You hear the weirdest stuff when you work at a truck stop.
"Hope the Pats win. Not because I got a team in the game, my father-in-law has a bet. If the Pats win, he gets a hundred bucks. Lose, and he has to go into the super market dressed as a woman."
The guy walks away from the desk, and I turn and ask my coworker what kind of idiot takes that bet.
"If it's a small town, being dressed as a woman would probably be embarrassing." Pause for a second, a gentleman (I say that because my coworker claimed he was trying to solicit the help) walked to up to the desk with an Arby's sack. I'm sure you've all seen it, unless you are one of those spineless vegans.
Look, it ain't livin' unless something has suffered for your nourishment. I say nourishment, not decadence. No breathing entity should die in the name of gluttony. Pride is mine to claim because nothing suffered for my Caramel Apple Empinadas.
Be sympathetic to the cows? Come on. All female mammals who have given birth inevitably get sore nipples.
Great. Now I can't help myself. I must get on the equality soap box.
Dare I claim (dare, dare), to understand women because I have my nipples pierced? It's the closest any guy can get to the pain of lactating (next to doing a lot of steroids and having testicular cancer, see "Fight Club"). Embrace the nipple and tame the vegan. Now with that said, let us return to the idiocy of the person who took that bet.
Read the rest of this blog at Main Event of the Dead dot Com and determine if my experiences, satires and movie knowledge makes a great base to produce a Pro-Wrestling Zombie Comedy B-Movie.
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