Personal Experience – Page 3

“I’m Missing Two Legs.”

The other night on the way home from the grocery store (where My Wife and I had gone specifically to get shit for dinner) got lazy and went the Fast Food Route. We opted for Fried Chicken.

We pulled up to the Drive Thru Menu, and the Drive Thru Girl did the whole whole Hey how the hell are you, How’s the kids, Welcome to this Fast Food joint, and What do you want today bullshit.

We told her that we would like an 8 piece Dinner. The Girl mumbled something I really have no fucking clue what the hell she actually said. Now We could hear all the back round noise of the kitchen and shit so we couldn’t figure out who exactly the Girl was talking to us or a fellow employee. It was quite unclear.

We waited a minute or two and then repeated the original order. The reply we got from the Drive Thru Girl was this one statement:

“I’m missing two legs.”

My Wife and I had no idea what to make of this so my wife asked her to repeat what she had said and again it was “I’m missing two legs.”

This miscommunication goes on for just shy of 5 minutes where My Wife keeps attempting to clarify what the fuck this statement turned mantra was all about. The Entire time all the Girl said was I’m missing two legs.”

I was sitting there just as puzzled as my Wife and I started to wonder myself what the whole two legs statement means since the problem was we were missing any and all context.

I began thinking is this Girl handicapped and really wants me to know it for some bizarre reason? Did she just kill her Manager, dismember the Corpse, and now realized as she is bagging up the body that the legs are missing? Did she just suddenly look down and her fucking legs were missing? Was she an Amputee who had misplaced her prosthetic legs at work while sitting and working the Drive Thu?

In the end the explanation is more than anti-climactic.

What the Girl was trying in her own absurd way was this:

By “I” was We as in The Restaurant itself.

By “Missing” She meant Out Of

And By Legs she meant Drumsticks.

so “I’m missing two legs.” translated into “We (the Restaurant) are Out of Drumsticks, Can We make a substitution for you?”

She was also referencing that an 8 piece bucket of said Fried Chicken contains 2 Breasts, 2 Thighs, 2 Wings, and 2 Legs. Which when I thought about it made perfect sense.

What? Oh I know what your thinking and Your thinking well Duh no shit Sherlock.

Well as basic the answer is I had never spent any time (not a single second of my many, many years on this planet) contemplating the exact contents of a 8 piece bucket of Fried fucking Chicken, and the ratio of the various Chicken’s Parts.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Awesomeness

I haven’t written a blog in such a long time. Well at least it feels like it.

I want to talk about the show that I went to last night. Wow, what an awesome show. Probably one of the top 3 shows I have ever been too if not the top show. Oh, what did I see???

Nine Inch Nails and Jane’s Addiction, baby!!!!!!!

I am still on this natural energy rush after seeing it. It was everything I expected and more. Even the opening band Street Sweeper Social Club (who I never heard before last night) was pretty rockin’. A bit more hip hop mixed in but it probably was the best opening act I have ever since. I have seen some real shitty opening acts in the past ranging from Jack Off Jill to Nate Mathesen to really horrible bands at local shows that are too countless to remember.

I really can’t quote the whole set list for NIN, I’m sure you could look it up somewhere on the web, but was really excited when they played Physical and well Head Like a Hole they closed with that was kinda expected.

I really really wanted to go to more shows, I could have tonight in Holmdel, I’m sure they probably had a few more lawn seats, but I had to get up ass early in order to get MORE concert tickets. And I am completely and utterly wiped out at this moment.

I may have to get MORE tickets later this week but anyway back to the show.

Jane’s Addiction was everything I expected and more as well. I really never got into them as much as NIN, but after hearing them at the show, I’ll probably throw a few of their songs onto my MP3 player, since my player is a complete and utter disaster. I got really drunk one night and downloaded like 100-150 songs and well that explains a whole lot of the crap on there.

I knew more of their music then I thought actually. It was all coming back to me and well I haven’t had this much fun in a while. Going to see a whole bunch of Tori Amos shows doesn’t compare to music like this. This is my first love. She is just a mistress. I don’t always feel a rush with her. Only in the second row of the opening show last tour.

This show I was in the lawn and felt a rush. I would have given my left nut to be in the pit. Anyway I’m done rambling now…. May actually make a few CDs for my car now so I can drive somewheres with the gas I don’t actually have. Hmmmmmm maybe I can huff gas???? Didn’t they do that shit in the 70s? I was born in the 70s, does that mean it is an inate ability? I dunno.

By SpaceDog

The Cell Phone Show Down

One night after having a few beers I decided to call up my Brother in Law who I hadn’t spoken with in some time. Now I had several phone numbers for my Brother in Law since he was a rather active guy shall we say.

Anyway I called the primary number that I had been able to reach him on only to discover it had been Recycled, and now it had be assigned to some unknown random woman. I hung up as soon as I heard the voicemail thinking that was rather strange. Had my Brother in Law ditched one number, but hadn’t given (to my knowledge) a new number to anyone?! My Brother in Law is also know for his extreme impulsiveness so I had to also wonder if there was a scheme afoot.

Well just a minute or two after I attempted to call my Brother in Law my phone’s text alert went off. I picked it up to check the new text it without looking to see who the fuck was actually texting me.

This is where the Shitnado of Absurdity started and would go on to span a couple of hours.

I checked my phone to find it was some fucking Guy texting who I had no fucking clue who the hell he was. I was pondering what the fuck was going on. Well it didn’t take long to find out.

This was in fact the Boyfriend of the nameless, faceless, unknown Woman who was now in possession of my Brother in Law’s old Cell Number. And just my fucking luck he’s one of those Overtly Paranoid Untrusting Jealous Controlling Assholes.

Now I’m going to take a minute to address this type of fucking Guy. I have no fucking clue whatsofuckingever why a Woman would date nor stay with this type of Guy.

This is the sneaky son of a bitch that checks his girl friends phone every chance he gets behind her back.

This is the kind of Shit that thinks every other guy at the Bar is eyeballing his girlfriend, and more often than not it leads to a drunken jealousy fueled fight. And more times than not its also where the asshole boyfriend gets his teeth kicked in.

This is the type of Scumbag that tries or succeededs in controlling his girlfriend’s make up, clothing, and friends through bullshit manipulation.

This is the kind of prick that thinks every one of his girlfriends coworkers is hitting on her daily, and spends his whole day keeping tabs on his girlfriend like a fucking Stalker.

Essentially these type of Guy’s are SO FUCKING INSECURE that it breeds this paranoia of losing said girlfriend causing the said boyfriend to rashly assume that anything with a penis wants to bang his girlfriend, AND/OR he’s afraid she actually doesn’t care for him that much (in this case the jealous Guy is EXTREMELY CLINGY I’m talking about that “You’re Suffocating Me” type shit) and will dump him in an instant.

Granted Clingy sucks to no fucking end BUT its the lesser of 2 evils. Having a Jealous, paranoid, and controlling boyfriend (trying to dictate every aspect of his girlfriend’s fucking life like she’s a fucking slave) SUCKS WORSE.

Now back to our story already in progress…….

So His initial Texts where: Wanting to know who I was, Why was I calling, and that this was his girlfriends phone.

In return I Texted: You texted me so who are you, I told him I was trying touch with my Brother in Law, and got his girlfriends voice fucking mail by accident.

After that he starts acting like the tool that he is. He sends me a screen shot of his girlfriends recent call list with my number highlighted. Now I never denied calling because I did, BUT I had no idea the number had been Recycled to some fucking girl.

Being a Jealous Boyfriend the asshole said he didn’t buy it, and I better stay away from his girlfriend. I could just see this fuck on the other end of the line so to speak standing all tall, puffing out his chest for all its fucking worth, Glaring like a angry drunk hawk, and pacing frantically periodically looking out the windows as he passes for some threat thats not fucking there.

I basically didn’t give a rats ass from the beginning and couldn’t help thinking how many people have accidentally texted or called this girl only to have to deal with her dick of a boyfriend (bitchfriend is more like it.) At this point I really didn’t give a good goddamn about this overly jealous, insecure piece of human shit. I thusly ended the whole bullshit exchange with the alright my fucking bad whatever I deleted the number since its obviously no use to me. And that was that. Well for a few brief minutes anyway.

I decided that if the primary cell number that I called my Brother in Law on was Recycled then what about the secondary number I had. Me being Me and rather drunk came to the conclusion the best thing to do is call it, and find out if the number worked, was Recycled or possibly disconnected.

As it turned out that my Brother in Law’s alternate phone number had also been Recycled again I got some random girls voicemail. I hung up immediately and deleted the number figuring this situation was rather fucked up. LOW AND FUCKING BEHOLD this number too had been Recycled to the same previous asshole. Why the hell did his girlfriend apparently have come into possession of BOTH fucking numbers was baffling as hell.

Needless to say this set the little motherfucker off like a fucking rocket. This time around the little punk ass had the artificial confidence to call me up this time to chat about what the fuck was going on. As I stated I had no fucking idea, and couldn’t get over how utterly moronic this shit was. And now this paranoid and jealous little twat of a boyfriend thinks for sure that I’m scamming on his girlfriend.

The first idea that came to my mind on how to handle this horeshit was the old make him think your fucking insane, some real sick fuck that cuts off people’s heads and wears them as a fucking hat type of a Murderous Madman a real life Slasher Movie. Then I thought how cliche that shit was and opted for a new idea. The new idea turned out to be making this little turd think HE’S THE ONE WHO’S SANITY IS SLIPPING essentially flip flopping the original idea/concept.

This is how it all went down in operation “Its Not Me Who’s Crazy, Thats YOU”. For his part this Jack Ass spewed the normal line of macho bullshit cliques (doing his damnedest to make me think he was 10 feet tall and fucking bullet proof) like Propaganda for Pricks. It was SUCH OVERKILL the Guy was trying WAAAAY TOO Hard to be the almighty Alfa. What an Asshole.

In reality I imagine this little bitch was about 5 feet nothing, weighed about 90 pounds soaking fucking wet, Whiny, All Bark and NO BITE like a Tiny Toy Chihuahua. You’ve heard this shit before and I for one from what I have seen of the World am inclined to agree. Real Tough Guy/ Bad Asses DON’T WASTE THEIR TIME YELLING ABOUT IT WHILE HURLING THREATS AND INSULTS. They know they can kick the shit out of pretty much anyone so there is no reason for them to try and impress people.

I didn’t really have a set plan per say I just ad-libbed and then went from there. It started by me repeatedly telling him that the phone he is calling is STRICTLY a Business Phone. After a while of that I added that ONLY AUTHORIZED People have access to this phone. Again taking a few minutes to repeat this as much as possible BECAUSE its all about REPETITION, REPETITION, REPETITION.

Now before anyone feels the need to point this out theres no need. What I’m talking about is this I DID SWITCH my original story. Originally I told this Putts I accidentally called which was the truth, BUT to aid in my new game of “Who’s Crazy Now” as it were I SWITCHED my stance to I DIDN’T call you. Why you ask?! Well its simply because I needed to switch to keep the game going is all.

At this point the Butthead Boyfriend is getting confused. He can’t figure out why I’m not acting like an asshole too and yelling a bunch of bullshit trying to out macho his punk ass. He also is beginning to lock on the whole Business Phone Story which only serves to increase his confusion. So now he’s running out of steam having screamed himself fucking silly.

This is where I ramp things up. I start speaking in a aggressively Authoritarian Voice like a Law Enforcement does for example. I am now speaking to him like he’s a irritating child that got caught red handed doing some shit they shouldn’t. Some would call it ‘Talking Down” or “Being Condescending” and I would agree with both summations.

I start to shove the I didn’t call you from this phone which so happens to be a highly restricted Business Phone of some unknown sort. I start hammering the little Snot with the line “NO ONE is Authorized to make PERSONAL CALLS on THIS PHONE”

He has no clue now what the fuck is happening, he’s been so thrown off his macho bullshit ranting that he’s begging to flounder. The tables were starting to turn.

I then launched into “I DON’T KNOW who called you from this phone, But if we find out who they are they will be SEVERELY REPRIMANDED for their egregious actions.”

I’m now employing more militant or governmental type of speaking. This poor bastard now was beginning to get nervous that HE was in some sort of Danger. I then just unleashed like a Monumental Shitacane. I informed him that We had no clue who the fuck was violating a strict no personal phone calls from our exclusive Business Only phone. We would find out who called his girlfriends phone hell or high water. That NO ONE was Authorized to use this phone without selectively been given clearance. I went on to say I didn’t appreciate him being difficult and he should reconsider his behavior. I told him then to just drop his despicable attitude because it wouldn’t help him in the long run. This conversation was in fact being recorded (without a reason why given). He’s wasting my time with this trivial nonsense was not a wise decision.

The sad little fucker now is in a state of shock, confusion, and paranoia with good reason. Without acting like a typical macho male Jersey Shore Shithead he had no idea how to deal with the situation, and now had lost any and all control of the phone call. He was left wondering if I was somehow a Cop or Law Enforcement Agent, A Member of Biker Club, Political Group, Religious Group, A Governmental Agency, The Masons or possibly a Militia of some kind. There was no actual context so he became pledged by self doubt, and then had a mental melt down.

Seeing that the game had run its course and getting bored with the whole ordeal decided to end this shit circus once and for all. I told the little Pisser that enough was enough. This conversation was now over. Whoever called his girlfriend had violated Authorization of a Business Phone, and would not call back ever. They would be facing Strict Punishment. He then mumbled some garbage I assume was a last pitiful attempt at being a Big Man I mean his brain was fucking soup at this point the poor son of a bitch.

I then lastly took the time to inform him that if he called back he would be in direct violation of our mutual Cease and Desist agreement (which I made up right then and there there was no agreement of any fucking kind), and We would be keeping tabs on him in the future (thus playing into the paranoia of being watched and possibly being in or getting into trouble in the future.)

To This day I have never spoke with that little Dimwitted Douche again. I do ponder from time to time when I have a free moment to think (like when I’m eating or taking a leak) what the fuck did he tell his girlfriend happened that night or did he just not mention it at all because he still had no idea wtf was going on. Either which way heres looking at you ASSHOLE.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Hotel vs. Motel- THE GREAT DEBATE

HOTEL VS MOTEL (DRUMROLL PLEASE)

So yeah I suppose each of them has their own charm, their own pleasures in their own ways. I’m not really which one I like better because well it depends on who I am with (or not with) what it is that I am doing and who I am doing it with.

HOTELS

Hotels for the most part are not my preferrences unless I am by myself and want to remain as anonymous as possible or if I am with a party of 8 or more people, which is not all that often honestly. Basically if it is going to take 3 cars deep of people in order to party I like hotels better.

Unless they are non-smoking.

I’m sorry but at least 10-20 percent (I have no clue of the exact number) of our population smokes and when you add in things other then nicotine I’m sure the number increases substantially. So I believe it is really dumb for ENTIRE hotels to be non-smoking.

First of all, it is really annoying to have to wake up in the middle of the night, put your clothes back on, go down 8 floors in the elevator, parade yourself around in front of the staff and then go outside to smoke with some 50 year old businessman who you’d rather not be smoking with. Of course smokers really have no choice who to smoke with now as we are herded behind ropes and then when we walk one foot away from the “designated area” are told we are commiting an offense. Oh I didn’t know the air over here was completely clean, I mean you know I’m sure that 3 mph easterly wind is not fucking with it.

Then there is the stairwell. The stairwell is a fun place to smoke for about 2 or 3 cigarettes, then when you and 2 other people have had 9 cigarettes and you hotboxed the bitch thoughts of the smoke alarm going off, well this sucks.

And all these hotels with the $150 clean air cleansing fine if you do smoke….well if you want to get around that find a prepaid card that will let you charge the room to it or a credit card you are about to go bed on. Instantly your room is smoker friendly!!!!!

Hotels do tend to have onsite restaurants, gift shops, overpriced cigarettes (on occasion), and Internet access.

Of course most hotels do have the “FUCK OFF MAID” thing to put on the door. Not all motels do.

MOTELS

Which leads me to motels…..not all motels have the “FUCK OFF MAID” door thing. Usually this tends to be the ones with maids that are mainly non English speaking and do not understand the words FUCK OFF. Of course, I wouldn’t say that to a maid. I’d probably come up with something more clever that she wouldn’t understand like, “Get the hell out of my bodybag or I like my room like I like my meat. Raw.”

And they always come at the most inopportune time like when you are having sex or while you are doing something in the bathroom or while you are doing shots or well you get the point, maids have an innate ability to arrive when you are either taking care of bathroom stuff or fulfilling one of your vices.

There does seem to be a much greater selection of amenities in the rooms of motels then hotels though. Like I have a microwave, a refridgerator, a set of burners AND glasses and dishes here. These people obviously know that if you are staying in a motel obviously you don’t have the big cheese to go out and get lavish meals.

Also large groups of people are much better for hotels, as if you’ve been to 4 or more motels, you probably will encounter the hawkish owner who watches your every move and if anymore then the amount of guests you said are in the room for 2 minutes or more calls the room or does something assy.

Of course if you are in it for a quickie, you gotta love the motel but I’ve been retired from that business for quite some time.

The maid is about to bomp on the door and I’m sure I missed 3000 things to bitch about but I do have to say this. Even though I like hotels slightly better, I have to say I just picked a winner. There is pizza and beer in the lobby tonight!!!!! How can you top that???

So if anyone is reading this, tell me your pick…..

My personal favorites for hotel is the Borgata in Atlantic City, home of the most comfortable bed in the universe, 50 cable channels (a near record for a hotel), food, spas, bars (none gay though-oh well), and well of course gambling.

Motel is the Swiss Cottage in Niagara Falls,NY. You can’t beat 70 channels, a fridge, a microwave, 24 hour coffee, donuts for breakfast, $35 a night rooms, and an average of less then 4 bugs killed in your room per week. Oh and a staff that minded their own business when I had ummm company, maids that spoke English, and well a $20 tip to the maid instantly transformed my room into a smoking room with her donning me the gift of her industrial sized ashtray. Amen sister. Amen.

By SpaceDog

From Catastrophe Into Conundrum to Conclusion

A few posts back I mentioned My Car took a complete shit on me rendering it useless. I ended up getting it to a Garage where they replaced the Alternator so sucked, but no big deal. I then picked the Car up and drove the 2 hours back home. That should have been the end of the fucking story. Its My Car so it was far from being over.

A day after I get My Car home the goddamn CHECK TRANSMISSION Light starts blinking like an epileptic on Meth. I took it home, parked it, and waited for a chance to take it to my Home Town shop. I finally got My chance on Friday of that week, and I took it in.

The receptionist asked the obligatory “What can we do for you?”, and My Wife told here verbatim “The Check Transmission Light is Blinking so we brought it in.”

Now because it was around 2:30-3:00 pm they stated the obvious that the Car wouldn’t be gotten to until Monday. See I live in a Micro Podunk Town out in the Woods, and around here Mechanics (among many others) are Closed all Weekend.

I called the Shop late Monday afternoon to get a progress report if you will. The Receptionist said He (the Mechanic presumably) was playing catch up as best he could. Now I don’t know for sure but she kept saying “Him” as if they only had one Mechanic which would make sense around these parts. My confusion comes from the Fact that I’ve seen a couple of Mechanics who apparently work there, and its a 8 bay Garage. Who fucking knows anyway.

I decided not to call Tuesday because the Mechanic obviously was over whelmed with work at the moment. Wednesday was the 4th of July so they were closed which again around here thats just par of the course.

I called them on Thursday, and still the Mechanic hadn’t had a chance to look at it. The receptionist did mention that the Mechanic had had a few free minutes, and was going to run some quick diagnostic test, BUT the machine he was going to use had a dead battery so that was the end of that.

She then let me know the Mechanic was working his ass off Monday, and Tuesday he was at “The Funeral”(this is a prime example of Mirco Town Life. I mean the Receptionist just assumed I knew the person or I at least knew who the hell they were, that they had in fact died, when the funeral was, and that I very well might be attending.), and Wednesday was a National Holiday. Point being its Shitty Timing.

Come Friday I call ONCE AGAIN, and the Receptionist tells me the Problem is the Transmission. WELL NO FUCKING SHIT SHERLOCK. My Wife told her exactly that when we dropped the fucking thing off A WEEK AGO YOU ASSHOLE. That wasn’t all though there was more bullshit coming.

The Bullshit I’m referring to is what the Receptionist tells me next. She tells me that “They” will do SOME Transmission work, BUT there are certain repairs they won’t touch with a ten foot fucking pole. And lucky Me My Car had one of the issues “They” wouldn’t fuck with.

She then refers me to a Shop a few towns over about 45 minutes away that they’ve had a long and extensive relationship Blah Blah fucking Blah. The problem is once again its Friday afternoon so My Wife was working and by the time she got off the Transmission Shop would be closed. And once again we found that the Transmission Shop was CLOSED all weekend.

I parked my Car at a near by piece of property owned by a Family Member. I didn’t want to drive the fucker because I didn’t want to exacerbate the issue just like you wouldn’t want to aggravate an injury.

Come Monday I drove my Car to the Transmission Shop. We walked in the office to find no one there. After standing there for 10 minutes like an Asshole a Shop Mechanic popped in to say the Office Guy is out test driving a customer’s car and will be back soon. This pissed me off to the point I went outside for a smoke to avoid acting like a real dick.

As I finished my smoke a greasy looking guy pulls in, and I assume this is this MIA front desk dude. As I’m walking back the office the Guy calls to me. I walk over and he asks me whats up, and I precede to tell him my transmission light was on I took it in to “I’m not mention their actual name” Shop and they said they wouldn’t do the needed repair so they sent me here.

This asshole looks me dead in they eye and says “We don’t work on Transmissions.” WHAT THE FUCK, YOU OWN A TRANSMISSION ONLY SHOP SO PARDON FUCKING ME??!!! I again feel a over whelming rage coming over me so I told him my Wife was in the office.

We went in and apparently there was a possible issue with the type of Transmission my car had.This is what had led to the Odd statement made by the Greasy Guy, BUT IN REALITY My car had a absolutely STANDARD TRANSMISSION so YEAH THEY COULD FIX IT.

Why the Greasy Guy jumped the diagnostic gun I have not a fucking clue.

I left the car there where the Greasy Guy would run further diagnostics and a drive it to see 1st hand what was going on. What lowered my blood pressure was when the Greasy Guy said he’d do the diagnostics for free. That saved me $90-$120 right there.

Later that Morning The Greasy Guy called me. He told me he couldn’t get an exact pin point on the problem with the Diagnostic Machines so He was going to have to remove the Transmission and “Tinker with it” and take a look.

He then told me how much he charged for this and it stopped me in my tracks because the additional charge was utterly going to fuck up my financial set up as it were. I got lucky again when he informed me that that money WOULDN’T be an ADDITIONAL COST as it would be put words the price of the repair.

I talked to the Greasy Guy Tuesday who said he had NO IDEA who the hell I drove my Car to his shop. See once he removed the Transmission, and opened it up a shit ton of its parts fell the fuck out all over the garage floor. The Transmission was THRASHED.

He said he could rebuild it, and that would fix any and all Transmission issues. I called my Wife to confer. My Wife and I had been spending our free time wondering if it could be repaired or did it need to be replaced all together. At the same time we were playing the “Price of Repair Vs. Getting a New Car in the Battle of Whats The Best Financial Strategy.

I asked The Greasy Guy if he did do the repairs or whatever would the car be reliable (in all due favor its a Older Car) or would investing the money in a New Car be a better Idea. No one wants to make the mistake of holding on to an aging car and end up dumping way too much money into its ongoing list go repairs.

The Greasy Guy said outside of the shitty Transmission that the car was in great shape, and would be good car for quite awhile on. I then authorized him to repair it, and He said he’d be in touch.

I waited but didn’t hear shit Wednesday and din’t bother calling either.

I called The Greasy Guy Today and he reported that the Transmission had been rebuilt, reinstalled, BUT the Mechanic working on it gave it a test drive and had heard an unusual noise. The Greasy Guy was going to test drive it himself, and then put it back up on a lift to take a look. He said he’d be in touch in a couple of hours.

At this point in the game I was loosing my fucking mind. WHAT could possibly be the Problem now? Its been over 2 weeks total I’ve not had my car and Our Micro Town doesn’t have Public Transportation in any form whatsoever, No Taxi or Professional Car Services, and No Uber so without my car I’ve been isolated out at the Lake. All I can say is CABIN FEVOR IS VERY FUCKING REAL.

The Greasy Guy called back an hour or so later to tell me everything had been sorted out and that I could pick up my Car tomorrow anytime after 10:00am.

I couldn’t be Happier.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

The Stranded and The Strange

My Wife and I were on our way home Sunday evening, and 2 hours from home (just short of the State Line) started acting up.

We stopped briefly to let the Dog make a shirt in the dirt, and when we got back in the car wouldn’t turn over though it was trying. So we luckily added Road Side Assistance to my Auto Insurance Policy so I didn’t feel real shitty about the car being problematic. We called the Insurance Company only to find out that they can’t tow the car until tomorrow, AND they had a asinine NO DOGS in Truck Rule. What that meant was I could get my car home yet my Wife and I were still stuck looking for a way home.

There is always one person you can rely on and thats your Mother. Unless Your Me. I couldn’t reach my Mother by phone or text, so I decided to continue texting. She finally responded by informing me she couldn’t talk (though she was made well aware that this was an emergency situation) but hey good luck and keep your chin up. Apparently what I have learned along the way this time is my ENTIRE FUCKING FAMILY HAS NO IDEA WHAT THE DEFINITION OF AN EMERGENCY IS. They seem to think an Emergency is the exact same as a Favor. At that point I stopped trying to communicate with her.

Being that we live in a rather Rural area there are NO BUSES, TRAINS, SUB WAYS or TAXI/CAR SERVICES. All I could think of was to try Uber in spite of my opinion of Uber which was and is its a good idea on Paper, BUT with the World’s shittiest Real Life Application. Since like I said we live out in the fucking Woods there was only ONE SINGLE UBER DRIVER in the ENTIRE COUNTY. We scheduled the Uber but when she showed up she immediately informed us she WOULD NOT take us to our actual destination because it was to far for her. I already being an Uber Hater felt even more justified in my disgust of all things Uber.

Since as I said having limited choices of just one We took the Uber Driver up on her offer to give us a lift about an hour down the road which was better than nothing which we had in spades. The ride ended when We ended up AT South of the Boarder the Timelessly Racist Truck Stop meets a Motel, Mall, and Attractions (i.e. Live Reptiles and the Famous Sombrero Tower). The Uber Driver was absolutely awe struck by all the Tacky Tourist Neon Lighting that lit up South of The Boarder like a Poor White Trash version of Vegas.

Again I started an attempt once again to try and get a ride from my Mother who continued to ask if we had though of, and then went on to describe every fucking scenario to see if we actually had. Desperately I tried not to curse Her out for her interpretation of what an Emergency is. All I’m saying is if you fucking fall off a fucking ladder, and call 911 your not asking them for a favor.

My Mother is fixated then on utterly pointless points saying We should get a Hotel room, and I told her that the RIDE emergency would be the SAME the next morning as WE WOULD STILL BE STRANDED. There wouldn’t be any New Options springing up over fucking night or anything.

The Uber Driver started to feel a bit guilty, but I think she actually felt shitty about dropping us off still up the Shit’s Creek without a Paddle. Well whatever her reasoning was she offered to drive us another 46 miles down the road to the next town putting us about 100 miles or so from Our Home Office. We obviously agree and thank her because the cliche was ringing true in “Something is better than nothing”.

The Driver called to Uber Office because it wouldn’t allow her to sign on and accept the ride. She proceeded to launch into a interesting debate with the Uber Office Rep that lasted the better part of an hour. She was one of those cell phone types that likes to talk on her phone while its on speaker so I was privy to BOTH sides of the Argument as it were.

Long story short Our Driver had crossed a State Line which made Her exempt from accepting Uber Calls, and there was absolutely NO WAY around it. This was kind of fucked as our Driver pointed out the original call Uber sent her way was over a state line so why would they NOW make an issue of it (Point being bottom line some Asshole at Uber has no fucking clue about Geography local or otherwise, and is apparently too stupid to utilize a GPS or an Old School Paper Map)

When it was all said and done We settled on the Ride down the Road for $20 cash and called it a night. FUCK UBER (Not the Drivers mind you). As We got in the car I shot my Mother a text letting her know the current state of affairs, and she texted me back to give her a call when we arrived at our next destination. Our next destination was the Red Roofie Inn we had our Uber Driver drop us at, thanked her for her help, and she drove off into the night.

Luckily for us We had called ahead just in case to make sure the Red Roofie Inn took Dogs and had a Vacancy which they did. Before totally giving up we hit up Uber one more time, and we were in luck there were 3 Uber Drivers in this County so that was a definite plus. We caught another break when one of said in area Uber came by to discuss if we could broker a ride (Apparently Drivers can say no to Dogs which is their right its I just don’t know why Uber doesn’t tell them up front.)

BOTTOMLINE: Uber is Unreliable because No Ride is Guaranteed due to World Class Shitty Communication between Uber and its Drivers.

This Uber Driver’s usual Van was in the Shop so she had a hell of a Loaner, I’m not a car guy by any means so I don’t remember the name, but this car had ALL these Dope bells and whistles. This time we got a Driver who was born for Uber like she walked right out of a Uber Ad itself. To say she was an enthusiastic driver would be a horrendous understatement. So off we sped into the night breathing a massive sigh of relief. Then I got a Text.

You see my Mother had requested that I text her when I arrived at our latest destination, but I forgot because at that point what was the point really. The text was asking where we were, and I texted back we had caught an another Uber and were in route to our Home Office. She then announces that she is on her way having taken 3 and a half hours of aggravation to suit up in her armor, mount her white Horse and fucking help us.

I showed the Text to my Wife because at this point I just didn’t give a fuck about anything other than we were finally on our way back to our Home Offices. My Wife texted with my Mother and arranged for us to meet up with her at a designated exit at a Gas Station. We arrived and thanked our awesome Uber Driver and loaded up into my Mother’s Car.

I don’t remember the ride as I tuned my Mother out being that I was still confused, frustrated, and angry that this whole shit show came full circle after HOURS of unnecessary stress. We finally arrived at our Home Offices at 1:37 am instead of our original ETA of 9:00 pm.

Alls Well that Ends Well I suppose.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Idiot Ian the Tow Truck Schmuck

My car took a shit on me 2 hours (and just short of the State Line) from My Home Office. At first it was no Big Deal as I just called up My Auto Insurance Company’s Road Side Assistance for a helping hand. They sent a Tow Truck Driver over who jumped the car which came alive in an instant, and my Wife and I went on our way.

One exist down the road the Car absolutely shit the bed. Lights didn’t work neither did the gauges as it was apparent that the Alternator had up and Died. We pulled over on an industrial side road, and set up a Tow for the next morning as it was 8:30 pm on a Sunday in The Southern Country.

The following Morning We had decided to have the Car towed to a near by shop where it broke down since towing it to our usual mechanic shop would cost around $300. My Wife called up the Auto Insurance Company, and gave them the new tow info. They said that they would dispatch a Driver, and that if he had any questions that he would contact us. And boy did he.

The Tow Truck Driver was named Ian, and over the course of 4 or 5 phone calls Ian couldn’t follow a single direction my Wife gave him. Now for those wondering I have no idea why he wasn’t using GPS. He finally admitted once again that he was STILL on the WRONG Road, and that he’d call back if he couldn’t get himself turned around. We finally got a text confirmation from Ian that he had dropped the Car off at the specified Mechanic Shop.

After a while We got curious as to why we hadn’t heard from the Mechanic yet so being pro active We called Him. What he said blew my fucking mind. The Car in spite of Ian’s fucking text WASN’T THERE. Affectively my Car was now lost in some shit town 2 hours away across state lines.

We immediately called our Insurance company who called the Tow company (as the said Tow company like all others was contracted with my Insurance company) to find out what the hell happened.

What had happened was this. The Mechanic we were using had 5 separate locations in the area all called Timber Auto, AND the one We had our Car Towed to (WHICH was a recommendation from our Insurance Company) had been sold. The new owners were called Martinez Mechanic Shop.

NOW Ian the Asshole Tow Truck Driver could have called his Dispatcher, The Insurance Company OR Us to inquire what was going on because obviously theres something wrong. Ian in his infinite idiocy CALLED NO ONE and just dumped my Car there no if ands or buts.

The Insurance Company arranged for Asinine Ian to go fix his fuck up by retrieving my Car from where he left it and tow it to the actual Mechanic we were using. AGAIN after a couple of hours We again hadn’t heard shit from the Mechanic so I called him once again.

The Mechanic said he hadn’t had any Tow Truck Driver’s check in with him, but he would go eye ball his lot just to make sure since things were already going shitty. He got back on the phone and informed me my car WAS THERE, BUT Ian hadn’t checked in with the Mechanic opting again to just dump my car and fucking leave.

This pissed me off because until I heard from the Mechanic that the car was there (obviously I didn’t give a flying fuck about the cocksucking Tow Company who employed Ian the Jackass) it was still Missing. The Mechanic coped a attitude because Ian didn’t check in raised a HUGE concern for the Mechanic as far as Liability and the Law is concerned.

I took a minute to remind the Mechanic that I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IAN THE HUMAN ACCIDENT and as the owner of the Car in question I’m the most pissed of fucking all. We had been working on this Tow starting at 7:40 am and it was 1:15 pm before my Car made it to the correct Mechanic due to the Stupidity of the Tow Truck Schmuck Ian the Inane.

Still craving the idea of caving Ian’s idiotic shit filled skull in with a Ball Peen Hammer, I decided to lodge a complaint with my Insurance company since this shit was completely FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE.

I talked to a very polite and apologetic young man who helped me file my complaint, and then he went above and beyond. He was so absolutely taken aback by what he had heard that he was calling the Tow Company Directly to inquire to as what the fuck was going on with their dips hit driver. I sat on hold while he called, and the Tow Company tried to pin the whole shit show on the address bullshit to which I pointed out that Ian should have called someone over the confusion instead of just dropping my car and fucking off like a Dick.

In the end everything worked out, but what a Shitnado to have to deal with especially after the Double Emergencies of the Day before, and those are to stories for another time and another post so…

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Marijuana & My Mother Do a Complete 180

I remember when California passed The Compassionate Use Act in 1996 (becoming the 1st State to legalize Medical Marijuana) my friends and I were floored. Until now our Pot Smokings greatest aspirations were to save up enough money to make the Pot Head Pilgrimage across the Ocean to the Netherlands. The destination being the Legendary City of Marijuana known as Amsterdam. The Mystical Metropolis where Weed was sold and smoked without legal or social persecution as No One Gave a Shit (a fucking Utopia as far as my Friends were concerned).

And now there it was the State of California a Pot Smokers Beacon of Hope, but it was a “So Close Yet So Far” Scenario for my Friends and I unfortunately. See while California legalized Medical Marijuana (which illuminated a lot of Foreign travel bullshit making it much easier to access than Amsterdam) you had to be a Legal Resident with a Doctor’s Prescription Card to reap the benefits of Medical Marijuana Legally.

So California felt as fucking far away as Andsterdajm as far as I was concerned. Thankfully for me over the past 22 years 29 states have Legalized (Medical OR Recreational) Marijuana use by persons over the age of 21.

When I was growing up I started smoking Weed around 15-16 years old and have continued to this very day. My Mom was the fucking antithesis of Ronnie Regan’s bullshit War On Drugs that labeled Marijuana a Gate Way Drug (Which has been proven to be false as Alcohol is the actual 1st intoxicant Teens try so FUCK OFF ALCHOL.

Anyway the point being my Mother was disgusted and appalled by anyone, (let alone her Son) using Marijuana, and spent years battling in vain to get me to quite smoking weed. She used the old school smell check when I would get home starting in High School in an attempt to detect the smell of Weed. The problem was my Mother had (and still doesn’t really) know what the fuck Weed smells like. This led to countless unfounded accusations because she mistook Incense, Petrulli Oil, Cloves, Cigarillo’s, Certain Cologne, and camp fire smoke just to name a few. In the end she caught me a few times when I was definitely Stoned, but only once did she find Weed. One evening She ran through my jacket pockets, and removed a fat ass Dime Bag yet never mentioned it to me ironically as it were.

. At the same time on the other side of the Cannabis Coin I spent just as many years futilely fighting to change my Mother’s negative view of Marijuana. I constantly fought to inform my Mother Marijuana had multiple Medical Uses, and wasn’t a killer narcotic like Crack. I argued that the Gate Way Drug Theory was bullshit. Was I really meant to believe if I smoked Weed on Wednesday I’d be robbing Old Ladies and shooting Heroin into my fucking neck?!!! Bullshit.

Now we fast forward to 2016 and I’m now in my 30’s and I was a married home owner living in the Great Southern Swamp. I was visiting my Father who was struggling against Liver Cancer because he wan’t people to remember him as he was not as a crippled, bed ridden living Corpse.

My Father loved to cook, hell thats an understatement. He had cooked dinner for me,my Wife, Himself, his 2nd Wife, and oddly my Mother. We were in the middle of eating I was seated at one end of the table and my Father at the other when my Mother (sitting to the right of my Father), and then it happened. My Father at that point was on a powerful as fuck Steroid that was causing mild insomnia (He slept 3-4 hours a night) and inhibiting his appetite. Now not just cooking food, but eating it as well was one of my Father’s true passions, and he quit Chemotherapy because he was too nauseous and fatigued to even think about eating shit.

My Mother leans over and all of a sudden she asked:

“Have you tired Marijuana???”

Now the answer was yes he had tried it once since getting sick. He had decided to try it at least once since he had nothing to loose (not like it kill him). The first hurdle for him (besides living in a state where Marijuana is still Illegal) was he was in his 70’s so who could he ask about getting Weed? He finally asked a close friend who had a Daughter who lived in The Rotten Apple and had a Dealer. Next my Father had obsessed about how much he should smoke ( take a couple hits of a joint? Smoke Half? Smoke it All? I think he was very weary of the affects and it made him rather uneasy.

The Daughter’s Dealer sent a Joint along to my Father along with the message to Please Smoke the Sample Joint and if my Father liked it to let him know. I didn’t have the pleasure of smoking with my Father, but my Younger Brother did. This was in part due to a phone call awhile before hand where I asked him to be there to help assist my Father’s inaugural Toking to make sure things went smoothly. It did accept no one informed my Father that due to its unique reverse tolerance (Marijuana has to build up in your system before you can experience the High which is why in most all cases a person won’t get Stoned the 1st or 1st few times the smoke.) he might need to keep going, but he figured once was enough for him.

I couldn’t get over what my Mother had said and couldn’t let it go until I found out why. It only took a couple of moths or so and I learned the real story.

Apparently my Mother has a very good friend who suffers from brutal insomnia (She would go DAYS without sleeping), and she to had a Daughter who happened to live in Colorado (The New Mecca for Marijuana in America). So inevitably my Mother’s Friend flew out to visit her Daughter, and while she was there visiting her Daughter suggested trying Marijuana to combat her ongoing contest against insomnia. My Mother’s friend thought why not and purchased some Weed from a local Dispensary (Marijuana is Legal for Medical AND Recreational Adult Use) and tried it. She was blown away as she had never imagined Marijuana would work nearly as well as it did. Since that trip She had been singing the praises of Marijuana to everyone She knew INCLUDING MY MOTHER.

Then in that instant I realized what the fuck was going on. Its damn near identical as to going to Court. You can go to Court and tell the Judge your innocent and he sends you to jail, BUT if you hire a Lawyer and he says the same fucking thing you did/would have all of a sudden the Judge starts listening.

And thats exactly what had happened with my Mother and her views of Marijuana. I could tell her till I was blue in the fucking face (and I did) about the benefits of Marijuana and all the bullshit propaganda BUT UNTIL HER GOOD FRIEND VOUCHED FOR THE BENEFITS OF MARIJUANA THROUGH HER PERSONAL EXPERIENCE was the convincing factor for my Mother’s drastic and positive attitude change towards Medical Marijuana.

Sometimes its not WHATS BEING SAID BUT WHO’S SAYING IT that matters.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Dreams Reunited?

I actually wrote the blog I’m about to type below offline. I had a very traumatic event (that I caused in full) which led to my banishment from a certain place. I will keep this matter private. The lesson here is do not brag about your lack of misfortune. It may and will come back to bite you in the ass.

DREAMS REUNITED?

Life is very strange on occassion. Well most of the time. People rise that were long thought to be dead. Misfortune brings some of us together; while

on other occassions good omens actually can tear people apart.

And in between all the quicksand, betwixt the most recent firestorm I created something strange occured. I began to become aware of my dreams.

Not the things I want to do in my life, not the things like that. But the dreams we all have occuring somewhere deep in our unconsciousness, deep in our sleep.

The dreams at first became apparent to me at a time I would least expect them to do so. I am under firm belief that these dreams came to me because of my recent alcohol blackout. While I know it is highly unlikely that this triggered some mechanism in my head, it makes more sense then not.

You see, I had not remembered a dream or having a dream in a very long time. Six months to be exact. Six months since the time my doctor thought that a good experiment on my brain would be to give it Ritalin. They have not occured since that moment.

Yet I would trade back all the dreams I have had the past three days if I could do so. These dreams have been nothing special, nothing I could turn into great (or even mediocre) stories, movies, cures for cancer, you name it. But this price I paid for the recent dreaming is never worth the dream I suffocated.

I’m not really sure what this dream was. I’m not even sure if it was ever mine or ever tangible existed. It did on some level but I do not choose to analyze which at this moment. Yet I kept myself so incredibly dilluted with seriousness and plans of grandeur, which would take months or years to acheive not the days or hours which I so desired, that left me unable to sleep on this dream.

I will never know for sure. Yet apparently now I have an eternity to sleep on this dream. I’m not even sure that I can really do anything about it. I know I cannot, not directly. It may have never even been my dream. I may never know.

It is now simply one of the dreams I wish upon everyone.Peace, love, and happiness. I cannot or should not expect to be able to deliver this gift to another, not at this given moment. Not when they do not exist within. I am an expert at moments of all of these attributes, yet a master at none.

Do any of us ever truly master these things? I always feel there is more work to do. No matter how good, no matter how bad things might be. People have repeatedly used me for all of these attributes. I need to learn to keep more of these to myself.

I am 31 years old right now. It is my turn to try a lot harder and not just grace the masquerade ball wearing the mask of trying hard.

There is a point of hope that began in my life on May 22nd. Perhaps I am speaking too soon. I don’t really care. I need to have this hope. I can whine and complain all I want but I would rather be an inspiration. I do not know how to be this or much of anything but I NEED to try. I cannot afford to put that torch down ever again.

I want to carry the world on my back, but I must carry my own reignited dreams, first and foremost.

By SpaceDog

A Longstanding Joke Goes From Funny To Fubar* In Seconds.

When I was growing up there where two eccentric’s if you will. One I have already written about in a previous post who was known as Smiley Jesus among the neighborhood kids. This post pertains to the second.

She was a woman in here mid to late fifties with long mostly white hair tied up in a loose bun. She wore a full length goose down style winter coat no matter what time of year it was. She was always sporting Jackie O. like sunglasses the ones with the huge circular frames. She also had applied so much rouge that it fully covered both of her cheeks in giant clown like circles. Her uncommon attire also included a Golf Visor, and lastly a pair of cheap white velcro sneakers. This may have well been her official uniform because it NEVER changed EVER.

Aside from her bizarre sense of fashion the other key aspect about Her was she never spoke. Not a single word. At most she might have flashed a quick smile as she walked by with her hands in her jacket pockets. Come to think of it I don’t think I ever saw her hands out of her jacket pockets.

Now we fast forward a bit and I’m now 16 or so and dating my first real Girlfriend/High School Sweetheart who lived in the neighborhood adjacent to mine. I asked her one day if she had seen this odd woman walking around in her neighborhood as well growing up. Not only did she yes she had, but she went on to tell me that the Woman in question actually lived somewhere in her neighborhood.

We tried half assed measure in lame attempts to locate the weird Woman’s house to no avail. We had all but lost interest when we got some additional information pertaining to the peculiar Woman’s back story.

The information came from my Girlfriend’s Mother. It turned out that her Mom grew up at the same time, in the same town, and went to the same school as the strange Woman. Apparently the Woman was not what you would call popular by any means. In fact she was bullied pretty brutally from the few stories we were told by my Girlfriend’s Mother, and she was as guilty as the rest when it came to relentlessly tormenting the Woman as a Girl.

The one story I remember was my Girlfriend’s Mother telling us she and her gang of friends from school lured the Woman then just a girl to some near by woods. They then tied her to a tree and berated the shit out of her non stop for over an hour. Once they got tired of teasing her to the point of tears they up and left her there tied to a tree. No one knows the exact details but obviously someone heard her crying for help or passed by and cut her free.

Needless to say as the story got darker the more I found myself fascinated by the morbidity of it all. A months or so after hearing the tortured tale of the Woman’s unhappy childhood (on no day in particular) my Girlfriend and I decided to go for a late day walk. It was the middle of July so we hid inside clinging to the Air Conditioning until dusk when it was cool enough to venture outside.

We had only gone about 5 or 6 blocks when all of a sudden we became aware of a extremely heated argument. This wasn’t surprising since being Summer many people left the front door open optimizing their screen doors to enjoy the cool Summer evenings.

The chaotic commotion was coming from a house to our right that stood atop a small hill. The front door was indeed wide open allowing anyone passing buy to hear the insanity inside, and I do mean insanity. We heard a lady screaming at the top of her lungs, and we knew that we had accidentally stumbled across the Weird Woman’s house. We both turned and stared at one another in shear shock and awe at first, and then we returned our attention back to the madness raging inside of this otherwise absolutely normal looking suburban home.

The sounds emulating from the front door where like none I had never heard before in my life, and have rarely heard since. The Woman was in the middle of what seemed to be an argument that was spiraling out of control. The Woman was intensely enraged and her blood curdling screams in were purely primal.

I couldn’t tell you what the fuck the argument was about, but that is more than likely because we only heard one side of the argument. This was due to the fact that whoever the Woman was yelling at so savagely DIDN’T EXIST. They weren’t imaginary either like a hallucination (though now that I’m mulling it over she could have been hallucinating, but not because of Drugs but due to Mental Illness of some sort.) Anyway for all intensive purposes it appeared that the Woman having a knock- down-drag- out fight with her Dead Husband.

We stood there for several minutes completely mesmerized by the madness we were witnessing. It was quite clear that this Woman was just an eccentric she was legitimately batshit crazy. Once the terrible trance wore off my Girlfriend and I hightailed the hell out of there, and didn’t even pause for a brief second to look back.

And ever since that fateful evening We have never passed by that house again even though the psychotic Woman passed away many, many years ago.

(*FUBAR stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition)

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober