He's At It Again

I flipped through the stations on my radio tonight on my way home from teaching class. I unfortunately came across some "Intelligence For Your Life" with John Tesh. Is this wack-ass sissy boy ALWAYS on the radio?! Christ.. So he was offering morsels of advice to listeners about how to be responsible about spending. Thanks, John, I'll start from refraining purchasing any of your CD's....EVER. He advised people who tended to spend excessively to hold off on showing off when it comes to paying the bar tab or restaurant bill. He said it was better to spend on donating to a worthy cause. His exact words were, and I quote, "Sorry, guys! I can't pick up the tab tonight because I just gave money to stop genocide in Darfur." At which point his buddies will pummel his nut sack because Philanthropy Phil just drank a bottle of Cristal, 14 shots of Patron tequila, and two double orders of 150 year-old aged Scotch. Nice of you to be so generous BEFORE your Kiefer Sutherland drinking jag at the bar. Asshole lush.

Have you ever been out with someone who NEVER picks up the tab? Call it tyrannosaurus rex arms or being a tightwad fuckface, any way you cut it, you try to avoid having dinner anywhere other than White Castle with this douche wad. This person has to take a 25 minute shit right when the check comes. Or even accept a collect call from their dying third cousin in the Bahamas. It is equally annoying as shit when you are out with someone who is aware they are broke as a joke so they ask if they can split the side salad with you. Shouldn't you have made me aware you would be trying to pay with food stamps BEFORE we hit Charlie Trotter's restaurant, where our meal will conservatively cost $500? Please don't sit next to me, I'll catch up with you at the hostess stand on the way out. I hear you can eat all the mints you want that are in the jar by the toothpicks. Go to town, you broke-ass mother fucker.

I am not saying you can't treat your friends once in awhile. Lord knows there was a time when eating luxuriously (read: something other than an order of Biggie Fries from Wendy's for lunch..) never occurred to me. I enjoy a good meal, maybe not as pretentious as you would think. If the maitre'd looks you up and down and wonders if your Gucci purse is real (it's not), if your shoes are Yves St. Laurent (real but old as hell), your hair is naturally highlighted (get fucking real), and if your boobs are real (fake as my highlights), I have no time for that bullshit. Give me a decent menu, moderately priced wine and drink list, no place settings with more utensils than a surgeon getting ready to give Star Jones a tummy tuck, and a nice person to talk to and I'm a happy bitch. I've had amazing food at hole in the wall quirky places and crap on a plate at some over-priced eateries. Don't judge a book by its cover. Unless the book has John Tesh on the cover and he's there signing copies. Tell him you donated your extra money to support the sweat shops in Bangkok that produce your fake purse addiction. Hey, at least you're not spending it on REAL bags. At least THAT'S financially responsible. And that's MY Intelligence for Your life..