New RC Comic!

New RC Comic. This really should have gone with my last post, but seriously, just scroll down why don't you?

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JrX

A Not Quite Restaurant Review

So I’m having a meal with my brother at a local restaurant, whose name, for legal purposes, rhymes with Birloin Blockade. We were originally going to dine at Bolden Borral, but we stopped first to buy a video game from BameStop, and Birloin Blockade was closer than Bolden Bor—you know what, forget it. It was Sirloin Stockade and this is my account of what happened, lawyers be damned!

Immediately upon entering, I’m struck by how small the buffet section actually is. Maybe a quarter the size of the buffet at Golden Corral. Small island to the side for salad. A lonely section against the wall for the soups no one is eating. But, like, five soda fountains scattered throughout, presumably to keep us hydrated while we navigate the barren landscape between our seats and the buffet. But its Sirloin Stockade, so we’re really here for the steaks, right? I mean, this place has got sirloin in its name. I decide that I can look past the limited selection.

So with a sigh of resignation, I pick up a plate and proceeded to load it with various meats and starches. Now, those of you that know me know that I’m not really a salad guy. I’m more of a meat and potatoes guy. So I ignored the salad bar, but it wouldn’t have mattered. None of it looked particularly interesting, even to my discriminating eye.

So I started with the basics. A little mashed potatoes and gravy (awful gravy), some corn (tasteless and dry), and Salisbury steak. Now I can understand that most buffets only serve these itty bitty Salisbury steaks. It’s a buffet and you gotta keep costs down. But every time I get one from any buffet, it’s little more than a small piece of hamburger patty. It’s basically a BK Mini (all rights reserved). But, whatever. I move on to the pot roast. This was actually the worst looking but best tasting thing in the whole restaurant. So kudos for that. I also tried the chicken.The tenders where ok, but flavorless and the fried chicken was way too dry. All of this I ate first, because I wanted to save the steak for last. After all, this was Sirloin Stockade. There are pictures of cows everywhere; they can’t possibly go wrong there, could they?

he looks worried

I almost never found out.

Just as I was about to put knife to meat, I notice, with no small amount of shock, two small but determined ants crawling along my plate, heading directly for my entrée. These weren’t huge ants, but small creatures, like sugar ants or something. I couldn’t believe it at first and had to have my brother confirm they’re arrival. As he leans forward to inspect my plate, a third ant arrives, eager to join the party. Well this was un-fucking-acceptable. I immediately flag down a server and demand to speak to the manager. When he arrives I calmly present my plate to him and explain my, let’s say, concerns. By this time, there were two other servers surrounding us, and each of them could see the ants squirming in the steak sauce, but the look on the managers face was strained, as if he didn’t want to see what he was seeing. And he did indeed attempt to feign ignorance until both servers corroborated the sighting of the ants, at which point he accepted the plate and offered his apology.

Then nothing. I didn’t speak. He continued to not speak. It was becoming clear that the manager was hoping to end this incident with only his apology to assuage us.

“So, a little something for our troubles?”, my brother asks.

The manager, defeated without a fight, agrees.

“Well, I can refund your money or give you two coupons for a free buffet in the future”, he replies.

Before I can respond that my return to his establishment was about as likely as a chicken crossing the road without its’ motives being questioned (think about it), my brother accepts the coupons. So with a sigh of relief that the incident went no further, and no doubt glad that the restaurant was too sparsely populated to have any other customers overhear our troubles, the manager retreats to obtain our coupons and a fresh steak for me. Once it arrives, I begin to eat once again, somewhat disappointed that the steak was kinda…stringy? As I’m wondering exactly what part of the bovine this steak was obtained from, I’m surprised to find a couple of more goddamn ants on my freaking napkin. You don’t mess with a man’s napkin. The relationship between a man and his napkin is a sacred trust. It cleans our hands after finger foods. We wipe our mouths with them after a delicious meal. And now that trust is defiled.

these napkins were defiled

After meeting with the manager again, we determine that the ants had originally come from the napkin dispenser. With another apology, the manger leads us to an alternate table and carries the offending dispenser off to an unknown fate. Understand that throughout this entire ordeal, my brother hasn’t stopped eating. Its unclear to me at this point exactly what type of event could actually keep my brother from eating. The man eats twice as much as me and yet he’s only half my size. Fucking genetics.

Anyway, my appetite is gone by now. I decide that before I leave though, I might as well get dessert. Now, here’s the thing. As far as I’m concerned, any buffet worth its weight should have chocolate pudding in its’ dessert bar. Even Mexican buffets have chocolate pudding. Even Chinese buffets have chocolate pudding. I don’t know if aliens exist, or what planets they may come from if they do, but something tells me they would have chocolate pudding in their buffets too. You might have guessed already, but Sirloin Stockade does not have chocolate pudding in their dessert bar. They did have ice cream cones, however. One dispenser for chocolate, one for vanilla and one for, wait for it, choco-vanilla mixed!

So. No pudding, but two and a half ice cream flavors.

Next time I’m going to Bolden Borral.

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JrX

New Comic!

Another edition of the world famous Random Crapp Comic, Pt. 2! Look on my work, ye mortals, and despair!

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See part 1 here!

JrX

Adventures in Shopping

So I just got home at four in the morning, relaxing in my lazy boy, enjoying a number 2 combo from Whataburger (double meat, no onions, add cheese), when I realize that I forgot to bring home toilet paper. This is a problem, you see, because I haven’t had a (cough, cough) movement all day, and this number 2 combo promises to rectify that soon. Also, there are other assholes in the house besides my own, one of which pokes her head into the living room, like some sort of crazy haired groundhog, to remind me that dawn in closing in on us, and some people are regular. Shit.

Ok, no problem. Pajamas off, jeans back on. Stomach percolating, don’t think about it. Keys, check. Where the fuck is my cell phone? Ok, got it. Wallet? In pants, good. Walk outside, start car, look out windshield, can’t see shit. Wtf? Oh, right. Glasses. Ok, back in the house. Christ, now that I’m back in, I don’t want to go out. Focus, man. Back in the car.

Finally arrive at HEB (Here Everything’s Better) a few minutes later, to a desolate parking lot, something out of a post apocalyptic wasteland. Shopping carts are littered everywhere. Some have trash in them, discarded sodas and crumpled up receipts. A few are knocked over, as if they just gave up and died. Doesn't anybody get these at night? As I walk in to the front door, carefully navigating through the land mine that is the shopping cart graveyard, I notice what appears to be a homeless man sitting on the bench in front of the store, speaking with what looks to be a, uh, lady of the evening. A surreal tableau that would drive Norman Rockwell mad.

Moving on….

Sometimes, when you shop in the middle of the night, it can be relaxing. You've got all the time in the world. There’s no one around to get in your way. You don’t run into to that one person that you haven’t seen in ten years, and they start talking to you, wanting to know how you've been, and you don’t really give a shit, but you’re smiling anyway because you don’t want to be rude, but for the life of you, you can’t remember their fucking name, and pretty soon you’re wondering if you even know this person at all.

But its not like that at night, mostly. But tonight, I arrived right in the middle of stocking. Piles of boxes in every aisle, some stacked too high, wobbling dangerously by the noodles. And the stockers don’t care. They’re doing their work to the beat of their ipods, eyeing me warily, as if I've invaded their territory. And _____ (insert deity of your choosing) help you if you move their boxes in an effort to reach the tuna fish, the one in spring water, not the one in oil, because you’ll just have to turn right around and go back to the store and get the right one this time, goddammit! Where was I?

Right, the shopping. Reach in pocket for list. Wait, I didn't write a list. Well, only one thing to do at this point. Go down every aisle till I remember what I came for. I know that eventually I’ll come across what I came here for, but for now its aisle one. And right off the bat, I’m stung by the impulse bug. For right in front of me is a display reading “5 for $10” above a huge pile of Hill Country Fair sodas, the HEB brand. In 12 packs. A quick mental calculation later, I decide that, yes, I could use 60 generic sodas. Of course. As I’m packing them in my cart, rescued no doubt from parking lot oblivion by some kind hearted employee, I notice a shelf of pickles. I don’t need pickles. I can’t remember the last time I even bought pickles. In fact, I think I might have a jar of pickles at home that may be old enough to vote, but I decide right there that I need those pickles…

45 minutes and $50 worth of merchandise later, I finally place a $5 pack of toilet paper in my cart. Finally, household shitting can resume.

I blame al Queda.

JrX

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New Feature!

Introducing the Random Crapp comic. Because your day wasn't stupid enough.

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Jrx

Hurricanes and You: What to do when Mother Nature gives you the finger

So hurricane season is here. I know, I’m a little late, but give me a break. I’m way too busy living off the governments’ teat right now to notice these things. Anyway, you may have noticed that a new hurricane named Irene was busy today bitch slapping New York. Seriously, the way the news has been covering it, you would think it was Katrina 2.0, but with fewer minorities. So I thought I would do my part and give you some tips on how to prepare for a hurricane.

Pre Hurricane Preparedness:

First thing you should do is create what is called a “take box”. This is a box that should contain all your important documents. Birth certificate, social security card, id’s, insurance papers, car titles, you get the idea. If you have to evacuate, you definitely want to know who you are. On the flip side, this could be your one opportunity to start a new life. Bill collectors hunting you down? Loan sharks breaking down your door? Who hasn't been there? Fake your death, evacuate to a new city, develop amnesia and live your new life! (results not typical, void where prohibited)

Discuss and practice a disaster plan with your family. Make sure everyone knows where to go if disaster strikes and everyone is separated. Have drills at three in the morning to keep everyone sharp. Most importantly, know who you can leave behind. Mother getting a little long in the tooth? Conveniently “lose her”. She “accidentally” got left behind. It’s ok. We won’t tell.

Finally, make sure all insurance matters are kept up to date. Remember that most home owners insurance does not include flood insurance, so you’ll have to buy that separately. Life insurance is also key. Remember your “lost” mom? Time to collect some life insurance! This is how you turn a frown upside down.

Once the Hurricane is inbound:

Once you know the hurricane is on its way, its time to go shopping. Canned food is the best option for these situations. I know that the rotisserie chicken from the deli looks good, but you gotta think long term here. A few cans of tuna should do nicely. Some bottled water. That sort of thing.

Now, a lot of people will go kinda crazy with last minute shopping and hoarding before hurricanes. You’ll see people buying entire pallets of toilet paper. As if you’re going to shit more than usual. Probably not, unless you shit yourself from fear. In that case, you’ve got more problems than I can help with, you big baby. Remember to keep calm. Its not the end of the world. That was in May. You missed it.

Batteries are also important. You’ll want to make sure your radio is working well. Its going to get boring waiting to be rescued. Today's top 40 hits will help keep the boredom at bay. Also, news reports, I guess.

They always say to keep bleach handy as well during these kind of survival situations. I don’t really know why, though. I guess if you have to evacuate, once you return to the ruin that was your home, that would be a great time to drink the bleach.

Finally, you should also stock up on plywood. Use these to cover the windows of your home. They should afford you some decent protection from weaker storms. Of course, if you’re dealing with a monster like Katrina, the plywood will be about as effective as covering your house with construction paper. In that case, make sure you use all the colors. Make it a festive destruction!

If you decide not to evacuate:

From wikihow:

"Take all measures to protect your home and family...It is not only your stuff you are protecting, but yourself and your family who have stayed behind. There is a risk of less-than-ideal folks wandering around the neighborhood possibly looking for an empty home to rob. Lock all doors and windows, place heavy, opaque drapes in front of windows to prevent outside eyes from looking in, and if you have them and if you live in the US, load up on several rounds of ammunition for your rifles, shotguns and pistols prior to the hurricanes arrival. Advertise that there are weapons in the vicinity. Don't try this is Canada though--you'll get arrested."

I’ve got nothing to add to that.

Make sure you move all lawn furniture and other debris from your yard. Hurricane force winds can easily top one hundred miles per hour. With these kinds of wind speeds, it not unheard of to see news reports of trees impaled by blades of grass, or… uh….other crazy shit. Sorry, I had something for this. I’m a bit distracted, the Fairly Oddparents are on.

Finally, designate a “safe room” in your house that everyone should get to once the excitement starts. The safe room should have no windows and only one easily defendable entrance, in case of invading minorities coming to steal your fire. Stock you safe room with everything you’ll need to survive for at least three days. Food, water, flashlights, candles, lots of toilet paper, porn, etc. In the event that you are not rescued before your supplies run out, designate an expendable member of your family that can be eaten in a pinch. Remember, the only sin is not surviving.

Congratulations!

You’ve survived another hurricane season! Come back next week when we’ll discuss how to survive the coming robot apocalypse.

(just kidding; it won’ t be next week)

JrX

Wages of Win

Some of you may have noticed that there now appears to be ads on the side and bottom of this blog. Those are the result of Google Adsense and me selling out to the man. See, you sign up for Adsense and then Google will place ads on your page that have something to do with the content on your site, using keywords or magic or something, and when someone clicks them, I get money. I think it’s more complicated than that, but I didn't bother reading through all the terms and conditions. Who’s got time for that?

The important thing is that I’m well on my way to becoming independently wealthy. Since I launched this blog on May 19, I currently have a balance of $1.77. Now, admittedly that doesn’t sound like much, but remember, this is just the beginning. Word of mouth is a powerful thing (especially if you haven’t brushed) and I fully expect to be a millionaire by this time next month. What’s left now is to figure out what to do with all that money.

Now there are plenty of things that you can do with a million dollars. You could give it to charity, for example. But all those poor people would probably just spend it on booze and cigarettes, and abortions and whatever else republicans are convinced poor people do with money, which is why they keep all of it for themselves and the oil companies. Or something, I don’t know. I’ve been watching a lot of MSNBC lately.

I could become a philanthropist and use the money to enhance my community. But that’s boring. Besides, my town just got an IMAX Theater and we have two IHops here! Of course I only go to one, because then my friends and I can say, “Let’s go to the good one.”

I could horde the money. After all, they say it’s not how much you make, but how much you save. But where to put it? A regular savings account won’t yield much interest and the stock market fluctuates more wildly than a…um...damn, I had something for this. Doesn’t matter. I could spread it on my bed and roll around on it naked, like a fat, hairy, hispanic Demi Moore, but that’s a last resort (for those of you that know me, try getting that thought out of your head!).

No, there’s only one thing to do with a million dollars: zombie proof my house.

That’s right, I said it. The rapture may not have arrived on schedule, but we all know that the zombie apocalypse is coming. In fact, it may even warrant the capital “Z”. Zombie apocalypse, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Apocalypse. Yeah, that’s it.

It such a huge concern, that the CDC, the Centers for Freaking Disease Control, has an entire Emergency Preparedness and Response section on their website. Holy shit! You think FEMA is going to save your ass? They’ll stick us all in a stadium with limited facilities and pretty soon it’s going to be Beyond Thunderdome and a Tina Turner soundtrack in that bitch.

Not for me though. First thing I’m doing is build a moat. Fuck the neighbors. Maybe put some alligators in there or something. Reinforce the walls, put up steel shutters, a crow’s nest for sniping, you get the idea. Bulk up on supplies like food, water, ammunition and porn. Can’t discount the importance of a good porn stash, for when the Zombie Apocalypse arrives, no more internet shall there be. Any leftover funds will be converted to items that can be easily bartered. Like gold, or medicine or porn.

So keep clicking on those ads, Inconstant Reader. I'm getting an estimate on a drawbridge next week.

JrX

So we survived the apocalypse.

I assume that the apocalypse came and went and that the reason I received no mail today was that our postman was raptured away. So if your reading this, then the lord our god has seen fit not to rapture you, and instead chose to let you suffer through the trials and tribulations of the end times. Sucks, huh?

I suppose then that certain precautions must be made against the inevitable end. First things first. Supplies. Need food and water to sustain myself until the hell spawn comes to collect me. Never know how long that will take, as they’re notoriously unreliable. They were scheduled to take Carrot Top ages ago and that fucker’s still around. Should have sent in Seal Team Six. Oh well. Back to supplies.

Let’s see. Open fridge, what’ve we got? Soda, purple stuff…aw Sunny D! Aw right! That should last a day or two. Ok, now food. Hmmm….half a pack of bologna, some cheese, country crock spread, open pack of hotdogs (probably no good anymore), and a lone carrot (good for the eyes!). Ok, I can work with that.

What else? Weapons? Not really. I’ve got a old back scratcher that’ll probably give a splinter to the first demon I see who can’t reach that area behind the back, you know, between the shoulder blades? Doesn’t that suck? I mean, sometimes I just gotta start rubbing up against a wall or a tree like a goddamn bear, and it feels so good you forget where you are, and when you open your eyes again everyone in the bank is looking at you like you’re a freak. Fuck em.

Well, my search for provisions didn’t yield much. Not much else to do but sit quietly and contemplate all the mistakes I’ve made in my life. Like the hole in my roof I made last night in case I got raptured. Yes, I can see the mistake there. Easy access for demons. But I can fix that. A little duct tape and….

…a knock at the door. I never realized that demons would be so polite.

Ok, I can do this with dignity.

Huh. Standing outside my door is a young lady wearing a Reliant Energy t-shirt. Cleary disturbed, she haltingly begins to ask me if I’m happy with my electric provider. Poor child. Obviously she hasn’t yet come to terms with what has happened. Clinging to the last vestiges of her former life and the security of routine, she stands before me shuddering and fearful. That’s when I realize I’m naked.

Ok, I can explain that.

See, when I thought I might be raptured, I thought, “Who needs clothes in the heavenly domain?”. I mean , God has seen me au natural, so why burden myself with the trappings of this earthly realm? Maybe should have reconsidered. Oh well.

Turning back to the young lady at the door I attempt to comfort her. I reach out to place my arm around her shoulders and invite her into my house for safety. Obviously still traumatized by recent events, she begins to struggle against me. I may have to knock her out and drag her in. For her safety.

There’s a rock on the ground, that should do nicel- ow!

Crazy girl kicked my shin! Now she’s running away screaming about cops. Denial is an ugly thing.

“I hope the hellspawn catch up with you, you crazy bitch!” I scream after her.

Well, back to waiting for the end…

1 hour later..

Another knock on my door. It’s the police. Good news is that the world didn’t end. That’s a relief. I already ate the bologna and drank the Sunny D. Bad news is I’m being arrested. Something about sexual assault and attempted kidnapping. Clearly a misunderstanding, I’m sure we can clear this up in no time.

Anyone know a reliable roofer?

JrX

Where were you when the world ended?

Apparently the world will end on a Saturday. This Saturday. At approx. six pm. (eastern time?)

Thats the prediction being made by 89-year-old Harold Camping, of the The Christian network Family Radio. You may have seen billboards proclaiming his warning around town, and evidently around the country as well. From http://newsfeed.time.com :

--"...Camping cites two Bible passages to determine the date. The Book of Peter implies that the end of the world will occur 7,000 years from the date of the great flood. And the Book of Genesis says the flood occurred on the "17th day of the second month." Taking a look at the Jewish calendar, the de facto guide in that era, May 21, 2011, is the corresponding date. Family Radio predicts that great earthquakes will shake the earth at 6 p.m. on the 21st, continuing for five months."--

Of course this isn't the first time someone as predicted the end of the world. Camping himself predicted it would end in 1994, the prediction appearing in a book he authored, 1994? Note the question mark. But Camping believes that the earlier prediction failed to take into account "subsequent biblical information". That he apparently has now. From reading the same book. That hasn't changed significantly in over a thousand years.

But he's super sure now.

Just take a look at his website: http://www.familyradio.com

He's so confident this time he provides us with a convenient countdown right up front, letting us know how much longer we heathens have left. Did I forget to mention the heathens? Particularly the gay ones.

--"What signs precede the Day of Judgment?

Jesus warned of several spiritual signs, such as the complete degradation of the Christian church, the devastating moral breakdown of society, the re-establishment of National Israel in1948, the emergence of the 'Gay Pride Movement', and the complete disregard of the Bible in all of society today as direct evidence of His return."--

Yep. Gays and Jews, and the complete disregard of the bible. Turns out Cartman was right after all. But there's good news! Camping believes that roughly 200 million souls will be saved on May 21, before the ultimate end five months later on Oct. 21 (saves on holiday purchases). Thats better odds than 144,000! Bad news for everyone else though; Camping believes that those "unsaved" will simply cease to exist. No hell, no purgatory, and certainly no pearly gates.

As I'm not likely to be counted among the saved (i'm not gay or of israeli descent, just a jerk), I won't be holding my breath waiting for the zero hour. But if the world is going to end, I've got a joint ready to spark up.

Good Luck!

JrX

Welcome!

Welcome to Random Crapp! The blog where I blog about.. well..random crapp. I started this blog years ago in order to share my thoughts with an eagerly anticipating world (I realize that "eagerly anticipating" may be redundant. I don't care. That's the kind of boldness we employ at Random Crapp.) Almost four years later, we're ready to roll!

Updates will emerge periodically through time (as opposed to space?) on a variety of topics, including, but not to be limited to:

• politics
• entertainment
• sports (nah, not really)
• breaking news,...etc

Additionally, I will be deciding soon on a particularly existential question that we're sure everyone will want resolved: Should this blog refer to "I", as I am the only blogger. Or, should this blog refer to itself in the royal "We", as I have a tendency to be narcissistic. We'll be trying out both over the next few weeks, unless I forget.

Anyway...thanks for reading! First post will be coming soon!

JrX