Succumbing to a guilty pleasure

"When you ain't got no money, you gotta get an attitude..."

-Richard Pryor

...or, sometimes, you have an attitude because you're a dick, or you insecure, or whatever. But not Richard Pryor. He was an incredible talent, and will be missed.

No, at the moment I'm speaking of a douche bag that I work with (by the way, Richard Pryor has a great bit about his grandmother's douche. So, whenever you're in the mood for some filthy comedy, look it up).

Anyway, some people just love the thrill of picking a fight. All the time. I work on a restaurant line, and this clown that I work with forgot to put carmelized onions on a burger. No big deal. "Brandon," I said, very politely, "this needs carmelized onions."

He gave that smug, could-give-a-shit look, and said to me, "Then put them on there." This 'tude is a constant ordeal with this "badass."

So I slapped some onions on the flat top grill and said, "Put these on the goddamn burger when they're ready," and I went back to my post.

I'm getting to the point of this. I realize that I sound like I bitch and moan a lot by posting a blog about somebody I have a grudge against. Well, my point is to satisfy a guilty pleasure. I will do this by sharing the following story on a public forum. Yeah, it's petty, but what the hell. So here goes:

Last Sunday, Brandon had to leave work early because his hand hurt. After he left, Some of the other cooks and I came to the realization that Brandon always seems to get an injury whenever the Cowboys play. Hmmm.

So, we decided that he was either full of crap, or that he was just a big sissy posing as a tough guy. So, we asked him what happened to his hand. "Oh," he replied, "I ran into my boy's counter" (by "boy," Brandon was referring to his "friend" using his hip urban slang. Because Brandon is a tough guy).

Well, Brandon's little brother works with me as well, and the two don't care much for each other at times. They have a complex love/hate relationship that really doesn't matter right now. What matters is that I got the whole story from Brandon's brother. According to him, Brandon did not run "into a counter." No, apparently Brandon got in a fight with his girlfriend. "She completely laid him out," the brother explained. So! The truth comes to light! The walking testosterone got beat up by a girl!

I decided that sharing this with every single coworker was not enough. Only by erecting a billboard alongside the internet superhighway will I fulfill this guilty pleasure. I'm only human.