Thursday, July 23, 2009

The State of the Union

I'm a little over a month into my suburban relocation experience and I thought it time for my "State of the Union Address...Asshat edition".

For those of you that missed it, I recently took the State of Georgia Driving Exam. As a result, the rules mentioned in the Drivers Manual are pretty fresh in my mind. I even researched questions that might not have been listed in the Manual. I discovered the following:

1) There is no state requirement for you to leave your turn signal on for three miles after you turn/change lanes...pull your head out of your ass, moron.

2) Similarly, there is no rule or law that I can find that forbids you from actually using the turn signal to announce a turn and/or lane change...I know it's tough to walk and chew gum at the same time, but a little effort might help those around you.

3) It's not mandated that you change lanes to the left and immediately slow down. It's actually encouraged to maintain speed (or actually increase speed) if you enter the "fast" or "passing" lane. Travelling in aforementioned lanes at or near the speed limit while traffic in the lanes to your right speed by you does, in fact, make you a motorized asshat.


I pulled in to meet a friend at a local watering hole the other day and parked next to a guy in an older Jeep Cherokee. His doors were missing, as was his tailgate.

Me: "Aw, that happened to a couple of buddies of mine up in Brooklyn. Sorry about that, bro."

Kentucky Fried Motorist: "Whuu-uutt?"

Me: "Your doors. I'm assuming they were stolen."

KFM: "Hell no, I took 'em off. It's summer!!!"

Me: "Ummmm, you realize it's been raining off and on all day, right? That's why the inside is wet."

KFM: (looking amazed that I didn't understand) "You ain't from around here, are you?"

Me: "Actually, born and raised. I did something like that when I was about 17. I stopped when I realized how tough it was to get everything reattached properly and I got tired of being wet." (translation - I stopped being a dumbass)

I was told later by my dear betrothed that this was not an uncommon occurrence among the denizens of North Cobb near the lake. To this phenomenon and the participants, I have but a single question... "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

General Rants

1) If you are truly confused by the drive-thru menu at any fast food establishment, and can't order your burger and two happy meals in less than 7 may be too dumb to breathe the air I might otherwise destroy with a cigarette.

2) I'm a fan of maximizing your consumption of "the good stuff" at the Golden Corral. I absolutely understand the theory of not filling up on bread, or salad, or other items of less expense so you can cram as much meat, desert, and more expensive items so you get the most for your $9. That being said...Really? Dude, you have gravy on the side of your head by your friggin' ear. Really?? Hmmm, you have pizza on your plate,,,topped w/ a slab of roast beef,,,partially concealed by two pieces of chicken,,,complemented by a dousing of white gravy,,,w/ a mountain of ice cream w/ chocolate sauce on the side,,,all on the same friggin' plate. Did you think they were going to run out of anything, or were you just too lazy to use multiple plates, or were you afraid carrying two plates might make you look like a pig? News Flash...If you have gravy and chocolate sauce on the same plate, it's time to consider stepping away from the trough...Really.

3) If you really can't manage to turn your phone off while dining in a nice restaurant, can you at least take the earpiece out of your ear? It's not a status symbol anymore. On a similar note, if you absolutely must take a call in said restaurant, or on a crowded bus, or other crowded public area, please let me know ahead of time. I'd like to meet you there to punch you in the neck as a bit of relief to the people around you.

3a) If you're using your phone as mentioned above in an elevator...YOU'RE GOING TO LOSE RECEPTION YOU FRIGGIN' MOUTHBREATHER!!! SHOUTING WON'T HELP!!!! Please exit the building, drive up into the hills and allow yourself to be dragged away by the first mountain lion available. Sometimes even Darwinism needs a kickstart, and there's no reason an asshat like yourself can't do his/her part.

The New Family

For those of you entering into new living arrangements with members of the opposite sex, this is for you. There are also a few points dealing with the instances of moving into a home with pre-existing children.

Day 1:

Me: "Honey, I'm gonna grab a shower. Where's the soap?"

Her: "In the shower." (pointing) "Right there."

Me: "Ummm, this isn't soap. It appears to be a bottle of rejuvenating body wash w/ moisture beads and ancient sea widgets to exfoliate, cleanse and propagate the degeneration of testosterone within the species."

Her: (rolling her eyes) "It's soap."

Me: "Does that mean we don't have any soap?"

Her: (reaching into the closet and producing a bar of Irish Spring - Yay) "Here you go, sweety. I wouldn't want you to feel emasculated by the soap."

Me: "It's not soap. Where are the wash cloths?"

Her: "There's a couple in the shower."

Me: "There's a couple of things on strings that look kind of like a cross between a flower and a tumbleweed."

Her: "There you go."

Me: "So, we have no wash cloths?"

Lesson learned? Men have men stuff, women have women stuff. Never the two shall meet


In an effort to maintain fair reporting and the integrity of this blog, I do hereby offer the following:

Many years ago, a roomie extolled the virtues of babywipes for that extra little oomph of freshness, particularly after dropping a particularly gnarly deuce. The other day I chose to partake in this refreshing practice, as the deposit I had just made would, if made in a combat zone, been classified a war crime.

Only after removing the wipe and drawing it perilously close to the soiled area (the tainted taint, if you will) did I glance again at the box.

Authors note: Though they look similar, baby wipes are NOT interchangeable with Clorox Sani-wipes. Unless you're looking for a scented bleach enema, read the label. Here endeth the lesson.

Question of the day:

Bigger loser/stalker/manipulator/douchebag...Peyton Wellesly or Lanier Thames?

Discuss amongst yourselves.


  1. Hey, I've been reading your blog for a little while now and honestly, I'd like to buy you a drink sometime. Hopefully we can avoid those members of our species who would cause the throatpunching urge to rise, but sometimes... shit happens.

  2. I'll gladly join you for a drink...but should probably wait til after I've kicked the smokes or fallen off the wagon. Wouldn't want to neckpunch the unworthy while in a nicotine-less funk.