December 2005

stickshifts and safetybelts // catherine threw this into the junk drawer on Tuesday, 12.20.05
I've always wanted to be one of those handy ladies who can do anything: bake a cake, knit a scarf, make their own shelves. Unfortunately, much like the Hope Diamond, everything I touch turns to crap: my cooking is weird and inedible, my scarves are knobbly and misshapen, and all past attempts at assembling even IKEA bookshelves with my family have nearly ended in cannibalism. I've mostly come to terms with my utter incompetence, but my inability to fix things is a sore spot, and I take my ineptitude with my car particularly hard. I'd love to Rosie-the-Riveter it up in overalls, an adorable grease smear on my cheek, but every time I pop the hood and try to figure things out, my eyes glaze over and I start listening to the music in my head. Probably because if I were paying attention and tried to touch something, my car would promptly flip over and burst into flames.

It's not like my car makes it easy for me, though, as it is fond of doing things that make me frantically call my friends and gibber things like, "My car is infested with gnomes. Evil gnomes. WHO HATE ME." before they even have a chance to say hi. And as they draw breath to say something, I ramble on, telling them how the "check engine" light flashes if I go over 30 mph, or how my car shudders like Nicole Kidman dying of TB in a period movie, then dies in the middle of Main Street, a row of traffic behind me as I throw on my hazards and spaz the fuck out, only to come back to life minutes later and quietly ride home with no problem. And when they ask if I've taken the car to a mechanic, I laugh a bitter laugh and explain that any time someone other than me lays hands on Old Suzie -- my dad, my sister, my mechanic -- she drives uncomplainingly, coming to gentle stops, offering them oral before they go.

So, what's the solution to my little dilemma? I don't have the money for a new car, and I won't walk or ride the bus, because I'm not a Communist. And every other conveyance I could think of -- flying horse, Segway, litter carried by burly men -- was either 1.) impractical or 2.) imaginary. So I guess I'll hitchhike to work. Nothing bad's ever happened to hitchhikers, right?

robert a. booey // lacki threw this into the junk drawer on Friday, 12.16.05
Howard Stern gave his last terrestrial performance this morning, and next month he'll be moving to Sirius satellite radio. I've been a fan of the show since I was around 12 or 13 years old... I actually remember the first time I tuned in. They were talking about Joan Rivers selling her crappy jewelry on QVC, and Robin, donning a throaty Joan Rivers voice said something about "Selling the eggs that my late husband Edgar never fertilized." I was hoooked. My first AOL screenname was bababooey1@aol.com... how corny was I? Anyway, the show went through a lot of changes over the years, like Artie Lange replacing Jackie, Stuttering John leaving to work on the Tonight Show, not to mention the huge FCC backlash once Janet Jackson flashed a boob during the Superbowl. But nevertheless, the show has always been a part of my morning, whether I was getting ready for high school, college or work, and even though he's going to a better place, it's not going to be the same until I get a Sirius alarm clock. So, I guess I just want to thank the one person that made me grateful for traffic every morning, since it gave me a chance to laugh a little longer. Thanks Howard. Can't wait for eh-eh-eh.

PEBKAC // dj_neckspasm threw this into the junk drawer on Saturday, 12.10.05
I am an agent. An agent of the almighty ISP, comcast. Day by day I fight the good fight; rescuing lost internets from trees and beating back the cryptically titled horror known only as "No Bloc Sync." Email not working? Porn not downloading fast enough? Just give me a call and before you can finish calling me a cocksucking asshole for doing absolutely nothing, I'll have you online playing pahty pokah. Additionally fuck Massachusetts. Yeah that's my job. Everyday I sit in a half cubicle (not even my cubicle, we don't get personal cubicles) and try not to burst into tears as another stranger either deafens me with blood curdling profanity or deadens me with a display of stupidity only rocks can compete with. What version of windows do you have? "Office 2000." What's the brand name of your modem? "Compaq." Do you have a PC or a Macintosh? "Yes." Is everyone in Massachusetts braindead? "...friend?" Here are some of the worst/weirdest calls I've ever taken.

Me: Hello, thank you for calling comcast how may I help you?
Shemale: My internets not working.
Me: I'm sorry to hear that ma'am, I'll certainly help you get your service back.
Shemale: I'm a guy.
Me: ...oh.

The call was pretty subdued after that little revelation.

Me: Hello, thank you for calling comcast how may I help you?
Cunt: My sound isn't working.
Me: I'm sorry that's not an issue we support, I can transfer you to the tech support for your-
Cunt: Last time comcast was out here they replaced my monitor but now my sound doesn't work.
Me: ...Replaced your monitor?
Cunt: I have cancer.
Me: ...

The subtlety of the aforementioned "Cunt" has not been exaggerated for comedic effect in the slightest.

A transcript of this last one would be way too long so I'll just describe it. Call starts off normal enough with the caller acting a little agitated and talking kind of fast. All I had to do was help him setup an email account in outlook express and answer a couple billing questions. The whole time he's contantly writing down everything I'm saying and being ridiculously anal retentive. Then half way through the call he tells me he has bipolar disorder. That explained why he sounded so agitated and nervous. It also explained why he felt it was necessary to describe in detail how his wife left and that he had a serious drinking problem. I actually enjoyed this call. I wonder if I can get a job where all I do is laugh at people with mental illnesses?

Oh wait that's what I do now.

ADD // bob threw this into the junk drawer on Tuesday, 12.06.05
ADD Plagues American Youth

Why are kids always prescribed drugs to take care of ADD? It seems like a personality trait to me sometimes. I get prescription drugs but it's Allegra and it helps take care of my allergies during the summer when there's tons of pollen. Someone just sent me a link and it was really funny. It was mean! Mean things are funny in today's society, like when an anvil falls on Wile E. Coyote's head. How did he come back all the time? There must have been a hell of a plastic surgeon in Death Valley or wherever Road Runner cartoons took place.

You know, I was thinking in my music class the other day, Looney Tunes taught us a lot when we were kids. My professor was playing a bunch of Romantic-era pieces and I recognized a bunch of them from Looney Tunes! I wish I could play the cello.

There's always room for Jello! I wonder what Bill Cosby's up to lately. Didn't he do something in that Fat Albert movie? I can't believe they made a freaking movie out of Fat Albert. That's a fantastic idea! Let's make a movie about Porky Pig coming to life and going on a killing spree. I hope someone got fired over that.

Forfeit the game before somebody takes you out of the frame and puts your name to shame cover up your face you can't run the race the pace is too fast you just won't last.

I wonder what it was like to be a dinosaur. It must have been pretty chill to be an herbivore when there weren't any predators around. You could just hang out, munch some leaves, and walk all the way to the middle of a lake without having your head submerged because you were so damn tall. I'm pretty tall now though. I'm 6'3" which is pretty tall. My cousin's taller than me, I don't know how that happened. The men in my family really aren't that tall. At least they don't seem that tall anymore now that I'm 6'3".

It snowed! I like snow, when it gets my classes cancelled. When it doesn't get classes cancelled it just ends up being gray slush that annoys everyone and causes accidents. I remember back when I was really little my family had a gray Chevy Cavalier. That thing ran forever. You could see the road whizzing by through the holes in the door but it ran fine! It had that pleather stripe down the back seat in the middle so if you ever had to sit on it in the summer it ended up binding to your skin on a molecular level, so when you went to get up you got that painful SCRUNCH noise as you tear off the seat, minus the outermost two layers of leg-skin. Oh well.

In conclusion, American doctors need to know when to draw the line when prescribing drugs to patients. Exactly how much of the ADD medication prescribed annually is really necessary, and what will the long-term effects be on the population if the trend continues?

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