First Draft

I am actually more awesome than pile-driving a shark. It’s true.

Since yesterday’s installment of Tales of Awesomeness went over so well, I thought I’d lay down another one.

A couple of weeks ago, I was having a normal Saturday morning. Got up, had coffee, read a bit, and was on my way to the gym, which opens at eight a.m. on Saturdays.* I was going to pick up my gym buddy, and, while I was stopped at a light, I noticed something in the gutter right beside my car. It was a Social Security card.

“That’s odd,” I thought. “Most people don’t just leave those in gutters.”

So I got out of the car, picked it up, and continued on my way. My gym buddy wasn’t quite ready, so I decided to look for this poor bastard to see if I could return his card directly instead of mailing it to the SSA. About five minutes with Google and Facebook was all it took, and I wrote him a message saying that I’d found a SS card with his name on it. I included my phone number so he could call and say whether or not he was missing said item.

After a few minutes, my phone buzzed. It was the poor schmo in question. Apparently, he had lost his entire wallet. I said I didn’t find a wallet, just a Social Security card. I asked him where he lived, and told him I’d drop it off at his house. Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t on my route. But I headed over there anyway. On the way, I decided to drive by the intersection where I’d first found the card, just to do a little recon and see if the whole wallet or any other stuff was there. I spotted something that looked kind of wallet-esque, and looked for a place to park nearby so I could go in for a closer look.

I parked in the lot of the Doty School Condominiums. I can only assume that there was a Doty School in the area some time in the past. There just wasn’t any street parking available, so I picked that and parked in a spot clearly marked “Visitor.” I knew I was only going to be a couple of minutes, so I didn’t even bother locking my car or rolling up the windows.

I went down to the intersection–it wasn’t a wallet. I made a quick scan, and didn’t see anything else that looked like it came from someone’s lost belongings.

Now that’s pretty awesome–some real good Samaritan shit, and I’ve never even been to Samaria. But it got better. Much better.

I jogged back to my car, and, out in front of these condos, there’s a guy sitting on a rock with a cup of coffee. The best way I can describe him is that he looked like a serious ultimate frisbee player.

He said something to me that I didn’t quite catch, so I walked a little closer to him and said, “What?”

He said it again, but a little quieter, so I walked closer, and asked him what he said. I thought maybe he’d found a wallet or something. But no.

When I was about three feet from the guy, he said, “Are you gonna leave a tip?”

Me: “For who?”

Him: “For Doty Schools.”

Me: “Pfft. I pay my taxes. They support the schools.”

Him: “This isn’t a public parking lot.”

Me: “Look, Jackson, I stopped here for five minutes to look for somebody’s lost wallet. It’s even a visitor spot, for Christ’s sakes.”

Him: “Oh, well I didn’t know that. If that’s what you were doing–“

Me: “Yeah? Well, it didn’t stop you from running your fuckin’ mouth like you did know something, did it?”

And I got in my car and drove the fuck off. The kid was really grateful to get his card back, but sad about the lack of all things wallet. I told him exactly where I’d found the card, and noted which way the wind had been blowing if he wanted to look upwind for other, heavier things.

See? I’ve got tons of stories like this, all fine illustrations of my complete awesomeness.

*For the record, I go to the awesomest gym on the fucking planet. More on that later.

Yes. Yes, I am.
Find more stuff like thathere.

It’s true. In fact, I am the acme of awesomeness. Let me give you a little taste of why I am so very, very incredible.

Last night, I went out for dinner. My companion and I went to a hibachi place. When we were seated, we were the only people at the station. A bit later, a woman about my age came in with two eight-year-old children. They sat across the way from us.

Now, I don’t like children. I get annoyed by the noise, the whining, the uncontrolled emission of various fluids–the whole thing. Additionally, I see them as a waste of valuable resources that could be used to make my life better. They’re little more than parasites, really. I can deal with kids once they reach age 20. Then, we can talk. Prior to that, I like to have as little contact with the little snot-, noise-, and shit-machines as possible.

So my companion (who shares these feelings) and I dreaded the experience.

But the children weren’t that bad. In fact, as far as kids go, they were pretty good. Their chaperone, however, canceled out their good behavior with her own. She talked in that loud, patronizing voice that adults use for children, and was just annoying as hell. Additionally, she was wearing a t-shirt that said “The measure of a society is how well it treats its animals. –Gandhi.” She wore this, and ordered the steak. So, clearly, she’s an idiot.

Anyway, dinner progressed, and three people aged 25 or so sat to our left. The chef came in, and cooked a hell of a meal. It was great. The only problem was this moron babbling away on the other side of the table. We didn’t say anything to her; we just talked about work (I always have fun stories to tell about work), and how our days went. Just a normal, adult conversation.

Finally, the meal was over, and we were figuring our bill. We put down the appropriate amount, plus a nice tip. And we go to leave. The two children that had been there with the moron had probably gone off to terrorize other patrons; at any rate, they weren’t in the room with us anymore.

That’s when the real fun began, and when I got to display my aforementioned awesomeness.

This jerkass comes up to me and says, in more or less the same patronizing tone she used with the kids, said “I know you two are on a date, and I appreciate that, but the profanity around the kids is unacceptable–the ‘fucks’ and the ‘shits.'”

As I said, we had just been having a normal conversation. We weren’t loud, we didn’t say anything about her or the kids. We’d just been talking to each other. I didn’t feel the need to go up to her and complain about her stupid-ass tone of voice or scold her for bringing children to a place where they might (horror of horrors!) hear the same shit that they hear at school every day.

My companion was taken aback. I, however, remained unfazed. Without waiting for her to finish what passed for a thought, and without missing a beat, I looked her right in the eye and said, “Lady, get the FUCK out of my face.”

Stunned, she responded with “Are you serious?”

Me: “You ain’t my mama. Step aside.”

Her: “That’s it. I’m calling the management!”

Me: [laughing] “Call the motherfuckers! I paid! What the fuck are they gonna do?”

And we left, laughing our asses off.

Now, seriously–what the fuck was her problem? What kind of middle-class bullshit was that? “I’m not satisfied with your behavior, so I feel it’s my place to correct you.” Fuck off. I’m a grown-ass man. Also, if you start some shit, you’d better be prepared to end it. The most amazing thing about the entire experience (besides, of course, me) was the fact that she was just stunned that anyone would stand up to her stupid bullshit.

However, it did give me another chance to show the world that I AM AWESOME.