Archive for the 'driving' Category

Gas (with only one fart joke)

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on May 12, 2008 @ 9:58 am
in POS Tercel, bitches, driving, potty humor and sex
. 3 Comments

My shitty, shitty car (which is still for sale by the way! It gets great mileage!) tends to fog up like I’m driving around with a back seat full of half-naked teenagers drunk on grain-alcohol and energy drinks whenever it rains, so it’s essential to run the AC to clear up the windows. But my car is the model of Japanese efficiency, so engine power is sacrificed in favor of the AC running. 94 horsepower drops to what feels to be about 60 horsepower, and the normally very economical fuel consumption of about 30+ miles per gallon feels like it drops to about 25 or so. Point being, whenever I want to run the AC, I instinctively check the gas gauge to see if the luxury of conditioned air is something I can afford.

This morning, with the needle on the fuel gauge looking like it was fellating the lowest line in the letter “E”, I realized that AC was a luxury I couldn’t afford, but needed desperately. So I pulled into the first gas station I saw on my way to work and parked next to the first empty pump.

I popped my credit card in the card reader, removed it, and waited. I checked the display and it said, “Please remove credit card”. That was odd as the credit card had been removed. It was in my hand. So I swiped the card again, and again I got the same problem. I mashed a bunch of buttons until the request was canceled and then got back into my car and drove to another pump.

The next pump I pulled up to was broken, as was the next one after that. Finally I just got in line behind someone who was already pumping gas, figuring that if they would be able to use the pump, so would I. I waited and waited. And waited and waited and waited. And waited. And then I waited some more. Then I finally realized that there was no one in the fucking car in front of me. The douchewhistler had apparently started pumping gas and then wandered into the mini-mart to acquire packaged pork snacks to help sustain a day-long siege against the olfactory systems of their coworkers.

So I pulled up to another pump, went through the whole fucking tap dance again with the fucking machine, and left, having spent half an hour accomplishing exactly nothing.

I pulled up at the next gas station a little further down the road, and because gas was 2 cents more expensive there than at the previous place, the station was completely empty. The card reader worked like a fucking charm, and within a few minutes I was back on the road, defogging the ever-loving crap out of my windshield.

In retrospect it really wasn’t all that bad

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on April 18, 2008 @ 7:54 am
in atheism!, bitches, driving, jesus is fo' shizzle, people are idiots, travel and work
. 16 Comments

Hey did you see the head Italian child-raper was in DC yesterday? Yeah, it was totally awesome how all of his douchebag followers filled the city with their idiocy on the same day I had to drive to a meeting in Alexandria.

Actually, it was partially my fault. I should have given a wide berth to all the cars I saw that had bumper stickers that said, “God is my copilot” or “God is my pilot” or “Apparently God is a fucking douchebag of a driver and I’m a lobotomized asshole who will do anything a highly edited and poorly translated book of fairy tales tells me to do because I clearly have no idea how to fucking operate an automobile and neither does my pie-in-the-sky deity-of-choice”.

I really should have avoided every one of those goddamned be-Jesus-fished hate-moblies because the little magnetic fish pretty much acted as a warning sign for “watch out because I’m merging without signaling or checking my rear view” or “Der, what’s a steering wheel? Why isn’t Jeebus driving for me? I’m hungry. I need a new diaper. I wish I was watching Steve Wilkos right now.” or “I’m driving 5 miles per hour on the highway because I’m a fucking douchebag cocksmoker child-rapist-forgiving shitfuck dick-spinning turd-swallower and traffic scares me”.

So yeah, if you couldn’t tell by my tone, it was pretty much 40 miles of concentrated awesomeness on the way to DC. I finally got to my meeting, 30 minutes late because of those holy-roller nipple-twisters, and then later on the day looked like it might even be salvageable as the temperature increased to mild summer temperature ranges.

And when we jumped on 395 to head home we weren’t faced with nearly the volume of purified idiotic assholery that we had to steer through on our way down…

because they were all waiting for us on 295 north.

I swear, my next car is going to be a tank with a giant drill on the front so I can bore my way over or through those malevolent fuckwads who think it’s just fucking SUPER to get on the road during rush hour so they can see their high-grand-eagle do a cross burning at the local stadium, and my fucking death car of Righteous Fucking Justice Dispatched DailyTM will have an articulated arm with a branding iron on the end of it so I can stamp all the cheese-dicks in the middle of their fucking foreheads with the words “I’m a shitty fucking douchebag numbnuts dumbfuck of a driver and you should punch me in the nuts or ovaries right fucking now because I deserve it for being a fucking asshole and you should sterilize me too,” and I’ll have a quadraphonic sound system mounted on the roof constantly repeating “You are a shitty driver. Kill yourself” and I’ll be able to focus that shit at those fucks and turn the fucker all the way to 11 and watch the blood trickle out of their ears as for ONCE I am able to make my way down the road unimpeded.

You’re just a woman with a small brain. With a brain a third the size of us. It’s science.

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 19, 2008 @ 9:45 am
in bitches, driving and people are idiots
. 15 Comments

I’m of two minds regarding the potential ban on using a cell phone while driving in Maryland. On the one hand, I think the research is pretty clear that any time a distraction is added to driving, the likelihood of an accident increases. On the other hand, like the radio, or a soda, I think there are ways that the cell phone can be used safely while driving. The problem is, no matter whether the law is passed or not, my life will be continually made miserable by dumbfucking assholes who seem to see no problem with driving while their cranium is lodged deep within the murky confines of their colons.

Sure, we all know somebody who can drive, shift gears, smoke, eat, drink coffee, read the paper, and change the radio station while commuting to and from work everyday. Those people are not representative of the rest of the idiots out on the road. I can’t even begin to effectively elaborate how many times my attempt to get from point A to point B has been stymied by some cock-noshing shitburger face-fucking a greasy fast-food sandwich and cradling a cell phone between their shoulder and their ear. I have no idea why they insist on doing this while driving, because I can easily tell from the look of them that not only do they have nowhere to go, but even when they get there, no one will want them to stay.

My best guess using science* would be that because humankind has almost completely eliminated evolution by virtue of mountains of pharmaceuticals that fix everything from the tip of one’s flaccid penis to the business end of one’s explosive asshole, they only way left to eliminate the weak is to allow them to exercise their idiocy in every possible form.

Which brings us back to the cell phone thing. Part of me wants to not see cell phones banned, because eventually they will remove themselves from the gene pool through their rampant and unchecked dumbfuckery, and after a few generations we won’t have to hear people giddily clapping because someone built a new Applebee’s across the street from the old Applebee’s. Also, my brain would pretty much explode because even if someone passed a law, the fuckin’ dumb-dumbs would still talk while driving, and then I’d have another thing to be pissed-off about while they make U-turns in one way streets without signaling, going either 10 miles under or 30 miles over the speed limit. Jesus fucking wept, I’m getting crotch-punchingly angry just thinking about it.

On the other hand, if they did pass a law banning the use of cell phones while driving, maybe I’d get a lighter sentence when I dragged them from the vehicle they use as their enormous four-wheeled living rooms and choke them to death with their collection of Larry the Cable Guy DVDs that they insist on watching while they drive from Dairy Queen to Walmart in a seemingly endless loop of mindless gluttony and appalling lack of a sense of humor.

Either way, I’m mounting rockets on the roof of my car.

*You know, that “s” word that explains all that different crap.

Voting, Schmoes, and Outback

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on February 12, 2008 @ 9:32 am
in Glen Burnie, Mrs. ACW, awesome, bitches, driving, food, people are idiots and suhmuhmuh bitch
. 21 Comments

1) So I voted this morning, and the whole time I’m feeling like I’m throwing my vote away because a) my candidate has already dropped out of the race, and b) I’m not so wild about these Diebold voting machines that we’re forced to use. I feel like I have just as much luck having my vote counted by writing it on a napkin and tossing it into the wind, crossing my fingers, and hoping it makes it to Annapolis. It’s kind of fucked up when I’m this cynical about the primary, ostensibly the only time when your vote actually counts.

2) I was so giddy about the back of this truck that I detoured from my normal commute home just to get a picture of it:

schmo

In case you can’t see it so clearly (I used my camera phone), the license plate reads “SCHMO” and he has a “W ‘04″ on the left, and a Jesus fish on the right (which is really hard to see in the picture). But yes, I agree with him, he is a schmo.

schmo or schmoe also shmo (shm)
n. pl. schmoes also shmoes Slang
A stupid or obnoxious person.
[From Yiddish shmok, penis, fool; see schmuck.]

Do you think he’s so dumb that he thinks “schmo” is a good thing? Or is he a subversive leftist performance artist? I can’t figure it out.

3) On Saturday Mrs. ACW and I were going out to eat before we had to head out to a party, so we opted to use one of the gift certificates we had gotten for Christmas. The particular certificate we had chosen was good for a number of restaurants, including Bonefish, Carrabas, Cheeseburger in Paradise, and Outback. So we opted for Cheeseburger having recently eaten at Bonefish, and having no interest in eating at a clone of the Olive Garden. However, when we got to Cheeseburger the line was so long that it was spilling out the door. So we instead opted to go to Outback, figuring that at 6:30 on a Saturday night the wait wouldn’t be too long. As we drove from Cheeseburger to Outback I made an attempt to call ahead, and upon speaking to the hostess found out that the wait was two hours.

Fuck you, Glen Burnie. Fuck you right in your stupid, lazy asshole. For chrissakes, it’s just Outback! The steaks are frozen! Everything they serve is over-salted! The food is terrible for you! And yet every time I’m inclined to punish my body there you people are lined up, ready to be slopped, like zombie pigs at the world’s least Australian restaurant. And you’re really going to wait two hours to eat at that stupid restaurant? Really? Are you just so enamored with the shitty food that you can’t tear yourself away, or are you too idiotic to realize that other restaurants exist? I hate you. I hope you fucking choke and die on your Bloomin’ fuckin’ Onion.

You’d think the food was deep fried in crack the way people start salivating just by driving by the place. I’m honestly shocked anytime I’m in there to find people NOT rubbing one out while stuffing their faces. I just don’t understand why people would wait that long for the food. And the curbside pickup! That’s even worse! A line of cars, 30 or 40 deep, waiting for two hours to pick up this shitty food to take home and eat it, as if gas didn’t cost 3 dollars per gallon, as if they couldn’t drive to an Outback in Pennsylvania or Virgina in that time. People are fucking idiots.

So Mrs. ACW and I ate at El Salto instead. It was awesome.

I don’t really get letters

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on January 10, 2008 @ 9:03 am
in driving, meta blogging, necrophilia, potty humor, suhmuhmuh bitch, the worldwide information super-tubeterwebs, travel and work
. 13 Comments

I get letters:

Dear ACW,
Recently, your blog has less content than a fortune cookie. WTF?
A Devoted Yet Critical Reader

Dear Mr. Coworker,
Will you please blog about necrophilia some more? I grow weary of hearing about the living.
Jerry “The Mausoleum Molester” Michaels

Dear Anonymouscoworker,
When are you going to come meet your new baby?
JWER’s mom

What can I say? I haven’t really had anything to write about. I mean, some fur-coated wantwit in a Mercedes cut me off this morning on the on ramp to the highway, and then slowed to well below the speed limit making our upcoming merge into highway traffic nigh impossible, until suddenly traffic cleared and she merged across three lanes into the fast lane where she continued to drive 30 miles below the speed limit while I drove past in the right lane, happy to have her idiocy behind me. But I can’t even get up the proper level of rage to do that justice. I’m really just the picture of apathy.

Worse still, I’ll be out of the office from this coming Sunday until the Tuesday or Wednesday the week after that, and when I’m out of the office little to no blogging occurs. Maybe it’ll recharge the batteries. I don’t know.

Ugh, now I sound all maudlin and whiny. Let’s see, how to remedy maudlin and whiny?

Um… penis?

I was specifically thinking of Lucky Charms

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on March 9, 2007 @ 10:31 am
in POS Tercel, bitches, driving, potty humor and work
. 10 Comments

This morning I was driving to work and found myself behind a slow moving vehicle. Having recently changed my philosophy about driving I didn’t aggressively cut around the van in front of me, slow down and block its path forcing it to stop, drag the owner from the driver’s seat and beat him to death with a tire iron on the side of the road before collecting his head, setting his van ablaze and pushing it over an embankment before skewering his decapitated visage (his face still locked in the slack-jawed and glassy eyed countenance which typified his slothful and slovenly existence) onto the front of my Tercel, creating a hood ornament fit for a KISS Army brunch. Instead I simply checked my mirrors, noticed that there was only one car in the distance, and merged to pass the van.

Seconds later my car’s tailpipe was being sodomized by the front end of the car I had seen in the distance. I could now tell from the custom stitching in the headrest of the upholstery of the car behind me that I was being tailgated by a douchebag in a Dodge Avenger. I estimated that there was about 6 inches between my bumper and the douchebag’s. Good thing we were going 65.

The old me would have slammed on the brakes after unbuckling my seatbelt, launching myself backward at the moment of impact, blasting through rear window, and then his windshield, a furious flurry or fists and teeth, only finding satisfaction upon eating through his ribcage and devouring his still-beating heart just before he slipped into shock. The new me instead got back over into the right lane in front of the van as soon as it was safe to do so. The douchebag didn’t let up for a moment, and passed me slowly so he could stare me down.

His car was clean, his windows were tinted, and for some idiotic reasons he was driving on what looked like z-rated tires… three of them. His right rear tire was not z rated, nor s rated, nor even h rated. It was a donut. And oh how I laughed.

For those of you who don’t live in areas as congested as the Baltimore-Washington corridor, I should explain that the morning commute can very quickly become an absurd dick-measuring contest with every manner of mongoloid trying to flex nuts. It amounts to nothing more than aggressive driving, speeding, cutting people off, and generally being a huge cock of a human. For me, it had just become surreal. This guy rolled up to a metaphorical dick measuring contest, talking a bunch of shit and acting so douchey that he could out-douche an automatic doucheing machine on the douchingest day of its life. But when he whips it out, nobody notices the dong, and everyone instead stares at the clear plastic bag of marshmallow cereal where his testicles should be.

My Tercel may be a piece of shit, but at least it’s got four tires.

This is the 1000th post

Published
by
Anonymous Coworker
on January 22, 2007 @ 9:40 am
in Mrs. ACW, POS Tercel, bitches, driving, suhmuhmuh bitch and travel
. 31 Comments

Yesterday Mrs. ACW and I were visiting with her family up in Hanover. Okay, I’ll be honest. It was her family’s Christmas party. Everyone in Mrs. ACW’s family is very nice, and very friendly, but they’re all a little slow. Not short-bus, helmet-wearing slow, but like actually slow. They move at a lower rate of speed than other people. Each year the Christmas party gets later and later. I hear the forthcoming Summer Christmas parties are the best, and that we’ll eventually have the party fall around Christmas in about 10 years, and that should last for about two or three years, but in the meantime, we just have to deal with this comic-book-esque quirk and have the party when the family is ready to have the party. Also, they think it’s 1974.

So, when it started snowing up in Hanover, the family started to skedaddle. They all live varying degrees of south of Hanover and wanted to get on the road ASAP. I figured we could wait for all the other jerks to get into accidents and THEN we could go home, so we stayed about an hour later than everyone else. Once we finally left the roads weren’t too bad, and I was sure that we could get home in about the same amount of time that it took us to get up there.

Unfortunately, some dipshit turdfucking cockbag in a Mercedes was trying to give me an aneurysm. See, Hanover, and northern Maryland in general, isn’t a place that anyone wants to go to for any reason, so all the roads are only two lanes until you get to Westminster, and that’s about 20 miles away.

The first few miles were fine, but there was a large hill that I had coasted down with a “Wee!” on the way to Mrs. ACW’s aunt’s house, and I wasn’t looking forward to going back up that hill in the snow. When we crested the small ridge on the opposite side of that hill I immediately noticed three things. The first was a minivan turning around at the intersection at the lowest point between the small hill I was on, and the large hill in front of me. The second thing I noticed was a car stopped at the top of the large hill. The third thing I noticed was thick black marks behind the car at the top of the hill showing where they had lost their momentum and spun their tires to make it the rest of the way up the hill.

Because the car at the top of the hill wasn’t moving, I knew I would have to wait, because if I stopped behind them on the slope, I would slide back down to the bottom of the hill. So I waited. And I waited. And I waited. And the stupid fucking car at the top of the fucking hill never moved.

Finally, after about five minutes, the brake lights on the car went out and the car at the top of the hill almost imperceptibly started moving forward. Traffic had been piling up behind me, but they could see that I had no options because Shitfuck Cockbag wasn’t going anywhere. I started the car rolling down the hill, slowly but steadily picking up speed until I thought I had just enough to make it to the top of the hill without going so fast that I would hit the scumfucker in what I could now tell was a Mercedes. Just as I was about to pass the minivan, who had been sitting motionless at the intersection at the bottom of the hill, the stupid bitch decided to dart in front of me. I hit my brakes, she realized she was a big retarded piece of shit, and an accident was avoided, but I had lost all my momentum.

I glared, gunned it, and made it 3/4 the way up the hill before my wheels started to spin. As we slowly climbed the hill, I noticed the Mercedes had stopped again. I couldn’t stop because I would slide backwards down the hill, and I saw in my rearview that the car behind me was starting to make it’s attempt down the smaller hill. I figured that I could pass the dumbshit fartlicker in the Mercedes once I crested the hill and could see if there was any oncoming traffic.

Finally, the Mercedes started to move, but my problems were far from over. For the next 15 to 20 miles the Mercedes driver engaged in what can only be referred to as the skullfuckingly stupidest shit that you can do when there’s snow on the road. Braking to almost a stop at the bottom of hills. Braking going up hills. Speeding up for no reason. Slowing down for no reason. It was impossible to follow this nut-sweat drinking pissbucket without knowing that they were going to get you into a wreck.

I backed off and gave as much space as I could, but no matter how slow I tried to go, they would go even slower. And then speed up for no reason. But then, before I knew it, I’d be going 5 miles an hour behind them with their brake lights on and slowing. It was maddening. I really wanted to get out of my car, drag them out of their Mercedes, and beat them to death on the side of the road with a tire-iron. I was infuriated.

Finally, 45 minutes later when we got to Westminster, I was able to pass the Mercedes just in time to notice them cutting off a plow. Superb.

After that the gridlock on the beltway (”Hey, it’s snowing! Who wants to get on the beltway on Sunday afternoon for no reason? Everybody? Great! Get in your cars and let’s go!”) wasn’t even surprising. It was like all the Mercedes’ driver’s friends and relatives had come out to support Shittastic Driving Day.

Mrs. ACW and I detoured around all that bullshit and were home before long. But I swear, if I ever see that Mercedes again when I’m in my Tercel, I’ll ram the fucker right off the road and take us both out in an explosive cacophony of death, screams, fire, and metal.

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