Gobble This!

Happy Thanksgiving from The Greek to all of you. It's Thanksgiving night, and after a quasi-hectic but very enjoyable day, I finally have a few moments to get to The Not So Top 10. This week has been crazy and it seems like I have been perpetually behind in everything. I tried to call TeddyDupay for some advice, and since Miley turned 18, all I get is his voice mail which says "Sorry, but I probably will never get back to you. See, Miley just became legal and I am on my way to California to celebrate with her. If it is urgent that you get a hold of me, I will probably be able to recieve visitors a some correctional facility in the near future, although I am not so sure the will allow me visitors considering the crimes against nature and humanity that I will be committing. Thanks for the call. And please, don't warn Miley. I want this to be surprise." (beep).

One of the reasons I am running behind are those lotto vermin. You know the ones. They hold up the line at convienient stores cashing in their 27 Cash 3 tickets, 32 Fantasy 5 tickets, and on Saturday and Wednesday nights, they hold up the fucking line playing thier 307 different number combinations, and then bitching at the attendant for putting in the wrong card even though it was the very card that these miserable fucks give the poor bastard. There's this one old hag that always seems to get in front of me when I am getting off from work from my regular job. All I want to do is get a diet pepsi and a pack of smokes, and I have this broad in front of me. For starters, she looks like she put her make up on with a T-shirt cannon, with the 87 layers of ancient red lipstick coating the front of her teeth like Linda Lovelace with a mouthful of baby batter. She wears the same pantsuit, which at some point could have been referred to as a handsome and stylish pantsuit for the modern lady of the 40's, but it is so out of style that when she dies Good Will won't even take it. She smells like a combination of stale Kool cigarretes, cat urine, and Jean Nate. Her husband probaly hung himself with an electrical cord in the garage where he built birdhouses for birds he could not have because of this broad's 27 cats. She funds her lottery addiction from his pension. Poor bastard could not even fully enjoy that. Once she became barren and would not fuck him anymore, every time he got aroused, she'd get another cat until finally breaking his will to live. These are the folks that win these hundred million plus jackpots. They aren't going to live long enough to enjoy it, and whatever they don't spend, these folks leave it to Mr. Fluffykins who uses their laundry hamper for a litter box.

Anyway, this chick is the worst kind of lottery junky. She's into the scratch-offs. She always has 20 or so to cash in. She NEVER scratches the bar code off completely so the attendant has to run it through the machine 10 times before he notices her stupidity. Then, there's always a haggle over basic math, which escapes her blue haired dome, about the total with her swearing it should have been more. The it takes her 20 minutes to pick out the 20 or so more tickets to get the balance exactly to where she can purchase her 12 pack of Busch and carton of Kools. After her transaction, the line is pretty backed up, it takes her another 5 minutes to put all of her tickets in her little lottery folder...and do not dare encroach her to make your transaction. She literally accused me one day of trying to steal her numbers. Yes, because she obviously has the racket down...with all those winnings she has all the latest fashions, buys nothing but the finest beer, top notch smokes, and high end perfume. Yes, I want her numbers.

She's also one of those who likes to step outside, put her beer and her smokes in her beat to shit Lincoln Town car, comback to just outside the door, light one up, and scratch her tickets off. Like the numbers will magically change and not be winners if she takes them home. But there's a method to her madness. She observes everyone coming out of the store to see if they purchased scartch-offs. If sahe doesn't see any in their hands, she'll just straight up ask "Did you buy any...and which ones...and how many." This chick has it bad. So...I decide to fuck with her.

I get off of work early one night, and buy just a few scratch-offs. I sit in the parking lot, awaiting her arrival by the sound of her squeaking suspension and her shot out muffler...and I am not talking about her gray squirrel either.I see her, and instantly get out of the car and get to her "spot" where she scratches off her tickets. As she's walking up...I instantly shout "Holy shit! $1500 winner!" I go so far as to call my friend on the cell and start telling him about my luck. Her eyes get wide, an almost animalistic look to them. In the most hateful old hag voice imagineable she barks "I want to know which game you won...NOW! And another thing, you are in MY spot. I know you steal my numbers, and now you are stealing my luck. You'd better tell me which game you won and be out of MY spot when I get back!"

Well, you know me.

"Listen Phyllis Diller, just because you haven't seen a cock or had your menses since Teddy Wilson was in office was in office, don't take it out on me. It's none of your business which game I won." With that, I head back to my car. She storms into the 7-11, and purchases her tickets, goes to her car for her rotine, then assumes her spot by the garbage can and begins to scratch her tickets. I exit my car and walk by her on my way inside making sure to note which tickets she bought. I buy one of each at the counter and return outside. She glares at me like I was her husband begging for her just to touch my penis. I go to stand on the other side of the can, and she spreads her arms out like she was defending a point guard, repeating "No! No! No! No! You go somewhere else, this is MY spot! You cheater!"

At this point, I know she's nuttier than a squirrel turd and that I should probably just let her be, but I could not resist. I start scratching mine on the front of my vehicle. Each one was a loser, but I acted like each one won something believeable.

"Oh, this one's a freee ticket. Oh, this one is $2. Wow! I cannot believe my luck. $15 on this one. Man, today must be my day!"

This old codger blows a fuse, walks up to the edge of the sidewalk just in front of my vehicle, raises both fists in the air above her head and screams at the top of her lungs "CHEATER!!" She's so mad, she storms off to her car, gets in it, starts it, throws it in drive, and fails to look behind her as she comes tearing out of the space, just in time to hit a car that was pulling in beside her. To make things even better, it was an unmarked Orlando Police officer.

So my game playing and irresistable urge to screw with people that irk the shit out of me has put me in a time crunch. But it was worth it.

My Thanksgiving was fantasic, aside from the fact that my Cowboys choked like a new porn star in her first movie title "Barely Legal #127 Throat Bangers". Hey Roy...even when you do catch the ball you fuck up. Look at the side of your helmet dickhead...there ain't a Honolulu Bue Lion with mainge on it. It's a star, a sign of greatness, pride, and tradition. You exhibit none of that. I'd tell you to shoot yourself, but you'd only drop the gun.

I really think the powers that be have decdided to curl up a biscuit on the pride of Texas' chest. The Cowboys are 3-8 and the Longhorns aren't going bowling. Too bad, because man, does that Texas team need an extra 15 days of practice.

So here's the abbreviated Not So Top 10 sans the obscene and sometimes funny write ups. I hope you can forgive me and join me next week as we will be crowning the New Not So Top 10 Champion and the recipient of the Tyrone Willingham Trophy!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

1. Akron (0-11)
2. New Mexico (1-10)
3. San Jose State (1-10)
4. Memphis (1-10)
5. New Mexico State (2-9)
6. Western Kentucky (2-9)
7. Louisiana Lafayette (2-9)
8. Buffalo (2-9)
9. Bowlig Green (2-9)
10. Eastern Michigan (2-9)





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