Drive Thru

The West Was Not Won On Salad

This morning we woke up at eight. A very rare occurrence, thats happened maybe three times in the last couple years. I was ecstatic, but couldn't help stressing a bit about why George is still asleep. My mind went in the worst direction. I thought about him walking around with dental floss yesterday, and I didn't know where it ended up, and how floss would be a terrible strangulation hazard.
As I pondered him possibly taking the floss with him to bed, tangling himself up in it, leading to our sleeping in, I weighed it against me going to his room and checking on him, accidentally waking him up, and possibly disrupting a great new sleep schedule. While assessing the pros and cons, I heard him stir. I let out a sigh of relief. And then relaxed while I milked a couple extra minutes thinking about stuff.
Yesterday I saw a bumper sticker when I was driving to Taco Bell with George. It read, "Warning: keep your dick beaters off my bronco," there was a drawing of a hand with an x over it. The car was an OJ Simpson white bronco. It had other stickers, but they were hardly as amusing, like "Fuck Cancer" with birthdate and death dates underneath it. When we were in the drive thru a small car in front of us had a sticker that read, "Eat Beef, the west wasn't won on salad." I just don't get it. Maybe there is a historical joke linked to it, and I'm uninformed, so I'm outside the joke, or maybe the joke is literal, that salad is for weaklings, but constipation is no joke.
Remember in Lethal Weapon 2 when Joe Pesci rants about how they always fuck you in the drive thru? I had one of those moments yesterday because I ordered a large diet coke. The lady asked if Diet Pepsi was ok, and I said yes. As I drove away, I took a sip, and was hit with the taste of real sugar. "What the fuck! Is this diet?"
I don't order Diet Dr. Pepper in drive thrus because it's impossible to tell the difference between diet and regular, so a 700 calorie soda is being tallied up as zero in my mind. I ended up drinking the possible regular Pepsi because I couldn't keep my dick beaters off of it.

The other day when I was at work, I started chatting with the guy who frequently sits across from me. I found out he's an Adjunct English professor. I asked him if he's a writer, and he said, "I am, but I mainly write screenplays."
In my head, I said, "No shit!" and then let him know I'm working on a screenplay. We talked about writing, books about screen writing, and our past careers. He worked at a small film studio in LA, and then as an agent for screen writers and directors. The moment was serendipitous for sure. He said he'd love to read what I wrote and give feedback. I'm beyond excited for this opportunity. Its a bit like being handed a soda from the drive thru, unsure if it's the real deal, but having to drink it because it's impossible not to grab at the dangling carrot. For some people, that carrot is a chance encounter with an industry expert, and for others, its a white Bronco from 1990.