OH REALLY?

It appears that Mr. Joseph Wong had not only a sex-change operation, but apparently a race-change operation as well.

Angry Wong dines on RAGE SANDWICH WITH MAYO

By: Meilee Wong

We've all felt it. The icy clench of rage accosting your sternum and pinching, clutching, gorilla-gripping until your heart feels like it's about to explode in ragey rage rage.

Nothing unleashes my rage-monster more quickly than the District of Columbia's illustrious barons of food service..or as I like to call them, food-servants.

Coming from Los Angeles, where everyone is an aspiring actor, actress, marimba-player or moderntechnojazz-dancer hoping to make it big, everyone treats you nicely. Who knows, you could be a talent scout, B-movie producer, or the conductor of the world's finest marimba orchestra. Your water glass is filled (garnished with a slice of yuzu, if you're in a finer establishment), your brown rice is subbed for quinoa with nary a hitch, your tilapia is grilled to perfection, your fork is replaced between every course.

Well, I may be exaggerating, but my rage monster reared its ugly head at the Foggy Bottom Whole Foods as of late and this is a prime example of why I hate consuming edibles in our Nation's Capital. Please see following succession of tweets:

When you arrive at Whole Foods, you are greeted by the unblinking yet cheerful stares of an armada of touchscreen food ordering devices. The purpose of these, Emperor WholeFoodsian, is so that your customer may order whatever sandwich, "Good Food Bowl," maki sushi or gold-dipped piece of crap that they like. Ahead of time. You even allow your customer to pay at said touchscreen food ordering device. This is supposed to expedite your customer's order and keep your kitchen organized.

When your customer arrives at your Sandwich CounterLand, they are greeted by another array of flatscreens which is supposed to tell them when their order is ready. You are NOT supposed to call the customers to the counter one by one, ask for their printed receipt, and THEN begin assembling their order. You are also NOT supposed to offer things on your auto-menu THAT ARE COMPLETELY OUT. Nor are you supposed to hire stoned-looking sandwich guys who ATTEMPT TO SQUIRT COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF MAYO ON YOUR CUSTOMER'S SANDWICH, CAUSING YOUR CUSTOMER TO LUNGE TOWARDS THE PLATE-GLASS SCREECHING NO NO NO!!! EMULSION OF DEATH UNNECESSARY!!!! 

To add insult to injury, you tweet back to me saying that if I ever so kindly bring back my receipt to Customer Service, I will receive a full refund. Well you know what, Emperor WholeFoodsian, I threw that scrap of rage out with the garbage that your "customer service" smells worse than. If you are really "sorry for the inconvenience I experienced," you know what? FIX YOUR DAMNED SANDWICH COUNTER EMPLOYEE. 

So with that, fellow District Denizens, I issue you a call to action. We cannot allow ourselves to be downtrodden by the despicably bad food service in this city, and simply roll over and accept it as normal. Don't just sit at your table, your water glass crying for more water, your bread basket not refilled, beaten into submission by the horrible table and counter service in this city. I implore you: Vote With Your Wallets. If it sucks, don't eat there. Please. 

Either that or I will raise an army to sledgehammer your Fair Trade hemp reusable grocery bags. TO THE DEATH!

Angry Wong is Guest Column Angry

(Angry Daryl is Angry is happy to present our first Guest Angry post! - Daryl)

"PANTS ON THE GROUND. PANTS ON THE GROUND. LOOKIN LIKE A FOO' WITH YOUR PANTS ON THE GROUND."

In all seriousness, that man had a point. A very good one. 

Something is amiss in the State of People's Pants.

I was inspired by State Senator Gary Siplin of Florida passing out belts to high school students on the first day of school. You go Senator Siplin! No one wants to see y'all Floridian teens' fruit o' the looms! Hell no!

I've neatly summarized the problems with people's pants into three succinct categories:

BAGGY SAGGYS: Dear (sub)"urban" teens of America, as previously mentioned, I have absolutely no interest in seeing your various brands of underpants. I also do not appreciate your attempts to sag your man-pris into being pants. You look sloppy. If I was your supervisor I'd have you packed off to military school immediately. YOU are why our nation is becoming dumber. I'm only half kidding.

LEGGINGS: Dear women of America, leggings/jeggings/tights are NOT PANTS. Wearing a belted shirt that barely covers your butt REQUIRES YOU TO WEAR PANTS OR A SKIRT UNDERNEATH. I'm sorry but wearing leggings on the outside means you are basically naked. Not okay.

BAD JEANS: Dear Men of Washington and Europe, Please note the following list of unacceptable jeanswear: Acid-wash anything, high-waisted 80s mom jeans with your polo shirt tucked in, "highwaters" and "clamdiggers" just means your jeans were hemmed too short, "fitted" or "bootcut" jeans which show off your office-acquired boo-tay, skinny jeans of any persuasion. 

In short, pants make me angry. Maybe we should switch to pantless society and all of these problems would be solved.

Respectfully yours,

Wonderwong
--
Fight on!