Friday, October 18, 2013

R.I.P. "Douchebag Drivers"

I'm finally shutting down my defunct "Douchebag Drivers" blog. For one thing, almost all of the posts were lost. I don't know what happened to them. I'm retarded, so I probably deleted them. For seconds, if I blogged about all the intensely stupid people I encountered on my commute I would have to quit my job and start an IV drip and wear a diaper because I wouldn't have time to eat or piss. So for posterity, in reverse order, here be all that there be.



12-8-09 "WAR (PA)"
Oh dear! Oh me, oh my!! On my way home from work, I was signalling my merry way into the left lane, when in my rearview explodes the most amazing GROWING set of round headlights. "Holy crap", thought I, and quickly got out of the way of a red musclecar (not sure if it was old and restored, or new-ish; it was definitely chunky). Traffic was barely coasting at a childlike 80, and I just about had time to blink as this car blew past me and the rest of Earth ... and then he realized - WOW! - he had to get off at the next exit. Well, you can guess the rest; typical macho "my weener is hopelessly tiny, so take a look at my dad's car" stuff.

My favorite part was the combination of his license plate which read 'WAR', and the GIANT WHITE STICKER over his entire rear windshield, which read 'MERCENARY'. Yes indeed!! You can't even make this stuff up, folks!!

Oh Mr. Mercenary sir, if your majesty is reading this, I think I just about laughed until I threw up little pink kittens when I saw ya. Seriously, get over your idiot self. Oh man, here come the kittens...



11/14/09 "TDN32S (PA)"
Hey mister big-shot rig man… BACK THE FUCK OFF. You can take your big tractor trailer and ram it up your fat ass.



2/20/08 "GBJ 4606 (PA)"

Just an all-around aggressive freak; jam on the gas to a nice 3-inch tailgating position, slam on the brakes to express toddler-grade frustration, jam on gas to pass other drivers, repeat ad nauseum. No signalling; a real charmer.



9/27/07 "FWL 2346 (PA)"

Dear Impatient Freak; keep your ugly, dirty, idiotic self off the road… but wait. I do make it a practice to see the world through others' eyes. So I will try. :) :) :)

Instead of staying home, enmeshed lovingly in your retarded kid sister's skanky clam, you decided to take a ride to allow the smog-stink of the highway to cover the rank smell of rotten cock and cheap weed permeating your JC Penney 50%-off sport coat. While you were out, dreaming of simpler times—when your drunk daddy just gave it to you in the ass instead of making you polish his warty balls with a mouthful of your mother's clotted breast milk—you made the world an uglier place by taking your pent-up frustrations out on traffic. When you get to the hardcore porn store to pick up your bootleg gay snuff DVDs, you'll realize that tailgating, cutting people off, and making asinine hand gestures is not the way back into daddy's heart, as much as it feels good to assert your presence by being a reckless jackoff. I know no one pays attention to you at home (except when you spread peanut butter on your taint for your dog to lick off), but the next time you're gargling some guy's cum, maybe you can shit-paint a heart shape on his chest and pretend you're a big, happy family.



9/24/07 "GHE 9__ (PA)"

This bald, sorta-black version of Robin Hood (I say "Robin Hood" because he had the same child-molester training 'stache, probably penciled-in by his 3-year-old illegitimate daughter using mommy's charcoal eyeliner... and I say "sorta-black" because his skin was that weird Halle Berry chocolate-milk color like he couldn't commit to going all the way) cut me off so closely I had to lunge toward the cement divider to avoid his car. I layed on the horn because I swear I thought, "this is the end; I'm going to get nailed by this beige fruitcake... it's all over". Well, I didn't die... and after a cursory glance in his side mirror, he proceeded to tailgate a black convertible, swishing back and forth like no one could have possibly noticed his rush to the Big Doofus convention. The guy in the convertible actually stuck his arm in the air and waved Milk Chocolate Robin Hood back. He reigned in his mighty silver steed and blared on down the right-hand lane and cut in front of a line of rigs at the 22/78 split... who all had to slam on their brakes to avoid turning him into Milk Chocolate Concertina Man. I hope he was on time for his Worst Driver of September Award.



8/8/07 "GKZ 8393 (PA)"

This guy starts meandering into me right near Cabela's. So I honk... not angrily, just a couple of polite "hmmm, would you mind not scraping your stepdad's I-hate-my-life fishing-trip bushwagon into my tiny car?" beeps. He turns his whole greasewad head around and looks at me like I've got a crop of nutsacks growing out of my eyesockets before he fades back into the left-lane distance. I almost forget about it all until he comes rocketing up beside me - probably jerking off the scruffy guy in the passenger seat - lays on the horn and speeds away... his ego superficially reclaimed via one uber-manly gun-totin' road-load, spent in the face of adversity and etiquette.

And ...dude, oh my god. Your big white gangster head hankie was just too much. Did I go to high school with you?



6/6/07

FUCK YOU, YOU CRAZY OUT-OF-STATE BITCH!!!!!!!



5/1/07 "SEEYA S4 (PA)"

Your car is an ugly miniature station wagon. The "stylish" hatch window couldn't hide your hideous, over-gelled comb-over. The fact that your car's speed, agility, and intelligence are far superior to your own does not excuse your clumsy plunges in and out of traffic. You obviously don't know how to handle your ugly toy; you looked like a tanntrumming 3-year-old with a head covered in elephant cum and a stupid vanity licence plate to match. That you are obviously living vicariously through your vehicle is precious like Jesus.



2/5/07 "EGM 7341 (PA)"

One fine day, you will paint yourself and that stupid car all over a concrete divider.



1/16/07 "EJE 7383 (PA)"

Hats off to you: the BIGGEST JACKOFF of January! You're so busy revisiting last night's fight you had wih your live-in girlfriend/cousin about your pathetic lovemaking that you forgot how to drive your car.

First of all, let's pick a lane, kiddo... don't hang out sort of in the middle. I heard once that the dotted lines kind of meant that you shouldn't be right on top of them. I know it's hard to pick between sticking your skanky cock in your drunken mom, and banging your comatose grandmother, but you can't do both at once. Don't cry! I'm sure Daddy will "make it all better" tonight.

Secondly, don't get so fucking close to me that I can see out your back window like it's my own. It's terrible to picture that, for a brief moment, you might actually be sitting next to me. Even then, I can hear your girlish, lispy voice complaining that the gerbil in your ass won't stop chewing holes in your tighty whities, and you have to keep calling your mom to buy you more.

I could go on, but let's wrap this up so I can pay attention to more valid matters... like picking a booger out of my nose, filming the linoleum curling up in the corner of a retirement home, or or watching Fox News. GET BENT, you shoddy, pathetic excuse for a man who has to validate his imaginary virility by "conquering" traffic. Did you notice how I waved politely at you as you dove around me (gaining a whole 20 feet from where you were last - that's really worth it)? I saw how pissed you got... you hate that, don't you? I didn't return your finger, and that drove you a little nuts. Poor, poor sad man in your dark brown Piece-of-Shit model car that your parents bought for you in '87 with the crack money they stole from the uncle that molested you from the age of 2 until this morning. I wave at you! I wiggle my fingers at you, laughing! Haha!! :D



10/11/06 "J39 6JJ7 - SUV=My Penis Is Small"

Joe W. Suit-fuck starts out by zooming up to within inches of my car's ass while I'm boxed in by tractor trailers. Starts doing the "fly up ass, fade back, fly up ass" technique, waving his stupid impatient hands. When I finally could get out of his way, he hung back. I think he knew I had a camera. Then he gunned it. But I got him anyway... guess why? I wasn't the only one doing the snail's pace of 80 that morning, and he had to slow down after about 20 whole feet.

Well, here's a big FUCK YOU for you, sir!! You're not getting anywhere faster than me on this highway, so take your dick out and enjoy the ride intsead of using your gas-guzzling anus-mobile as an extension of your tiny, insignificant penis.



9/21/06 "Killer Schoolbus"

Maniacal school bus lurches in front of unsuspecting driver! Driver (me) is pissed!!

Dear fuckass bus driver: Most motor vehicles come equipped with a special yellow flashy thing that tells other people that you're going to go left. Though honestly not a whole lot could have prepared me for your harebrained leap into the passing lane. It's not like you're carting around anything really important.



9/21/06 "ERD 0348 - The Nudge"

Hey, that guy is getting a little close. Wait... what's he doing? Does he know I'm here?? Someone call 9-1-1... I can only assume this person has fallen asleep at the wheel, because no one is so asinine as to just drift willy-nilly into the other lane without signaling first.

Unless it's "The Nudge". This driver decides he wants to be where you are, but doesn't want to tell anyone. Instead, he will slowly start easing toward your vehicle from the side. The plan is for you to be so freaked out that you slam on the brakes and maybe beep, but the point is that he gets by without the burden of etiquette. These d-bags usually decide within a minute or two that golly, they had a better time in the other lane, so they start nudging someone else.

Only slightly less annoying than "The Nuge".



9/6/06 "TRR 7927 - Jackoff in a Verizon Company Truck"

This retard was probably late for an appointment or something. He was weaving in and out of traffic - no turn signals - like a complete maniac and almost sideswiped a van pulling into a gas station. I don't even think he saw the guy.

Of course, there was enough traffic that, no matter how hard he punched the gas to grind ahead of us mortal folk, he always got stuck at a red light.

If you see this asswipe, tell him to slow the fuck down and start signalling, or I'm going to pee in his gas tank.

Monday, July 1, 2013

8 years of goodbye

My second post on this blog was on 3-6-07. Most of it was dedicated to my new joyful love with TJ.

"...I'm not knocked up. We're not trying to patch up relations by moving in together. We have set and respected boundaries for each other. We have shared and individual goals. We're in love, sure... but we also really like each other! Have you noticed that a lot of involved couples don't really like each other? Despite my own anxious "cold feet" about progress - which is almost carved in my genetic code - I'm very excited to see where we land in a few years.

I can't believe some of the ragged, tired relationships going on around us. How they got off the ground is beyond me; how some of them stay in the air is nothing short of a shitstain miracle. Then again, is it a miracle is both people are largely miserable? When getting pregnant or shacking up are tactics used as bandages for a mortally wounded love affair? What kind of partnership is that? What is the world coming to, when people stay together out of terror of being on their own…"


Spooooky.

Monday, July 30, 2012

Food Noises Guy 34


"Moose drops.
Moose drops?
MOOSE DROPS?"

Monday, December 19, 2011

Last Minute Craft Fair @ the Secret Art Space: Bethlehem, PA

I was approved by Hannae Syd to tend a table at the Last Minute Craft Fair, and sold quite a bit of my old resin jewelry, and some buttons and magnets. The place was small and comfortably packed with creative people from all over the Lehigh Valley; I felt a little like the Untalented Duckling, but everyone was delightful and so very friendly. I came away with a squee-inducing felt mustahcioed-pirate-heart pin (I'll just leave that to your imagination).

I was lucky enough to share table space with the superbly creative Steven Leibensperger - a.k.a. Muero Apparo - a Cressona native who was selling a selection of original tees and hand-inked doggie hoodies. DOGGIE HOODIES! :D

Being in Bethelehem reminded me inversely of Orwigsburg's prize pig: that supremely disgusting vomitorium known as Renninger's Auction, traversing which is very much like boot-fucking through a giant grease-encrusted ashtray. Can you dig it?

Sunday, November 20, 2011

You must have bananas in your ears!




Zoda sure drools a lot when he dies.

Friday, October 14, 2011

If you want to walk, don't talk... DO IT.

I didn't pawn this from some fruity Facebook post, although that's exactly what it sounds like. So here's what I want you to do: think of someone, and stop there. If the person changes as you read, that's good, then just think of someone else. Make sure no one else is around or you'll kid yourself.


Whose birthday do you remember, and who remembers your birthday?

Who do you run to to tell your problems, your good news, your bad news, your gossip, your dreams, your lies?

Who giggles with you all night into the morning?

Who doesn't care about your bad breath, old clothing, or childish habits?

Who can't you help dressing up for, and who enjoys your compliments?

Who has your phone numbers memorized?

To whom do you tell your real secrets, and whose secrets are yours alone?

Who tells you the truth, and to whom do you tell the truth, especially if it hurts?

Who can you fight with and return to, whether it's made a difference or not?

Who sticks up for you, and whom do you make excuses for?

Who has seen you sob, fall, puke, throw a temper tantrum, and leaves you feeling unashamed and human?

Who is so beautiful it hurts?

Who knows every little thing about you, and still says "love" at the end of the email?




If you know this person - and it's not your sibling, parent, or child - this is my guess:
Marry each other.
Seriously. RIGHT NOW.
Even if you're not dating.
Even if you believe in different gods.
I don't care. It doesn't matter.
If you're not attracted to each other, whatever. That will happen eventually.
Trust me, it will. Just get on it. Don't fuck around.
Do it.