Tag Archives: truck

Baby You Can Drive My Truck

The batter is warmed up, in the on deck circle. I love spring. He even has his Nike batting glove on.

The batter is warmed up, in the on deck circle. I love spring. He even has his Nike batting glove on.

Everyone has a right to my opinion and I carry a toilet plunger to make sure it’s forced as deep as possible down your throat.

I’m talking about, of course, everyone on the internet. That’s pretty much what it has come down to, right?

Take, for example, a video posted two days ago on YouTube of a road rage incident described as “Redneck Road Rage” and “Instant Karma.” The video quickly went viral. As I write this post it already has over 5 million views. Wow.

Click here to be transported to a dream world of YouTube magic: Redneck Road Rage / Instant Karma

According to the description on the video, the woman was forced to disable comments after she was issued “umpteenth” death threats and called “a b!#$h/c$%t/whore/slut” a “billion” times.

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Brat Worst

Whew! Poop tag scored! And check out the drool. This image is a win-win.

Poop tag scored! And check out the drool. This image is a win-win. And away we go…

I still wake up sometimes. I wake up in the dark and hear the screaming of the IKEA FOOD restaurant.

There’s nothing quite like the tormented wails of tiny human miscreants especially when they are SEP (Someone Else’s Problem). Don’t leave home without it!

One thing is certain: Most parents are woefully ignorant of the true nature of their spawn.

But I’m an American and being ignorant is our God-given right! And, like most of the rights we cherish and hold most dear, don’t ever try to actually use them. Or even the inverse thereof.

Confused yet? Me, too. I should break out my calculator but this one time I won’t do that.

Long story short, a cafe owner recently caused an online fracas when, frustrated with the state of the hot mess on the floor of her eatery, she took to Facebook to express herself.

Bad idea? Yeah. It’s almost as bad as salsa from New York City. New York City?!?!? Somebody get a pickup truck. Yee-haw. Let’s ride.

I’m Clearly Not Sam Elliott but I still got something to say. And it goes down smooth.
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Truck You

Today I offer a short photo essay regarding the object that wrecked my life made the big move possible: Ye olde moving truck.

Even the selection of the truck was a source of consternation. The U-Haul website said that the 24′ truck was for a “3 – 4 bedroom home.” That’s a verbatim quote. Since we had a three bedroom home, my wife thought this was a logical selection.

Yet, there I was, like Oliver again, somehow wanting more.

When you stop to think about it, moving is taking yourself and all of your stuff to a new address.
–Tom B. Taker, philosopher

The biggest truck you could get was the 26′ truck which was billed for “4+ bedrooms.” I wanted that truck. Like I explained to my wife, loading always takes longer than unloading and a bit of extra breathing room would allow us to avoid a real life game of Tetris with our precious belongings. Besides, I reasoned, the larger truck was only 10% more cost, about $265 vs. $240.

FYI: The loading to unloading ratio was about 10:1. Every 10 hours of loading time required about one hour to offload. I know because I was there with a stopwatch yelling, “Eureka!”

In the end we went with the larger truck and guess what? And guess what? Our humble three bedroom abode didn’t fit. We had to leave shit behind and strap my Trek mountain bike to the hood of my wife’s car. And, this was my wife’s brilliant idea, the cat’s litter box had to ride in the cab of the truck with me. I shit you not! (The poop tag requirements for this post have now been satisfied.)

We are owned by our precious possessions, but that’s another story.

Keep on truckin’!

About 1/3 loaded. Tetris blocks are beginning to confound.

move-1

In the photo below we see the fully loaded masterpiece. Note: This is before we crammed in everything we had filling in every nook and cranny more than a Thomas’ english muffin.

move-2

This photo documents one of the happiest moments of my life. Virginal status has been restored.

move-3

Ch-ch-ch-changes

changeKeep the change, ya filthy animal.

Change of Address

I live on the surface of a rotating planetoid. The speed of rotation is approx. 1,000 miles per hour.

Meanwhile, the planet itself is moving about 67,000 miles per hour around the sun.

The sun is the center of our solar system, which is also moving around the center of our galaxy at approx. 490,000 miles per hour.

The galaxy is moving towards something called the Great Attractor, appox. 150 million light years away, at a rate of 1,000 kilometers per second.

In other words, I just want it to be known my physical location on this planetoid is changing by about 2.5 degrees of latitude. That’s a lot!

Moving Paradoxes

A pending move means boxes. Packing lots and lots of boxes.

The more you pack the more exhausted you get.

The more exhausted you get the more you require peaceful, restful sleep.

The more you require sleep the more the more you lie in bed with your eyes open.

Can’t sleep. Might as well get up and pack some more boxes and make myself more tired.

Blogfather: Whack-a-Roll

Someone messes with my wife? I mess with them. I’m taking out a contract and, for once in my life, I know the perfect someone for the job.
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Zoology 101

In your cage at the human zoo,
They all stop to look at you.
–Styx, circa 1977

Someone mentioned Styx the other day. I apologize but I can’t stop the references now.

This post is brought to you by the letter “Z,” the omega of the alphabet experience. Just like the human race, all good things must come to an end, so must the A-Z Blogger Challenge.

My idea for this post was “zoo.” I didn’t even bother going to the Google to find some obscure reference that might make me look smarter than that. Not this time.

But I wanted my own special spin on it. Fortunately someone mentioned Styx lately and, well, it just came together. Humans in a cage at the zoo; a human zoo. Now that’s an idea I can work with!

As the author of Society of Assholes I have done some limited research in this area. Before we begin, there is one important distinction to be made. I now excerpt from the book:

You might correctly be asking by now, “What the fuck? What about murderers, rapists, child molesters and such? Why don’t you call them assholes, too?” That’s a good point. However, for the purposes of this book, such extreme (and obvious) examples are beyond the pale. Those people are indeed true “assholes” and destined for a special level of Hell (I wish), but the purpose of this book is a bit more subtle. It seeks to explore the asshole within each and every one of us. The asshole that expresses itself from the typical and average individual within the larger context of every day society. That is the asshole we will be seeking.

With that in mind, it’s time to begin our tour of the zoo. We’re all too fat and out of shape to walk these hills under our own steam, so climb aboard this tram and we’ll be on our way. Please remain seated at all times, keep your head, arms and legs within the tram, and no flash flash photography.

Genus – Addictus Parentus

In our first exhibit we see a typical modern family. A husband, a wife, and two children, a boy and a girl. As you can see, the parents are smoking away furiously on their cigarettes. This is an important mechanism for passing destructive behavior from one generation to the next. This parental genome lacks the ability to evaluate long-term risk and there is a very high probability the addiction will be picked up by the children, who typically ape what they know and see.

I actually had the good fortune to spot addictus parentus in their natural habit just the other day. We were at a restaurant enjoying some dinner. At a table nearby was a family of four. They fit the profile but I had not yet made the species identification. If you are patient, though, field research can often be rewarding. The adults, both at the same time, got up and left the restaurant.

This was a curious development and it got my attention. Leaving the children alone in a restaurant is somewhat rare these days. I crept up to the front window, making use of plastic plants for cover, and observed my quarry. Of course! They were outside smoking.

Luckily I was carrying my logbook and successfully documented the sighting.

The Masculinity Experience

Welcome to our newest exhibit, sponsored by Ford Trucks that are built Ram tough and solid as a rock from heartland America. (Free truck nuts with every purchase.) Yes, it’s The Masculinity Experience featuring our prize specimen, Mike Rowe.

You all know Rowe from shows like Dirty Jobs and Ford commercials. That’s why we have these little infopoints mounted on each exhibit. For example, did you know Rowe started as an opera singer and was known for his arias? And that he then moved on to being an on-air host for the shopping channel QVC?

Arias and shopping!!!

Even in light of those facts, amazing the masculinity of this specimen is above reproach. Testing has confirmed that his testosterone is taking steroids.


I had more planned for the tour but we’re out of time. Maybe we’ll continue the tour later. That’s all, folks!

This is my “Z” post for the A-Z Blogger Challenge.

Favre goes deep — in his pants

My that's a BIG truck! A man-sized truck! Is that thing stick?

Look at the size of that thing! Um, yeah. I’m talking about his truck, not his junk, yo!

I don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill but the Favre chatter caught my interest today. Good thing he stuck around another year so this can be his legacy!

Some Brett Favre activity today from the Twitter:

Think I’m making this up? Here’s a link to a news story and shiznit. 🙂

So I heard about the Brett Favre story in the news. Ugh. Then I saw the tweet about it. Then I cracked a joke on Twitter. Then I got curious and looked it up. Yep. He drove a Chevy Silverado. No joke. It’s true.

Of course I also have the exact same theory about men who attempt to use their power to control women sexually. Coincidence? I think not.

Note: I wish to point out that I took the high road and avoided the phrase “drive it home.” Oops. Until now, that is. 🙂