Livin' the Dream

People are funny.

...more on that later.

(later)

You're back! Great, let's get this over with.

People are funny. And I don't mean in a Jim Gaffigan/Brian Regan way. I mean in a cringe worthy, sometimes horrific, mildly obscene way in which their behavior on their best days can be barely classified as simply, debatable. These are the folks your mama told you to stay away from. There are a lot of different personalities and views out here and let me tell you, I really love people. However, there are a few red flags and I'm here as a public service to help ya'll out. Consider this stuff free.

Person One - Nutsack Pickup Guy

Don't pretend to not know what I'm talking about here. Every one of you (what, is there like 4 readers now? 5 maybe?) has seen this toolshed driving around in your friendly local neighborhood. No city is immune to this basket case. Let me set the scene for you...


You're at a stop light minding your own business with your windows down and arm hanging out. It's 70 and sunny and you're having a grand old time here in Normalville with your squashed hopes and dreams dangling over you like a bad hangover. Your stomach rumbles as you think to yourself that the extra helping of Bean Curd is about to return with a diarrhea-like vengeance. As you glance left and right, looking for the nearest porcelain throne, you realize there's a gas station to your left and prepare to make the lane change and left turn. You're sitting on a time bomb and that gas station is ground zero for Hiroshima 2014. The poor Indian fella behind the bullet proof glass will never know what kind of torrential natural disaster is coming his way until it's too late. You are on a clock. The red eye into Brown town is making it's descent and unless you find a suitable runway, the landing is gonna be rough. Your mind is totally focused on this when out of the corner of your eye, by the grace of God, you stop turning your steering wheel just long enough to miss hitting a lifted 1994 Silverado as it hauls tail around you in the passing lane to your left.

As the truck goes by you hear loud country music and see flashes of light. At first you assume you've been run over and killed and God just happens to be a Conway Twitty fan.

Not so.

The music is coming from the cab of the truck at around the same decibel as a fully loaded 747 at Max takeoff power. The back of the truck is bouncing like a bad carnival ride and then you see them - Chrome. Polished. The dude is sporting a hang dog pair of truck nuts, the likes of which you've never seen before. The girth on these bad boys is probably approaching 8 inches, and they are swinging back and forth like a pornographic bell tower, sparking the pavement with every bounce from the bad rear shocks on this monster. It's apparent, instead of replacing the all important suspension this dude opted to spend the money on things like a crappy set of all terrain tires, fuzzy dice for the mirror, a skull shaped shifter head, a large pizza with light sauce, and of course, vehicle genitalia. 

Tool monkey shouts a few profanities you can't hear over the music and lays on the gas peddle while his muffler-less shaggin' wagon disappears into the abysmal distance. Classy guy. If you run across him in a 7-Eleven parking lot or at a local children's benefit, just stay away from him. He may be a nice dude but the ego on this doofus will probably blow you over like a fart from Goliath. Ladies, this is not a guy secure in whatever the crap it is guys are supposed to be secure in and junk. Just let this fish get away, ok?

Person Two - Suicidal Family Dad 

 This guy is one of those tricksters that appears normal at the supermarket but has that rushed urgency about him that just screams "what day is it, and where are my pants."

You're at the PTA meeting and this guy is hurriedly shooing children into a '91 Ford Aerostar while explaining why he can't be at the cat rescue benefit this weekend because the kids have 28 activities everyone has forgotten about. No worry, you think to yourself. You'll catch him next time. As you walk back to your car the screech of tires peeling out and belch of muffler release seem to indicate there's a fire nearby or someone saw Nancy Pelosi in the nightmare inducing daylight (She's only allowed out at night; I hear if you throw a few saltines her direction, she'll be distracted long enough for you to escape with your sanity intact. I'm not ballsy enough to try it).

Later that week you're driving down the freeway minding your own business (again) with your favorite Bob Seger tape cranked to max volume. You glance in the old rearview just long enough to catch the headlights of a suspiciously familiar Ford van as they come within inches of glancing off your car's rear bumper while said van changes lanes to your right. As the van hauls balls past you, you observe a few things...

-PTA guy is driving, eating, talking on his bluetooth, changing a diaper, screaming at someone, and rooting for a sock under the center console

- there's a child in the back seat upside down

-someone has drawn a giant penis in permanent marker on the rear window

-There appears to be approximately 62 children in various forms of disarray strewn about the van, mostly without seat belts or common sense

It's obvious suicidal family dad is struggling. The best thing to do in this situation is to shrug it off and thank God for the various forms of birth control available at your fingertips (MY personal favorite is my scathing unattractiveness to any single person of the opposite sex - works wonders). Keep it in mind for the future. Don't let it happen to you.



Keep these two lessons handy and I'll be back with more at a later date. Right now I have a tooth cancer awareness fund to set up and I think the wiener dog I put in the microwave fifteen minutes ago has set the kitchen on fire again.