Kentucky Fried Retard

What the hell happened to the quality of fast food service in this country?

Seriously, I wanna know. I think it's a sad day indeed when I can't stroll into the restaurant of my choice, place a simple order, and get what I asked for. And I want to make it clear up front that I'm not one of those "Number 2, hold the lettuce and mayo, and add pickles and extra mustard" douchebags who fuck it up for everyone else-- if I do place a special order, it's plain. Chicken sandwich, plain. Baconator, plain. I either want the default sandwich or fucking nothing on it. That simple.

Yet, somehow, it seems that every time I order anything from anywhere anymore, it's wrong. And truth be told, this bewilders the fuck out of me. I understand that food service, and especially fast food service, is a shit job. It sucks! I get that. But since when is a degree in astro-fuck-physics a McDonald's job requirement? Last I checked, it went something like this:

Fast Food Service Requirements:
A Compendium
by Teh Boughnaa

• Breathing
• Basic English
• "Would you like fries with that?"

DONE AND DONE.

Case in point: I like chicken. I get off work and think to myself, "Damn! I could really go for some popcorn chicken!" So, off I go to the local KFC. I'm in a good mood-- no, a GREAT mood, despite the fact that I have now witnessed the horror that is the new CMS system for the university (more on that nonsense in another post). I'm polite, I'm holding the door for the old dude-- shit, I even let a nice woman cut in line in front of me because I needed a minute to scan the menu to see what this was gonna cost. Five bucks for the combo, which includes potato wedges? Hot DAMN! This is a good day.

So I wait oh-so-very patiently, and it takes ten minutes to take the orders of the two people in front of me.

Urge to kill: 10%

Another ten minutes later, they have their food and it's my turn.

Urge to kill: 30%

TB: Teh Boughnaa
KFR: Kentucky Fried Retard

KFR: "Hi, can I help you?"
TB: "Yes-- I'd like the popcorn chicken combo." (Note: the board advertises this as the "Popcorn Chicken Combo." To my knowledge, it's the only one they have.)
KFR: "Which one?"
TB: "Um... the one on the board there."

Urge to kill: 50%

KFR: "Oh! Okay! The special is the chipotle chicken combo! It's spicy."

Ding ding ding! We have a winner! I didn't even know they had that!

Urge to kill: 0%... and falling

TB: "Cool-- I want that. To go."
KFR: "Okay, biscuits or cornbread?" (Aside-- this combo comes with POTATO WEDGES and a pop. Nothing else.)
TB: "Um... biscuits?"
KFR: "Okay-- and what two sides do you want?"
TB (realizing that KFR has completely misinterpreted my order and thinks I'm ordering something else): "No, I want the POPCORN CHICKEN."

Urge to kill: 90%

KFR: "OH! Okay... and you want the drink?"
TB: "I thought the combo CAME with a drink."
KFR: "Oh yeah, it does. For here?"

Urge to kill: NO LONGER A MERE URGE

I want to make a pact with you people. Seriously-- the next time some fucking burger drone is asleep standing up and trying to take your order... just kill them. Let's make fast food a better place.

Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, tits, fart, turd and twat

So, on Sunday, George Carlin pissed off this mortal coil, thereby degrading the quality of our stand-up comedy forever.

I literally grew up with George Carlin-- that probably explains quite a lot about the person I've become. Everything about the man was vulgar, grotesque and vile... and I wouldn't have it any other way.

So, in tribute to the man who told us about scabs on our heads, people who need a good killing and of course the seven words you can't say on tv... I give you this.

Enjoy.

Blog gets new look

Now with more emo!

Well, not really, but it does look like something out of an emo kid's wet dream. And it does have a shiny new favicon (oooooh). However, if you complain loudly enough, I'll go back to the old look.

I'm lonely

Two years ago I would have given anything, up to and including my favorite testicle (the right), to live alone.

I finally get to do it. And it blows dead goats.

I'm engaged, and we lived together for the last year. There were times I was exceedingly miserable but I endured and wound up being okay with it. However, gas prices have driven my other home for carpooling purposes (she works full time), and the apartment is mine.

And at first, it was sweet, sweet bliss.

I did whatever I wanted to do. I did all the things that piss her off, and received no punishment. No complaint. Not even a "Stop it." I was free, free at last... and I had no one to share it with.

I can only watch reruns of The Office so many times by myself. And I love gaming, but it's no fun when I've beaten everything I have and I'm too broke for new stuff. I don't even enjoy my Netflix subscription the way I used to.

I want my roomie back.

Why rant?

People ask me all the time, "Hey Boughnaa, why do you always rant and rave like a cracked-out paranoid schizo?"

Well... actually, no one asks me that. I just thought it'd be a good lead-in.

But, to answer... um... my question, I guess, I dunno why I rant. Let's see if we can figure this out...

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I simply dislike people. A person is fine with me-- it's people as a whole that really get under my skin. Most of the time, I rant because as I went about my day, minding my own business, something just jumped out at me and annoyed the living daylights outta me. And by nature I'm also very introverted, and so I just sit and seethe until whatever annoyed me becomes my Private Enemy No. 1.

I think this blog has a lot to do with those things. I need an outlet-- hell, everyone does. And since I'm far too lazy for sports or excercise... it's gotta be something I can do on my butt. Anything done on a PC fills that requirement just fine.

So mostly this is my outlet. I have to admit though... it's a lot of fun, making an ass out of myself in front of a global audience.

Robots Part II: Implications

After some time spent thinking about the issue, I've decided to rant a bit about this. (For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, scroll down and read the previous post.) I've decided that this whole robot situation is a horrible idea.

"But, Boughnaa! I want a robot slave to do my bidding and play with my naughty bits on command!"

Well, dear sexual deviant, I want one too, but I don't think anyone deserves one until we can work a few issues out.

For starters, let's perfect human rights before we have to deal with the philosophy of machine's rights.

"But, Boughnaa! Machines don't have rights!"

Well, no, they don't... not yet. But they will, if actual personalities could be developed as the previously posted article suggests. After all, we regard our pets as property, but our pets have rights-- they are living creatures, capable of feeling pain. When machines are given the ability to converse intellegently, to laugh, to love... they will have been given the greatest gift we have to give.

They'll also be cursed with our emotional baggage.

Picture it-- a robot with emotional problems! Separation anxiety! When a machine can love, a machine can feel, and when that time comes we're going to have a philosophical crisis on our hands, and we're bloody well going to have to resolve it quickly-- I know we've all seen the Matrix and the Terminator.

There's just one problem with those movies-- they aren't very realistic.

The machines will process data and communicate billions of times faster than humans can. And I promise you that if all this nonsense comes about... we're going to lose.

So let's wrap up our baggage before we try to play God with robots. Please?

Researchers predict robots to become lovers

In other news, researchers don't get laid. EVAR.

Original article (dsc.discovery.com)

The bulk of the article is about how

"The field of human-computer conversation is crucial to building robots with whom humans could fall in love, but is lagging behind other areas of development..."

Apparently, researchers would rather talk to a robot than you. And that's only the beginning!

TEH FUTURE OF LOVE AND SEXY-TIME
(according to some retard researcher)
In the future, people will:

• become so dull and uninteresting that we'll talk to robots!
• become so fickle and materialistic that we'll fall in love with our robots (and toss them in the dumpster when we break up)
• become so hideous and malformed from smoking/alcoholism/genetics that we'll fuck the robots!

Whoa, wait. What? Seriously? That's just... no. No way. This is where I draw the line-- I'm calling bullshit. Unless that means I can design my own robo-hottie who'll shut her mouth and do housework naked*...

Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.

* - Seriously, I'm not that bigoted. Stow the hate mail.

Study: Friday the 13th not actually unlucky

Yep, you read it right-- some dickhead actually spent money to study whether Friday the 13th was actually more unlucky than other days. Sometimes, the stupidity of humans can truly be astounding.

This reminds me of another study I once read about-- American scientists (or whoever thinks up this ridiculous crap) actually spent $10,000 to study the reason prison inmates wanted to escape prison. To think, they could have called up any one of us for like five bucks. Of course prisoners want to escape prison. Why? IT'S FUCKING PRISON!!

"Welcome to my tiny, boring cell that I am held in against my will.... Of course not! Why should I want to escape?" Ah, poor prisoner, speak naught of the lack of things to do, or the tiny space, or the bland food, or even the big guy named "Peaches" who stares at you in the shower... none of those could possibly be reasons for escape.

It really aggravates me when organizations/governments/whomever the fuck decide to piss away large amounts of cash that I could really use in my life to go "study" some stupid shit. I guarantee you that I can piss money away just as efficiently as they can, and yet in the end, I'll have much more to show for it.

Dutch study shows Friday 13th not more unlucky

The above link will take you to the lunacy. Now, consider that the Dutch spent tons of money to figure out that Friday the 13th is actually less accident-prone than the average day. I will arrive at the same conclusion using nothing more than my razor sharp wit and three minutes of my time.

Superstition tells us that Friday the 13th is the most unholy of days, with regards to luck. Therefore, it can be concluded most human beings would be less prone to take action that could result in mishap on Friday the 13th than any other day.

Example:
Let's pretend you're watching BBC News, and you hear that the European Union has unanimously voted on changing over to green energy sources by some arbitrary date. You, being the savvy businessperson you are, do some research and discover that a small company that produces and install solar cells and panels has just gone public. You decide to buy some stock in this little startup and cash in on some of that phat lewt... when suddenly, it hits you!

"Today's Friday the 13th," you say to yourself. Suddenly, this little startup doesn't look so promising. It looks like pestilence, death, famine and despair. You pass on the opportunity.

Time goes by, and you find that the company you passed on has become the dominant supplier of solar energy producing equipment in the EU, and their stock is selling for over 3000% of the buying price you gave up on. Kick yourself for the rest of your days fuckwit, cuz Friday the 13th just owned your sorry ass.

The reason Friday the 13th is luckier than other days? Because humans are scared of everything.

People are sad and disgusting

I'm writing this on my lunch break. I have just borne witness to one of the saddest and most disgusting displays I have ever seen in my entire life.

It should have been funny. It really wasn't.

Today I decided to hit Wendy's for my sub-par lunch as I'm broke, they have a dollar menu, and I like chicken nuggets. I got way more for my three bucks than I bargained for.

The first thing that hits me as I walk in is the line. I HATE lines. Just as my aggravation registers, I notice the participants in the line. They are, in order:

• one skinny, badly bleached blonde mobile home superstar... wearing a tube top,
• one large, sweaty man wearing dirty clothes and a camo hat, from under which a braided rat tail dangles hilariously,
• one large, sweaty woman (dubbed TrashMom) wearing clothes that are WAY too tight, sporting the craziest femullet I've ever laid eyes on, and just to top things off...
• one half-naked, crying three-year-old.

In the words of Carl from ATHF, "Ohhhhhh, good." Trailer court luncheon.

The rugrat initially has the bulk of my attention, and for good reason-- crying children, especially in public locales, are fucking annoying as hell. This being the case, I cannot help but observe the source of all that terrible sound, and I find myself with a startling revelation:

This is a half-naked three-year-old GIRL.

It's the dirty skirt thing that gives it away. This article of clothing was probably light blue at some point; it is now off-gray, with holes scattered hither and yon. It is worth noting that the skirt is the only visible clothing present on the child-- no shirt, no shoes, no service MY ASS.

At least TrashMom is getting training started early-- this little one will be a trailer-trash slut long before she drops out of high school.

My intrigue turns to TrashMom-- who dresses their child this way?

I wish I'd never asked.

Remember hair metal? Yeah, you do. Now think hard-- remember hair metal fans? 80's hair metal fans? Like ones who looked like pit bulls and didn't wash their bleached out mullets?

You're on the right track.

Plus, you know those women who insist on wearing clothes intended for thin teenagers... who weigh 200+ lbs?

Combine the two... and that's what I saw. *involuntary shudder*

At this point, I'm in shock. My thought is, "Did you honestly wander out into public this way? With your kid looking like this? Am I on tv?"

Then, it got worse.

TrashMom's next in line. Her order: 2 small french fries.

..................... meh?

Allow me to enlighten you, lady-- that's a CHILD. French fries are NOT a suitable diet for small children! I understand that you may not have much money, but honestly, you could be doing better things with that $1.19. Allow me to demonstrate:

French fries begin their lives as potatoes. So far, we're on the right track-- potatoes = vegatables = good. However, there's a problem-- french fries are FRIED POTATOES. Everything that was good and wholesome about that potato was demolished by that 4000 degree fry-o-lator filled with grease in the back. French fries are greasy and salty, and will certainly help your child grow OUTWARD, but not UPWARD.

For that same $1.19, you could have gone to Sheetz and purchased TWO (2, dos, II) hot dogs. Granted, hot dogs are not the healthiest things on Earth, but they have a few distinct advantages over french fries:

• Meat (well, sort of... STILL BETTER THAN FRENCH FRIES)
• A bun-- bun = bread = WIN
• Toppings, many of which are derived from vegetables in such a manner that they are left with their basic nutrients

Clearly, we have a winner-- hot dogs > french fries.

The beauty of the above argument is that we're still being very irresponsible about this. Ideally, TrashMom would save the money she spends on fast food and buy... wait for it... ACTUAL FOOD!!! I mean, whatever happened to beanie-weenies? What's that, like $.42 a serving?? This goes for everyone-- I don't care how you feed yourself, because you have to deal with the consequences. How you feed your kids is another matter-- THEY DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER. And apparently, neither does she.

Sadly, this tale doesn't end here. I order my food, get it and leave, and spot TrashMom in the parking lot pushing a stroller. Well, fine. I can't say anything about not driving-- even if I could I probably wouldn't because I can't afford it. What got me was what was in the stroller.

Stroller Contents:
One laundry basket, containing:

• clothes
• toys
• no child

Go back and read that again. Yep, that's right-- the kid walked (BAREFOOT!!!!!) while the clothes and toys got a ride.

And that's when the whole situation just entirely stopped being at all funny.

So remember kids, the next time you read about how a substantial percentage of American citizens are fat and have myriad STD's and can't do basic math and have no knowledge of history-- or hell-- the current state of the world we live in... just think about TrashMom pushing her clothes around in a stroller while her barefoot, half naked kid walks around on hot asphalt, heading toward a nutritious meal of Wendy's french fries.

And you people wonder why I've no faith in humanity.

Technology I use to keep from keeling over from boredom

So, this is the post where I pretend that my reader gives a shit about me and the things I like. In honor of this, I'm going out of my way to produce a list of technology that is pleasing to me. Feel free to not read any of this because, even though I have no talent, Captain Friendship is more amusing.

PC HARDWARE:
Laptops/motherboards by MSI
CPU's by Intel
Memory by Corsair
Graphics by Nvidia
HDD's by Samsung
DVD-ROM by Lite On
Sound by Creative
Input devices by Logitech

PC SOFTWARE:
Ubuntu Linux
WINE
Mozilla Firefox
Spybot: Search and Destroy
Pidgin
Virtual Box
DAEMON Tools
DVD Shrink

PC GAMES:
Hellgate: London
Heroes of Might and Magic 5
Enemy Territory: Quake Wars
Counter Strike
Portal
Kingdom of Loathing

WEBSITES:
Google
Newgrounds
XKCD
Tomorrow's Nobody
Forced Attrition
Encyclopedia Dramatica (WARNING: NSFW)
Explosm (Home of Cyanide and Happiness)

This blog was set up in Firefox 3, running under Ubuntu, kernel version 2.6.24-18-generic. It is therefore optimized to function best under similar conditions. If the formatting is off, or if it just plain looks silly, you're viewing it wrong-- it's your problem, not mine. Get a superior browser and see if that solves the problem. If it doesn't, complaints/concerns may be directed to the nearest inanimate object.

... more to be added if I think of anything. I'm sick of this for now.

Stuff I made: Captain Friendship

So, since this is to become my new haven for posting my psychotic rants, musings and random creations, I feel it's only appropriate that I archive my insanely popular (among three people (myself included)) Adventures of Captain Friendship series. Note to anyone who's never heard of it-- you'll never get all the jokes. Don't even try. They don't make sense anyway.

And so, without further ado...

Episode One
Episode Two
Episode Three
Episode Four
Episode Five
Episode Six

At long last, my need to blog outweighs my hatred of social networking sites

Since we all know that Myspace and Facebook are devil-spawned cesspools of filth and despair, we avoid them like the plagues they are. But, dear reader (and I know there's only one of you), without them, how can I preach my insanity to the masses?

Thank Bob for Blogger.

Using this, I can now rant and rave without having to harness the powers of way too much evil (even for me), and maybe show off some creative retarded creative whatnots along the way.

So, in closing, I'm back. Look for updates in the very near future.

Seriously.

I mean it this time.

Really.

Please?