I just took a quiz to see who my inner villain is. Didn’t you all sort of suspect that 'Helly' WAS my inner villain? Me too. But ve vere wronk! (It is always more evil to speak in a non-country-specific, but vaguely European accent.) My inner villain is, in fact, Dr. Doom! Here are my results: “You are DR. DOOM! People give you a lot of shit because you let that idiot Reed Richards screw with your experiments, and because you carry around a pistol even though you can blast holes in a concrete wall, but those people don't have their own goddamn country, now do they? Ha ha ha”
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winnah!! Two winners, actually, of my second blog contest. Perhaps you recall my rant about UPS drivers blocking the streets; a reward was offered to anyone who submitted photographic proof that any UPS driver anywhere had actually used a parking space instead. It took a couple of months (that rant was in April) but en route back to their office from lunch one day, Laurel and Mikey (a/k/a my mom) spotted a UPS truck parked legally in a proper space. Day-ummm...who knew? The actual photo was submitted Monday and has been pronounced unretouched. Mikey and Laurel each win a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.com; I’d have given a better prize but since there are two of them, they have to split the winnings.
Bo versus The Meatwad
Okay, this is pretty gross but I ran it by Alan, who reported hysterical laughter, and Cheryl, who says the funny outweighs the grossness so the story is going on my blog. If you’re not familiar with Meatwad, he is a character on the cartoon “Aqua Teen Hunger Force”, which has nothing to do with the story other than being where I got the term.
On the drive up to Indianapolis, Bo kept hitting stuff. Not that he's a bad driver, but if you're going down the interstate with cars in front, behind and on either side, and come upon large strips of tire tread in the road, there's only so much you can do. For visual reference, Bo drives a black PT Cruiser that's less than 6 months old, which rides a lot lower than his Jeep; a lot of things we’d have cleared in the Jeep clunked the underside of the PT Cruiser. There was quite a lot of crap in the road, mostly tire treads - a LOT of tire treads, but also shoes, miscellaneous trash, flattened roadkill - presumably possums or raccoons, though it was hard to tell - and the occasional two-by-four. During the majority of the trip, if Bo hadn’t just hit something or wasn't just about to hit something, he was swerving madly to avoid hitting something. It was starting to really tick him off because it KEPT happening and at times, it sounded like we were doing serious damage to the undercarriage.
We were somewhere in Kentucky, tooling along I-65 when we were attacked by The Meatwad. I-65 at that point is two lanes in each direction, separated by a big grassy median with a significant dip in the middle. There is no breakdown lane on the left, just 18" or so of extra asphalt, and with a big rig beside us in the right lane, there was nowhere for Bo to go. He had no choice but to drive on and try to straddle the dead, bruised, semi-smushed deer carcass lying in our lane. We didn't clear it. He was NOT amused.
Fast-forward to several hours later, when we stopped for a caffeine infusion. There was a bad smell in the air as we approached the PT Cruiser from the rear. It has a thing on the underside, I guess it's a sway bar but I don't really know, and there was a huge chunk of bloody road kill hanging from it, like it was speared on there. How it stayed attached through hours of bumping and jarring, I don't know. It was SOOOOOOO gross, with tendons and shreds of flesh hanging down off this big ol' glob of deceased Bambi stuck fast to his ride. It was just about the most repugnant thing I’ve ever seen - and considering some of the men I’ve dated, that’s saying a lot. Perhaps a clod of deer gore doesn’t seem all that funny, but it was so revolting that it was funny. Bo was totally disgusted (not that I blame him). He stopped periodically to see if the hunk o'flesh had detached itself yet, but no, ‘twas totally shish-kebabed on the sway bar and stuck fast. As time went on, he was hitting potholes deliberately to try to jostle it off. As we drove, I'd say stuff like "You've got MEATWAD!" or "mmmeatwad" in a Butthead voice. He threatened to make me remove it if I didn't shut up, which of course only made me "meatwad" more.
It finally fell off somewhere in Indiana, which rather disappointed me. By that time, I'd made him an offer: I would crawl under the PT Cruiser and remove it with my bare hands if he'd allow me to take it to the racetrack and fling it at Juan Pablo Montoya. He wasn’t over-enthused about the idea of ferrying the gory meatwad to the track inside his car, but I think he was truly tempted by the idea of seeing my clean-freak self crawl underneath the PT Cruiser to scrape off demised venison, not to mention the fun of watching me actually fling the meatwad at Chubbs. But those delights were not to be...we had to content ourselves with saying “meatwad” to each other at opportune moments, like when the other had just taken a sip of Coke or beer. <---Mama, aren't you glad your kids act like civilized, well-mannered adults when they're out in public together?
Heh heh heh - meatwad.
MONTOYA DELENDA EST!
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winnah!! Two winners, actually, of my second blog contest. Perhaps you recall my rant about UPS drivers blocking the streets; a reward was offered to anyone who submitted photographic proof that any UPS driver anywhere had actually used a parking space instead. It took a couple of months (that rant was in April) but en route back to their office from lunch one day, Laurel and Mikey (a/k/a my mom) spotted a UPS truck parked legally in a proper space. Day-ummm...who knew? The actual photo was submitted Monday and has been pronounced unretouched. Mikey and Laurel each win a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.com; I’d have given a better prize but since there are two of them, they have to split the winnings.
Bo versus The Meatwad
Okay, this is pretty gross but I ran it by Alan, who reported hysterical laughter, and Cheryl, who says the funny outweighs the grossness so the story is going on my blog. If you’re not familiar with Meatwad, he is a character on the cartoon “Aqua Teen Hunger Force”, which has nothing to do with the story other than being where I got the term.
On the drive up to Indianapolis, Bo kept hitting stuff. Not that he's a bad driver, but if you're going down the interstate with cars in front, behind and on either side, and come upon large strips of tire tread in the road, there's only so much you can do. For visual reference, Bo drives a black PT Cruiser that's less than 6 months old, which rides a lot lower than his Jeep; a lot of things we’d have cleared in the Jeep clunked the underside of the PT Cruiser. There was quite a lot of crap in the road, mostly tire treads - a LOT of tire treads, but also shoes, miscellaneous trash, flattened roadkill - presumably possums or raccoons, though it was hard to tell - and the occasional two-by-four. During the majority of the trip, if Bo hadn’t just hit something or wasn't just about to hit something, he was swerving madly to avoid hitting something. It was starting to really tick him off because it KEPT happening and at times, it sounded like we were doing serious damage to the undercarriage.
We were somewhere in Kentucky, tooling along I-65 when we were attacked by The Meatwad. I-65 at that point is two lanes in each direction, separated by a big grassy median with a significant dip in the middle. There is no breakdown lane on the left, just 18" or so of extra asphalt, and with a big rig beside us in the right lane, there was nowhere for Bo to go. He had no choice but to drive on and try to straddle the dead, bruised, semi-smushed deer carcass lying in our lane. We didn't clear it. He was NOT amused.
Fast-forward to several hours later, when we stopped for a caffeine infusion. There was a bad smell in the air as we approached the PT Cruiser from the rear. It has a thing on the underside, I guess it's a sway bar but I don't really know, and there was a huge chunk of bloody road kill hanging from it, like it was speared on there. How it stayed attached through hours of bumping and jarring, I don't know. It was SOOOOOOO gross, with tendons and shreds of flesh hanging down off this big ol' glob of deceased Bambi stuck fast to his ride. It was just about the most repugnant thing I’ve ever seen - and considering some of the men I’ve dated, that’s saying a lot. Perhaps a clod of deer gore doesn’t seem all that funny, but it was so revolting that it was funny. Bo was totally disgusted (not that I blame him). He stopped periodically to see if the hunk o'flesh had detached itself yet, but no, ‘twas totally shish-kebabed on the sway bar and stuck fast. As time went on, he was hitting potholes deliberately to try to jostle it off. As we drove, I'd say stuff like "You've got MEATWAD!" or "mmmeatwad" in a Butthead voice. He threatened to make me remove it if I didn't shut up, which of course only made me "meatwad" more.
It finally fell off somewhere in Indiana, which rather disappointed me. By that time, I'd made him an offer: I would crawl under the PT Cruiser and remove it with my bare hands if he'd allow me to take it to the racetrack and fling it at Juan Pablo Montoya. He wasn’t over-enthused about the idea of ferrying the gory meatwad to the track inside his car, but I think he was truly tempted by the idea of seeing my clean-freak self crawl underneath the PT Cruiser to scrape off demised venison, not to mention the fun of watching me actually fling the meatwad at Chubbs. But those delights were not to be...we had to content ourselves with saying “meatwad” to each other at opportune moments, like when the other had just taken a sip of Coke or beer. <---Mama, aren't you glad your kids act like civilized, well-mannered adults when they're out in public together?
Heh heh heh - meatwad.
MONTOYA DELENDA EST!
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