Not Just 'Hot as Hell' but just Hell

The past week has been one of those weeks where one bad event creates a domino effect, and everything in my life turns to turds. It's 1,000 degrees, so for everyone else in NYC, it's hot as hell, but for me...just hell.

Last week, I had a crazy bad day and wanted to go home and decompress but instead got an argument with my man, which means I did't sleep and am tired the next day, so everyone annoys me, so I'm not paying attention and accidentally catch something on fire. FIRE! This makes for bad day #2, which effected bad day #3...and so on...

I plug along, not because I think there's light at the end of the tunnel, or that things will get better, but because I know that Tragedy + Time = Comedy. I just have to be patient, so that I can laugh about it one day.

And the crazy things that have been happening I could've never predicted. Today I got asked to reliquish my chair.

No, not a chair, as in, an important person on a board, but the actual piece of furniture under my ass. It was like an episode of the office, "yeah...about your chair....we're uh...gonna...uh....gonna need to get that back...."

If only there were some sort of meteorologists that could predict, "There will be a shit storm on Tuesday that will last into next week." or "Scattered shit storms in the afternoon, but expect a sunny disposition tomorrow." or "We're expecting a whopping ten inches of shit tomorrow, be sure to take an umbrella!"

I won't bog the blog down with everything, but here's another little nugget.

I got asked to interview for a postition. I didn't send my resume, I wasn't gunning for it, just out of the blue, hey, wanna interview for this? I say okay. I don't really have time to do it, or want to do it, but I interview. I'm overqualified for the job, but what the hell, I'll go meet the woman. They decide to go with an opportunitstic girl almost 10 years my junior...with no experience. It stung. I didn't want the job, but I wanted to be able to turn it down. Sick, I know.

Then right after this, still reeling from the sting, I go to a class I'm taking and the teacher flirted with me. I'm not sure why because I am much older and much married, and I'm sure he can get tail from single girls his own age. But it was a nice little awning to get out of life's shit storm... because you want to feel like you've still got it, even if you don't. Then I realized that there was a lesson to be learned.

Moral of the story:
It's flattering if someone much younger than you wants to screw you, it's annoying if they want to screw you over.


Other Lesson Learned:
Don't put up with people's shit, or they'll keep crapping on you.

Out-souped at The Soup Man

Tonight I was ordering a soup combo at The Soup Man. And if you're not familiar with the Soup Man, he's the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld, who tried to sue Seinfeld. That didn't pan out, so he took the 'if you can't beat them, join them approach' and has now created a franchise soup empire with the overstated tagline of "The soup that made Seinfeld famous." Same soup from Seinfeld, except now the restaurants try to be overly friendly to get away from the Nazi reputation.

That's the background.

Tonight I ordered Chicken Vegetable soup, and the girl behind the counter told me to pick any salad I wanted. I picked out my salad and she said, "Oh, not that one." While I'm picking out a different salad, and another man came in and ordered the same soup as me.

So I'm waiting for my order and the friendly manager comes up and explains that they're out of the Chicken Vegetable soup. And I was all, "but I just sampled it and it was delicious!" And behind the manager, I see the other guy who ordered the same soup walking out the door as the manager says, "Yeah, we just ran out."

I call it like I see it, "That guy just out-souped me! You let the soup swindler get my soup!"

He laughed and tried to sell me on the, "Chicken Barooh" which he claimed was "very popular."

"What?"

He repeated it again, "Chicken Barooh, very popular." I had never had barooh before, but my options were dwindling as other soup snatchers were starting to trickle in the place. Turns out he was saying Chicken Barley. I decided to settle, "Alright, mix the chicken barooh with the vegetable soup."

That's when I saw the true Soup Nazi colors. Everyone behind the counter got wide-eyed, as he explained, "We're not allowed to mix the soups. You can buy two soups and when you get home mix them together."

I spared no sarcasm as I smiled and said, "because it might taint the special secret recipe?"

Mr. Chicken Barooh grinned and nodded.

It just goes to show, you can take the soup out of the Nazi, but you can't take the Nazi out of the soup.