So, my alarm was set for 9:30 this morning, as usual, and I hoisted myself off the platform at… 12:10. What the hell, man?? I can’t even remember hitting the snooze button, but the alarm was definitely set when I regained consciousness. Grrr…
Reciting a litany of curse words, and shuffling toward the bathroom, I realized I needed to take a seat in there. It felt like I was about to pass a head of lettuce, or something of that approximate size and weight. Yeah, and it turned out to be more along the lines of a head of cabbage — much less forgiving than lettuce.
While I was atop the throne, I heard Toney come in. She was checking on me, because she’d sent four or five texts and called twice, and I hadn’t answered.
“Are you just now getting up?” she hollered up the steps and through the shitter door.
“Yeah. I’ll be down in a second… unh.”
“I thought you’d had a heart attack, and didn’t want the boys to find you,” she answered.
Fully-dilated, I sat and contemplated that statement. She didn’t want the boys to find me, but didn’t seem too upset beyond that. Then I imagined her thinking the following:
“It wouldn’t be ideal if he died in his sleep, but it sure would take care of our financial worries. He’s insured out the ass…”
That statement happened inside my head, and not in reality, but it still irritated me. And when I went downstairs I said, in a sarcastic tone, “Sorry, I didn’t die. I apologize for still breathing ‘n’ shit.”
And Toney just looked at me in confusion.
That’s how my day started, just a few minutes ago. And I can’t believe I actually began this update with the word “so.” What’s happening to me?? I hate when people start sentences with “so.”
Anyway, this day started bad, and yesterday ended kinda bad, as well. Well, it could’ve been worse, but it was high stress.
I drove to work, and when I pulled into the parking lot I realized my gas light was on. I hadn’t even noticed it, while driving. My mind was racing during yesterday’s commute, and I’d been on auto-pilot, fully and completely.
I work in the middle of nowhere, and there are no gas stations nearby. I knew about one, maybe two miles away, and told myself I’d go there on my break and buy $25 worth of fuel — and avoid that 1:30 white-knuckle ride to Wilkes-Barre, hoping the engine doesn’t sputter and stop.
But I completely forgot about it, and when I got in my car at 1:45, that gas pump light was shinin’ bright. Dammit! I watched the needle, and it was even with the E line, which wasn’t good. If it had been slightly above it, I would have felt confident making the Wilkes-Barre run.
I decided to go out of my way, to that station a couple of miles down the road. And when I got there… it was all dark and closed-up. Fantastic. Now the needle seemed to be slightly BELOW the E line. And I had no idea where an open gas station might be. It was now almost 2:00 a.m.
I was stressing, and starting to panic. I returned to my job, and there were a few people standing in the parking lot shooting the shit. I asked if they knew of an open gas station, and they started in with all the complicated local talk:
“You know where Prolapse Road crosses the Harold Hecuba Highway, over near the old salad factory?”
What?! No, I don’t, and can’t really afford to be driving around looking for things. And, thankfully, a woman told me to follow her, and she’d lead me to an open gas station, just “four minutes” from there.
We made roughly two dozen turns, and were in some neighborhood I’d never seen. I have no idea what town we were in, but it wasn’t good. It screamed “death by misadventure.” And the entire time I was convinced my engine was about to say fukkit.
We finally pulled into a shitty dump of a convenience store. But it appeared to sell gas, and also be open for business. Whew!
Then the pump wouldn’t work. The display window was totally black, and I couldn’t get it to do anything. I went inside and the dude was not an ally. He clearly hated me on first sight, and accused me of doing something wrong. It wasn’t the pump’s fault, it was something I’d done.
While we stood there discussing it, another customer came through the door, and the cashier greeted him warmly. What the?
Finally, I was told to pull my car around, and use the other side of the pump. So, I went outside and started to do as I was told. And while I was maneuvering, two guys in a white Z28 backed — at a high rate of speed — across the parking lot, and stopped in front of the pump. Then they went inside and bought chips and stuff.
Both were dressed like Eminem, circa 2000, and were just DARING me to say something to them. I sat there blinking real fast, my blood pressure going up and down, up and down. They’d blocked the only gas pump, on purpose, and gone into the store. What kind of town is this??
Eventually they returned with their snacks, sneered at me, and drove away. And I was able to buy gas, and get the hell out of that shithole. Good god.
And this is another 20 minute special. Hopefully it’s not too horrible. I’ll be back tomorrow, I hope, with something a little more normal.
See ya then!
Now playing in the bunker
Treat yourself at Amazon: US and Canada
And once again.
“fully dialated” gross lol
There’s a lot of woods out in’nem parts. I hears it’s people gone missin’ all the time.
Just be glad you didn’t have to dilate at the gas station.
A “Quick Breakfast on 9/11” is always a favorite.
Good produce department shits: English (aka “burpless”) cucumber. Zucchini. Banana. Green beans. Extra points if they’re “frenched”. Rapid raspberris, blackberries and/or blueberries. Carrots.
Bad Produce department shits: Artichoke. Cauliflower. Eggplant/ Cantelope.
And poor suffering Jeff’s cabbage.
I think you hould have picked up a blunt object – baseball bat would have come in handy” and slowly started walking around thei car, pounding the bat into one palm. When they came running out trying to get all in your face, just smile and say “Sweet car.” In most probabilty (unless a lot of drinking took plaace), they’d probably feel like fucktards.
I apologize for my typos. I ned to get my eyes examoned for real.
Madz…..you spelled fucktard correctly. Nothing else really matters.
I think Elvis died while passing a cabbage.
I have the “worth more dead than alive” thoughts every so often. But there’s always some movie I haven’t seen yet, so I keep getting out of bed daily.
That reminds me of a book I once read about a guy working at a convenience store/gas station.
“I thought you’d had a heart attack, and didn’t want the boys to find you,” she answered.
I have no idea why, but that cracked me up. There’s so much there in those dozen or so words.
I perform the “gasoline roulette” several times a month. We just bought a new Jeep Grand Cherokee. It has “DTE” (Destination To Empty) reading on my dash….which is great to have. But once it goes under 30 miles, it doesn’t record. So whats the point. When my 1997 Jeep GC registered DTE: 0.0, I knew to get my ass to the nearest gas station.
And, by the way, those punk-ass Eminem wannabe’s are all over the place. Half of them come into the office with gun shot wounds to the hands and legs because they think they’re “gansta’s”…then howl like a retard at the bowling lane when you take their sutures out.
Destination to empty. 30 miles, psych, you’re boned.
No shit.
Jeff, if the needle is even with the “E,” I can just about guaranty nearly a gallon is left. I don’t play that anymore, but used to with regularity.
Now, my fuel alarm doesn’t even go off until the “E,” and the owners manual states that the alarm goes off at the 1 gallon capacity.
Vitamin D, Mr. Kay. Vitamin D.
It helps the mood, and brittle fingernails…WTF?? No really it does. Vitamin D is something you have more of when spending time in the sun. Winter and night shift are not conducive to this process. You might still be vitamin D deficient in the summer, but it is far worse in the winter.
I’ve tested this via the brittle nail thing, and it works. Also helps the skin do better against chapping in the winter.
Sounds like you need to keep your gps in the car at all times, since I doubt you’d follow my suggestion to go take a recon drive on your day off and find all the gas stations and fast food spots that may be handy while at work so you can avoid the subway guy you have a beef against.
So, buy another gps with POI database and punch up gas stations and see whats around, then go check it out and see if they exist. =-)
Do it.
Two words that will take care of the gangsta boys:
“concealed carry”
…as long as you’re faster than they are. Do you feel lucky?
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Yes; lucky and special!
Concealed carry is my best friend constantly. Like yesterday–I got a hankering for beef jerky, so I went to the local 24 hour super foodmart at 11pm. Park my pickup, go to check how much cash is in my wallet, look up and see some crazy looking old dude tapping on my window. Reach for my gun and he’s gone. So now I think I’m hallucinating. I go in, shop, come out, sit down and start the truck, look down to check my phone, and lo and behold, same crazy guy taps on my window…but this time he sees directly down the barrel of my .357 and his eyes get about the size of dinner plates. I was about 3 lbs of trigger pull away from putting out my window and having to explain why I just fried an old man that I mistook for a carjacker. Turns out he is trying to sell pens (wtf?) to supplement his Social Security check. At 11pm. In a dark parking lot. Asked my friendly neighborhood sheriff’s deputy about it and he says they throw him off the property as soon as they see him, and that it’s a regular thing–and he’s had probably 20 guns pulled on him for the same thing. Not a fan, not a fan.
They need greeters at Wally World, bagger’s at the grocery store, sell at a fucking flea market. This guy is just asking for a poop shoot full of lead.
Perhaps you should install the app “Gas Buddy” on your phone. It will help you find gas stations in unfamilar places. Unfortunately it will not help with the passing of cabbage.
Second that. I have the gasbuddy app on the ol’ droid, and gasbuddy.com is a website much more usable that the app. Put in the zip code of interest and it will find prices nearby.
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Don’t you hate when it feels like a cabbage coming out and it turns out to be a brussel sprout?
Or when it comes out one leaf at a time.
Thanks, t-storm and bikerchick. I just shot coffee out my left nostril.
Or there’s a root.
This was a damn good update, with many quotable lines. The undercurrents of rage and angst bring out the funny.
Or especially when it comes out one leaf at a time.
fucking computer….
NO to the running on empty. That’s one of the worst feelings in the world.
Besides passing a cabbage, no matter HOW small.
had beat up old chevy luv truck with hay baler gas tank in bed [ poor on wv]
original tank rusted out
checked gas by open gas cap, poking sticki in
if stick dry u screwed
learned to carry several bottles dry gas to get to next station
no longer have ”hybred” truck
but still carry bottles of dry gas jusat in case
What’s “dry gas” in this context? I’ve never heard of it before.
When I was about 12, my mother’s car’s gas gauge stopped working. She used the trip odometer to figure out when it would be a good idea to get gas. Since I don’t recall her ever getting stranded by running out, I guess it worked.
On my planet, “dry gas” is an additive that you put in your tank. The alcohol in it is supposed to absorb the water in your fuel, which wouldn’t have been there if you’d kept the tank topped up like you should in the winter. Extra bonus: the alcohol acts as a fuel of sorts, ethanol-like. Being that ethanol is a subset of alcohol, and so on.
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Thanks. I’ve never lived in an area where this kind of thing is common, and I’m not really a car person, so really hadn’t heard of this stuff.
This is based on my 1980s-vintage car fu. I haven’t really seen dry gas since moving down here to Dixieland (DC area). I moved in part to escape the subzero daytime high temperatures in upstate NY, but I have since learned that it gets much worse in places like Minnesota.
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the truck would sputter and barely run on dry gas,and get me to gas station
but better than sitting along road, or walking
If I need gas, I fill up. It won’t be cheaper next time, but it will be longer until next time comes.
“Fully dilated” – that’s awesome. Cabbage, brussel sprout, crenshaw melon…
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My wife thinks I’m crazy because I stop for gas every day during the week. We both commute 45 miles each way (we work about a mile apart, but she works days and I work nights). If I get below a half tank I’m definately looking for gas unless I’m on a road trip, then I’ll go down to a quarter before I start looking for the next Pilot or Flying J. I just stop in the morning on the way home and fill up. Takes minutes and I always have gas, or diesel on the rare day I’m in the F-350. Her car, on the other hand, is usually below a quarter tank when we have to go somewhere in it. Then we get to stop and make ourselves even later than we generally already are after we get to wait for her to get ready. Madz, that’s why I have a “walking stick” in behind the seat of my truck, and the lost (oh yeah, that’s where that thing went) hatchet under the driver’s seat.
A kid from SNU (southern nazarene U) got stabbed the other day giving homeless people pizza at a lake after dark so he could preach to him. Maybe Jesus would have had conceal carry, but you rarely get stabbed when your posse is 12 thieves and liars. Unless you’re a rapper.
My truck constantly lies to me about how far it can go on a tank of fuel. Some mornings a half tank will take you 180 miles, others you might get 300 out of it. Just depends on how the computer feels, I guess. As for douches in Camaros, typically the gun rack and the “Quit Honking, I’m Reloading” bumper sticker scare ’em off. But if not, there’s the concealed .38 and the 12 gauge in the rack to persuade them that they don’t want to mess with my fat ass.
How come when you ‘got gas’, it means it’s coming out, but when you’re in your car and you ‘got gas’, it means it went in?
As for the punks at the gas pump, why did you forget that you’re older and better insured?
You shouldn’t on those boys Jeff, years from now they’ll be telling all their Army reject high-school buddies at their sweet part-time pizza delivery job how how they pulled this “totally radical” move in a gas station once. That could very well be the highlight of their hometown gangsta life.
You don’t seem to be as amused or ready to pull a good mind fuck. Something like, pull up a few feet behind them, park, sit on the hood, and when they come out, make a smile and that insaino little wave with your fingers next to your face.
But I get it man, it’s not as much fun if your tired or stressed or just want to get on with your life without being hampered by the evolutionarily disabled.
You should have went “Breaking Bad” on those kid’s ass. If you guys haven’t watched “Breaking Bad” yet, it’s the best show ever made. No question about it. you can watch the first three seasons on Netflix. Jeff, you will thank me for it.