I should be talking about how I finally saw “Water for Elephants” this weekend, and thoroughly enjoyed it, but the real guilty pleasure in that was the overstuffed, leather, reclining seats at one of AMC’s new dine-in theaters, which are starting to overtake the Garden State. Sure, you need a bib since you can’t sit up straight or see what you’re eating, but that might be just as well after you’ve snuck in a ‘water’ bottle or two.
But I have so many other things to tell you about. Like what happened yesterday.
I normally make a habit of avoiding eye contact when I go to the gas station (yes, in New Jersey we are still not trusted to pump our own gas), but ever since they swindled me into paying for premium a couple of weeks ago, I now look the attendants squarely in the gourd and wait for them to confirm my, “Fill it regular, please.”
Yesterday, after I said that, the middle-aged, hairy attendant simply took my credit card and replied in a thick accent, “Too much clothes” before walking away.
My knee-jerk reaction was to leap out of the car Jersey Shore-style, snapping my fingers in the air and screaming, “Excuse me? Oh no you didn’t!!” while I pulled out his beard extensions. At nearly $4 a gallon, was I also now paying an even bigger price? Was I now selling my dignity at the neighborhood pump?
A couple of seconds later, however, I saw the blinding humor in it and sat there laughing and singing along to my Warblers CD. I mean, you had to give it to the guy. He clearly wasn’t playing games. If he were a serial killer, it would have been a straightforward, “Too much breathing,” before he turned my skin into a kilt.
The ironic thing is that I’m starting to feel guilty for thinking this is funny. What do you think? Vote now!
Go Jules Go 
appreciate it… one day they’ll no longer want to see what’s under your clothes and then you’ll really feel insulted.
I think I’m going to try the line out on someone else, but my motives are impure. I’m hoping to get slapped.
This is awesome. I always wondered what they were thinking. Now I know. (I imagined it with a Russian accent).
First thanks for going to my blog, I’m glad you did because it led me here. 🙂
Secondly, I went to Jersey years ago and started to pump some gas and an attendant ran out like his ass was on fire screaming something I didn’t understand, grabbed the hose from me…screamed some more somethings I didn’t understand except for a very clear “NO!” and looked at me as though I was touched. I got from that encounter that I’m not allowed to pump gas in Jersey. WHY?
BTW….I’m going on a road trip to your lovely land this summer with my bestie and I’m not telling her you can’t pump gas in Jersey, oh the fun.
LOL! I like the way you think – and I hope we get to hear about it (the Jersey road trip) on your wonderful blog!!