I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Teabagging at Burger King

The smells emanating from the kitchen are taking a toll on my insides. It’s lunchtime and I am starving. There are only two cashiers open and 20 ravenous customers waiting in line. We’re hungry and we want food, now.

My phone rings as I approach the head of the line. I pick up.

“Hey.”

“Hey, what’s up? Aren’t you at work?”

“Yeah. I have a question for you: What is teabagging?”

Come again? Did I hear that correctly?

“What?” I almost hiss into the handset.

“I came across it on your site and I didn’t know what it was. So, what’s teabagging?”

Some of my friends have gone beyond the general pleasantries of phone calls and get right to the point. That is why I love them as much as a mixed drink with a piece of fruit swimming in the booze.

“Uh, I can’t answer that right now since I am waiting in line at Burger King.” Turning my head around, I look at the other people in line. “And, if I’m next, I’m afraid I’ll order a Whopper meal with a side of teabagging.”

She giggles.

“I’ll give you a call in five minutes with an explanation. Ok?”

“Fine.”

Click.

After my order is placed, and the food is served (why they didn’t top off my fries is beside me – I paid for a full meal, not 80% of one), I walk to the quieter upstairs section of the restaurant and dial my friend’s phone number. It rings.

“Hey, I’m back.”

“Don’t worry. I already asked someone at the office and they told me what it meant.”

“Are you sure they were right?”

“Well, if it’s what I think it is, then…” she giggles.

“So, you know it’s the process of, uh, descending/dangling one’s grits onto another’s grill,” I say just loud enough for the other patrons to hear me.

The giggles stop and the laughing starts.

“Hey, I’m at Burger King! What did you expect from me?” True, I am the king of PG-13 euphemisms. I could’ve used the words meat and potatoes, or something more lascivious, but I didn’t. I’m a gentleman, damnit.

“Ok, ok, enough,” she says between laughs.

“Now that you know what teabagging is, I’ll let you go and get back to your work. That is, if you can get that word out of your head.”

“Ok,” she giggles. “See you later.”

“See you on Tuesday.”

Me and my friends. Me and my phone calls. The two are inexplicably linked.

Hopefully, next time, when someone calls me, they’ll be asking if I want a time-share in Florida. Now there’s a call I can handle anytime and anywhere.

1 Comments:

Blogger whatsthebuzz said...

That is hysterical! Hey...it could be even worse. You could have a small child with you, who decides to announce to everyone that the large man in front of you, just farted.

December 19, 2005 1:58 am  

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