Davis McDavis' Top Five "Things That Offend Me"

Inspired by the insipid and tired Christians responsible for keeping Janet.'s titties off the airwaves and out of our homes, I've come up with a list of my own:

Davis McDavis' Top Five "Things That Offend Me"

1. George Lucas' beard. Face it, you have no chin, do not attempt to create one with your facial hair. And no, a large bristle-covered triple-chin a la Bruce Villanch is not the answer, either.
   
2. People who are rude to the help. He might say he's Jim, and he's happy to serve you, but in reality, he's happy to serve you so that you will leave. Being rude doesn't get you better service, it gets you more saliva on your entree. Have your order ready when he comes to the table, and leave a goddamn tip. And no, a Bible verse is not a tip, it's an irritation. MONEY is a tip.
   
3. Use of the phrase "...and all that good stuff" at the end of a sentence, such as, "Please get me the year-end sales figures and all that good stuff." It was really the weakest album the B-52's have made, and that includes Mesopotamia. No need to keep throwing that failure in my face during a business meeting.
   
4. Menus that mix up the word "mesclun" with "mescaline." They are two very different and non-interchangeable words. If you're going to "fancy up" your menu, don't do it by saying you are serving a powerful hallucinogen with a light balsamic vinaigrette.
5. See that girl over there, the one in the flip-flops with the fake Vuitton bag, talking on her cell phone? The one who has set her bag on the floor so she can take her charge card out and charge her latte, and when she bends over her thong is three inches higher than the waistband of her Juicy Couture sweatpants with JUICY written on the ass, so the entire line of people waiting behind her for their ice-blendeds has to see her ass crack AND listen to her describe to her friend every boring moment of her day leading up to this coffee purchase? Her.

That is all.

Here's Your Change, Sir. By The Way, Do You Have Any Spare Change?

I checked my mailbox at work, and amongst the mail was a pack of gum - a 30-cent pack of Wrigley's.

"Where had THAT come from?" I wondered.

Was someone trying to tell me something? I know I drink a lot of coffee, but is my breath so bad that a coworked needs to send me hints by slipping gum into my mailbox? I was dying, let me tell you. Can you imagine how horrible someone's breath has to be that you'd just slip a cheap little pack of GUM in their mailbox unannounced, in hopes they'd be shamed into chewing it? It was mortifying!

I quickly scanned the other mailboxes, and it didn't look like anyone got any gum, but I didn't want to go digging through them all lest someone walk up.

"Whatcha doin', Davis?"

"Lookin' for gum." Like it was Valentine's Day in third grade all over again, and I'm the retarded kid rooting through everyone's stuff in the cloakroom, looking for candy.

"Can I play the tambourine in music class today, Ms. Spedlick?"

Ideally, it was possible that everyone else had checked their mailboxes already, so perhaps they had all also been given gum and had already taken it. But, the absence of gum in everyone else's box pointed to an inside job, although since we have no receptionist, there's a fair amount of messengers, delivery people, and so forth wandering the halls at times.

So I rambled on with all sorts of paranoid thoughts and then I checked the rest of my mail. There was some boring work stuff and yet another woodworking catalog. (I once ordered a gift for my father, which somehow put me on the list of "people who like woodworking." In fact, for awhile I received several angry letters requesting payment for my subscription to Woodroom Magazine, except, as I gently pointed out to them, I had neither wood nor a room to put it in, so why would I have ordered a magazine about exactly those things?)

Anyway, at the bottom of the mail was a postcard - no address, no postmark - clearly just plopped in there along with the mystery gum. It was a postcard from a church called "The Journey" inviting me to their series of sermons on "Forgiveness: The Real F Word."

Which is funny, because the everyone knows the real F word is "fuck." Christians sure are stupid! Like I'm going to their church after they cast aspersions on the freshness of my breath!

In other news, I was reading this bloggger's entry about circumcision, which sadly does not contain photographs. He is apparently in full support, and wishes to add pube-trimming as an additional necessary body modification, which is kind of funny. If gay porn is to be taken as a cultural barometer - and why shouldn't it be? - then the needle is definitely swinging back to the untrimmed pube category, so it's ironic that all the straight guys are now shaving their privates as to be as slick and smooth as a Playboy bunny's coin purse.

But as for circumcision, I don't understand why it's okay to remove a child's foreskin, but not their toes. Who uses the little ones, anyway? And they are constantly catching lint.

Additionally, if God made us in his own image, why does He also wish us to remove our foreskins? Did he mess up? Or is it like the tip jar at Starbucks - "Here's your change! Now give it back!"

That is all.