greenideas

Ways to get frustration off your chest if your team is not in the playoffs.
1.
Walk into a convenience store with your sweatpants on and bristle about having to wear a "monkey suit" to a wedding that night, then mop your brow and demand to see all the fancy colognes they carry. If they hesitate to answer you for even one second, say, "Sorry I'm not as pretty as you, Fuck Apple. Sheesh." Once you make your purchase, clap your hands loudly at the front door like you're getting dust off of them and say "Good bye and Good night." Roll your eyes. Then go sit in your car for eleven minutes, walk back in and ask if they've got a free toilet a member of the tax-paying public could use. Then say, "Maybe you call it a throne, Weisenheimer? The can? That ring a bell? Get me to it, ASAP." Then bounce up and down on your toes. That ought to make you feel a little better about the year Cleveland had.
2.
Call up a sports radio show and complain about how all you ever hear about is "Barry this and Barry that." When they ask what you're referring to, ask if they feel like getting sued "big time." Then demand to speak to the station manager. When they hang up, drive to the station immediately. Wear a three-piece suit. The door will most likely be glass, so pound on it till it really rattles. Someone with a pained look on his face will answer the door. Throw 'em a curveball, and claim that you are there to help 'em celebrate a birthday. When asked whose, yell "Vicki's, you fucking deadbeat." Sneer. Take the guy to Shoney's. Pull out a six-pack of Miller Lite when the waitress turns her back and wink at your new pal. Say, "This is the firewater you crave, isn't it? Now gimme that goddamn AA token." Then fidget and add, "Vicki must be running late, whaddaya say we go at it like a couple of rabbits at the Quality Inn, my treat?" The cops should be there by then, but you haven't broken any major laws, so you should be back on the streets in time for the 2002 season.
3.
Call a local elementary school and ask if they are in the market for a summersault specialist. If they are confused, ask really sarcastically if they've ever heard of "a little class I call gym?" Then say what you really want to know is this: "I have this black lab puppy, okay? And he's really smart. Now, I know and you know that he can't talk. So that's one hurdle. That's a given. But I think this son-of-a-buck could be in the third grade. Let's try him in your third-grade class. Cursive is gonna be a bitch, but he really has spark. Recess won't be a problem. Finding his way home, again, no problem. Art, no problem. He's had more shots than a lot of those brats, so we're clear there. He sings, too. Makes stuff with hot caramel. Knows the Charleston. Do you know the Charleston?" You will get hung up on. From that moment on, until the opening day kickoff, try and play the air keyboards wherever you go, especially church. Really hammer them. Squint and snort. Start saying "Bango," at inappropriate moments, like the middle of a speech your daughter might be giving.