Tales From the Dairy Case

So I have been working for Winn Dixie in the grocery department for almost a year now. There are horror stories and lore of magic going down in that little store. However, one story continues to rest itself every time I work. No, not Deja Vous, but a sick twisted mind that is oh so cleaver.

I call the person the Gustafson!

Everyday I come in I find an empty to a "one last sip to go" bottle of Gustafson's chololate milk. The bottle is about 16oz in weight, give or take an overload or error.


Now I don't mind that the person is stealing some chocolate milk. I mean come on, chocolate milk is pretty awesome. It combines two of the most sacred things: Milk (A common household beverage) and Chocolate (A plague of sweetness in your mouth that may or may not bring sexual arousal-ness).

What I care about is that its GUSTAFSON'S MILK!!!!! Have you seen the picture on the bottle!?!?! Its mad! Please excuse my picture taken from my phone, it does not take the sheer terror into focus.

See the rather plump older gentlemen behind his wife in the seal. The man's face reads "I beat my wife with a baseball bat of money, while drinking my own fatty milk!" Then the wife, so skinny and unhappy to the eye of the beholder. Then if you take a detour out of the seal you see the cattle from which the milk comes from. Yes yes, we see it now. Get your best cow in the picture! All the others are too week to stand from being underfed! Maybe thats why the milk tastes so darn rich? Its not vitamin D added, but malnurisment added!

But hey I could be wrong. Heck, I haven't had that kind of milk in years. Since I have gone vegan, I don't even remember what milk really tastes like.

On a sour note ending, "Up yours Mr. Gustafson!"

Lies to Flush

Since I've been home from Guatemala I haven't done much. I went and saw Trash Talk play the day after I got home. That was a good welcome home for me anyway. Other than that I've been working like crazy.

I put my convincing lies to the test and called Tommy Cantwell. I told him that I went sky diving a few days ago. now the only way to make this story true is by adding shit into the conversation. So I said

Instructer- You ready to go?

Me- No!

Instructer- What? Go? Okay!

Then I told him I got so scared that I shit my pants a little bit froma ll the adrenaline I was experiencing from the jump. Tommy believed me haha.

Here is a drawing of the happy moments of working at Winn Dixie/ Dirty Dixie/ Winn DickMe... enjoy.

In other news, I should be buying some mustache handlebars for my fixed gear soon. They look comfortable and I figured I would try them out. With that being said I believe I should grow out my handlebar mustache I had the beginning on senior year in high school.

The steps I will take:

http://www.ehow.com/how_2070325_grow-handlebar-mustache.html

Under The Rock

Well I've been back from Guatemala for almost two weeks now. The last weekend there destroyed everything inside of my bowels. I am still feeling a little bit of the affects of the pasta.

*Note to everyone: Never eat pasta in Central America

I'd draw something or write more, but I am far to lazy.

Its my day off.