September 15, 2012

Hard Rolls, Hogs and Other Horseshit

I have gotten into the habit of eating a hard roll every morning since working at Harley.  Abe and I stop at the Hess station each morning because they have Dunkin' Donuts cawfee.  Each morning, I grab one of their hard rolls.  They seem to be able to reach the perfect balance between roll and butter.  We also made friends with the people that work there so it's like a happy little visit.  Our caffeine and my butter addiction are met, plus, we get smiles and laughs.  Great way to start a day. 

















Now my question is merely this....why is it called a hard roll? It's not hard.  It's not really a roll.  I don't get it.  It's definitely a New York thing.  I think if I went to Alabama and asked for a hard roll, the little Southern lady behind the counter would say something like 'Why's you wanna be eating a roll that's hard for?'

Anyway.

Does anyone feel like they are getting peer pressured at a drive through?  Last night, Abey and I went grocery shopping.  Since we get off work at 6p, it was too late for me to cook dinner so we grabbed fast food.  First of all, I loathe fast food.  It all tastes like greasy ass, no matter which venue you choose.  Second, it's totally rotten for you and if you are what you eat, I don't want to be a freaking Whopper or a Chicken Nugget.  Psh.  The only fast food chain I prefer.....and the only one I'd want to be.....is In & Out.  Unfortunately, that's only on the West Coast, though. Boo. At any rate, we end up choosing Wendy's.  As soon as I pull up, before I can even get my window down and look at the menu, the speaker lady wants to help me.  Thanks for the pressure, lady.  I want to say 'Give me a minute.' but then I hear silence.  Then I see cars in line behind me.  Then I get anxious.  Then I can't concentrate on anything other than choosing something.  Then I get all crazy and can't really focus on the menu.  Then I end up saying the first thing I set my eyes on and pull up to the window all distraught.

WTH, Wendy?  W. T. H.

I guess it's easy for all the fatty's who have the fast food restaurants memorized but they need to give us 'once in a desperate blue moon' diners the option of time.  Psh again.

















Amanda and I are getting our motorcycle license.  I know, cray cray, right?  I don't know if working at Harley Davidson has prompted us into become biker babes or if the moons alignment is all askew but yep.  At the end of the week, we will both be licensed motorcycle drivers. 


Amanda wants to get a motorcycle, which I think is hysterical.  First, she has this little black ghetto thug car and now she wants a motorcycle.  It's so funny that she's this tiny, little, sweet and cute blonde.  Makes me laugh.  I just want a scooter.  I've wanted a scooter and a kayak for years!  Moving to Seattle solidified my want and here I am, years later, still wanting.  BUT, I'll be one step closer to having one. 

We are total effing bad asses.












*Peace.

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