A while back, before my income kicked in, I had a rear tire that I noticed the thread showing on. Yes, I know I should have changed tires when it started getting overly worn, but hell, I couldn't afford sunlight back then, so had to keep putting it off.
My brother had a set of tires he was willing to give me, and the equipment to change them out. Now, my car takes 185's and these were P195's. For those out there reading this who that makes no sense to, the overall diameter of the tire was one inch wider. Not a great difference, and they fit well enough and were completely unworn. I kept my good rubber, and ditched the bald one, intending to put it back on when I got a new tire.
Okay, I completely forgot about it, the tire sitting in the shed out back, and out of sight, out of mind.
Today, my wife went to work, like any other Monday, bitching and moaning and hating life. You know, typical Monday routine. And I maintained my usual schedule, sleeping comfortably in bed, until I gradually wake up naturally to the coffee my wife has prepared and put in a large thermos to stay warm.
Son-of-a-bitch! Wouldn't ya know, she pulled out of the drive, realized she had a flat, and pulled back in. And I had to get up! Fuck Mondays!
Went out, checked to make sure I wasn't asleep still having a nightmare, and sure enough, the bottom side of the damn thing was flatter than Twiggy's chest. So I went into my trunk, pulled out the can of Fix-a-flat, put it on the tire, pushed down the nozzle, and the damn thing spewed goo everywhere but into the tire. Did I mention I hate Mondays?
This being the only transportation we have, I got fully dressed, walked out the back, crossed the railroad, jumped the runoff ditch, traversed the 3 city blocks to 7-11, bought a new can, traversed the 3 city blocks back, jumped over the runoff ditch, waited for the train to pass, crossed the railroad tracks, past the yard, and back to the car. Opened the can, screwed on the little hose, pressed the nozzle, and watched in satisfaction as the tire quickly inflated.
And cussed my head off when it started hissing like a snake with its butt caught in a wringer. FUCK!
Reopened the trunk, took out the jack, and lifted the back of the car. (donut not an option, however, as it is an inch thinner than the current tires I had on my car. DUH) took off the tire, turned it around, and sure as shit, there's a tear in it from the rocks some asshat in the distant past used to cover the drive. Did I mention I REALLY hate Mondays.
Took the tire, rolled it the 4 blocks to the nearest tire store, a little one man shop where I've bought good used tires in the past. He didn't have any. No P195's, no 185's. SHIT. If Monday was a person, I'd fucking shoot it!
Got home, rolling this damn thing all the way, broke out my air compressor, and filled that sucker up.
WallyWorld is about 5 miles away. My tire made it almost two miles before it was flat as a pile of diarrhea. Pulled over, pumped it up with my itty bitty 12V tire pump, (25 minutes) and got back on the road. A little less than two miles down the road, rinse and repeat. another 25 minutes.
Finally got to Walmart, had them replace the worn tire and put my old good tire on the other side.
Drove home, fed the animals, took two pain pills, and returned to my now cold bed.
Mondays. Fuck 'em.
***
Monday, March 31, 2014
Mrs. X's Ladies Post - Taking you out to Chippendales!
And ladies, me darlin' wife would like some input on what kinda guy themes YOU wanna see. I told her I'd ask...
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Sunday, March 30, 2014
The word's not in their dictionary!
How do you confuse the Westboro Baptist Church? Show compassion!
Even if these people were being sarcastic, at least the sarcasm should have shown through clearly! But I believe that the people holding the sign were actually trying to convey to those sorry bastards that true Christian tenets of compassion and charity still exist despite their own lack of drinking at the fount of human kindness..
Westboro Baptist Church left confused by 'Sorry for your loss' counter-protest
Leave it to the power of almighty Lorde to try to bring the world together. When Westboro Baptist Church members angrily picketed the singer's concert Friday in Missouri in response to her recent pro-gay comments, counter-protesters had a compassionate response: signs of condolence for the group's recently deceased pastor Fred Phelps. "Sorry for your loss," read one large poster. "Live your life and be awesome," said another.
"We realized that it wasn't so much about antagonizing them but sending out the countered safe that we are here for people who need that message and need that positivity," sign creator Megan Coleman told KSHB-TV. Her well intended message was lost in translation to some Westboro members, however. "I don't even know what they're saying," said Westboro member Steve Dralin, who is poised to be the church's next leader.
Even if these people were being sarcastic, at least the sarcasm should have shown through clearly! But I believe that the people holding the sign were actually trying to convey to those sorry bastards that true Christian tenets of compassion and charity still exist despite their own lack of drinking at the fount of human kindness..
Westboro Baptist Church left confused by 'Sorry for your loss' counter-protest
Screenshot/KSHB-TV
"We realized that it wasn't so much about antagonizing them but sending out the countered safe that we are here for people who need that message and need that positivity," sign creator Megan Coleman told KSHB-TV. Her well intended message was lost in translation to some Westboro members, however. "I don't even know what they're saying," said Westboro member Steve Dralin, who is poised to be the church's next leader.
I THINK I got this off my facebook page, but it has a telling point, so I thought I'd share a couple of stories here about a couple of times I've had fun with people at their expense. All because the sheeple out there are entirely too ignorant to think about how they put themselves and their kids in danger.
First one took place in Florida. My wife and I were walking through a parking lot, and a car drove by us. I happened to notice the license plate: PATTY. I turned to my wife and just told her to watch, and go along.
As the woman parked and got out of her car, I walked and said "Patty! How've ya been?!" She looked at me as she tried to place where she might know me from, and I just kept going, asking her what she'd been doing with herself, blah blah blah, ad infinity, ad nauseum. She just kept stammering and I could tell she knew she should know me, but just couldn't remember. I kept the conversation going by taking clues from her answers to my earlier questions. I finally put my hand out, shook hers when she took mine, told her we had to get together again sometime, and walked away.
All because she had her name on her license plate, and was too insecure to outright admit she couldn't remember me. No wonder, since we had never met before!
Good thing I'm not inclined to dishonest pursuits.....
When we moved to Oklahoma, I worked for a year as a janitor at a middle school. Every school in the area (a LOT) are serviced by the same custodial company, and I was wearing my janitor shirt, with the company name and logo. We had stopped at McDonalds and were eating, when a lady came in with her daughter, bought their meal, and sat down across from us.
I got up, walked over and said "Hi, Stephanie!" to the little girl. She just looked up at me, all twelve or so years old, and said hi back. I looked at the mother and said, offering my hand:
"I'm sorry, I know your daughter from school. I'm the janitor there and see her in the halls all the time. She's usually so cheerful!"
Well, obviously, if I knew how wonderful her daughter was, and worked at the school, I must be okay. So I talked with Stephanie a few minutes, asked her how she liked her math teacher, that sort of BS, and then turned to her mom and said: "Actually ma'am, I am a janitor, but I've never seen your daughter before in my life. Not a good idea to put her name across the back of her jacket!"
Then I walked away...
Good thing I'm not in to pedophilia...
Please, for the love of Shakespeare, STOP GIVING PEOPLE INFORMATION! Its not safe. If I had wanted to rape or rob 'Patty'. I was already in her safety zone, and she just let me go on and on. And 'Stephanie'? Well, I hope her mother woke up to how she was endangering her child. I could have as easily pulled the same stunt in a parking lot, and have endeared myself to the mother readily enough to take advantage of her letting her guard down.
Doesn't that mom know to never talk to strangers? And they don't come much stranger than me!
Fucking sheep. No wonder the wolves are so fat.
Guess I'll try the III
If you read my blog with any regularity, you know how highly I value my 'membership' in the III community.
When I have had need, they have been there. When I want to bitch and complain, they listen. When I'm feeling depressed, they tell me to put on my big boy pants and suck it up, asshole!
Well, here's my current plight. (I know, "Again?!"):
I need a house. Not looking for someone to give me one here, just looking for information, ideas, or
"I know someone who has a piece of shit trailer for sale cheap to get it off his hands" kind of thing.
Don't need much more than 4 walls, and was thinking prefab shed types. Hell, I can put in electric, plumbing, insulate, and otherwise make it into a nice little cottage. For that matter, I have the knowledge to build a house from the ground up. Just not the ability anymore. The rest of that shit I can take my time. Run a wire here, put in a pipeline there, no problem. Rest up and get back to the next step.
If ya'll out there know someone who might know someone, let me know. I'm in the Norman/Noble area south of OklahomaShithole City.
Thanks folks, even if ya can't contribute to ideas, still love ya!
When I have had need, they have been there. When I want to bitch and complain, they listen. When I'm feeling depressed, they tell me to put on my big boy pants and suck it up, asshole!
Well, here's my current plight. (I know, "Again?!"):
I need a house. Not looking for someone to give me one here, just looking for information, ideas, or
"I know someone who has a piece of shit trailer for sale cheap to get it off his hands" kind of thing.
Don't need much more than 4 walls, and was thinking prefab shed types. Hell, I can put in electric, plumbing, insulate, and otherwise make it into a nice little cottage. For that matter, I have the knowledge to build a house from the ground up. Just not the ability anymore. The rest of that shit I can take my time. Run a wire here, put in a pipeline there, no problem. Rest up and get back to the next step.
If ya'll out there know someone who might know someone, let me know. I'm in the Norman/Noble area south of Oklahoma
Thanks folks, even if ya can't contribute to ideas, still love ya!
It's a gallon of tea for fuck's sake!
My adopted daughter took our grandkids and my wife and I to the circus on Saturday. I've been to a lot better, but it was the grandkids first time, and it was fun watching it through their eyes. But it was a bit of a drive to the city to see it, and by the time we got out, the kids (and us grown ups) were feeling a bit peckish.
My adopted daughter, (we'll call her Charlee, because that happens to BE her name,) pulled into Chicken Express in Moore, OK, and we went inside to eat. The car was already crowded, and kid's in a car with food and sodas don't mix.
Charlie looked at the menu, and decided to get the 30 piece chicken strip dinner, and that way she'd take some home to her husband, who had had to work, and the monthly special was a 30 piece with a free gallon of sweet tea. She paid for the meal, and we all sat down.
A lady brought the meal to our table, and Charlee noticed there wasn't a gallon of tea with the order.
She went back to the counter, and told the teenager working the register she didn't get her tea. He told her she had to order the "special" to get that, and she had only ordered the 30 piece dinner. She came back to the table, irritated, but not wanting to make a scene.
I asked her "Is there a difference in price between the special and the regular 30 piece?". She told me no.
Now, I don't worry too much about shit like this, I can usually handle the cost of a gallon of tea. But I know my daughter is struggling with two kids, and no one messes with my family!
I walked up to the counter, past a line of people, and asked the retard cashier if there were no difference in price, what was the problem with giving my daughter the tea?
Dumbass said I'd have to talk to the manager. No problem. I told the little shit to get me one. Now.
He called over his shoulder, and a manager came up. I repeated my question. I was told there was a price difference. Seems the 'special', with the free gallon of tea, was four dollars LESS than the 30 piece meal. I know, probably one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of too. So I told him I not only wanted the gallon of tea, but I wanted the difference refunded.
I can get real stubborn when someone with the intelligence of a cell-damaged amoeba tries to blow smoke up my ass, and this was a real piece of work!
Long story short. A LOT of pissed off customers behind me, because I wouldn't leave until I received satisfaction, one gallon of pretty good sweet tea, and my daughters overpayment refunded.
Yep. It was a GOOD day!
My adopted daughter, (we'll call her Charlee, because that happens to BE her name,) pulled into Chicken Express in Moore, OK, and we went inside to eat. The car was already crowded, and kid's in a car with food and sodas don't mix.
Charlie looked at the menu, and decided to get the 30 piece chicken strip dinner, and that way she'd take some home to her husband, who had had to work, and the monthly special was a 30 piece with a free gallon of sweet tea. She paid for the meal, and we all sat down.
A lady brought the meal to our table, and Charlee noticed there wasn't a gallon of tea with the order.
She went back to the counter, and told the teenager working the register she didn't get her tea. He told her she had to order the "special" to get that, and she had only ordered the 30 piece dinner. She came back to the table, irritated, but not wanting to make a scene.
I asked her "Is there a difference in price between the special and the regular 30 piece?". She told me no.
Now, I don't worry too much about shit like this, I can usually handle the cost of a gallon of tea. But I know my daughter is struggling with two kids, and no one messes with my family!
I walked up to the counter, past a line of people, and asked the
Dumbass said I'd have to talk to the manager. No problem. I told the little shit to get me one. Now.
He called over his shoulder, and a manager came up. I repeated my question. I was told there was a price difference. Seems the 'special', with the free gallon of tea, was four dollars LESS than the 30 piece meal. I know, probably one of the stupidest things I've ever heard of too. So I told him I not only wanted the gallon of tea, but I wanted the difference refunded.
I can get real stubborn when someone with the intelligence of a cell-damaged amoeba tries to blow smoke up my ass, and this was a real piece of work!
Long story short. A LOT of pissed off customers behind me, because I wouldn't leave until I received satisfaction, one gallon of pretty good sweet tea, and my daughters overpayment refunded.
Yep. It was a GOOD day!
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Why pay more?
I don't know how much these go for, but a decent hooker can be had for about 30 bucks....
I can't believe she SHOT me!
For those of you just joining us mid-program, close to two years ago my angelic, darling, loving, adorable bride of twenty years, was handing me an empty .12Ga. I reach to get it, she let go, stock fell into toybox, gun went off, so did my right shoulder. That's the short version. It was a stupid accident, and I accept the we both will pay for it for the rest of our lives.
Learn from idiots, folks. Easier than doing it yerself, and far less painful!
Anyway, the reason why I titled this post what I did, is: I actually got her to range shoot her .12Ga for the first time ever!
I've been telling her horror stories about how the kick would knock her on her ass, stock would probably break her shoulder, all the really FUN stuff, and she was to say somewhat skittish to actually try it.
Talked her into it yesterday at my brother's home range. She pulled the trigger, kicked back a little from the recoil, and with a shit eatin' grin from ear to ear turned and said: "That was AWESOME!"
But yesterday removed any chance of any doubt that my darling wife ever had any intention of shooting me before. SHE COULDN'T HIT THE GROUND IF SHE WERE AIMING STRAIGHT DOWN!
However, now that she has realized how much fun it is, I can get her out to the range more often. Incidentally giving me more range time with the pistols. (Got a 9mm derringer that kicks like a Missouri mule! Need to work with that one a bit more..especially because for some reason, I have to shoot with my left hand....)
Learn from idiots, folks. Easier than doing it yerself, and far less painful!
Anyway, the reason why I titled this post what I did, is: I actually got her to range shoot her .12Ga for the first time ever!
I've been telling her horror stories about how the kick would knock her on her ass, stock would probably break her shoulder, all the really FUN stuff, and she was to say somewhat skittish to actually try it.
Talked her into it yesterday at my brother's home range. She pulled the trigger, kicked back a little from the recoil, and with a shit eatin' grin from ear to ear turned and said: "That was AWESOME!"
But yesterday removed any chance of any doubt that my darling wife ever had any intention of shooting me before. SHE COULDN'T HIT THE GROUND IF SHE WERE AIMING STRAIGHT DOWN!
However, now that she has realized how much fun it is, I can get her out to the range more often. Incidentally giving me more range time with the pistols. (Got a 9mm derringer that kicks like a Missouri mule! Need to work with that one a bit more..especially because for some reason, I have to shoot with my left hand....)
This little slanty eyed fuck done gone TOO FAR!
I mean, its one thing to imprison, starve, subjugate, murder, and rape your own people, but THIS?? Oh HELL no!
Well, being a barber in North Korea just got a whole lot easier!The communist country announced this week that all men will now be REQUIRED to get an identical haircut of the supreme leader Kim Jong Un!
Citizens of North Korea have always been limited to a list of 28 state approved haircuts for men and women. But now, guys won’t have any say in how they do their ‘dos!
What’s worse, Kim Jong Un’s high-shaved hair is a bit controversial already, with a former resident explaining that the cut is unpopular because it resembles the style of Chinese smugglers!
As far as female haircuts, it seems they will still be allowed to choose from 18 different acceptable styles. That is until the dictator decides his look is right for a lady too!
These poor people! (source)
Next time you’re at the salon, take a moment to be thankful that you have the freedom to do whatever you want to your hair!
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