Monday, August 17, 2009

Understandificate what I'm Sayin'!

Understandificate what I'm Sayin'!

O Larry Johnson
my man-crush stands unwav'ring,
which is why you rule

Alright, I came in today intent on moving on in my car saga, but this morning's festivities demand I talk about them.

First, I think I told you all I was going to lunch with my mom and JJ last week, well, there were complications...

Apparently, my foolish, foolish mother was telling Toboggan boy about me taking her and JJ out to lunch, and Smeagol, sleeping face down on the couch, woke up, hearing about the possibility of free vittles. His thong leapt into action, informing her that since it was free food, he would tag along, as he had nothing else to do that day (go figure). JJ called me the morning of, whispering as that wily raptor was camped out in the front hallway, making sure no one left without his knowledge:

JJ: (hushed tones) Fuck Stevester, I can't leave, fuckin' Smeagol is at the front door and he can see the back door from there too...

Me: Well, I'm not buying the entire goof troop's damn lunch. I got 50 bucks, and that's it (I had my credit card, but telling them that is asking for the whole damn clan to show up, and I'm not doing that again)...

JJ: (even quieter) Every since he heard we was gettin' free food he's been sitting by the door, all dressed, just looking around to make sure no one leaves without him...and he stinks!

Long story short, he called my mom, who was out paying bills, and informed her she would have to go on without him, as he wasnt going to sacrifice letting Smeagol come along and ruin everyone's life just to get some damn vittles... so I ended up going to lunch with my parents and enjoying a 75% beef fat lunch at Gates. My God, I remember the burnt end sandwich having, you know, fucking MEAT in it. Are times that hard that you raise the price AND slather BBQ sauce on cooked fat and serve it? Wuduppwidat?

Anyway, on another front, I went upstairs to the 4th floor to toilet shop this morning, and man I was laying some rope. It was a huge ringer turd, and there were 6 or 7 clunkers in the middle, which is great times, but all of a sudden, some lady opened the door to the bathroom and called out "is anyone in here?"

I sat there, frozen, and in shock. I had 2 choices: A), I could ignore it, and risk them coming in and seeing me shitting, or 2), I could call out, and anyone out in the hallway would know I was the Bathroom Bandit, much like Desmond was at da Firm. For a split second I contemplated option 1, but with the legal ramifications (can I get arrestified for indecent exposure if I am in a shitter stall and some lady sees me?) went with the second. I called out "I'm >grunt<>

I heard her say to someone beside her "There's someone IN there... what do I do?"

Well RIGHT FUCKING AFTER I answer her, some guy yells from the FUCKING HALLWAY "Hey is anyone in there?" FUck? What did they expect? That I would disappear between the 4 seconds of silence between her calling for me and him calling? Fuck that asshole, I sat there quietly. Then he comes into the shitter and I hear him say "I can see someone in the last stall" real loud... FUUUCK!

I assumed since someone was, y'know, IN THE FUCKING BATHROOM, they would leave and let me sneak out with what little dignity I had left intact. Not a chance. All of a sudden I hear loud noises, like there is a construction zone in the bathroom, and I am mid-turd so I can't stop... I go ahead and finish, flush and try to sneak out of the stall, and right into the middle of 4 guys tearing the fucking bathroom apart. The soap dispensers are all gone, the paper towel dispenser is open, and these guys are tearing the whole fucking bathroom apart. I stand there, shitty fingers hanging at my sides, and one of the douchebag du jours notices me and says "Oh, hey, you probably need some soap"... then he leaves. I stand there awkwardly, looking at the other guys working within 5 feet of where I had just taken a huge shit, no doubt smelling it, and one of them hands me a roll of paper towels. At this point there is no coming back, so when the guy brings the soap in (we were changing vendors), I am all like "hey, thanks buddy!" and wash my hands.....while the 4 guys watched. It was fucking creepy. I then turned and left, sure they would look in the stall I had just vacated and see the tire treads I left in the bottom of the stool...

The 4th floor, which for 2 years I have loved like a brother, a brother I hide behind to take shits, is now tainted. I must now find a new shit spot. Let us all have a moment of silence, as we remember a friend lost, a comrade who has fallen by the wayside; nay, let us *sniff* remember the good times, the *snort* time I won the superbowl on tecmo superbowl during the harrowing month of December, when I ONLY allowed myself to play whilst on the can...

4th floor, you will be missed.

Friday, August 14, 2009

Cars, cars, everywhere there's cars

Cars, cars, everywhere there's cars

see the mountain blue
heartland vista; majesty
Let the eagle soar

Before I get into the next set of cars in our cavalcade of awesome, I must (as I am wont to do) emit another flurry of barely understood rhetoric on politics. If you are a conservative republican, tell the person reading this to you to skip the next paragraph. Thank you.

I so wish I could be hired on to go to these town hall meetings. I would put everything so bluntly a retarded deaf blind child with an arm growing out of his ass would understand. And then he could explain it to Rush Limbaugh's listeners.

Here would be my speech, verbatim:

"Ladies, gentlemen, child molesters, and mullet aficionados, welcome. I will make this short, so as to save you time and keep you from missing the next NASCAR/ Bass fishin' event. Before you start screaming about Obama bringing 'socialism' to America, you are from now on required to define socialism. If you cannot correctly define socialism, you will be tazed, then pepper sprayed, then sterilized so your idiocy does not infect our country's gene pool, which would lead to some bad stem cells being used to lengthen the penises of homosexual men before they legally marry.

Second, if you truly believe there are going to be 'death panels' (note I would put up the double quotes on all these), panels that tell people to die and try to steer old people toward death, then you are an idiot. While personally I believe that all people (myself included) should be exterminated once they have outlived their usefulness (which does not come at an age, mind you), only a complete and total moron would put that into legislation. And claiming it is magically 'hidden' (note the quotes again) in a document that is 'more than 1,000 pages!', shows you have a shorter attention span than the average Harry Potter aficionado, who is on average about 10.

Lastly, Barack Obama was born in the United States. End of story. If you are one of the many, many idiots frothing at the jowls about needing to see his birth certificate, you should be stripped naked and raped by a prison gang. Nicely though, with like lube and stuff because stupidity is a crime but it's just as entertaining as it is hurtful.

Thank you, and no further questions.... except from that big tittied girl in the third row."


Anyway, political rant over for the time being, let's move on:

10. 1992 Plymouth Sundance
Price - 650
Location bought - Truman Road and I-435 (auction)
* So finally I had had enough with these sheister car dealers, what with their deigo mustaches and their greasy hair (I got that from celebrity jeopardy, not even sure what a deigo is, I think it's someone from California though), and decided to buy a car from the public (pubic) auction this time, as THAT would be a lot better.

Not a lot on this car, except it was one of the top 3 cars I have had the honor of owning. I put 32000 miles on it in 2 years, never had a problem (except that if you tried to speed up to 55 without letting off the gas, the car would yaw until you let off, then it would drive fine) until the transmission shit itself. Like an idiot, instead of getting it fixed, I just got out and walked off, no idea what happened to that car.
THE END - Tranny went out one day, I got out of the car and walked away. Never looked back.

11. 1986 Dodge Diplomat
Price - 250
Location bought - Truman Road and I-435 (auction)
* The steam engine. The bird-murderer. The Life-Stealer. All names given to this well-documented piece of machinery. The windows in front would not roll down, and the heat only worked in full blast mode. It had NO power, even though it had a 318 v8, because it had almost 250K miles on it, but when we DROVE it to the junkyard, it had almost 400k miles on it. I had to replace the alternator once a month, and we had to hose the engine down once a month from all the oil spraying around in there. Great times. Look through earlier posts, I really did love this car. I got it the same day as the SUndance, and it lasted for 5 years, mostly as the backup car but for a LONG time as the only car...
THE END - We sold it to Wyatt Earp, who drove the shit out of it, and finally took it to the trash heap when he got tired of the poltergeist like manifesting of the car shitting itself.

12. 1996 Chrysler Concorde
Price - INITIALLY 2000
Location bought - My wife's dad
* Initially this car was supposed to be 2000 dollars. Long story short, I think at last count we owe just under 4000 now, with all the repairs that her dad covered on said automibile. Not a whole lot on this car, it had 75k miles on it when we got it 8 years ago, we still have it, it had 176k miles on it, my wife plowed into a deer doing 70 on I-435, and THEN finished her drive to work, we put a bright purple hood on it (the rest of the car was an opal color, so it actually kinda matched), and since it was my wife's car it was almost always halfway full of fucking trash. I hate dirty cars. There's no fucking reason for it. When you finish eating your sandwich, throw the damn paper in the trash or out the window at a wino so he can smell success...
THE END - the car never really ran right after hitting the deer, but it is still here, sitting in my driveway... maybe one day I will see what's up widdit.

This post is getting a bit long, so I will pause here. Monday I shall delve into the EBAY years of my car buying career, great times.

*/Post note: If you are a conservative and I have offended you, my bad ho. It just annoys me that I have to listen to people all the time saying stupid shit and I have to keep my mouth shut because I am at work or in some other setting where it is socially unacceptable. /*

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Cars, Cars Cars!

Cars, Cars Cars!

golden shower time
upturned face, mouth is agape
it's apple juice, perv without further ado, we move on to the second installment of my 5 part series, "Better know a lemon"

6. 1980 Chevrolet Malibu
Price - $800.00
Location Bought - Truman Road across from Elmwood Cemetary
* So when it was obvious that the Skylark had a myriad of problems that had been covered up (it was later found out it had some serious front end problems, but it was tough to find that out since I couldnt keep the car started long enough to find that out), I did what any sane and thoughtful person would do: I got Toboggan Boy and headed down to the car dealership to get another car from them.

It was great fun watching Toby's crack fuelled rage-o-thon, the indignation in his voice as he threatened to "whomp some goat-smellin' ass", his white guy afro and huge lip rug jiggling in awe-inspiring fury, the stereotypical nasty looking lady with the green shirt and filthy pink sweatpants never taking her eyes from her magazine... and finally he calmed down enough to infomr them that we had no intention of ever purchasing a car from them again, and that we were leaving this piece of crap here. We were then informed that they would call the police unless we took that car because I signed a contract. This was somehow parlayed into me buying the above mentioned car.
THE END: This car was another "looks great, runs, not so much" cars, which will become a common theme in my sexy time posts... the front end was so squirrely when I took the car back to them the steering wheel had ceased to turn the car anymore, and it was by pure luck the car just happened to randomly turn enough to bump it up on the curb by their establichment.

7. 1985 Mercury Grand Marquis
Price - $1497.00
Location bought - 52nd and North Brighton (right off of North Prospect, FYI)
* I got this car because the down payment was in my budget (49 dollars) and because it was big and gold. It had an anemic 302 V8 in it, got about 14 mpg, and fell to shit soon after I got it. First, the power windows went down and would not come back up. This would not have been a huge deal, but I bought the car in December. Driving down the highway with it fucking snowing and freezing rain inside you damn car lets police know that stopping you is paramount. Then it started dying. Often. While I was driving. Finally, one day something happened and antifreeze foured out from under the car.
THE END - I took it back to the dealership, having learned my lesson, and got

8. 1992 Ford Taurus
Price - #3495.00
Location bought - 52nd and North Brighton Road
* I never go to drive this car. I had been arrested and my license had gotten suspended previously, for turning when the police were turning, which for some reason equalled suspicious behavior, and my lovely wife drove this car the whole time, so outside of the fact that it always ran, I can tell you little to nothing about said car.

That being said, I will note that during the ice storm that hit that year, she was driving down North Oak WAY too fast, jumped a curb at like 50 MPH and from then on between 45 and 60 the car jostled like we were in a washing machine. Great times.

9. 1978 Chevrolet Impala
Price - $330.00*
Location bought - Northland somewhere
* THis car was a pleasant, and complete surprise. We were sitting at work on break, my wife and I, at lovely Burger King, trying to figure out how we were going to pay 375/mo. rent AND the way too high 152.00/mo. car payment. No we couldnt afford, so didnt purchase, insurance. As we were talking, the lady behind us remarked that she was moving to Montana (why I am not sure. Are there people in Montana?), and that she would sell us her Mother's car, which looked rough but ran great. Her price, 330, was more than equitable, and we went to look at the car.
Well, "ugly" did not begin to describe this car. Let me preface this by saying I LOVE that body style of car, and this one had no dents, dings, or any of that shit. On the OUTSIDE. It was, however, sky blue, gold, rust colored and orange. As in 3 times someone had decided to paint the car, got started, said "Fuck it", and quit. Whatever. The interior left a little to be desired. The cloth on the seats was all ratty and torn up, so we sat on lovely foam cushion, which would of course grind itself into your pants if you dared move. There was also no headliner, so there was orange fluff that rained down on you at all times. By the time you got out of this car, you looked like a Cheeto. All of these things sucked, but this was the best automobile I ever owned. It ran ALL the time. My wife dumped it nose first into a ditch - twice, still ran. I spun out and hit a guardrail, still ran. Did I mention when these things happened there was no damage to the car? It got 20 MPG, city, highway, or lake. It was an ugly son of a bitch, and people moved out of the way when I got on the highway. Best memory though? When I drove that ugly sucka up to the hospital door to take my oldest son home. You should have seen the look on the nurse's face, great times. I sold this car twice, got it back twice, and it outlasted everything I ever had.
THE END - I am literally getting teary eyed as I write this. I fucking loved that car. She finally met her end when a buttfucking JJ got to her, as he wrecked it trying to peel out around a corner. Every year I stop to think about that car, the great times, the lack of air conditioning, the sweet jacked up look it had when I put truck tires on the back, and I let out a remorseful, sad, memory laden fart in honor of my gone friend. Rest in Peace...

Fuck, I will do the next few tomorrow, I...I don't wanna talk about cars anymore. WHY?!

* The price for the car was 330. We told the lady that we had 300, and promised to send the remaining 30 later. She left for Montana that day. To this day I am assuming I owe some lady 30 dollars in Montana. Great times.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Vehicular Manslaughter

Vehicular Manslaughter

touch the Whitesnake, girl
Kraken's your QUiet Riot
Take on me, A-Ha

So yesterday, we were all debating cars, with me being the only one in the room who does not enjoy the fruits of GM's labors, and the Tylester dared ask me to explain myself. Well, friends, as I was going through the cars I had, we all came to the completely skewed observation that it was not so much the fault of GM, as it was mine for purchasing cars for less than 600 dollars and then expecting them to be awesome. I figured I would go through, really fast, the more than 20 vehicles I have owned in my short driving career, and let you draw your own sweet and sassy conclusions.

1. 1982 Buick Regal
Price: Free (it was a "gift" from Smeagol)
Location bought: N\A
* In all honesty, this was a really nice car, and I cannot complain too much about it. Smeagol gave it to me to drive, I drove it for about 2 weeks, then Smeagol took it back and traded it in for a 1990 Pontiac Sunbird, which promptly got impounded and still to this day sits in an impound lot, as far as I know.
THE END - Smeagol took it back

2. 1984 Pontiac Fiero
Price: $297.00
Location bought: 41st and Troost
* This was a sweet looking car, kinda like a little Ferrari. Why was it so cheap? It was a manual, had 200k miles on it, and had no 3rd gear. I also remember it not being able to go in reverse either. I ended up trading this to the most shady character I had ever seen (you know when you see someone and you can just tell by the way they are kinda jukin' and jivin', or smoking crack?) for car number 3, which was:
THE END - Traded for Camaro

3. 1978 Chevrolet Camaro
Price: $575.00
Location bought: 37th and Cleveland *interesting side note, it was a junkyard/trash heap, and I had to climb over trash to get to his desk. This should have been an indication of what was to come...
* I got this car because it looked cool, plain and simple. It was electric blue, had turbine wheels, T-Tops, and a cool sounding engine. However, the ENTIRE front end was held together with bailing wire (which is chicken wire, for the uninitiated), it never ran right, and every time I turned a corner I had to hold the door on or it would fly open, which was not cool. The first day I had it, I went outside to admire it after some healthy toilet shopping to find some nasty ass old guy in the front seat. I asked him politely what the fuck he was doing in my car, and let my doberman loose before he had a chance to answer. Turns out I had forgotten to take the "For Sale" sign off of the car and he thought it was for sale... Tee hee!

Another funny thing (not really) is when the skeevy loser came to pick the Fiero up, it ran like a top even without that gear, and I had never driven it because I didn't know how to drive a stick and also because it had no third gear, so that Fiero could have ended up being a great car, I will never know.
THE END - I ended up selling it to some hoodlums, who promptly found out it was crap, demanded their money back, which I gave, and then came back later and stole the car. Sad times. Also I had no title, so there was that.

4. 1991 Pontiac Grand Prix
Price - I dunno, it was technically Smeagol's car
Location bought: 63rd and Troost
* The Grand Prix was a pretty decent car, technically it was Smeagol's, but since he would always climb into the back seat and curl up on the floorboards and fall asleep, gassing me (have you ever tried breathing through your mouth and actually TASTED fart?!)
THE END - I backed out of the driveway and the axle broke. In the middle of the fucking street. I just sat there, cars on either side honking at me (what the fuck am I supposed to do, moron?) and looked, dumbfounded, as all manner of fluid trickled out of the bottom of the car.

5. 1986 Buick Skylark Custom
Price - $850.00
Location bought - Truman Road across from Elmwood Cemetary
* I should have known not to purchase this car because all of these dealerships looked shady, but fuck I needed a car. THis was a GORGEOUS car, it was silver, had a digital dash, smelled fresh all the time, there was one problem. When I bought it, apparently the mechanic covered all the holes in the block over with some thich black grease. I first noticed this when I tried to go up a hill and the car could not do it. This was an indication that something was awry. My second clue was the car died. A lot. Like every 3-4 minutes. I am not exaggerating. It was hilarious, one of the bus station skanks I dated during that time thoguht I was killing the car on purpose to get busy. This could very well be the case, but I would want to get, you know, away from your fucking house first, moron...
THE END - I traded this car in, at the same lovely dealership, for car # 6, a 1980 Chevrolet Malibu...

More tomorrow... I will try to do 5 a day, that way I will be done sometime early next week.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Giggity Giggity Goo!

The nipple pimple
blemish on hot body part?
or snack with your milk?

Well, Smeagol went home today. I know, I know, you are crying in your oatmeal... I know you all secretly hoped he would come into your life, sleeping on your couch, in your car, on your toilet as he stops it up with ginormous half-digested 30 day old taco bell turds of justice... but I guess true love, or Mystery's mom getting the lights turned back on, convinced him to change his ways.

So I told JJ to tell Smeagol about the party my sister was having, simply because it would have been hilarious to see him there, but he didn't show up, meaning either A) Smeagol never woke up long enough to be informed about said party (he was always asleep when I called, which is why I never got to talk to him) or B) he feared the Country Club Plaza's constabulary corps.

Whatevs, the party wasn't so bad, they had a band (can't remember the name, but my sister was all googley eyed the whole time, so I am going to assume it was Culture Club), decent food, plus I was the buffest one there, so that was pretty cool...

I guess I just don't understand that wily raptor. Sometimes I think he can function in normal society if he really wanted to, and though outlandish, his constant claims that he got to sniff the vaginas of hot ladies all the time can't ALL be lies, can they?

Anyway, on to something else, the PLAN is this next Tuesday to take my dear mother out to lunch with the Tylester, where I am assuming he will attempt to make out with her or get her to say something from the olde Mystical Retard days... we will be at Oklahoma Joe's on 47th and Mission road next Tuesday, look for the guy not wearing any pants, and Tylester and I will be behind him.

On another front, we have another 50th b-day coming up, and before I am asked to dress as something humiliating, I would like to come up with an idea of something hawt to dress up as, but I am coming up blank. I originally thought assless chaps and a Duluth letterman jacket would be nice but maybe not so corporate environment friendly...

So I am leaving it up to you. What should I wear? This time it is being left up to me, and as long as they are no more wrong than a pink tutu or a bumblebee costume I am willing to listen to any ideas... I will then put them up to a vote and get a costume made.