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Moooooog35
The Moooooog hails from somewhere in New England and works for a large conglomerate as a professional doorman. He views life through rose-colored glasses but only because he's too lazy to clean them. Moooooog35's website
Nice Tooth, Helga PDF Print E-mail
Written by Moooooog35   
Saturday, 16 February 2008

ImageImageJust show them the lobsters…then back the f*ck away.

The Deli lady.

Three hundred pounds of two-tooth, white trash, cheese-dispensing terror.

Freaks. Me. Out. 

What’s worse than having to order my Kayem frankfurters from Helga here, is that when I approach the deli…

. . . she says “Hi” to my kids…

. . . using their real names.

I don’t like this.

I don’t like the fact that this woman sees several hundred people EVERY day for the course of a week…

. . . and remembers the names of MY two kids, who come with us to the grocery store ONCE A MONTH.

Bean Curd.
Actual Bean Curd.
(I don’t go to the grocery store with my wife often, as I usually end up filling the carriage with stuff like “Cheese-Stuffed Refried Bean Curds” and crap like that . . .

. . . My wife doesn’t like to stray from “The List” . . . and this tends to piss her off.  Thus, I find it easier to stay home and order this crap online).

In a related story, my postal carrier won’t deliver to my house anymore because of the “leakage incident.”

But I digress . . .

Kids: “Hi deli lady!”

Helga: “Hi Cam!  Hi Payton!”

Great.  I can smell her breath from here.

Interestingly, it smells like the previous deli manager.

Hey . . . where IS that guy?

Anyway . . .

Me: “Ugh.  I’d like two pounds of . . . ”

LobsterHelga: “Would you like a piece of cheese?  Would you like to see the lobsters?”

Kids: “Yaaaay!!”

I hate her.

Me: “Seriously.  Lady.  Put the f*cking cheese down and get me two pounds of . . . ”

Helga (holding up lobster): “This here is what he uses to swim with, and this is . . . ”

(I club Helga on the side of the head with a pork roast)

Seriously, lady . . .

Be a stranger.

CONTINUE to be a stranger.

This way, my children will feel fine in screaming for help and calling the police when you attempt to abduct them and turn them into bologna or, God forbid, luncheon loaf.

mmmm . . . luncheon loaf.

 




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