Saturday, April 22, 2006

Duck Feet

My previous experience with the Comcast assclowns was not so pleasant and totally made me want to gouge out my eyes with one of those little spoon-slash-forks from Kentucky Fried Chicken. I guess because I wasn't going for the super complicated installation of wireless internet they were able to downgrade the number of technicians sent out to my home to a whopping one! person, a guy who smelled like licorice. Which made me think of jagermeister, and please don't judge me if that's not spelled right because I hate that sickly sweet crap masquerading as liqour. But he DID smell like licorice which was slightly strange in that way that makes you wonder if it was a personal decision to smell like that or if it's something he's struggled with his entire life and was possibly teased mercilessly about as a kid. Like if he had cankles or wore tightrolled jeans after 1995.

I'd have teased his ass, too.

Before going any further I'd like to thank this kid for writing here for a few days while I sat in a cubicle and trained with a guy who's job I'm taking over. The only cool thing that came out of that was my swank ass digs with windows. And the whole BlackBerry, laptop and cellphone situation. Though it's really not as cool as one might originally think because who REALLY wants all that shit when it means They can get ahold of you at all hours of the day and night. But who am I kidding, I ate that shit up with a brita filter.

It's strangely freeing that I can sit in the privacy of my own home and write FUCK SHIT ASS CUNT HOLE MOTHERFUCKER and not worry that Someone is looking over my shoulder and blatantly judging me for my lack of vocabulary or utter offensiveness. (Or for the fact that that I'm totally not working.) It's so freeing, in fact, that even though I'd been practically salivating for two weeks in anticipation of getting my very own internet connection in my very own home (well, apartment, let's not be technical) I completely forgot about my plan to have a post that utilized the word Fuck in every sentence. It's probably too much to ask that it's freed me from my near-obessesive verbalization of the aforementioned words, though.

Sometimes my immaturity astounds EVEN ME.

Because I'm not in the mood to tell an entire story I'm going to give you some one brief look of what mi vida was like this past week:

Tuesday night I was at work until midnight. Please, contain your jealousy. I was tired and cranky and ohsovery exhausted when I walked out to my car, opened my door and was BLASTED with the smell of bleach. Now, I like bleach. You might even say I love bleach. I have an unhealthy obsession with using it, which means I can only buy white sheets because THEY MUST BE BLEACHED. But the car is not the place one wants to smell the bleach, being as how it's a CAR and not a BATHTUB. Slightly perplexed, I walked to the back of my car and popped the trunk where I quickly found out that leaving a gallon of bleach, even if accidentally, in the trunk of one's car is never a good plan. The high had reached 90 degrees that afternoon, rendering the gallon-o-bleach a veritable projectile of bleachniness. I didn't even have the energy to clean anything up; I just grabed the Febreeze from the backseat and sprayed it angrily at the airvents, hoping the smell might somehow magically dissipate.

About six minutes later I'm pulled over by one of the city's finest for going 82 in a 60. I won't even argue, it was my godamned fault. But it was late and the interstate was DESERTED I tell you, except for the red truck traveling beside me at the exact same motherfucking speed. Though I probably looked the most suspect seeing as how all my windows were down and I was repeatedly hanging my head out of the driver window to gulp a mouthfull of fresh air.
I'm too afraid to call the number on the ticket just yet because it's kind of nice living in ignorance of how much that ticket is going to cost me.


Carl from L.A. said...

It's a nice surprise to see a post from you on a weekend.

* * *

I can't write to save my life, but I'm fortunate to be able to know how to network my six computers and two printers at home onto a wireless router and DSL modem. Let me know if you ever need help.

I recently found out that our neighborhood electronics store charges $150 to connect and network two computers. Maybe I should open a business.

* * *

On a similar evening to yours, one after having worked a very long day and was very tired and could barely tolerate my fellow drivers' idiotic and assholic (is that a word? you would know...:)) driving behavior, I stepped on the gas and was promptly pulled over by a CHP, citing me for 92 at a 65 zone. That was a $340 ticket.

tamtam said...

I had a similar situation happen to me last summer. I went to the grocery store friday night after work and when I got home the boyfriend unloaded the trunk and brought everything into the house. It was a very hot weekend, over 90 degrees. I didn't go out on Saturday, Sunday I opened the car door and was hit full on with the worst smell imaginable. You guessed it, boyfriend left a bag in the trunk. In the bag was chicken, fresh fish, and eggs. What a combo. Imagine those 3 things cooking in the trunk for a full day and a half. It took quite a while to air out the car, driving with the windows open and the air on became habit for a couple of weeks.

Barry S. said...

Speeding tickets suck bigtime. Sorry to hear about that. I flashed a cop once to get out of a ticket, but strangely enough, he really wasn't into man boobs. Go figure.

oakland heidi said...

Oh pumkin. No good, no good.

I too, love sweet sweet bleach. AND those great little blue drops you can put in the wash to make your whites look even whiter. BUT, NEVER ever get lazy and put them in without filling the washer totally up because you are in a hurry. Because then, well THEN You are left with gawd awful blue marks on your whites. And when you are purist about your whites, this hurts you in a deep place.

Drunken Chud said...

ok, robin and heidi... you guys have some white power action going on... you should have that looked at. heh. lol. but i do have to say, clean whites do smell a ton better than any other laundry. and i have always attributed it to the bleach.

carl... you got a ticket from the CHiPs? that's awesome!!!! was it poncherello?

q: What does snoop dogg use to wash his socks?

a: bleeyotch!

janestarr said...

I am pretty sure the smell of bleach can kill brain cells, not that that is what you wanted to hear. As for the licorice smelling geek in your home...I would say he choose that scene by eating black licorice all the time because only computer geeks and really old southern women like black licorice....okay that was stereotyping and not even accurate stereotyping, I made that up...good times.

Dagny said...

So I found your blog via Heidi's. I feel your pain on the ticket. I also realize why I choose to live in NorCal as opposed to SoCal from Carl's comments. Whenever I get pulled by the CHP, I get a warning. My fave? Being pulled by CHP after a night of partying at 7 a.m. on a Friday morning. (I had the day off from work.) He pulled me because I was weaving. I told him I had stopped drinking at 2 and was tired because I was up over 24 hours. I also pointed out that I was less than a mile from home. His response? "Well I don't want to make you get out of the car because you're wearing a dress." If I remember correctly, it was a short dress too.

My other warning was for a broken tail light. I was on my way home from a late movie. All the CHP officer wanted to know at that point was what I had seen and if I liked it.

i, Bobo said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
i, Bobo said...

"one of those little spoon-slash-forks"

Believe it or not it has a name -- it's called a "spork."

I kid you not.

Sorry 'bout the ticket. Did you try telling him about the bleach, or think of perhaps shoving his head into the trunk?

Strike that -- knowing you, you almost certainly thought about shoving his head into the trunk.