Hey! Happy Valeween's day!
I just got done eating a pound of crabmeat in celebration. It’s not as fun as it sounds.
I love crabmeat, and the prospect of eating my fill always excites me, but I always forget, in my gluttonous zeal, that the crab-onset diarrhea is sure to follow. Must be allergic to something in the crab, but as long as it doesn’t make me itch or sneeze, I’ll continue eating it.
I don’t actually mind diarrhea because it’s easy to get rid of and feels great when it’s done. And, of course, I love farting. Who doesn’t?
I’m celebrating because I just got a new job that I’m very excited about. I’ve been hired by an outfit called “Turkey Lifters.” It’s a great business. What we do is, when a call comes into our offices, we rush out and help the subscriber to our service lift their roasted or fried turkey out of the roasting pan. For an extra charge, we’ll even pour the pan juices into a saucier for gravy preparation.
Turkeys can be very heavy, and some people, particularly hungry seniors, have miscalculated the weight of that hot bird and have been crushed and scalded to death. With the population aging, I think I’m getting in on the ground floor of what I think will be an amazing cash cow. I tell skeptical people that it’s like Geek Squad for poultry, and that usually turns ‘em.
More about my celebration tomorrow, but right now, I want to warn the rude, selfish, and snotty people of Vail, CO, that the Ski Avenger is back in town. If you snowboard, it would be wise to take a break from the slopes this week, because the Ski Avenger has been on quite a roll of late in dealing with hotshot pricks who think they can put one over on Jew Daddy.
The Ski Avenger has vowed to resolve conflict with the overbearing personalities of the Rocky Mountain West in a more mellow fashion this year, but it is difficult to maintain one’s composure where the douchebaggery exhibits as often as the snow falls. When it comes to self-important assholtion, everyday is a powder day here.
Case in point:
Lunch at the top of the mountain for the world famous Vail Cream of Chicken and Wild Rice Soup. Not only does it look tasty, but it looks the same going down as it does up later on the mountain when the altitude starts to swell the brain.
About 20 oversized picnic tables line the walls inside the two-mile high eatery. Space is at a premium inside because outside, the wind and snow make it hard to hear your cell phone.
WACHS: Hey, fellas. Any room at this table?
VIP Skier: Yes, on the inside of the table. We cannot move down because we are important. We must sit on the end of the table. You must sit on the inside.
WACHS: O.K. We’ll sit on the inside of the table. Thank you.
VIP Skier: Hey could you hand me my jacket hanging on the wall behind you?
WACHS: Oh, you mean the one on the hook on the wall next to the INSIDE of the table? Get it yourself.
End scene, but not really.
This after we had the good fortune of experiencing the world’s first ever real estate deal and, even more exciting, witnessing the use of a cell phone! Admittedly, it would have been more thrilling to watch him use his Bluetooth headset so we could hear him shout the actual dollar figures, but it was still fun.
I don’t hate white people at all, but the ones here make me avoid them for the next two weeks. These are people who think that Tears For Fears is a good band.
I think Old Man Pickle Nose has it just about right. For some reason, many people are under the impression that, because they are on vacation, it means that they are “off.” The normal rules of behavior don’t apply.
Move down so others can sit without climbing all over everyone? Sorry. I’m on break.
Throw away the trash from your lunch? Sorry, I’m on vacation.
Make your adjustments off to the side so you don’t block people getting off the chair? Sorry, I paid a lot of money for this vacation. Send an email to my smartphone.
The Ski Avenger is here people! Shape up, because I can’t hold back much longer.