Screw Titles.
February 15th, 2007 by Dusty
Everybody’s all worked up about the crazmonaut from NASA who went batfuck and drove to Florida in diapers to kill some dude’s girlfriend.
Okay. When I read over that, it is sort of compelling; I just had a different set of questions. She drove over there in a pool of her own feces so she wouldn’t have to make any bathroom stops, right? Was she towing an extra gas tank, or does NASA provide astronauts with nuclear powered cars? Last time I checked, 900 miles nonstop was impossible in a consumer grade car.
Also, once you get to prison, I think you are expected to continue hanging with who brung you. Bloods, Crips, Aryans, whatever you were a member of before you went in. I’m guessing that for her…well…it’s going to be like…being an astronaut in prison.
I almost threw on some diapers of my own yesterday and headed for the FedEx support center. Turns out that I-20 doesn’t go all the way to India. I was trying to print out a label via their website so I could ship something. I’ve done it dozens of times before, but this time it kept giving me an error message no matter what I did-
“ERROR- the company name must have at least three characters.” and then the infuriating “OK” button.
Those buttons piss me right off. You have a situation where something is clearly NOT ok, and your only option is to click “ok”. By clicking the button, you are admitting defeat. By clicking it extra hard, you are only hurting yourself.
So I called FedEx. Yes, it’s one of those.
First it was the computer lady that makes you say your choices instead of hitting a button. As if I’m not angry enough without sitting there on my phone saying stuff like:
“english.”……..”ENGLISH”……….”More Options”….”More Options”…”None”….”Problems with your infuriating bastard of a website”…..”PROBLEMS WITH YOUR FUCKING WEBSITE. I HOPE YOU DIE IN A FIRE.”
Here’s a trick. Just hit the number zero until someone answers. It works.
So then I explain my problem to Julie, who is just a little too sprightly for my current mood. After explaining my issue twice, she transfers me to the website people. After two minutes of holding, a recorded voice says “So sorry. Your call was dropped. Please call back. And click ‘OK’. Then go hang yourself.”
Magnificent. So I call back and I go through the whole thing again.
This time I get connected with Sanjiroopa Mehipthamalon in greater downtown Bangawhore or some such hellhole.
“Yeah, I’m trying to print out a label, but I keep getting this error message.”
“What does it say?”
“Error - Company name must contain at least three characters”
“The name of the recipient company has to have at least three characters in it. Does it?”
*Set phone down on desk, bury face in hands…breathe…pick up handset*
“Yes. It has thirteen. Thirteen characters.”
“did you click ‘ok’?”
*involuntary intake of air through nose, as urge to become abusive almost takes over*
“Yes Ma’am.”
“hmm. Can you hold for a minute?”
“meh.”
“Okay, Mister Scott? What browser are you using?”
“Explorer.”
“Have you tried using Firefox?”
“Yes, but I gave up and tried Explorer”
“Okay, we don’t support Firefox, so use Explorer.” (odd, since a week prior I had used firefox without a hitch)
“Can I just print out a blank label and…”
“No, not from our site. Which version of Explorer are you using?”
“Seven”
“oh, we don’t support Explorer 7.”
“Wow. That’s some garbage.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, FedEx is a big company. I would just expect they would plan for things like…you know…the passage of time.”
“I understand, sir. What you can do is download the older version of explorer and use that one to print labels.”
“Are you kidding me? You want me to download and install obsolete software so I can use your website to send you money? Really? Because no. Tell me how to print a blank label and I’ll fill it out.”
“You can’t print it from the site, but I’m sure there is a FedEx shipping center nearby…”
I hung up and started looking for my diapers and the keys to my solar powered car.
This morning I did something that at least should have gotten me a ticket, and at most should have gotten me shot. Like all such things, it made me feel MUCH better.
This story is an illustration of why I firmly believe that you should have to pass an IQ test in order to have your car’s horn activated. Your horn should only be used in three situations-
1) Someone is about to hit you and you need to make your presence known.
2) Someone is about to hit someone or something else and you need to make them aware.
3) You lose your brakes and are headed for a crowded open air market.
I was approaching a busy intersection at which I planned to turn right. The light was green, so I would have been okay to slow just enough to make the corner and head on my way. In this case, there was a guy crossing the street, so I had to stop because it is illegal to kill pedestrians in all cases.
The chick behind me was unaware of what was in front of me and pretty much leaned on her horn as she stopped behind me. Using your horn because you are an angry moron is not acceptable.
She intended to go straight through the intersection, and I was making her 2.3 seconds late for her job at the fat retarded bitch factory, where she is in charge of standards. In response, I turned around and stared at her with my very best “I can’t believe your parents didn’t abort you” expression. I pointed to the guy crossing the street, and she honked her horn again, flipping me off in the weakest way - the one where you fold all of your fingers all the way down instead of bending them at the second knuckle.
At this point I decided “Maybe she just needs a little time to think about this.” So I sat right where I was. The light stayed green for another 30 seconds or so, and she continued jamming her horn and freaking out. I then turned around in my seat and laughed directly at her until she rolled down her window and started yelling something that sounded to me like, “I’m sorry- I have no business behind the wheel. If you will drive me home I will satisfy you orally.” Sorry sweetcheeks, I don’t speak stupid. The guy next to me in the left turn lane was also very entertained, as he was keeping her from going around me.
By the time the light turned red, I figured her gay fascist morning was ruined, so I took a sip of my coffee and turned right, leaving her to stew until the light changed again.
Q- “What if she had followed you to work?”
A- “I’m pretty sure I could have taken her in a fistfight and/or an argument, depending on what she wanted.”
Q- “What if she had a gun?”
A- “I guess I’d have to hope I could get mine out first.”
Q- “What if she had a sick/dying child in the car with her and was going to the hospital?”
A- “That’s what ambulances are for.”
Q- “What if her sick kid had a gun?”
A- “I guess that’d be a challenge. He’d be a smaller target, and I’d have to try to get them both with one shot. Bullets ain’t cheap.”
Q- “What if she was an astronaut wearing diapers and she didn’t have time to stop?”
A- “That would be the raddest thing ever and I would have moved out of the way.”
Q- “What if she was just a miserable twat who lived a shitty life and had trouble with situational awareness and ended up making those around her suffer daily?”
A- “Exactly.”
Fantastic. Team traffic clogging is a favorite pasttime of mine…
Yessssss! I’m first….and the fact that I’m THAT excited about it makes me feel like a restraining order waiting to happen.
Someone get me a diaper and a super-car, STAT!
**C**
Dammit. I typed too slow.
I think you should get your “Three Rules for Horn Useage” printed on stickers. We, your loyal pork minions, will go around applying them to the steering wheels of unknowing saps who leave their windows down.
I see people with Stupid Horn Syndrome here, even though we don’t have the traffic you do even in our worst nightmares. What I see are people who pass each other and not only blow the horn as a ‘hello’ sometimes they even stop their cars IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET to chat. There has to be some obscure law on the books that makes it legal to kill people if their stupidity is a threat to others.
I love your blogs.
Awww Hell, I thought it would be titles about screwing.
Yeah, whenever someone gets all uppity with me for no reason and honks at me (or calls me a douchbag), I try to remain calm and not honk back. But it does kind of ruin a small part of my day.
Glad to see you’re getting your groove back, Dusty…
I was in the left turn lane waiting for an arrow yesterday when a big be-turbaned man in an SUV leaned on his horn for what felt like an eternity. There were cars going through the intersection it was obviously not clear for me to turn left to clear the way for his holy curriness so I sat there. He leaned on his horn the whole time. When I got the green arrow I waited until it turned yellow, waved and drove on, leaving Mister Angry at the red light.
If he would have followed I am sure I would have chickened out; afraid he would kill me with his pet cobra; and taken another route.
That is awesome…I think you should have to pass an IQ test to have a horn installed in your vehicle.
I have a crazy story about cutting someone off, but this isn’t my blog. Suffice to say, my dad had to scare him off.
But I honk at people who cut me off. And I honk mean, too.
Honestly I don’t think there’s anyplace left in the living breathing (unfortunately, driving) world that doesn’t have complete and utterly incompetent morons behind the wheel of almost every available vehicle; generally expensive ones that daddy financed.
Stupid people should be euthanized.
(PS. I’m about 10 years younger than you and hopelessly in love with you. Marry me?)
Bloody Brilliant!
I had much the same thing happen to me several years. I was in the tony part of town in my 15 year old Chevelle. I made the mistake of actually stopping for a yellow light. (I was in no hurry.)
The asshole in the new BMW behind had a real problem with my stopping for the light and he proceeded to let me know in no uncertain terms that he was an important son-of-a-bitch and that I had better fear him and get out of his way. I turned right and went on my way.
Best thing I’ve found to deal with such idiots is when they honk or throw you the finger – smile cheerily, and give them a big, exaggerated ‘thumbs up’. Usually this is like tossing napalm on a gasoline fire – great fun.
When dealing with tailgaters, do as I do…slowly drift off the right side of the road until your tires drop into the gravel or the rumble strips; violently yank the wheel left and veer into the oncoming traffic lane (be sure to check beforehand for oncoming traffic and Johnny Law). Overcorrect, off the road again. Repeat as needed. Works every time.
Helps to carry a concealed weapon, and have a crappy car.
“Really? Because no.”
Long Live Salami
:-)
You are one funny son of a bitch. And I truly mean that! You are, in fact, on this day, my hero! Peace..
Brilliant blog! Pork for president!
What I find works well for tailgaiters is tapping your breaks,then slamming it into 2nd gear to take off - standard transmittion required for this trick. Peak into your rear-view mirror to watch the train wreck behind you. Take that you tail-gaiting dueshbags!
If they cut you off, get in front of them, slam on those breaks, bang it into first and watch them do the looser swerve jig, no time to even flip you the bird. Perfect! Or is that a little psycho? Hey, I’m Canadian eh.
Crap, I misspelled douchebag. Sorry man.
Dude! That is SO not going to get make point with the ladies or get you laid. I’m just saying.
Reading this reminds me of the George Carlin bit about every driver being issued a suction cup dart gun with a little flag that says ‘Stupid’. As soon as you get enough flags on your car, a cop pulls you over and gives you a ticket for being stupid…
And the icing on the cake of your hilarious entry, here? Two of your four google ads dialed in for adult diapers/incontinence. Perfect.
You are so awesome. And I know this stuff comes so easy to you. I hate you for that. LOL Course, when people in public positions do stupid shit, it really is easy to make them a target. I thought I was the only one sick enough to screw with people in traffic. huh….
The part of the astronaut episode I love the best is the diapers.
If I am the guy in the middle of the love triangle, the mental picture of sodden adult diapers, and imagining the incoherent muttering within the funk of the car, is what would definitely send me over the edge into a feverish spasm of sexual frenzy.
Especially after printing up her mugshot and taping it to my bedpost…
God I am so in love. I wonder if I could arrange a threesome with Britney, after a night of Yaeger shots.
dunderfunk (Ret).
I laughed until just a little bit of pee came out. No diaper, sorry about the carpet.
I’m such a pussy I don’t necessarily even use my horn in the three acceptable instances.
I make up for it by carrying a loaded Glock on me at all times.
I had a run in with someone who had “Die Tailgaters”-type bumperstickers all over his beat up car. I always try to keep at least a car length in front of me, but this guy didn’t think so, and, worse yet, we came up to a stop light, so I naturally pulled up like normal.
He started gesturing and waving his hands around, then rolled his windown down and started yelling things out the window. I couldn’t hear what he was saying because my window was up.
The light then turned green, as he crossed over, he started to move to the right, like he wanted me to pass him. At this point I was a little nervous about this freak. He pulled all the way over and continued to yell and wave his arms around like an orangatang as I decided to pass him a little faster than I should have. I just wanted to be rid of him.
He merged back into traffic a couple cars behind me but thankfully he didn’t follow me.
And the best part of this? A few months later I was in a totally different area of town and I got behind the guy AGAIN! And he freaked out again. The guy needs so serious therapy.
Hell, I think you should be required to take an IQ test to drive at all. Or to walk in public. Or to use a Supertarget. Okay, make that “anything that involves cooperating with other people.” I can see the lone tumbleweed rolling across the Target parking lot now - 1pm on a Saturday afternoon.
Oh, by the way, Stella, I think you got your groove back.
“fat retarded bitch factory”
Fortunately I was wearing my astronaut Depends.
Dusty, most DEFINITELY your rhythm is back! Thanks for the tears (and snot) of joy. I love you … but not in that crazmonaut sort of way.
Pork!
If you was rockin’ it cool like an ass-tro-naught you could of given Miss Sunshine more than the raised brow of disdain. Why with a couple of tugs on the tape, you coulda wopped a soiled “Grampers” ™ right upside of her windshield. No bug sprayer’s going to handle that load.
Just like the Appolo guys did to the Soyuz back in the early seventies. Of course that was frozen, and had a lot more Delta V on it.
Good to have you back in form Dusty
Just thought I’d post this since it was emailed to me, denying everyone else a glimpse at her prose.
From: “Janet Brady” jodo222@hotmail.com
Dont be so fucking homophobic. By the way, you are not funny. . .I suspect you do lines of coke while your girlfriend is working at the dry-cleaners. . .cunt fucker.
Good to be back.
Gosh, I need to start reading your posts more carefully. I must have missed the homophobic part. Crap. And I LOVE reading homophobic humor, dammit!
*Scrolls up to read post again*
a homophoboc cunt fucker? Something tells me Janet is unclear on the whole “gay” concept….
Can anyone imagine how much spam email she prolly has now as a result of her email addy being posted here? I can only guess how many she has. I just find it humerous is all. Thinkin of sendin her a nasty email myself…
TLee007
Some of these comments are just too good. Are you writing them yourself Dusty? Cauze your comment leavers are almost funnier than you! Hmmmmmmmmmm …
Me
I don’t get it. What’s wrong with working at the dry-cleaners? I sell toilets for a living, What does that make me? A shit-cleaner? Okay, yeah, right.
See you at the St. Patty’s day hoe-down. I’m ready to get my shit, I mean, party on.
have you ever thought about writing a screenplay? please, with all the garbage out there i think there should be a law requiring people as funny as you to produce at least one comedy film.