I've been ordered to blog by one of the vice presidents here at work, and to angrify me she suggested I rip on Whole Foods. But I haven't been to Whole Foods lately, so I won't and she can't make me.

There has been blog fodder around, mind you. I can't believe that another Downers Grove pervert in the news failed to bring me 'round. "Hey baby, bring me some blog."

I blame my failure to retool this blog to better reflect my current circumstances; I'll work on that later. But right now I will tell you an asshole story. It's about an asshole.

The Ubergirls, Dilf and I recently attended the Downers Grove Fourth of July Parade. We had an extra sittin' blanket, so when I saw a wee girl of 3 or 4 sitting with her bare legs on the hot concrete sidewalk next to us as we sat along the parade route, I offered her our extra blanket. Her dad thanked us, then proceeded to set up camp on our blanket. The parade started.

And they started throwing shit. Like candy. Or in the inexplicable case of Congresswoman Judy Biggert, sponges. Because she sponges off the taxpayers? Good job being honest for once, Bigot. (That's what my dad calls her.)

Anyways.

Allstate comes by throwing Frisbees out to the crowd, and UberYounger holds her little arms up and joyfully squeaks, "Here! Frisbee!" The insurance agent tosses one to her, but it slips through her fingers and lands next to her.

Where the guy to whom I generously offered a blanket STEPPED ON IT and WOULDN'T GIVE IT BACK. UberYounger began to well up with tears, not just because she wanted the Frisbee, but because she couldn't understand why an adult would do that to her.

I guess a Frisbee is a pretty cheap price to pay for life knowledge like that -- some guys are just dicks.

I turned to Dilf and said, "That was a dick move." (Hence the title of this post) I'm actually surprised Dilf didn't say something to the guy. He normally would. But I think he was nearly dead from heat exhaustion at the time, combined with the fact he didn't feel we needed another piece of plastic crap cluttering up the garage. Although, oddly, we really don't have a frisbee.

So, wherever you are, Mr. Dick Move, I hope you're enjoying the frisbee, even if it's not jammed horizontally up your ass like I would like it to be.