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Fat Cats and colons

  It was lunchtime by the Miller Hill Mall, and my husband and I divided the kids between us. He took the older two to Old Country Buffet, where they enjoy making multiple trips to the dessert bar. I took the 3-year-old to Starbuck’s in Barnes & Noble, where we could eat quickly and then visit the toy train in the children’s book section.
  While I ate my sandwich, my thoughts were unable to be louder than the conversation occurring behind me. From what I could gather, a man in his 20s and his father had been eating lunch. Then an elderly gentleman who knew them, but just a little, stopped by to give his medical report. And there was more.
  “I have bad news,” the old man said. “So-and-so Johnson is dying.”
  “Who?” the father asked.
  “I don’t know who that is,” the 20-something said to hid dad.
  There were several minutes of confusion, then the old man: “Oh, did I say ‘Johnson’? I meant ‘Olson.’”
  “Oh,” the father said. He kind of knew who that was.
  Then the elderly man went into a long description of Mr. Olson’s health problems. “They had to remove half his colon,” he said.
  The loud story had been going on for some time, but it was at this point that I thought it appropriate to turn my head around with a “hey, I’m trying to eat” look. No one noticed. Ah well.
  Eventually, the father said he had to leave. “I was just trying to finish my book here when you stopped by,” he said. Ouch.
  That evening, I mentioned this conversation to my husband. Coincidentally, he had a similar story to tell.
  “There was a man in the booth next to us,” he said. “I couldn’t see him, but he was talking about the results of the Iowa caucus. In the span of about 5 minutes, he used the term ‘Fat Cats’ at least nine times. ‘Now the Fat Cats will see who has the power’ ... ‘Now the Fat Cats will know they can’t get away with this.’”
  The man’s passionate political diatribe grew louder, and then he started peppering his opinions with “hell.” Not knowing where this was headed, my husband took the opportunity to move with the kids to eat dessert at a different table.
  It was then that he got a look at the guy, a man in a trucker cap who weighed about 400 pounds. It seemed funnier then, him calling someone a Fat Cat.
  It’s good to have common interest with your spouse. Apparently, one thing my husband and I have in common is being annoyed by people and their loud stories.


....."you talking to me?!" ...oh...gawd, talk a little louder why don't ya..you could always just say right out loud..."why don't you shove that blue tooth up your bum" cuz you know they aren't listening anyway...i always make a public conversation totally worthwhile for the passing stranger...it is the least anyone can do

I just want to say that I enjoyed that post

I just LOVE hearing people's loud conversations, particularly on cell phones -- NOT!!! At least a live conversation is live; loud cell phone ones just annoying. I like to think that the rest of the world doesn't necessarily want to hear about my life and business, particularly if they can only hear my end of the conversation.

Whenever I eat out I am quickly reminded that you do not choose who you eat with when dining out. One day I remember this person that I would love to see dead sat down two tables away. Oh I would never do or say anything I figure mother nature takes care of us all in due time.
However, I sure as hell would never sit in the same room as this person on purpose. BTW that fat guy with the truck driver hat sounds like someone who used to speak in front of the city council quite ofter. His voice is very very loud. He once said he had killed a homosexual or something like that. There was a big fuss made about what he said. I forget his name right now. They also did a story about him once in the DNT. Turned out he had a pretty tough childhood.

Was'nt that big guy named Davey Jones? He was a character, he looked like he's been dragged around the block a few times. I thought he'd died and been reincarnated as Ben Dover over on The Duluth Cranks Blog.

Gee you would think I would have remembered that name. One day we were eating at the truck stop in Carlton and guess who was there in another booth talking politics. Yep Davey Jones.

I wonder if they have yet replaced the worn out counter and table tops. Been so many plates slid back and forth that nothing was left of em. I remember we got a good pile of fried fish for the money. I don't know how those truck drivers can get up and then sit behind the wheel for another 8 hours with all that grease digesting.

digestion is for suckers.

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