Voodoo Doughnut

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Okay, so I had another birthday which is getting to be a habit in my opinion of it, and besides, I’m not what you call a sprung chicken any more to look at me. Even a guy like me who spends most of the time above his mind still has to deal with ending up being grouped with a bunch of old geezers which is no picnic, let me tell you. But I won’t write about geezers again due to the fact that I already wrote about them and you can read them here if you want.

Anyway, like I was saying before I interrupted myself with geezers, I had another birthday and so some people who felt sorry for me forced me to celebrate it because they thought that if they forced me to have a good time I might end up actually having one without noticing. It started with a woman who is British but who chucked England to move to this great country of America, mostly out of love I think, but that may be overshooting the issue. But even though she lives in America she still pretends to talk with a British accent to make us real Americans feel inferior to her. But do you think I fall for that old trick? You bet I don’t. Whenever she tries to pull off that accent on me I just remind her that England lost the Civil War and she isn’t fooling anybody. She just stares at me like I’m out of lunch or something which is another proof that America is better than England for the pure reason that Americans don’t even have to have something to say to have a comeback. But to her credit, she did make some homemade chocolate truffles for me for my birthday. This kind of thing helps me put up with her.

So on my actual birthday I went up with some guys to Portland to see the Portland Trailblazers play basketball for money. We sat with a bunch of crazy people who had these blow-up sausage things that they banged together to make the other team miss baskets. I don’t know if it worked but it sure gave me a headache. In the second half of the game it got so bad I stood up and yelled for everybody to put those stupid things away. Then some cheerleader jiggled over to me and handed me a couple of those sausages and gave me this big smile. So as soon as she jiggled away I crammed those blowup sausages under my chair in protest of using sex to lure people to cheering.

Anyway, after the game we decided to go to the famous donut place called Voodoo Doughnut. And the first thing I noticed is two things. The first first thing I noticed is that they spelled donut wrong. I’m guessing that the sign guy made a mistake and it just cost too much to fix it. That can happen in the donut business. And the second first thing I noticed is that their name has only one donut in it. This made me wonder if people were just expected to some into the store and buy a piece of this one big donut. Well, it turns out that there were a gazillion kinds of donuts in the store so I guess when the sign guy put those extra letters in donut they ran out of room for the s at the end. This can also happen in the donut business.

But before we could even get inside, we had to wait outside in this super long line. Supposedly this is a famous place and so people go there just to say they went there even if they don’t like donuts in the first place. This means there were probably a bunch of fake donut people in that line, but you can’t just take somebody’s poll and find out who is a fake or not so you’re stuck waiting behind a bunch of people you know are probably fakes but can’t do anything about it.

So while we’re waiting outside in the dark (due to the fact that it was night by now), there were all kinds of homeless people who were trying to get money off of the line waiters. They used to be called bums, which made them easier to deal with, but now they have to be homeless due to the fact that some bleeding head literal is trying to save the world or some dumb thing like that. I already wrote about street people before so I’m not going to go off on them again here, but you can read what I said here if you want a more fragrant perspective.

Anyway, once we got inside the store we had to wait in line for a long time there too. But it was warmer in there and you could distract yourself by looking at all the donut options and kind of being glad that the street guys were stuck outside and you weren’t. This is another cool thing about America: you can have a sense of superiority just by being in a donut shop that somebody else isn’t. In England you had to have an empire to do that, or have tea which is kind of a lame substitute if you ask me.

So when it was finally my turn, I ordered a lemon chiffon crueller, which is a kind of curly donut with frosting on it and three marshmallows in the middle like a nest or something. It cost like ten bucks or less. I couldn’t believe how much they were raking me for it, but they have the line thing down pat. By the time you get up front you’re willing to plop down anything just to get a donut, even if it’s spelled wrong. That expensive donut took me about a minute to eat and so I figure it cost me about a buck every ten seconds I had it in my mouth.

When I had eaten that expensive donut I thought above my mind about it for a couple of minutes. Which is how I figured out why they most likely named the place Voodoo donuts.

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One Response

  1. Crazy man! I love it… 🙂

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