I left my dignity in the Taco Bell drive thru on MLK and Airport

Yesterday, a few of the Weekly Weirdos were celebrating the release of Weekly Weird Monthly Totally Nubs Out For Spiced Ham. We're getting older now so celebrating consisted of giving everyone a copy of the printed out thing, drinking a beer, then going to Taco Bell and parting ways.

See, Taco Bell is having this promotion. If you buy this abhorrent thing

in a snack box, or whatever the hell they call it, you get a chance to win a Playstation 4. I'm not 15 anymore so this doesn't arouse me in the same way it used to. The only way I'm going to acquire a PS4 is winning it after a Taco Bell induced bout of diarrhea. 

We all ordered our "food." I ordered the meal box from Hell. When we pulled up, the lady gives us a bag, all of our orders intact, but sans my box. I notice this the moment after she closes the window on me. 

So I sit there in silence, staring ahead at the passing cars in front me and contemplating the meaning of my life. I'm not going to honk to get her attention. I decided to just sit there and wait for her to look at the security camera and say to her coworker, "This fucking bearded shithead must want extra ketchup or some shit."

After a few minutes of asking myself why there is no God, she finally reopens the window. 

"Yes?" she asks, probably. I say probably because I wasn't paying attention to anything but my own lonely thoughts and the fact that what I was about to say next was in full view of my girlfriend and comrades who probably didn't know the depths of my pathetic nature.

"So, uh," I say, "I ordered the mega box thing. That's how you win a PS4, right?"

"Yeah," she says, still not aware of the direction my mouth is going.

"So I need the box."

That's right. Give me my fucking box. Because the box has the code. The code is what I have to text to the number to find out if I won or not, god dammit. 

"Oh, ok," she says, turns around, and hands me an empty box. 

We drove away in total silence.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about what you saw today, you fucking assholes."

I didn't win the PS4, by the way, but my toilet and I have been closer since last night. 

BUY THE WWM SPAM MAG NOW

Whilst we can

There's something about Americans who insist on spelling words the British way. I believe that they believe it makes them appear more sophisticated but it really looks like a pathetic attempt to appear sophisticated.

The British Surrender at Yorktown.

To the people I know that do this, this is not a personal attack. This is just my eyes' plea for mercy. I cannot abide another 'whilst' when you mean to write 'while.' The color of the sky is blue, no need for a 'u'.

Declaring ourselves independent of unnecessary vowels.

There is one thing that I don't get, though. These Yankees never spell 'curb' the way the Brits do. The Brits spell it 'kerb.' It's not as sophisticated looking as 'favour' so it gets kicked to the curb. If you insist on adding unnecessary us to your words, you're going to have to use an awkward k and e.

Admittedly, not the nicest thing we ever did. 

Now that that's out of the way.

Listen to the One Page Salon podcast! I'm reading one page of my novel-in-progress Invasion of the Weirdos. I get introduced by Jason Neulander at around the 50 minute mark.

Also! Weekly Weird Monthly is now accepting pre-orders of the Weekly Weird Monthly Totally Nubs Out for Spiced Ham chapbook. It's going to be a nasty delight with work from Ryan Sayles, Chris Rhatigan, Chris Mattix, Nina Barker, Cheryl Couture, Steven Warren, and yours truly. PRE-ORDER THAT SUCKER TODAY!

HEALTH SHIT BELOW

I had an experience with the worst doctor I have ever been to. See, the doctor I originally had under my insurance plan was phenomenal. He was a straight up, no bullshit kind of dude. I can understand some level of condescension from a doctor; they are, after all, superior beings of light. But the doctor I got assigned to after Cool Doc left the practice has to be the biggest turd bag on the planet. I've been having sinus headaches (which I've had since I was a kid). I told him this and he goes on an on about Californians moving here and then complaining about allergies. Save it, doctor. I came here for your medical expertise, not your senior thesis on American migration patterns.

This was the kicker though. He asked, "Why do you think it's sinus headaches?" I answer because it's been bothering me so I looked things up and asked people. He says, "You can't accurately pinpoint things until you've had a formal evaluation, don't you know that?" To which I reply, "That's why I'm fucking here." The guy wore hair gel and stunk of whey protein. I'm going to continue going to him because I hated him so goddamn much and that is very amusing.