Saturday, October 14, 2006
I live in an up-scale neighbourhood so I assumed pickles wouldn't be too important in the scheme of things. In fact I presumed their would one or two pickles, or maybe three, I would have to judge. So I was taken somewhat aback when I walked into the park and saw a sign on the biggest tent which read: The Pickle Palace. Oh oh.
I meekly walked up to someone sitting behind a table and said: "I'm the pickle judge". "whom?" "the pickle judge". "do you have credentials?" "er, no my neighbour asked me to show up at this time and judge the pickles". "what do you know pickles?" "they were once cucumbers and they come in jars?" "ah you are an expert, here's your judge badge, and the mickey of vodka you will need to get through it ". "I don't need a mickey of vodka" "trust me, just trust me you will".
I love a slice of pickle with my grilled cheese sandwich. And perhaps with a hamburger. Booth #1: :Ah, you have pickles, where are they from?" "my balcony" "ah, you haven't travelled a long a way" "let me taste one, mmh, very good" Booth #2: "how are you?" "my pickles are peppered" "peppered?" "your local?" "no I'm from Pitquane" "so you have Pitquane pickled peppers?" "they will knock your socks off" "I"m sure, I'll taste one". Booth #3: "are these pickled peppers? "no, these are peppered pickles". "by the way what is the difference between a pickled pepper and a peppered pickle?" "I have no idea but taste one, you are the judge" (vodka drink #1). Booth #4: "why are these called potent peppered pickles?" "because my pappy pete picked them" "that doesn't explain the potent" "taste them" (hork, cough, cough, vodka drink #2) Booth #5: "ah petite petter pickers" "no these are small peckered pickles, judge, taste one" "ah delicate but yet poignant" "aren't they, they are pickled testicle's of porcupines" (hack, hork, cough, barf, vodka slurp #3) Booth #6: "do you have a pickle, I love pickles, I'd date a pickle" "I have pickles" "these are petite pickles" " "I have a sudden urge to eat, can I eat them all and give you the blue ribbon?" "aren't they good, they are petite pickled penguins pads (Vodka finish it up #4). "who are you?" "Patricia" "do you have a drink Patricia?" "no but I have a pickle" "you win"
I actually got a chuckle out of Kev this morn at 7:30 am (your time). He works Saturday. Poor baby.
For me it's a constant dread of Monday mornings. So almost all the time I don't bother. I've worked more monday's than almost anyone. I'm proud of that. When I do work Monday's this is how look.
Editors note: Uncle Don has got up many Monday's and just couldn't do it. He has the worst job in the history of mankind and on Monday's it just doesn't work.