more by introducing himself as Osama. Despite the fact that he is from a totally different hemisphere as the Taliban this was all that was needed to get the hicks going. So words began to go back and forth and a very uneven battle of wits, if you will, began. As the cowboy had trouble composing any good comebacks to the shit talking he reached for his last line of defense..."Oh yeah, well ummm I aahh I VOTED FOR GEORGE BUSH, I VOTED FOR GEORGE W. BUSH!!!" I guess in some cultures, totally beyond my comprehension, that is something to be proud of...oh well.
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i think the light poles i am most familiar with require the odd, spiked shoes to really climb up and over. however, how does one get up the metel light poles (without the use of a truck or cherry-picker??) you got me. i think it may be the $60,000 question.