Press *42 for my fist in your face.
Oops. Once upon a time someone told me I’m supposed to swallow my violent tendencies. I no longer remember who that was. Oh well, must not have been anyone important.
Oh. I see I just failed. Let’s try this again.
Hey, everybody! I’ve got a great idea on how to handle to chum-bucket assholes with phones in restaurants!
There. Is that better?
I met my wife for lunch today. We do this every Tuesday, which is now the only workday (curse word) every week that I actually look forward to. I have found through painful experience that I need this weekly checkpoint. “Need” in an if-I-want-to-remain-alive sort of way.
We went to an Italian restaurant and got seated in a booth in the back rather than the cafeteria-style open seating up in front. I hate cafeteria-style open areas in restaurants. In my town that’s about all you can find. But in this case knowing the owner paid off.
It was quiet. Very quiet. So quiet you could hear other tables nearby and they were whispering.
A woman was seated by herself across from us. She was waiting for someone. She immediately whipped out her little electricon device and began fiddling with it. Shortly after that came the first of many phone calls.
I riddle you this: Why would anyone in the name of Zeus’ butthole want a ringtone that sounds exactly like the phone ringing sound of yesteryear? Really? That’s the sound you want for your evil contraption? And, why the hell is it so LOUD?
Long story short, between her and her mother the two of them were ringing and beeping through our entire meal. I rolled with it although, of course, I thought it was assholio to the max. Really? You can’t go 30 minutes without your precious device? MY PRECIOUS!
My wife, on the other hand, was none too happy. She obviously hasn’t reached my level of “let it be” consciousness yet. She was pissed and started whispering a few comments of her own. I’m pretty sure they were heard, since sound apparently travels in both direction.
Then I had my big idea. Sometimes a total lack of maturity actually works in your favor. I’m here to tell you that it’s true!
What if, next time you find yourself opposite of a phone-holio douchebag extraordinaire you try a little something like this?
Look in their direction and gaze into their eyes. Don’t be shy. I’ve heard it’s not fatal. Don’t act pissed or anything. Be as friendly as you want. But do not speak. Just be yourself. Be friendly but not too friendly. This idea aims high for creepiness but we don’t want to overdo it.
Next, grab some food on your plate. Fingers are preferable, especially if it is something like lasagne or soup. No doubt many of my regular reader (always singular) may already be sniffing what’s up. Don’t spoil it!
Cram that food shit in your fucking face hole. All the while be looking at your friend with the phone.
Mash your jaw up and down a bit while leaving your mouth open. Or, as the flavorologists like to call it with their fancy technical jargon, masticate. But don’t actually chew. Just sort of massage it for about five seconds.
Then, for the piece de resistance, dribble that shit back out onto your plate. Grunting noises are optional but may add a necessary bit of texture to the experience.
Finally, when done, look at your phone friend and say, “Eh? This doesn’t irritate you by any chance, does it?”
Whatever they say, simply shrug and say, “Well, you have the right to answer your phone every two minutes and I have the right to eat my food. Isn’t freedom a glorious thing? God bless America!”
Then go back in for another handful of foods. Delicious!
Now that I think about it, I think I smell a whole line of YouTube videos featuring this technique. Yeah, I’m gonna be a star!