For pooping, silly

The family Gorgeous was in town for the weekend so we went to see Cincinnati, minus Ken Griffey, Jr. and YOUR Washington Nationals square off on Saturday night, since pops is a native of southwest Ohio. I only went because I really like the color red.

Our night of ups and downs started shortly after the Metro doors closed at Waterfront station. It was then that a fellow passenger unleashed a gas so foul on our sardine can of a car that the paint on the walls didn't just peel, it ran for cover. One youngster near ground zero described it a cross between "fried chicken and feet." The air quality in Beijing would have been welcome respite from ass-fog in which we were stuck.

Things got worse before they got better, unfortch. I stood in line for half an hour so my dad could enjoy the spiritually radical experience that is the Ben's half-smoke "all the way." It would not have been so terrible had I simply had to endure employee incompetence and malaise. While that did contribute to the first 15 minutes of wait, it was the abandonment of register sans explanation that really boiled my potatoes. The cashier simply stopped what she was doing, grabbed a satchel full of cash and left for the adjacent stand. I should mention said satchel was sitting on a soda machine, well within arms reach of anyone that had a heist on the mind. None of the other cashiers acknowledged the situation, outside of glances at the ever-growing line. No effort was made by other customers to institute an alternating style line merge. I stood in front of the register for a few minutes out of principle, hoping to make a statement with my non-violent protest. Trust that while I was Gandhi on the outside, my brain was awash with visions of Watts. After signaling my frustration with loud, passive-aggressive sigh, I broke the line, resigned to idea of a Nationals Park that will never get it right.

It wasn't all piss and vinegar. The Nats rallied for eight runs in the last three innings against the woefully ineffective Reds' bullpen, Daniel Stern's cinematic masterpiece, Rookie of the Year, was shown on the scoreboard after the game, and I discovered, while looking through the viewfinder on my sister's camera, that by crossing my legs just so, I can make them look like a heinie. Doesn't it always come back to butts?

The National Zoo:

I haven't been to a zoo since I was eight or nine. But I went this weekend, and I was excited. The last time I went I saw a gorilla pee in a bowl, and then stick his face in it. Armed with a hope for further primate hijinks, I entered the National Zoo here in DC.

The first thing I noticed was that the zookeepers let the animals out of their pens. There were wild pigs, wildebeests, and water buffalo everywhere. They were pushing around their piglets in innumerable strollers, feeding at their troughs, and slapping on sunscreen by the gallon. I immediately vomited, and rightly so. Rarely outside of an amusement park have I seen a crowd of such nutritional and intellectual degenerates.

Which species eats more?

In between seeing a panda and some cheetahs I ruminated on the fact that walking through the zoo will surpass the amount of calories most of these people burn throughout the rest of the year. Let alone the only natural light these cretins will be exposed to.

I was desperately hoping someone would fall in the pit...

The best was when I was standing next to the sign that said "Wallaby." Clearly, the wallabies were not around, and the only animal there was an emu. A lady walks up with here family, says "Look (insert shitty 'it' name, like Taylor, Dakota, etc. that will get kid beat up in middle school) there's a wallaby!" Husband, by now beaten down and broken by years of trying to love a woman who can barely spell the word 'zoo,' emits audible sigh while groaning," That's not a wallaby." Wife counters, "But it says that's what it is right there."

Now, I'm certainly no Jack Hanna, but I know the difference between a wallaby and an emu. And even if I didn't, the placard which identifies the animal as a wallaby, which she referenced, has a picture of a wallaby. And they look NOTHING like a large flightless bird. But at least her son won't get beat up for being smart.

Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of primate hijinks. I did see one gorilla hump another as the female was lying on the ground. She eventually got up, and went into a private room as he followed her. I sympathized with them, because when I mate I really don't like twenty Chinese tourists staring at me either.

An orang utan picked up a big white sheet, wrapped himself in it, and paraded around his pen, finally proving that orang utans are racists, and from Mississippi.

I caught a video of two golden lion tamarins, small monkeys, smacking each other in the face. Which is, of course, hilarious.

I understand that people reproduce (although I don't like that fact), and I understand that people take their kids to the zoo. But holy shit, these parents pack baby supplies like their setting sail for the New World. And the strollers that house these logistics are the size of all-terrain vehicles, and probably cost more. Never had I hated people and their brats more than I did this weekend.

Especially when I heard one fourth grade dropout tell her kid, "Hey Skyler, look at this!" I immediately laughed, then wondered what this kid looked like. I imagined turning around and seeing Fuller from Home Alone, but it was actually a little girl. I give her ten years till she starts cutting herself.

But the zoo was a great time, despite the humans. I enjoyed seeing all the animals, but I was also saddened by it. First we kill them, then we destroy their homes, then we poison their food. We wonder why there's barely any left, so we grab the remaining ones, stick them in a cage, and parade people in front of them. Retards like the 18 year old (or so) girl I saw walk up to throw a plastic soda bottle away. There was a garbage can, and right next to it a recycling can, CLEARLY labeled "Glass and Plastic." She looks at both, then puts the plastic bottle in the garbage can. That's when I realized she worked at the zoo. If zoos are built to save the animals we destroy, who's saving the human garbage we keep around?