Fast Food Chronicles: My First Job Chapter 1

The moment I turned 16 was probably the happiest time in my young life. It meant that I could get a drivers license, get a job and start contributing to the economy. I had a number of places in mind: the AMC Theatre in downtown, several retail shops, the now famous Record Town music store and Subway. Don’t ask why I chose Subway. Oh, and I also tried some stores inside Ridgmar Mall. Alas, none of these jobs would have me. So I put my head down and walked away from the job search in shame. Little did I know at the time that most of these jobs that teenagers filled required either some skill, experience, or knowing someone who already worked there. That last part was key to me getting hired as a card carrying member of the “Have it your way” crew. Yes, friends, my first job was at Burger King.

Have you ever met someone who annoyed the holy piss out of you? Seriously? Come on, fess up! I know you have. Well, this person for me was Tim Wakefield. No, his real name wasn’t Tim Wakefield, but for the purposes of this story it was. Tim Wakefield was this chubby, annoying kid who thought he was cool, but was really a serious loser. Hell, I wasn’t much of a winner either, but at least I wasn’t Tim Wakefield. Wakey was simply that guy. You know, THAT guy. He dressed like a dork, listened to sports radio and always had hat hair because of his stupid Texas Rangers cap that he wore all the time. However, Wakes did what none of my friends could ever do: he got me a job.

Yes, the big lug helped your boy get a job. Mind you, this was ten months after I turned 16, but it was something. “You’re fucking insane!” is what the ex said to me after I told her where I’d be working. Not what establishment I’d be working at, but the area in which I’d be working at. The city of Lake Worth, Texas at the time had a reputation for being a KKK safe haven and home to just about any and every backwards, hillbilly, walking shoeless into the grocery store hick. And I don’t mean rednecks, because rednecks I can deal with. The people who resided in Lake Worth were the bottom feeders of America. A prime example of what I’m talking about will be discussed later. Today, Lake Worth is a sprawling business mecca with all kinds of shops, restaurants, strip malls and banks. Hell, I live here now! The toothless hicks were pushed out, and the businesses came a’ runnin’!

After procuring employment, I came in one day to work my shift. I was handed my uniform: a pair of dark blue work pants, a ball cap with a tiny BK logo on one corner, my name tag and the ugly polo they forced everyone to wear. Now, let me describe this polo. It was a light greenish color, with dark green horizontal stripes running across it. *Barf* As far as shoes go I was able to wear the ones I came in with. Awesome sauce. I was ready to begin my training like Luke Skywalker on the Millennium Falcon with Obi-Wan. However, there was no training droid at Burger King. What followed was me sitting in the break room/storage area, watching an interactive laser disc that told me all about the gobbley goodness of BK and then quizzed me on it.

After that I was shown to the kitchen, where I would spend the next almost year of my life with an ex-convict that had ADD, a spoiled rich kid who daddy made get a job, a nymphomaniac and a kid who, if he were around at the time, I would have said looked just like Brock Lesnar. And let’s not forget the henpecked husband who just came home from the military, the guy who dressed like a Backstreet Boy, Tim Wakefield and his friend who looked like a reincarnated dinosaur.

My first day ended soon after that. I was shown the broiler and they even let me try it out myself. The broiler was this device that was basically a mini version of a pizza oven. Frozen patties went in through one side, then came out the other side... juicy and delicious.

Join us next time for part two of my journey through the wonderful world of Burger King (circa 1997).

The Wait Is Over

"I can't get enough of you baby," were the words from the Smash Mouth song that played repeatedly throughout what is arguably the quintessential teen movie from the late '90s. Many would say that title belongs to "American Pie," but for me and a lot of people I knew, it was always all about "Can't Hardly Wait." The amount of quotable lines in that movie alone will keep it heavy in my movie rotation for ages. Also, the cast, filled with actors and actresses who entertained us then and continue to keep us glued to our seats even now, filled the scenes with background appearances and one line bits. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've watched that movie and said "Yooooo! That's the guy/girl from ___!"

It was the Summer of 1998. I was seventeen and getting ready to enter my senior year in high school when "Can't Hardly Wait" was released in theatres. I didn't care enough to see it right away, but I knew it was coming eventually. Based off the trailer the movie looked like it was going to be some cheesy chick flick where Ethan Embry goes after Jennifer Love Hewitt at a party. *Yawn* I would have much rather gone to see "The X-Files" or "Deep Impact." I wanted to see some aliens and things blowing up!

Working that Summer at a local Whataburger I didn't have the time to hit the movies as I usually did. The schedule that our Sith Lord boss had us under was incredibly tasking. While Godzilla, Armageddon and Saving Private Ryan were blowing up the box office, I was stuck behind the grill flipping burgers, cutting produce and making sure the bread racks stayed full. The only free moments I had I'd use to sneak behind the place and toke on a black & Mild, while keeping an eye on the order board. The only bit of hanging out I did was with co-workers with whom I already had to see 8 hours out of the day. My regular friends were starting to worry about me.

Then came the day when my regular friends kidnapped me and forced me to hit the movies with them. "I don't wanna see that shit!" I yelled into the receiver as "Craig" and "Mike" sat inside Craig's house plotting our evening. They just suggested "Can't Hardly Wait" for our viewing pleasure. "No!" I vehemently yelled again. Then they told me who else would be going. The girls they normall associated with had a friend...a very fine friend. Stephanie Flores. She was a girl that none of us had a chance in hell with, but just the notion that she'd be joining us was enough to get me to follow along.

What followed was a very interesting evening. I used my charm to make her crack up and whatnot, and it was all good. She had a boyfriend, but I wasn't trying to mess with her. The movie, however, was the best part. I really enjoyed the film. It was funny, heartwarming, clever and I dug the music. Who are we kidding? Jennifer Love Hewitt was so damn fine in that movie..oh lordy!

Years passed and I didn't even think about that movie again. It wasn't until a friend of mine popped it into his DVD player in 2003 on one of those rainy days when it was best to stay inside the dorms. It was amazing. Just watching the opening credits again took me back to that night in 1998. This disembodied monologue of the nervous guy asking the girl to the party while the music played and they showed exterior shots of the graduation hit me like a ton of bricks. Memories came flooding back. Sitting next to Ms. Flores and sharing popcorn while the movie rolled and some jackass kept kicking my seat behind me..you can't buy memories like that. Topping it all off with us getting kicked out of the parking garage for lingering. Nope, you won't find that on Ebay.

Since then "Can't Hardly Wait" has become one of those movies. A movie that you won't admit to anyone that you really love, yet secretly you watch it just to relive those memories again. You think about the times that you were at parties just like that one. And when you think about it you know that there were people just like those characters that you knew in high school.

Sad to say, but the one character I can relate to in that movie was Seth Green's character. Not the way he acted but the style of clothes he wore. Laugh all you want, but those clothes were in at the time. I remember styling my hair up similar to that, putting on my Lugz lime green shirt, sort of like the one he wore, and going to the mall to shop for more clothes just like that. I even had the same baggy pants. Sans goggles, though. Even then you'd never catch me wearing some goofy shit like that.

There were a lot of Amanda Becketts at our school. Most notably were the Pinto twins. To me, my Amanda Beckett was Tiffany Armstrong, a varsity cheerleader who was the epitome of sexy, classy and had a "make you melt and fall to your knees" voice.

And yes, there were even some Mike Dexters. Although I never suffered their wrath because I too was a jock. (playing baseball counts) Jock on jock violence was a no-no. Hey, even jocks have a code!

"Can't Hardly Wait" fuels me as a writer. Most of my retro musings come from watching that movie, it is my inspiration. Whenever I want to write about something like "Mario Kart 64" I go back to that film. Even though there were no games in it I still draw from it because that is where I have my youth stored. It is my fountain of "to be 17 again." Even my novel, Tales of a Misguided Urban Youth is based heavily on me watching "Can't Hardly Wait." It may be weird and unhealthy to most, but come on..."It's all about the memories, man!"

Can It Be All So Simple...

People often ask me how I came to be a geek after growing up in a neighborhood that at the time was overrun by drugs, gangs and things of that nature. It was simple, actually. The popular

HBO show "The Wire" described this perfectly. In these types of neighborhoods there are two kinds of kids: corner kids and stoop kids. Based on that you can guess which category I fell under.

I was raised in a fundamentalist Christian environment. We weren't allowed to do anything fun, because everything fun was "the devil." I was not allowed to listen to popular music. It was either oldies on the radio or nothing. I was kept in the house closely guarded without any real knowledge of what was happening in the outside world. To keep this from becoming a problem I was introduced to the world of video games and comic books. We'll touch on that a little bit later.

To shield me from the evils of the world I was enrolled in a Christian academy for Pre-K and Kindergarten. It was a lot different than what you would find in a public school. Lunch was brought in on a cart by a lady named Ms. Rosie. There was snack time which consisted of a juice box and pb & j sandwiches cut into four squares. We had daily chapel services too since it was a Christian academy. On that recess playground though, is where I learned about movies that weren't "The Robe" and "The Ten Commandments." I still fondly remember the day when

Annie Fernandez sat at the top of the slide, with about four of us crowding around her in the wooden jungle gym, and she told us about this great movie that she had just seen: "The Monster Squad." It blew my freakin' mind! I had to see this film!

The Christian academy was also how I was introduced to Star Wars and Godzilla movies. Yes, you read correctly. After school while waiting for our parents to pick us up the Christian academy would stick us into a room by the front door, cut the lights and put on a movie. "The Empire Strikes Back," "Return of the Jedi" and an assortment of Godzilla movies were all we'd watch. I wouldn't even get to see all of the movie since my parents would almost always come pick me up right around the time that Jabba The Hut's Skiff Yacht blew up and our heroes sped off to safety. For years I thought Return of the Jedi ended this way. Seriously.

After my Kindergarten year, around 1987 or so, the Christian Academy closed down and instead of being sent to another one I was instead beamed aboard the nearest *gulp* public school. In between all of that was the church. Going to church on Sunday mornings was a ritual that I never quite got ahold of. To a kid this seemed really absurd, but it was a way of life. Dress up in your best clothes, tuck a bible under your arm and look presentable to the throngs of people, church going people who would tell you how adorable you are and would pinch your cheeks. It got really old. After awhile it made us very cynical. We would be packed into a room during Sunday school where we were talked to like children and were told the stories of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Then they'd give us crayons and let us draw Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

I wasn't the only one stuck in what eventually became a pitfall. As the years passed we all grew more and more displeased with the dog and pony show. I often felt like a science project being put on display for all to gush over, say "hallelujah and bless the children", and basically treat us like little angels. The core group of what became known as the "Snack Pack" were as follows. (most pictured above) Myself, Paul, Gus and later Marcus. The rest were dorks who didn't wanna be in the "Snack pack." The ones who still hadn't seen the light yet. The L7's.

Allow me to explain what the "Snack Pack" was. At our church we had Sunday school for the kids. That was it. After you were too old to attend Sunday school you were phased out. There was no youth group. Our pastor, an old school relic who believed that we are all going to hell, each and every one of us, a man who spit fire and brimstone at EVERYONE, subscribed to the notion of Corinthians 13:11 "but when I became a man, I put away childish things." Obviously this man did not have children and he had no idea how to handle teenagers. So that group of us who had been in that church all of our lives were starting to rebel. Thus the "Snack Pack" was born.

Sunday morning was the time for us to behave like normal kids. Wednesday and Sunday night service was like a full moon to us. We'd sit in the back row of the church van and curse, tell dirty jokes and talk about hot women. "Did you see the Rumpshaker video? Holy crap!" "Nevermind that! How bout that 2pac I 'Get around video'!" "Wow!"

We'd also take to teaching the younger kids cuss words, clogging up the toilets with foreign objects and watching them overrun and competing against each other to see who could get at "Bianca," the hottest girl at church in our age group. I say in our age group because there was this SEXY, HOT, FINE ex-model who had short straight hair, was dark skinned, and had these beautiful full lips that just called your name. Also, she had these sexy sleepy eyes that just get me everytime. She had married one of the church members, and even the pastor went on record as saying that a woman like that would take him away from the church! Dude brought her to church every Sunday, probably to show her off. And in the end HE stopped going while SHE came every Sunday with her bible in hand and all that good stuff. Hallelujah! Praise Jesus! Wow! She was so fine!

Sorry about that tangent. After awhile it became obvious to everyone what was going on with the "Snack Pack". In order to subdue the tyranny we dishing out the cantankerous old man finally created a young adult Sunday school class. On top of that he made it to where we didn't even have to attend Wednesday and Sunday night service. Instead we went to a more "youth friendly" sermon, which was delivered to us by the dour grump's incredibly young wife. Honestly, she probably only had ten to fifteen years on me back then. He was pushing sixty. *tsk tsk* But it was too late. We were already full blown cynics.

In order to quell the beast that was rising in me my parents threw comic books and video games at me. They wouldn't let me go out and play with kids my own age...they figured the other kids would rot me even further. Instead I immersed myself in the exploits of Spider-Man, Wolverine, Iron Man, The Avengers, Batman, Superman, X-Men and my absolute favorite, Darkhawk! Star Trek and Star Wars kept me in line while all the other kids in the neighborhood joined gangs and beat each other up. Simon Belmont, Samus Aran, Super Mario and the cast of Street Fighter II allowed me to unleash my pent up frustrations and anger toward everything.

Then I entered middle school and it was all downhill from there. That's when I met G, who would go on to become my best friend and future collaborator for the days that inspired my first novel, "Tales of a Misguided Urban Youth." But we'll get to that at a later date. Stay thirsty my friends.

To my friends...

I have made the jump into the 21st century of gaming. Dear reader, add me....

With All the Speed of a Dead Turtle!

It is the equivalent to using a chisel and rock to write a letter instead of a pen and paper.

It’s like riding a bike to your prom instead of a limo.

It’s like listening to 48 straight hours of commentary by Don West.

I am cursed with a portion of technology that should have died a long time ago with the cassette Walkman, the calculator watch, and the Flowbee.

Ladies and gentlemen...

...I still have dial-up.

I’m going to wait for you all to rise from your faint or close your mouth, which no doubt dropped out of sheer terror. It’s taken me a long time to admit this. I don’t like telling people this because they always pity me and generally feel sorry for me.

Either that or they make fun of me.

Dial-up must be the largest piece of insanity ever to hit this country. Let me get this straight: we have all this technology on Earth. It’s possible for you to get on the telephone while listening to “Love in this Club” as you check your e-mail and get directions to the nearest restaurant so you can watch video of the skateboarding bulldog while you eat...

...but we can’t make high-speed available for everyone?

Given where I live right now, two out of the three high-speed carriers that I’ve checked don’t service this area. What kind of messed up stuff is that? You mean to tell me that because I live in the boonies, I can’t have fast internet? I live in the middle of nowhere, between a town with barely 1400 people in it and a town with barely 160! Not only should I have fast internet, but it should be free!

Everything in this town closes at 8:00 pm or before, except for the video store, which closes at 9:00. You see why I need fast internet.

Unless you have dial-up right now, you have no idea how strenuous it is to sit there and wait for a video to load on Youtube or check out sports highlights on ESPN’s website. It’s hard enough as it is to even go on Facebook when everyone now has 3-4756 applications on their profile. The wait is horrible. There’s really no reason for it to take over 5 minutes to load a page.

Let me put it to you in sheer numbers:

Average time it takes to download a file roughly 1 MB in size: 10 minutes

Average time it takes to upload a file roughly 1 MB in size: 15 minutes

I was once sent the link to a Youtube video that was over 8 minutes long. After 20 minutes, I’d only gotten to see 35 seconds of it.

That’s not all. Uploading a 20 MB file over dial-up takes nearly THREE hours. Trust me, I know. I’ve done it. Downloading it...well, I’ve never stayed awake long enough to do that.

All those numbers are if your internet doesn’t crash, as is normal with dial-up. There are times when it will just stop, you’ll be disconnected and be left cursing your dial-up provider, the goof who came up with the idea of dial-up, and yourself for not getting something...ANYTHING...better. Remember back in the early 90s when the internet was just getting popular and we all thought this was a good idea? Looking back on those days, how insane were we? Then again, we were just happy to chat with the people we knew and even more with the people we didn’t.

So, when you’re thinking about all that you’re happy with and thankful for, send some well-wishes towards those of us still stuck in the past.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to chisel a letter to Barney Rubble while eating a brontosaurus burger.

(As if it weren’t bad enough that I uploaded this over dial-up, I had to do it twice because I got kicked off. How’s that for irony?)

Technology of the world, Craig, of the world! (part I)

Modern technology is a wonderful thing. It has enabled us to enjoy stuff like porn without having to shamefully walk into a smut store and hand the disgusted cashier your purchases and money, knowing full well what you are about to go home and do you filthy pervert.

It has also enabled us to do wholesome things like make payphones obsolete, not having to fumble through your cds in order to find that one song that you have to listen to at that right, exact moment. It even allows me the to be able to program my coffee machine to brew my java whenever I want it to!

In my younger years, I did everything to shun modern technology. I scoffed when my high school got the internet on their computers. I guffawed at the mere mention of a cellular telephone. However, when I first started to notice I was getting old, I decided to embrace change. I no longer scowled at the kids who preferred a word processor to good ol' fashion writing with a pen and paper! I fell in love with spell check, thus ending a 19 year marriage to scratch marks, editing notes, and strike through lines. I was happenin' baby!

During the Summer of 2001, I went to Sears and picked up a dvd player. They were fairly new at the time, and this thing cost me a pretty penny. Here it is in 2006, getting ready for the rocking chair.
It had lasted me a good while, but in the end it was time to go. It had started to not read discs anymore. It would pop dvds out like Mrs. Wayans popped out kids. Also, it wouldn't read bootleg dvds. That was suuuch a no-no. I loved its many features, like 8x zoom, bookmarking capability, and that cool blue light that only a Fisher DVD player could have. It was a sad day.


And then there was the case of the iPod and my immense cd collection. For years I carried away a bulky walkman with a carrying case I paid twenty dollars for. It was big, it hung around your neck, and because it was leather it would make your neck sweat like none other. Yes, something had to be done. I had been growing the collection since maybe 1993, when I got my hands on a Boys in the hood cd soundtrack at a yard sale for 3 dollars American. That along with copies of Poor Righteous Teachers, Gang Starr, and Smoothe Tha Hustla, started something special. By 2003, things began to get out of hand.

That right there is just a small portion of the CD empire that was at my disposal. I even had it all cataloged in that green folder.

Enter the 2004 iPod mini. It was my savior. All the songs I love in the palm of my hands. It was one hell of a steal. Then they discontinued it, Craig, discontinued it! The iPod nano eventually came along and made short work of the memory of the old mini. Some claim that the mini was a myth. Others claim that it was one of nature's enigmas, like the bigfoot, or a justifiable reason for Don West being on TNA for so damn long. Really, Don, it's time to go. You suck!

Once again, time and technological advances stick their grubby hands in our poor wittle defenseless pockets. Yes, Virginia, there is a reason to shell out 249 American dollars.
Friends, allow me to introduce to you, the motherfucking 6th generation iPod Classic! I love using it. It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly suggest picking one up. I don't have to tell you what this machine does. You should already know.

Continued in part II...

Who the hell are you?

Greetings earth creatures. Our website is currently in limbo, so for now please bear with us and stick around for our temporary home here on blogger. We are geeks with color. So far there are two of us.

They look something like this. Not much. Just a little bit.

Sam

Quint

Now that the introductions are out of the way, let me tell you a little more about us GWC's. I, Sam Colunga am a huge comic book geek, star trek/star wars fanatic, film buff, nostalgia nerd, music junkie, and a walking hip hop encyclopedia. I also love sports...and video games...and hot models...and pepsi. But that's it.

Quint on the other hand loves sports, video games, random TV, random trivia, cooking shows, and hot Asian chicks.

Stick around. Until our website is summoned from the negative zone this will be the place we lay down the smack. Take care til next time, kiddos.

Deuces!