Finding Laughter Wherever You May Roam...

I was paying homage to the gasoline gods and gathering a couple of snacks and other daily necessities when I bumped into an old acquaintance of mine who shall remain anonymous due to the tangled web we all weave in our little seaside abode. Now "Mike" is an avid fisherman who can be seen cruising the beaches in his SUV at this time of year; looking for the tell tale signs of our most common large game fish, Striped Bass. As he filled his fuel tank in anticipation of a bit of fishing we were chatting about how the fishing was so far this Fall and how crazy things were getting economically and the intensity of the Presidential election and all. We both expressed our concerns for the very near future insomuch that things are going to get very ugly for some people. Mike then said to me "You know when I die I want to come back as a Bird." I thought to my self that would be pretty cool being able to fly and all and then he hit me with a home-run! He said " I would just like to come back as a Seagull so I could fly around and SHIT ON ALL THE STUPID CITY PEOPLE WHO COME OUT HERE!

Now I think Mike and I are on the same page when it comes to defining a "City Person." Just about any body who lives west of say Manorville qualifies. Mike is a hard working guy who deals with the public at his workplace everyday and I know how he feels. There are some city folk that are down right awesome and then there seems to be a huge group that are not worth a piece of gum that sticks to the sole of your shoe.

So the next time you see a Gull gliding gracefully across the beach just remember it may be the landscaper who you screwed out of half of what you owed him or the waitress you jipped because you couldn't wait for her to bring you a bill so you snuck out the back door or the time you walked into an ice cream shop in August with your entire family of 13 people and 6 screaming kids and you didn't tip that college kid behind the counter. Who knows, could be a former employee who you fired cause you didn't like their shoes and they're going to shit all over you like there is no tomorrow. Just be grateful they didn't become a swan or an eagle or an Albatross or some other huge friggin' bird I haven't heard of yet...

Living on Hess Food: Day 3

To Krispy Kreme, or not to Krispy Kreme: that is the pastry:
Whether 'tis nobler in the stomach to suffer
The slings and arrows of surly Hess attendants,
Or to eat doughnuts against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing belch them? To devour: to eat;
No more; and by a snack to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That craving is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be savored.
When Krispy Kreme has closed its doors
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the loss of heaven and yeast-raised delight,
The high gas prices, the long lines for ale,
The pangs of Hostess Donettes, the $3.00 ATM fee,
The malfunctioning pump or an empty newspaper rack?
The lost Krispy Kreme! Original Glazed, in thy glory
You were a doughnut for the ages.

Living on Hess Food: Day Two

After eating an Angus burger at the McDonald's in Southampton, NY, I slept like a baby and vowed to jump start my experiment to eat only Hess food for the remainder of the week. That is, until the news broke the other day that our horny/drug-crazed government officials responsible for collecting billions of dollars in federal oil royalty revenues had created a "culture of substance abuse and promiscuity" that involved having sex with energy company employees, accepting lavish gifts and rigging contracts to favored firms.

I immediately drove back home and e-mailed my admittedly thin resume to the Denver Minerals Management Services office, anxiously hoping for a job interview, sex and drugs, not necessarily in that order. The only thing missing was the "rock & roll."

"Screw eating Hess food for the week," I thought to myself. "I'll buy some cans of motor oil from them and rub it all over my body like cologne and soon I'd be pumping away like a well-oiled Sarah Palin .338 Win Mag." With all the national debate swirling around the pros and cons of offshore drilling, the allure of onshore drilling was proving difficult to resist.

Next: Day Three of the Wainscott Hess Oil Cologne Experiment Ends Tragically When the Author flirts with Self-Immolation...

Price of Lobster Salad in Sagaponack, NY Hits $10,000 a Pound...

I was driving along Montauk Highway in mid-July and decided to stop in at Loans & Finances, a Gourmet food store on Main St. in Sagaponack, NY to buy some lobster salad. I was prepared for sticker shock but I could not believe my eyes when I saw the prominent sign on the store's counter that read: "Due to owner greed, a decline in lobsters because of colder water conditions and the fact we can get away with it, the price of our lobster salad, tax included, has surpassed $10,000 a pound." I asked the clerk if she would take pennies for my order, and she glared at me like an angry shark. I then asked for a small mouthful of lobster salad to see if the taste justified its eye-popping price and she reluctantly gave me a precious spoonful. But before I could get the lobster salad down my throat, the girl at the Loans & Finances counter was ringing me up and said, "That will be $496, sir. We accept cash, debit cards/credit cards and South African Gold krugerrands. Will that be all?"

Since $496 is all I earn a week before taxes, I knew right then and there that my only option was to "chew and screw." Running past the other shocked folks on line and with lobster salad still being masticated, I got in my car and took off like a startled rabbit. I was quickly pulled over and arrested for petty larceny just inside of the Southampton Town Line. When I called my significant other for bail money, the shop owner had already tracked us down and gave me an ultimatum: "Dress up like a lobster in front of my store and hawk my lobster salad for the rest of the summer you loser, or you're facing hard time in Rikers." When I asked what my pay would be, Ms. van Hempmen informed me that I would be paid 10 euros a day and receive one chicken salad sandwich a week for lunch. "So you better make it last!" I could hear her yell, because the store's chicken salad goes for a mere $300 a pound, (I might add.) I found her offer to be somewhat reasonable and my significant other thought her deal was fair, so that day a star mascot was born.

Next: My Lobster Mascot Suit Induces Severe Heat Prostration and Causes My Claws to Whiten